#maybe to define the future. to have it make sense. to understand why they were this way

[impossible-rat-babies]

thinking about dirge keeping the diary kressa had of the entries with them. despite the horror and cruelty, it’s some small manner of memory by proxy.

[allllium]

Hi!) send my love and little idea for a fic

May I request a little story about Remus x fem!reader? Other characters are welcomed :) characters age is up to you

The reader is calm person, ready to help, even get into a fight against bullies. But she also has a death glare and doesn’t peak words to smooth the situation. She doesn’t have a lot of friends, but definitely she is friends with Lily and the Marauders like to hang out with her (helps them with studies or work, helps James with Lily, lots of sarcastic jokes).

I think Remus can see through her facade. And he finally decided to ask her out for a date, maybe he even said something like “I like you”. And the reader reply with “Ok” and storms out to process with her feelings towards Rem. Then we can see collective panic 😱😂 The next day she finds Remus and gives him his favorite chocolate and self-made scarf with the words “I think I like you too” ❤️

Hope it’s all make sense to you 😅 sometimes I have similar situation when I can’t define my feelings and need time to analyze them… 🥲

I Think I Like You Too...

a/n ~ Omg reader in this is so relatable 😭 Honestly wasn't sure how you wanted me to write them so I did what I thought worked best for this situation. Not quite sure how happy I am with this so I might add to it/change some of it in the future but for now I hope you like it <3

~ Just fluff, James and Sirius being children

WC ~ 1,859

Sometimes you don't understand why you're friends with the marauders. You love them so much but you're so different sometimes you don't understand. You're very calm and collected. Most times you don't show emotion at all, coming off as if you don't care. That's not the case though and luckily the boys know that. Even if they're the only ones.

Besides them and Lily, no one talks to you, and you don't talk to them. There's no real reason for this, only that people say you have a “death glare,” which apparently, makes you seem unapproachable.

Because of them being your only friends, (and not great at their studies) you spend a lot of time helping the boys, mainly James and Sirius, with their homework and preparing them for exams. During times where you're helping the boys in the library you notice the way people look at you guys. Sometimes their gaze is slanted towards the boys, either lusting after them or annoyed by some dumb prank they pulled.

However, there are times when people stare at you. They try to be less obvious, but you can see the way they silently judge you. Wondering why the boys hang out with you and debating whether or not you're as bitchy as you tend to seem.

You don't let any of this get to you, people will judge you for anything you do, and you know they simply don't understand. Honestly you find it funny how obsessed people are with a look on your face.

Especially when it's not one you make on purpose.

“I don't understand.” James tells you, for what feels like the hundredth time in twenty minutes.

“Of course you don't, you've been making faces at Sirius the whole time I was explaining.” You swear sometimes they're just children in growing-up bodies. Between the pranks, silly faces, and running around the halls playing hide and seek, but instead of each other seeking, it's whichever teacher they last put a spell on, it can be very hard to keep up with. Probably why people were so unexpected to see you all together.

“No I wasn't.”

“James, I saw you.”

“Wasn't me,” he defends. You let out a deep sigh at his childish antics, before focusing on the paper in front of him. You look down at the perfect moment, just in time to see Remus's small grin at banter between you and James.

“James, pay attention or I'll turn you into a rat,” you try to threaten, seeing Peter's frown at your words. “Sorry Pete, rats are adorable. You know how James feels about them though,” you shrug, remembering the way he screamed when Peter first transformed into his animagus form. He's not scared of Peter when he knows it's him but any other rat freaks him out.

“Fair.” Is all he says, as he leans back down to whatever he's doing on the floor.

You return your focus back to James, “Okay, are you going to pay attention this time?”

“Yes I am, apparently Lily only likes smart guys.”

“I have literally been telling you that for-” you're quickly cut off.

“No but that was just a plot for you to make me do my homework.”

“No it wasn't, I was trying to help you with Lily because-”

“No, I'm pretty sure you're lying.”

“But you confirmed it why would I be lying about it-”

“Well I don't know, why are you?”

“James Fleamont Potter I swear if you cut me off one more fucking time.” You hear the giggles of everyone else around you.

“What? What are you gonna do?”

“Call Lily.”

“No wait, I'm sorry.” He immediately changes his tone and turns back to his parchment.

Rolling your eyes, you look at Sirius,“Sirius, how far are you?”

“Well unlike prongs, I'm almost finished.” He tells you proudly.

“Can I see it?” He looks between you and the paper for a moment and then shakes his head.

“Not yet. It's a surprise.” You take a deep breath as he continues making faces to James.

Deciding you're done being a young mom to two boys older than you. You excuse yourself from the table and move to sit by the only boy not constantly giving you a headache.

“Hey, Rem.” You greet him softly.

“Good try.” He smirks at you, referencing the boys in front of you. You're glad they're having fun, but they're giving you gray hairs at this point.

“I'm two seconds away from calling Euphemia to deal with them.”

“That's a great plan, at least you'll get cookies out of it.” You nod your head in agreement, taking a second to admire your friend. Which is totally normal in a friendship, probably. You know you feel different about Remus than the others but you're not one hundred percent sure why.

“Ugh why can't you tutor them?” You don't even remember why you agreed to tutor them in the first place.

“Because I did it first and you lost the bet.” Now you remember, you and Remus had a stupid bet on who would tutor them. You and he had a competition, whoever got the lower grade on an exam would be the tutor. You lost. By one point.

“Not fair, I want a rematch.”

“How is that not fair? I won perfectly fair.” You know he did but you don't want to accept it.

“Uh because I don't wanna do it anymore.”

“C'mon they're not that bad.”

“Says you! Yesterday they were playing rock, paper, scissors and when Sirius lost, he pushed over James in his chair. Then James got up and claimed all the knowledge was knocked out of his head and he couldn't possibly finish the paper.” Remus is clearly trying not to laugh at your frustration. “Don't laugh, it's not funny.”

“I'm not laughing. But you have to admit they're very amusing.”

“I admit nothing. Seriously, why do they go to such lengths to avoid homework.” Remus immediately moves his face out of your view. “What do you know, Wolfboy?”

“Is the nickname really necessary?”

“Yes it is, explain,” you don't give him any room for argument.

“Fine. They usually do their homework just fine, slow but fine.”

“Then why do they cause such problems for me?” You ask him in despair.

“They like fucking with you.”

“Are you kidding me Lupin?” You raise your eyebrows at him and demand a response.

“No, they think you're funny.” He breaks out in a full blown laugh at your annoyed reaction.

“I'm glad you think this is funny, Moony, because you won't be laughing when you're all rats.”

“As if you could even turn me into a rat. I dare you to try.”

“Y'know what I will.” You give him a bright smile as he grabs your wrist to keep you from grabbing your wand.

“Not right now.”

“You're not scared are you Lupin?” You swear your heart skips a beat at his grin.

“Can you just pick one name and stick with it?”

“Okay I pick Wolfboy.”

“No you don't, pick something else.”

“No. Bye Wolfboy.” You hear his frustrated groan from behind you while you leave the library.

“Ah!” You jump as you turn the corner and run into Remus. “Oh. Hi Wolfboy.”

“I thought I told you to pick something else to call me.”

“No, I don't remember that.” He looks at you in disbelief. “I'm getting breakfast now.”

“No you are not.” He begins to pull you in the other direction.

“Um Wolfboy, I need food.”

“Not right now.” What the fuck.

“What is so important I must miss breakfast?” He pulls you into an empty classroom and shuts the door. “You know you can't kill me right? People will know.

“That's not…what?”

“Nevermind, continue.”

“Okay great. I don't know how to say this but after yesterday it just felt so clear that I need you to know.” You give a gentle nod for him to continue.

“Y/n, I hope this doesn't ruin anything between us but I need you to know that I like you.” He waits a minute for you to respond, when you don't, he keeps going. “As more than a friend, like romantically. I have a crush on you.”

“Oh um okay.” You shrug and start to walk out of the room. “See you at breakfast.”

Remus is stuck standing in place as he tries to comprehend what just happened. He was expecting a rejection, a clear rejection. Or of course, there's the small part of him waiting for you to admit you feel the same way he does. But no. None of them. He has no idea how you're feeling. Who just says “okay” to that and walks out.

After a minute he decides to follow you to the great hall, pretending nothing just happened. He doesn't know whether to be sad about a rejection or be happy it wasn't actually a rejection?

James and Sirius are questioning his mixed expression the second he sits down, but Remus is focused solely on you. Who isn't in the great hall. He looks over all the people at least three times looking for you. Ultimately, he can't help but be a little relieved he doesn't have to face you right now. What would he even say after that?

Remus doesn't see you for the rest of the day. Instead he spends the day worrying whether or not he's scared you away.

“Oh Remus you're here! Come here!” You grab his hand and pull him into an empty room, similarly to the way he did to you yesterday.

“Um okay? Are you alright?” He asks quickly, as if sensing your nervousness.

“Yes I'm fine I just need to say something to you.”

“What is that?” He asks, pointing to the things you're holding in your free hand.

“Oh yeah this stuff is for you.” You hand him a box of his favorite chocolates and a scarf you spent the night making for him. “I made this for you because I didn't know how to say what I want to. I didn't mean to act like that yesterday, I just needed some time to think about how I felt.”

“And what do you want to say?”

“Yeah it's on the scarf actually.” You take notice of how your fingers are fidgeting, and your legs are bouncing in place.

“Did you make this? This is nice.”

“Last night, yeah.” You feel a little out of breath as you stand in front of him.

“In one night? That's impressive and insane.”

“I'm well aware. I didn't sleep last night.” He grins you a big grin, both at your words and the words he finally finds on the end of his scarf.

“You need sleep, angel.” He says, cutting off at the end as he finishes reading your sewed words. ‘I think I like you too ♡’ is embedded into the red fabric. “You think?”

“Is that acceptable for you Wolfboy?” You step closer to him, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah more than.” You can't stop your bright smile as he leans down to place his lips on yours.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan elle september issue cover story Q&A

ELLE: During this rest period, do you think about things that happened on the set?

Xiao Zhan: Of course, I remember a few days after the filming was finished, I had a dream that we were still filming, and the director and I were still discussing how to say that word? How to handle that scene?

ELLE: Do you actually miss the atmosphere on the set?

Xiao Zhan: I like it very much, because I like the feeling of everyone creating together and working together to get something done.

ELLE: When you first entered the entertainment industry and your popularity grew rapidly, you said that it felt a bit unreal and magical, but now you seem to be quite relaxed. How did this change happen?

Xiao Zhan: Rather than saying it’s unreal or magical, after so many years I feel that I haven’t had time to adapt to the fast pace at that time, so when I wake up from sleep, where am I today? What am I doing? I think it’s a process, just like when you first enter the workplace, everyone is very excited, "I’m here to work, please take good care of me", "I’m here, everyone get out of the way", "I can do it, I can do it". (Laughs) But after experiencing a lot of things, I feel that everything needs to be planned for the long term.

ELLE: In several interviews you mentioned that you like to play roles that "can convey energy". Why do you have such a preference?

Xiao Zhan: Because I think it is the life of the character. The kind of energy I am talking about is not just a single positive energy in the general sense. I mean the nutrition that can be subtle and silent. I believe that every character has a complete story line in his heart. This is what I like very much. As long as you dig deep, you can move people. I don’t like to call the villain a "villain", as if it is defined as a bad character from the beginning, but it is not. He may have his own difficulties.

ELLE: It sounds like “transmitting energy” is just a general term. Is it actually about understanding different people through performance?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, if we break it down to each character, they all convey different things. But if we say they are “good guys” or “bad guys”, I think that’s meaningless.

ELLE: So do you think acting is a form of communication?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, you can say that. I think it’s great to say that (acting) is a bridge to communicate with the audience. Just like when a play is broadcast, I will read some of the audience’s comments and impressions, and feel that they have a rich feeling about the work. When I see some comments that are exactly the same as my thoughts when filming, I feel very magical, as if this bridge is really connected. We don’t know each other in life, and we haven’t communicated, but he suddenly got my thoughts at the time, and I felt that, oh, acting is a very beautiful and magical thing.

ELLE: Do you watch some science fiction movies, TV shows, and literary works?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, I used to like watching "The Three-Body Problem". I have watched some science fiction movies recently, the American TV series "The Stars", and recently I am watching "The Replica". They are all about infinite flow and parallel time and space. Because I think there may really be parallel time and space. Every choice you make will split into a different parallel time and space.

ELLE: Do you imagine Xiao Zhan in a parallel universe?

Xiao Zhan: I really wonder, for example, is he still an actor? Maybe, is he still filming now? Is he still singing now? Or is he still a designer? Is he working for others or is he his own boss? (Laughs) Really, I really wonder.

ELLE: What do you think the future will be like?

Xiao Zhan: Wow, I think the world might return to its original state at that time, and the world might become a better place, and people would return to the most basic communication with each other.

ELLE: This is very interesting. Why do you think so?

Xiao Zhan: Anyway, at least now I am a little disgusted with the ubiquitous Internet. When we were young, when there were no mobile phones, we would chat while eating, and we would call our friends downstairs to play hide-and-seek and various games. I think that time was very precious.

ELLE: Will the profession of actor still exist by then?

Xiao Zhan: I think there will be. I believe that as long as life goes on, drama will continue. Because everyone needs an output, needs emotional resonance and sustenance, whether it is images or sounds. So I think that even if the world is destroyed, as long as there are still people, drama will definitely exist.

-END.

source

[my-mt-heart]

Why Explicit Caryl Canon Matters

Daryl and Carol (Caryl) fans make up a large portion of the spinoff's audience, and this audience wholeheartedly believes that Daryl and Carol are each other's only choice. It's in the writing. It's also reinforced by cast, crew, and EPs. For example, Norman has repeatedly said “If Daryl falls in love, it's forever."

There's a misconception that Carylers are a bunch of hysterical saps – fans who only want their ship "fucking under the stars" and only care about Daryl because of Carol, but that’s not true. In reality, Caryl fans are the deepest, most intuitive thinkers in the TWD community. To them, story matters. While they recognize and adore all of the subtext, they understand that it's supposed to lead to something worth the 13-year wait. They're expecting that major sense of relief and joy from watching explicit, undeniable, canon.

Explicit canon respects Carol's and Daryl's character development – individually and together. They started out way behind everybody else in life, convinced they weren't worthy of love. Daryl thought he was better off alone and Carol thought she was just a burden, but then they showed each other their true potential. Carol told Daryl he was a "man of honor" and Daryl taught Carol to have hope for a better future. They've struggled and suffered and strived to be good enough for each other. So, where's the payoff?

I understand not all fans want the same things, and maybe there's pressure to “keep everyone happy." Maybe it feels like a lose-lose situation. But from a marketing perspective, Caryl fans are a very reliable source of revenue for the show, so keeping them happy secures a reliable audience for future seasons of the show. They'll show up with their wallets out and their enthusiasm turned all the way up for Norman's and Melissa's nuanced performances. They'll create more fanart and other content. They'll make the show trend on Twitter constantly. Fans already adore Norman and Melissa, but explicit canon will amplify it further whereas keeping things ambiguous will cause a significant decline in viewership.

Ambiguity is the reason that the "I love you" scene in the flagship's finale got mixed reactions. For the fans who also struggle with their self-image, it was important to see Daryl and Carol overcome their own insecurities and finally "take whatever happiness they could get." But instead, many saw Carol's lighthearted "I love you too" and Daryl's departure as if they were both forfeiting what they always wanted. Daryl was submitting to his solitary nature again while Carol assumed she still owed a debt to her community and Daryl would be happier without her anyway. Both of them deserved a happy ending, or at least a piece of happiness to launch them into the next part of their journey. As far as many fans were concerned, neither of them got that.

That's why a lot of fans had a hard time watching S1 of the spinoff or opted out of watching all together. There were so many moments that teased the "possibility" of Daryl getting together with a younger, blonder woman nun while hints of Caryl's relationship were buried under more subtext. Keeping Daryl's feelings ambiguous just for the "fun" of shipbaiting cheapens Caryl's one-of-a-kind relationship, falsely indicating that their iconic beats can be recycled with someone else and still evoke the same passionate response from fans.

Ambiguity also perpetuates ageism and gives non-Caryl fans the excuse to say hurtful things to or about Melissa. Whether or not she's online to see it makes no difference because it still degrades her and it damages other women's perceptions of beauty and worth. Explicit canon on the other hand raises both Melissa and Norman up as two powerhouse actors utilizing their unparalleled chemistry to celebrate mature romances. It brings Daryl’s defining character traits to the forefront – the nurturing traits and the epic ones. It positions Daryl and Carol as equals, and it helps drown out the harmful comments against Melissa. 

Hopes for season 2 of the spinoff are high. Confirmation of Carol's and Daryl's romantic relationship in a way that needs no interpretation and no explanation from anyone offscreen is a dealbreaker. I know in terms of explicit canon, post-production can make all the difference, so it's crucial someone in a position of power pushes for canon that fully and unapologetically lives up to the fans' expectations, does right by the characters, and respects what Melissa wants.

[horse-girl-anthy]

Mikage: Boy of the Black Rose

I've long struggled to write about Mikage, who I find to be an intriguing yet elusive character. or rather, his character is understandable--his motives and feelings are communicated clearly enough--but his narrative is one of the most inexplicable in RGU. thinking it over tonight, I put my finger on one aspect of the Black Rose arc which I previously didn't know how to approach: specifically, Mikage's relationship with the Boys of the Black Rose.

the boys act as a kind of collective character, a mass of faceless people who whisper in dark corners. since RGU is about social reality, it often uses extras to deliver exposition or set the mood. the Shadow Girls are meta characters, existing somewhat outside the narrative, but regular schoolgirls at Ohtori can serve a similar purpose. they might demonstrate that Touga and Saionji are considered the hottest boys in school, or gossip about Ruka and Shiori's recent breakup.

the Boys of the Black Rose are slightly different, maybe a little closer to the Shadow Girls. rather than acting as bit characters in the larger world of Ohtori campus, I believe their existence is contigent on Mikage. while this could be put in various ways, in the most straightforward terms, the writers created them to help reflect on Mikage's character.

only one Black Rose Boy is given a face: the first one Mikage (Nemuro) talks to. when Mikage asks not to be called "professor," since they are the same age, the boy replies:

obviously, RGU relies on making its main characters visually distinct from "normal people." Wakaba calls them "special" and resents them. Utena is popular for her specialness, well-liked; in contrast, Mikage is an outcast for his. for a person to be special or a genius, there must be others for them to stand in opposition to. Mikage is set apart from his peers by his pink hair, by his unique uniform, and by being a professor.

after Mikage is introduced to his new work, the boys begin to gossip about him, saying he knows nothing about what's really going on at Ohtori. towards the end of this conversation, there's a shot of Mikage, and then he actually replies from the future to the gossip they were spreading about him.

this is Mikage's eternal reality: his recollection of the past. even during the "present" of Utena's narrative, he is still walking through Nemuro Memorial Hall, which is why it's still standing, unburned. the Boys of the Black Rose that the audience sees are filtered through Mikage's memory; whether or not the boys really said these things about him is ambiguous. it's possible, but the important fact is that Mikage believes they did.

this transpersonal mirroring keeps Mikage trapped, unchanging. he feels himself defined as unable to connect with others, so he keeps away from them. this becomes a self-perpetuating cycle, leaving Mikage a total outcast.

even outcasts, however, are members of society. the Boys of the Black Rose actually have more in common with Mikage than the average Ohtori student. they're all scientists working on the same project. they have much of his coldness, sense of superiority, and intellectualism. the main difference is that they're the in-group.

while Mikage believes himself to be emotionless, it's made clear that his social isolation hurts him. he doesn't want to be set apart, but he doesn't know how to break through the barrier between him and others. it's very easy to do a queer reading of the character, given the way this is conveyed to the audience.

Mikage's fixation on Tokiko and Mamiya is easier to undestand with all this in mind. the world he was living in, occupied by the Boys of the Black Rose, was a cold and alienated one. in contrast, Tokiko has genuine passion, caring for her brother deeply. Tokiko's tears move Mikage, allowing his own buried emotions to break through the surface. but she also reinforces his social isolation; he is equally as hurt by her as he is drawn to her.

this is part of why Mikage is so determined to "defeat" Tokiko; she offered him hope of connection, but he was never able to "win" her, as men so often try to do with women.

Mamiya is something else altogether; a boy, like Mikage and the Black Rose Boys, but altogether different. warm, friendly to Mikage, not intimidated by his intelligence or reputation, and insightful. in a show full of characters obsessed with holding on (to the past, to a person, to their self-image), Mamiya is the only one who can see the wisdom in letting go.

Mikage at first is open to Mamiya's words, preparing to call off their quest for eternal life. but like every character who threatens the system in RGU, he is faced with Akio. in a prototype of the later "End of the World" sequences, Mikage comes across the kissing Tokiko and Akio. this proves to be too much for him; there are some things he can't afford to lose.

the scene has significance to Mikage far beyond disappointment in love. he wanted to create a family with Tokiko and Mamiya; marriage to Tokiko would tie them together "forever." if he could be by Tokiko's side as they lost Mamiya, then at least he wouldn't be alone after his death. but if he's only Tokiko's coworker, when their work is done, he's back to being a computer.

in desperation, Mikage plays into Akio's hands. under contract, he sacrifices the Boys of the Black Rose and burns down the hall that bears his name. when justifying himself to Tokiko, he claims that this act will allow them to attain eternity. in the events of the series, he's still at it: installing Mamiya as the Rose Bride will, after all, make him eternal, even though it's the very kind of eternity Mamiya wanted nothing to do with.

Mikage retreats into delusions on feeling the sting of Tokiko's rejection. though he is the one who betrayed her, he turns it around and feels betrayed himself. going even further, he casts Mamiya as the one who set the fire.

the Boys of the Black Rose are also used to emphasize his inability to face his own actions. throughout the arc, the boys are seen pushing coffins around. however, in episode 23, Mikage takes their place right before he is forced to face the truth about himself.

at the end of the arc, Miki claims that no one was hurt in the the fire, contradicting the previous story of Nemuro Memorial Hall. this possibly indicates that the murders are a figment of Mikage's imagination--the older Tokiko doesn't seem to react to him as if he's a murderer. more than anything, he seems guilty of self-denial and retreat from reality. Tokiko went on to accept Mamiya's death and even mourned for Mikage, while he ignored her in favor of his memories. the fact that he does not recognize her feelings is another aspect of his tragedy.

Mikage, through his fruitless revolution, loses the very things he always wanted. he attempts to throw away his past self, the cocoon of Nemuro hatching into the butterfly that is Mikage. with it, he burns away the boys who rejected him, who embodied the cold world he used to live in. he uses their sacrifice to enshrine Mamiya, idealizing him as the perfect companion. but as Ikuhara said, he was doomed to fail from the start:

Those who reject that place are, conversely, rejected by it as well. This is the nature of systems: the moment you reject them, you are forced to realize that they’re the very ground you’re standing on. Mikage noticed the trick behind the system, and he hurriedly attempted revisions. But the adult who’d created the system just said “Let’s not,” and unilaterally brought the curtain down.

the "trick within the system," is, I think, the fact that it's socially constructed. Mikage believed that on realizing this, he could simply remake the world as he wanted. he was allowed to do so for a time, when it was useful. when he ceased to be useful, he was dispatched with, because while he had operated within the system, he was not in control of it. and beneath his delusions, there was still a reality.

Mikage is the true Boy of the Black Rose: the true ghost, the true sacrifice, living in the desiccated world of a preserved flower. throughout the arc, he takes possession of Ohtori students who suffer from the same afflictions as him, and every time Utena defeats one of his duelists, another part of him is exorcised--another Black Rose Boy burned away. in the end, the only thing left of him is the ruin of Nemuro Memorial Hall, shown briefly in the final episode. he graduates at Ohtori, but only after losing absolutely everything. that seems to be the only way to step into adulthood: naked and shivering, like the day we are born.

[hopeymchope]

what's some criticism you have about makoto/the most valid criticism you've sene of him?

I've been sitting on this ask for like a week, because I've been struggling with it. Even when I think I remember one that hits a solid mark, I then mentally argue it down to being a non-issue.

The only criticism I've seen that ever hit any kind of mark for me is some fans' frustrations that he didn't endure/overcome much personal loss compared to many of the characters around him, because he repeatedly seems to luck out and have it work out in the end. This usually comes from people who are bitter about Kirigiri's survival in DR3, but I can understand that having Naegi's seeming losses get reversed or resolved whereas someone like Fuyuhiko has to lose his sister and then just carry on with it... it can seem kind of unfair. Why does he get to keep his secondary protag/potential love interest, but Hajime loses Chiaki? Why does he get his sister back safely while Asahina loses her brother forever? And so on.

The first counter to this complaint is that, well, he seemingly / maybe / probably? lost his parents during the tragedy. But those with this complaint find it frustrating that this is kept open-ended and hopeful, still leaving him with a chance to once again reverse/undo his loss. Despite seeing their corpses pretty clearly broadcast on television during Ultra Despair Girls, when Komaru finally gets to the actual place the Naegi parents are supposed to be? They aren't there, leaving her with a sense of hope that she'll still find them somehow alive.

The second counter to this complaint is that obviously Makoto still loses tons of friends during the course of DR1. Even if he doesn't immediately remember how close they all were, its implied in DR2 that they maybe/probably got those memories back later. Which had to make it pretty devastating.

Those who harbor this complaint have sometimes said that Naegi's unrelenting hope would mean more if he actually had to overcome a permanent loss. But I think that rings kind of hollow when you consider that he manages to remain hopeful even in the immediate aftermath of Kyoko's "death" in DR3. At this lowest possible point, he stands strong.

And despite how much I'm arguing against this complaint? I still think it rings kind of true. Because it DOES feel unfair that he gets off relatively lightly compared to so many other characters. Togami loses everything that defined him, everything that he based his pride and reputation on. Kirigiri loses Samidare brutally, finds her father's body without even knowing if the two of them ever achieved any kind of closure, and the question of whether she ever reunites with her grandfather is left wide open. Class 77-B may only lose ONE of their friends and classmates, but they also lose their freedom and their ability to live a peaceful life by accepting and embracing not only the guilt of their actions as Remnants, but also taking on the guilt of what happened in the Future Arc of DR3. Maki loses Kaito, Shuichi loses Kaito AND Kaede, and so on. These characters are forced to carry on after permanent, undeniable losses.

For those reasons, I do prefer to think that the Naegi parents are later confirmed dead. It gets Naegi more of a permanent, personal loss to endure and overcome in the longer term—I even wrote a fanfic one-shot about it.

But you know, I feel like I should mention that, for those who think Makoto gets off light because he's a "creator's pet" or something? There is someone in the DR1 who ultimately gets off even lighter than Naegi: Yasuhiro Hagakure. The ONLY seeming personal loss he ever endures is his mom — and he gets her back safe and sound! But I guess he's very rarely explored seriously since he's mostly comic relief... so maybe people don't worry about him as much.

[malwaredykes]

ma'am give us the catherine boone lore, please i beg of you

well *smiles shyly*

in case its not clear she is Boone the companion in fallout new vegas but after realizing some important things about herself

which is something that started out as just me having this sort of loose “wouldnt it be interesting” idea but then @fallout-lou-begas and i spent days digging into how well this actually fits boone's narrative. boone being an egg i mean. starting from simple things that dont Necessarily have to mean anything but definitely add up, like boone going by last name only, or being the least talkative companion by far (do you not like the sound of your own voice, boone?), all the way to like. the general Long-Unaddressed Dysphoria Hopelessness, the sense of having no future and no autonomy and no power to change anything. there's a lot to go through here but there's just this constant vibe of being a lost cause, of feeling like things can only happen to you as you move through life detached and disconnected and numb, and of not having the words to express any of that, not knowing how much of that can even be put into words or given any meaning or solution, because something is always missing, something big.

so. i think leigh suddenly appearing in boone's life had one hell of an impact. still took boone a long time to understand why and that it was okay for her to “want to be like leigh” and so on. but yeah, ive mentioned before how it adds a whole new layer to the fact that boone just followed this strange woman into the wasteland and became so ride or die for her. and how she felt that she and leigh had been destined to meet. in fact boones dialogue thats like “maybe its you i shouldve been expecting all along”, “i knew i was supposed to follow you the day we met” just kind of hits harder this way Im Not Gonna Lie. like, yeah, narratively in the game its suppose to be about boone's guilt, but... theres this overarching mindset that boone has... similarly to how boone's not liking to talk definitely reads as a neurodivergence thing, but also.... could be more than one reason.. there are Usually complex/multiple causes behind such character-defining idiosyncrasies yknow

i might write/draw something about the moment boone starts to piece things together and Realizes and tells leigh. and even though boone had been shaking like a leaf about the prospect of telling her, leigh is of course very very happy to help her and support her. shes happy she gets to be there for boone and get to know her even better than she already did.

as for the name, honestly catherine just kind of came up. like it just came up and immediately sounded right. she can go by cat and thats very very cute.

overall catherine is like… well shes just very lovable. shes definitely a LOT happier, she actually smiles and laughs, and feels a lot more grounded and present. and hrt makes her look very soft. and she grows her hair out to where its this like, fluffy mullet situation. and leigh falls for her because she already liked boone a whole lot, they were besties/worsties who had seen each other at their lowest and were very comfortable with each other, and seeing cat be this content and radiant and cute… she was Defenseless. Oh, This Lovely Woman Has Been Right In Front Of Me This Whole Time. shes crazy. cat youre gonna get sooooo kissed.

so. yeah. it IS ocXcanon with extra steps. and i love it. i love you cat boone. theres so much to her and so much i could say and so many layers to her new hopes and dreams after so many years of dreary soldier-conditioning dissociated i-am-made-for-a-purpose loneliness. but i wanna convey it properly thru art and writing i think.

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

I said hours ago I thought the title being "Midoriya Izuku: Rising" felt a bit too early but now I think it makes sense. How do I explain, I'll try my best!

I thought about about the other Origin and Rising chapters and I've tried to establish a pattern of all, and I think I have a conclusion.

Shoto's origin: The bond he had with his mother being a tether of what being a hero truly meant to him, with Izuku being the one to remind him he gets to decide what being a hero meant to him- it's his power, what does he want to do with it?

Shoto's rising: The one he wants to have with his family, the desire to find peace with himself, his biological family and the one he has in Class 1-A in the future and being the hero his family had wanted vs. the one they needed at that exact moment.

Katsuki's origin: denying the help from others, especially Izuku, was the thing that held him back. By accepting it, he and Izuku, despite the beating, won.

Katsuki's rising: his willingness to accept help bloomed into a seed of empathy that paid off, and by sacrificing himself he understood why Izuku is willing to help others at his own cost (otherwise the last arc wouldn't even be happening).

Hypothetical on where Hori wanted this one, as despite her lack of these, Hori does consider her part of this group. So if I were to guess:

Ochako's origin: she's shown she has the guts and determination to become a hero, but what holds her back is her own constant comparison to Izuku's power and people connecting her motivations to him.

Ochako's rising: by asserting her agency and power to help others, and accepting she's not defined by what she feels about Izuku, she ends up helping the girl who needed someone willing to understand her.

With that in mind; an Origin chapter is not the beginning of their story, but the antithesis what holds them back, the hubris,the fatal flaw in their own hero's journey vs. who they can become as the story goes, the heroes they've envisioned and more.

Tenko has three origin chapters- Two for Tenko, one for Tomura. But in the pattern, he's yet to receive a Rising one, let alone three: Unless, and I mean unless, Shigaraki Tomura is his Rising chapter, but only the first part. But that's for another time. (And maybe for someone else; I'm not the person to talk about Tenko).

With that, Izuku's.

I was wondering why Izuku's rising chapter happened so soon, when he's just returning to the battlefield- then I've pondered the pattern. I've said I was expecting it to be a multiple-parter; because of Tenko's. But it does make sense why now.

Because since Chapter One, never once Izuku has actually been able to contradict his own goals. In fact, if he tries, narratively, the story actually punished him for it two times; his failure to save the first times led to consequences that follow him in their relevant arcs.

(for clarification if you're curious:

Not helping Eri on their first meeting = Overhaul almost kills multiple of his friends and actually succeeds in killing Sir Nighteye. Mirio temporally loses his Quirk and Izuku wonders if he should even have his own.

Attacking Tomura with clear intent on winning without saving = Aizawa cuts his leg, Gran Torino is in a hospital bed and Katsuki gets stabbed, latter one is the main motivator leading up to the Dark Hero Arc.

Sound good? Good.)

But what makes this Izuku's rising moment? What is the antithesis to "Midoriya Izuku: Origin"? If his convictions are the same as the first chapter, what makes this moment special?

Unlike the first time- this time, everyone supports him. He has friends, fans, allies all over the world. His childhood friend, his idol, his mother. Everyone believes in him. And it's all because Izuku inspired them to take action, even when he had nothing.

Because it wasn't a Quirk that made him a great hero- Toshinori even said so.

It's because he can't ignore he saw someone in need of saving, someone who looked him in them eyes and was asking for help.

And the reality he's living at the age of 16, he's Quirkless. He's standing up to someone who will not be reasoned with. He's at a huge disadvantage. He's the only one who can do it. And maybe has "nothing", but he has everyone, and everyone wants him to do his best. And they'll pave the way, they'll make it easier to carry the burdens he can't carry alone.

This is why it's everyone's thoughts on him, instead of his point of view; his convictions were always clear; it's everyone else's that's changed.

And for that, not only he didn't just become the world's greatest hero: by all accounts, he already was. He already is.

Thank you for reading.

[saints-who-never-existed]

Ok, maybe this is a really stupid question, but why the hell did Tuunbaq consume souls? What does it do with them? Digest them? Tasty snack nomnomnom? Why not just kill those pesky sailors? I have an understanding of what Tuunbaq represents, but why the soul sucking? Sorry, I still have whiplash from that show…

Anyway, thank you for enlightening me in advance! <3

Not a stupid question at all!

I'm going to give an answer based more on personal knowledge and opinion rather than cold hard fact - apologies in advance if that's not what you're looking for. Rest assured though that this is something I intend to chase up further sources on and think/write a great deal more about in future. :)

For all you couldn't strictly define it as cannibalism, when I think of the Tuunbaq and its consumption of souls, I think of what I know about various cultures throughout the world that have practiced cannibalism historically, and I think about the reasons why they did so.

Often, it was a reverential and sacred practice, enacted in a very focused and particular way. In many cases, specific body parts were eaten with the intention that one would gain characteristics associated with the deceased - eating a man's heart to gain his courage, eating a person's eyes to gain insight or their brain to absorb in some way their wisdom.

I think that's part of why Tuunbaq eats souls. The men are invaders within the landscape who are alien in every conceivable way so it make sense to me that Tuunbaq could gain knowledge of/insight into/power over them by absorbing their souls - the very essence of who they truly are.

But I also see Tuunbaq's consumption of souls as something potentially more akin to exocannibalism - eating one's enemies as an open expression of hostility, the ultimate indignity, the most extreme act of domination. And make no mistake, Franklin's men are enemies.

They've invaded and desecrated the land, killed Silna's father, caused Tuunbaq to go "off" in the first place. It makes sense to me that an enemy of that magnitude would warrant the extra horror and indignity of their soul being consumed as well as their body.

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Good Kid - Cross The Line Part 8

I try to be a good kid, a good son

But no one ever will take my side, all I ever do is take the fall

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Jordan should have known that their dad would insist on coming with them to their suit fitting, but it was still infuriating. Being around their dad brought them right back to being a teenager, trapped in his house with his rules. Thankfully, now they have their own space, but it still isn’t truly theirs. They still have to follow his rules. 

They followed behind their dad into the fitting room to get measured. Which, if they were honest, was always a painful experience. They could get through it for dance costumes, but this... was much worse. They could feel themselves slipping away, separating from their body as the assistant adjusted their limbs like a mannequin for a floor display. They were vaguely aware of their father’s constant droning voice, making inane small talk with the assistant about how his boy needed a good suit. That his cousin’s wedding was the perfect opportunity, that it’s a ‘father-son’ bonding experience to get a boy’s first real suit. They scoffed inwardly hearing their dad discuss bonding like a box to check instead of a moment to share. 

Was it too much to ask to be taken seriously? Not as a dancer or a student or a superhero or a man, but as a person. An individual with thoughts and opinions and ideas about the future. Sometimes they felt like a collection of parts to play rather than a complete individual. Good son, attentive student, ambitious dancer, brave hero, confident lover... could they ever be themself? Did they even know who that was? For so long, who they were was directly defined by how they could measure up to their parents standards. Could they be the man their parents had imagined when they were born?

No. And they knew that. They’d known that since their dad first saw their female form. Like they were tainted . Like femininity was acidic, eating away at their masculinity. Like they couldn’t want both, have both, need both. Like the two couldn’t coexist within them.

But if they were really, truly honest with themself, they knew their dad had always been disappointed in them. It didn’t take them turning into a “girl” for their dad to realize they were different. Just like the kids at school. When they were younger, they would blame ballet - say that the other kids just didn’t understand why a boy would do ballet. But now, they know... it’s not that simple. It was the femininity that they sensed - a part of Jordan that they didn’t even know to feel bad about until it was too late. At that age, you don’t have words like femininity, masculinity, whatever. They just were . They liked what they liked, they were just... them. It wasn’t Jordan who was tainted - it was everyone else. Everyone who looked at a kid being a kid and saw something more, something wrong. 

“Jordan! Are you even listening?” Their dad waved his hand in front of their face. “Thank the nice young man for his help.” They muttered a thanks to the assistant as they followed their dad back to his car. By the time they made it to the studio for their Saturday rehearsal, it felt like their skin was on fire. The fitting, their father, the constant pressure to deny themself... it was the closest they had ever come to skipping a rehearsal. But they didn’t want to have to answer any questions about their whereabouts so they forced themself to go. 

They nearly fled the rehearsal room once it was over - they thought they might actually rip their skin off if they had to be in this body for one more second. It was this urgency that would make them forget to lock the door to their dressing room, nearly slamming the door before shifting and letting out a relieved laugh. They truly could not explain this feeling to anyone - it wasn’t because of their powers, no matter how many idiots would try to tell them. You’re not really trans, you’re a supe. Did they ever think that maybe they have these powers because they’re trans, not the other way around? That they were meant to have these powers because of who they were. They weren’t made by compound V. Compound V just lets them express themself more completely. 

They took a deep breath, relishing the sensation of freedom. They started getting changed for their practice with Ella, not hearing the door creak open.

“Sorry! Uh... is J-” Ella’s hesitant voice broke into their reverie. Jordan spun around, shock turning to fury in a moment. 

“What the fuck, freshie!” They snapped, slamming the door shut behind her as fast as they could.

Ella’s POV

After waiting in the studio for 15 minutes for Jordan, Ella decided to go find them. She’d been able to get the day off from work so they could spend extra time working through some of the more complex lifts. She didn’t even think to tell Jordan - they always seemed to be ready to go as soon as the group practices ended. She probably would have kept waiting if they hadn’t seemed so... distracted today. She slowly made her way towards their dressing room, listening to make sure they weren’t on the phone or hooking up or something. 

She opened the door hesitantly, looking inside for Jordan. Instead, she was greeted by the back of a smaller girl with a short black bob. Ella didn’t realize someone’s back could be sexy. She turned around and Ella hid her eyes, but not fast enough to keep from seeing the girl’s small and perfect breasts, with brown nipples just begging to... 

“Oh! So sorry! Uh, is J-” She was going to ask the girl where Jordan was. But then the girl was glaring at her, and then she was pinned to the wall.

“What the fuck, freshie!” She hissed, and then she started yelling about respecting boundaries, and threatening her with various forms of violence if she ever says anything...

And then she gets it. When she actually looks in the girl’s eyes, really looks at her, she sees it. It’s Jordan. And yeah, they’re pissed at her, fucking furious, clearly this is a secret, she should be terrified right now. Because they’re a supe and they’re clearly powerful. But the same desire that burns in her core when they dance together or when their eyes meet across the studio is still there, and she briefly considers kissing Jordan right there. It’s not the first time she’s imagined kissing Jordan but it’s the closest she’d ever come to actually doing it. 

Jordan is still yelling threats at her when she stops them, their smaller body still easily pinning her against the wall. “Jordan!” She said loudly, snapping them out of their tirade. Then she pauses for a moment. “You’re beautiful.” She says softly, holding their gaze for a long moment. Maybe this one honest statement, this one kindness in the face of fury, could get through to them. And for a moment, she thinks Jordan might kiss her right there. But instead, they practically throw her out of the dressing room, grabbing her by the neck and shoving her out. She stood outside their dressing room, hands trembling, unable to get Jordan’s terror-filled eyes out of her mind.

She composes a thousand texts to Jordan. Apologies, questions, concerns... but nothing felt right. She obviously knew they were non-binary but they didn’t really talk about it. They seem so confident, so she just assumed they had it all figured out. But she had never seen them scared at all - and they were terrified. Most likely terrified that she would tell someone. It’s not like supes were banned here, obviously - Golden Boy is the leading boy of the past few performances. So... was it their parents who forced them to hide? Or did the company just get too weirded out by their powers? 

It really was none of her business. She’ll just pretend it never happened and move on. I mean, that’s what Jordan had done when they went to the Crocus. She was just... paying them back. It had nothing to do with finally seeing past the brave front Jordan had up all the time. And it definitely didn’t have anything to do with the way that Jordan’s eyes made her heart flutter. No, this was just a professional courtesy. Which is totally why it was just a coincidence that both of Jordan’s forms featured in Ella’s dreams that night, and every night that week.

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au by @poppy-metal

edits by @barbieprincesshilton

[alien-above]

My second coming out.

I think I was 18 when I came out as a lesbian. I don’t remember definitive moments of telling my friends. In many ways they knew before I did. Maybe it was all the drunk rambling about hot women when I lost my inhibitions. It must’ve been, because for all of my teenage years, I had been hanging up posters of male tv show actors and male band members and declaring they were attractive. I remember one afternoon where I was looking through a Kerrang magazine and I was gushing over how hot the lead singer of All Time Low was. Or maybe it was the guitarist. I really can’t remember. And at that time I genuinely thought that I was attracted to whichever one it was, and any other man that I had talked about. I really did. Because being attracted to men, being straight, was the norm and I had never questioned if I was actually feeling that way, or just blindly going along with what everyone else thought. And I suppose at 14/15/16/17 I had never experienced true attraction so I really had no way of actually knowing back then. And maybe that’s weird. Maybe I was weird. Or maybe, again, I just never had the time and space to consider the other gender or any gender, consider who I was.

But at around 18 I had sort of a revelation about women, without really understanding what it meant. Suddenly it was female actors and musicians I was obsessing over, talking about constantly and hanging up pictures of. And that felt right. It really did. I was finally certain about what attraction felt like. And when my brain and emotions caught up to what that meant for me, there just became casual talk in my friend group about me being a lesbian. Never any judgment or doubtful questions from their side. It just fell into my place. And I was so grateful and relieved to be accepted, that life just sailed on after that. But I also never did a lot of “soul searching” about it. Honestly the process of coming out seemed to happen completely without me in a way. Suddenly it just was. And that was it. I had a label now, and that would define my future. I really wish I would’ve given myself more time. Asked for more time, grown up a bit more before settling into something that in a way was just as much a directive of who I was supposed to be, as being straight had been.

I know many people want any lgbtq+ person to know their sexuality or gender when they start feeling and especially expressing being outside of the given norm. As if knowing a persons label restores the balance of things and the world makes sense again. It’s like they’re saying “well if you’ve gotta be different then you at least owe us an explanation of exactly what is so different about you”.

Fuck that. Whether you’re 5 or 12 or 25 or 50 or 90, you don’t owe anyone anything, you don’t have to explain, you don’t have to cram yourself into a nice little box with a nice little label, just so other people know where to store you.

I know that some people think that it’s ridiculous and attention seeking if a person decides to not label themselves, like it’s trendy to not only “want” to be different but also to “decide” that you’re so different that you’re not comfortable with these “perfectly well-fitted labels that everyone else can use so why can’t you, and just give us some peace”

Some people find power in labels and that’s amazing. Other people find just another set of expectations and dictations of who you’re supposed to be and who you’re allowed to be.

And without knowing it at the time, I had let myself be put into a box, before I had even come to terms with who I was.

I told my family in quite an unexpected way. As a protest against their generally homophobic talk. I wasn’t by any means ready to come out, I had barely been figuring things out, very barely confident enough to be myself. But I pushed myself to do it one night, because I was sick of hearing them talk like that, and a part of me thought that if they knew I wasn’t straight, then it would force them to have to reevaluate their thinking and speaking.

That night, that coming out, it wasn’t for me, it was for every other person out there, sat at a dining table feeling ashamed and rejected. It was a challenge in a way. One that I won, my family doesn’t speak like that anymore, they support me and I like to think that they’ve grown to see the world in a different way as the years have gone by.

But it happened. I was now out of the closet to the people closest to me. And I was a lesbian.

I was 18 or 19 back then. Now I’m 27. And I feel stuck and ashamed and uncertain. I’m hiding. And I’m so terrified that my closest friends will think differently of me, if I ever tell them that I’m not sure. I’m so scared that I will let them down, that they will feel betrayed or that they will think that I’ve been lying to them for all these years (and I guess that part is true), that I’m a fraud who was just desperate to be a lesbian.

I came out years ago.

But then 2 days ago I watched Red White & Royal blue, and season 2 of Heartstopper in the same day.

And I got this sort of pressing sadness in my chest, this overwhelming need to be able to be myself, because i knew and I know that I’m not free, I’m not out of the godforsaken closet in the way that is who I am. I think I’m bi, actually.

And what a terrible shame. Terrible, terrible shame. Shame on me. How dare I be the person who proves that every lesbian can be turned by a good-looking man? How dare I ask people to have to change their perception of me? How dare I be 27 and not know for certain who I am?

It’s messing with my head so much that I’m afraid I can never be honest. It’s messing with me so much that I feel like I’ve been slowly drowning in a cage for years and now there’s barely any air left. It feels like if I don’t get those words out soon then I’m not gonna make it. It’s so heavy.

And being openly bisexual, from what I’ve gathered, is not a fun rollercoaster to be on. You’ll be questioned and analyzed and doubted, you’ll have to constantly stand up for your own sexuality because it’s too fluid for pea-sized brains to understand, every romantic or sexual experience you have will be either a defeat or a success in the lgbtq+ community, you’ll be sexualized, you’ll be asked to cross your own boundaries because it’s “hot”, you’ll be seen as more promiscuous, and probably so many more things I can’t think of right now.

Part of the reason I also haven’t told anyone yet, is the simple reason that it’s easier to brush men off that you don’t want attention from, by saying that you’re a lesbian, so they’re wasting their time. It’s an easy out I’ve used many times. And I’ve felt so wrong about it every time because it’s simply not true. And what a fucked up world, that it’s easier to throw the lesbian card than it is to simply say no and have that be respected. But that’s an entirely different talk.

Am I really ready to face all of this, to have that conversation with friends and family, to admit that I’m not a lesbian and that I’m still figuring things out? To have to explain what to me is very personal, about how attraction works for me? To have to then also open up about the differences I feel with romantic and sexual attraction? To explain that I’m also not quite sure if maybe I’m somewhere on the demisexual spectrum as well? And is it too much to ask for them to understand that particular part as well? To have to lay bare every single moment of confusion and realization that has led me to have to speak up to be free? In a way it feels like I’m going to court and I might lose. Well I feel quite certain that I’ll lose and that for a very long time, I’ll be stuck in that courtroom until I’ve explained enough, to peoples satisfaction.

As if this isn’t about me wanting to be happy, it’s about making sure that the people around me are happy with who I am.

I just want to be me. I want to not have to be careful about what I say, I want to be able to gush as much about Henry Cavill as I can gush about Anya Chalotra, I want the freedom to fall in love with a person, without having to stress about whether or not it’s a woman. I want to be able to talk about attraction without hiding half of me, without suffocating myself in the process.

I want to be allowed to be 27 and still be figuring things out.

But still, I’m so afraid of what will happen. And it’s simply just not fucking fair that I have to be afraid. I have never even written about this before, too afraid to put actual words to how I’ve been feeling for so long, too afraid of making it real. But I’m taking a chance, and posting it here, hoping that maybe it will be a step on the way.

If anyone reads this, then please be kind ❤️

[marshmallowprotection]

Do you think SE Saeran will get rid of the tattoo someday?

SE Saeran wears his tattoo as a reminder at first. He can’t forget what he’s done or what he went through. He has to face that when he looks in the mirror. He can't run away from his reflection. He knows that like the back of his hand, and you can say that given how he tried to remove the red from his hair to make sure he could even stomach that reflection.

This is his way of coping with reality and knowing that he went through something that cannot be erased. Since his memory isn’t the best, he hates to think that there is something he’s forgetting. He can’t forget what he’s gone through, but there are times when it feels as though reality isn’t what it appears to be. He questions the world around him.

What is real? What isn’t real? Is he real? Is he fake? All of those questions can seem overwhelming when they hit him. That’s a hard feeling to face. It's not that hard to imagine why. Put yourself in his shoes. His reality was constantly put into question. Things that he thought he knew were made to feel wrong all the time. How does he know what's real? Those kinds of questions don't leave him. They stay with him no matter where he goes. How can he trust himself?

Do you know the one thing that's real? His tattoo. The choice he made in that place to get a tattoo to prove his commitment to something that was built on a lie. At least, he understands it to be a lie now. All of that was a lie and he can see that now, but if he knows anything as he is now, it's that no matter how he feels, that tattoo was always going to be looking back at him.

His tattoo is a testament to the things he has gone through.

The good, the bad, and the ugly. He wears it as a reminder. You can't forget when it's on your body forever. He can't forget what he has gone through, the things he's done, or where he is today as long as he knows that the tattoo is looking back at him. It's almost mocking him sometimes because while it helps him remember he's no longer in that place, it is also a testament to the things he did wrong. To the blood on his hands that haunt him when he tries to sleep.

Whether people want to talk about it or not, it haunts him to know that he took a life. It doesn't matter who that life belonged to, he has to live with the fact that his hands are sullied with blood. V’s blood. That moment when everything went wrong was truly the lowest point of his life. The gun was in his hands to protect himself from being destroyed, and in his fit of fear and confusion, the gun went off and his mind went blank. It doesn't matter if it was intentional or not, he has to live with the weight of that on his chest. On his shoulder, even.

The blood might not be on his hands but you know what is? His tattoo.

I don't think he will get rid of the tattoo anytime soon. I see it as something that weighs on his guilty conscience and keeps him feeling like he can't forget what happened. It's the same way that his brother carries around a cross around his neck so he never forgets the weight of his choices. Those two are very similar in that sense. That may change in the future, though. He may get to a point where he doesn't feel afraid of forgetting. He may even get to a point where he can look in the mirror without feeling disgusted. We have no way of knowing for sure the way he'll feel in the future so we can't define it with a definite answer.

Maybe he'll get rid of the tattoo or maybe he'll cover it up when the time feels right. The tattoo doesn't always have to be something that's a reminder of all the bad things he's gone through. Someday it could be more like a testament to his survival. It could be a reminder he went through all of that but he came through on the other side with things he never imagined. Perspective is a hell of a thing that takes time to figure out.

But for the time being, the tattoo stays because he doesn't want to forget. If he never forgets, he can't repeat it again. He certainly doesn't want to repeat the choices he made in the past. After all of the things he's gone through, he doesn't want to pick up any technology or get close to weapons that could cause harm that can never be taken away. The only thing he wants to do is look at the sky all day and treat himself to some ice cream if he feels like he's earned it. Even that much doesn't feel like he has the right to enjoy it, but it's the small luxury he allows himself as he goes through recovery.

[kmlaney]

yesterday I had my first encounter with an AI chatbot as part of a "market research" questionnaire. And I have some thoughts

(kinda long and ranty so have a read-more)

For one, I pegged this thing as an AI chatbot from the first probing response, which read like a session with *Dr SBAITSO. I confirmed it after the session.

I did market research back in the ancient times when people answered their phones. I know that interviewers are supposed to probe to get respondents to define their terms in order to understand exactly what they mean. Ok, fine. But a human interviewer recognizes when a respondent has already defined their terms. They don't ask again. The chatbot doesn't evaluate what it records. It regurgitates whatever gets fed in and fits its format.

It was also pretty clear that I went way the hell off their script. Its probing questions were all "What do you mean by (repeats my response verbatim)?" Which I already answered.

[for the record, the survey was "hey suppose your company offered banking and financial advice through their payroll service? How cool would that be?" They didn't seem set up for repeated "no and here's why."]

So it was annoying to be "interviewed" by a program with less sense than a customer service call router. But again, ok, I'll give you my thoughts. I'm at work so I'm getting paid to do your survey. Fine. Whatever.

By the end, though, I was annoyed with the whole thing. It felt less personal than filling in the bubbles on the SAT. I wasn't communicating. Will anyone read my text responses? I doubt it. The whole point of AI chat is to be cheap and easy. Tabulate and spit out a number. The program doesn't care. The people making the program don't care.

The other impression, and perhaps the more irritating, was that the survey was a formality. Someone at the payroll company thought it was a good idea to offer these services and was collecting supportive "data" because they were going to implement it anyway.

Nobody cares.

idk. I just had a viscerally angry reaction to the experience and I don't really know why, other than a feeling of dis-empowerment and sense that this is the dystopian future I used to read about. Where's the meme?

Maybe I expected machine voice chat interactions to have improved in 30 years.

Gonna go yell at kids to get off my lawn.

*Want to play with Dr SBAITSO? Have a burning desire to experience the height of early 90's text-to-speech technology? Nostalgic for a program from a more civilized age, before chatGPT took control? Click Here (not a rickroll I promise).

[motionjames]

Writing this here since it might be (thematic) spoilers, this is just an insane ramble regarding my creative process as I continue working on Sorekara. Anime catholocism that devolves into poetic drivel.

Whenever I start a story, I always decide exactly how it will end: "the two will say goodbye with a kiss. they will never see each other again. and so it goes." That sounds sort of sad but the truth is that I dont understand why people who love each other have to be together forever. I understand why people would want it, but is it always necessary? Isnt it enough to carry the memory...?

For numerous reasons, I've always struggled to experience time in a linear fashion. My affection for some one will be as bright as the day I met them, even if I havent seen them in years. I have difficulty telling when I'm dreaming and when I'm awake at times, and I sleep entire days away and work through the nights. My love and bitterness never fade. Time isnt so much as a consistant flow as it is a sequence of frames I can revisit at any time, tracing the lines and feeling the feelings anew. That's right, life is a sequence of many pictures, physical and real and undying. That's what I think about often.

So when writing stories I think often of goodbyes. They can take the gifts with them and continue to collect the memories. As I continue filling in the picture of Sorekara, the more I see how it's a story of taking and giving and faith and time.

We have a man who has so much love and nowhere to put it. We have a creature that is defined by emptiness. We have a sequence of tragedies that live fresh as the day they were carved and there is no way of reversing them. But there is still a kindness that prevails thanks to the gifts theyve recieved: a matchbox of melodies tucked into the breast pocket; a hand with a heartbeat; a shoulder to lean on; a paper flower; a mural found; a phantom revisited; a promise of something that can never come true. Each gift solidifies that moment in time. The man believes in a false miracle and one day, despite its impossibility, his friend becomes it. The roles reverse. A man who learns how to accept a miracle, and a person who learns how to give.

My sister asked me if there was a common theme in my work ("besides trains!") and I thought about it for a minute. I said, "maybe the message is that God is real but He has abandoned us...but maybe the real God was the people we met along the way?"

It's the same in Prayers: a girl presents an impossible promise and boy who desperately needs it believes her. There's a quote from a later on--

"A lie is a just a promies for the future I wish you could have!"

Does this make sense? I'm going on all over the place now. But to sum it up, my characters are keen to believe the lies others feed them because those lies are wonderful gifts. Everyone is so keen to give something to each other because their stop is coming soon. Everyone believes in angels because the world would be wonderful if they were real-- the kinds with feathers and halos, not the ones that exist within their reality. Even the angels want to believe. So everyone survives through fabricated fantasies. But because of others, a sliver of that fantasy can become real. A paper flower, painted red, held between the fingers. My gift to you. My little bit of godhood.

So time continues, and the two travelers say goodbye with a kiss. They will never see each other again. But the memory can be revisited, and in that immortal frame-- in the space eliminated-- time stops-- the image is burned into the mind-- the two powerless souls created a miracle-- in the image, there was something higher than God. It was something only a human can make.

The moment passes. But it never really dies.

"My little bit of godhood. That's my gift to you."

[blacklodgemusictx]

The thing about plans is: they necessitate optimism. You have to assume the world will keep turning for long enough to get to the plans in... The Future.

Three months ago, I went, "We should see the Pool Kids"... in Ohio! Somehow it made sense to fly 1200 miles to see them on a Thursday versus the normal hoops I have to jump through to see any band here in Texas (Austin and Denton are a Tuesday and a Wednesday. Any time I see a show in Texas, due to the fact that I live nowhere anyone would ever want to come on purpose, there is always extra time off to be requested for drive time -- 3ish hours for Denton, 4 hrs one way for Austin).

"Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go on Tour" also represents the Pool Kids' first foray out on the world as... headliners (starry eyes.)

I didn't write about the Pool Kids back in March. I should have. It would be a lot easier now to describe what they mean to me if I had.

The Pool Kids are a delightful anomaly in my own history. I discovered them 100% on my own. No outside influence what so ever. Doug and I simply lamented one night in late 2018/early 2019 that we really needed to find something closer by to do. Maybe something is happening close by and we don't even know it! Something that won't require... taking off time from WORK?! So I got on Spotify and searched for bands touring nearby -- within a 100 mile radius (Dallas is 186 miles). I looked at the results: someone called the Pool Kids. In San Angelo. 91 miles!!

They were the *only* band not wearing cowboy hats in their profile picture.

They're new (at the time) album was called "Music to Practice Safe Sex To." Ok. I put it on for a listen. Girl singer. Ugh. Not my thing. But anything to block out the random bullshit background noise in my office. I play it through. Eh. Doesn't Grab me.

Oh well, it was worth a try.

But time passes... brain says, "lizzz.... lizzz listen to that album again... lizzzz" Yes, brain, I do as you command.

And it grabs me.

It grabs me hard.

And I *love* it. I don't know why. I'm big on understandable lyrics. And I can't say I understand half of what is being said. But the melodies are gorgeous. I get goosebumps. Whatever she's talking about it, it's sad... and contemplative. And angry ("I should rip your throat out for what you've done to me...") Her voice is low for the most part. Something I've only learned about myself recently is I tend toward listening to voices that sound closer to my own and I'm a contralto.

When I look in to the band, I'm told it's "math rock." I have no fucking clue what that means (musicians have explained it to me: Complex time signatures. Key changes. Sounds like a new definition of "prog" to me. Close, the musicians tell me, but not quite.) Whatever. Don't make me label a thing. And for sure if you tell me it's "math rock" and then assume I will like other kinds of "math rock" I will refuse on principle. I pride myself on being harder to define in my tastes than that.

The reality? My finger is placed squarely on it later. "oooOOOOooo I see!" Hayley Williams from Paramore acknowledges and gives them props at some point... *that's* it. They remind me of the Paramore appreciation I gleaned from my time as a too-old-to-admit-it-Twihard. Simple.

We absolutely go to the San Angelo gig. Doug and I are easily the oldest people there -- old enough to be these kids' parents easily. The "De Nada" is a artsy thrift store during the day. At night, they push the clothing racks and other offerings against the wall and become a venue.

There are somewhere in the neighborhood of three to five bands. They all sort of run together. The only one I remember is a band from New Orleans. The lead singer is wearing a ruffly shirt and I'm pretty sure he wants to be the Vampire LeStat when he grows up. He does weird acrobatics. Somersaults? Paints his face with red lipstick.

The Pool Kids wail.

I am floored. They are actually kids (something you must know about me is I've been approximately 200 years old since I was in high school... I would have acknowledged their youth even if they had been OLDER than me at that point.) But the amount of rock they bring is amazing, jaw dropping. Lead singer Christine, SHREADS, does that "up-on-the-neck tapping" guitar thing I only saw as a kid stealing glances at MTV when Mom wasn't around (baby cousin posted look out at the door... promptly and cheerfully narc'd on me for doing something I wasn't supposed to).

I have a couple videos from that night on YouTube. One example being:

We talk to them after. Doug wants to know about their influences. In the accidentally condescending way my brain works, since I’ve been 200 years old this whole time… I am interested to hear what they say. How do you cultivate that amount of raw power and instrument mastery at that age? The only thing I remember being mentioned was Pink Floyd.

Nice.

I come prepared. I cashed out my Christmas money before coming. Pretending to be a baller, I fan out the cash and buy as much of their merch as possible. It was $100, but the way all their eyes lit up, I felt important. And I loved it. I think Christine hugged me. I don’t really remember. I hope that got them lots of van gas and hot meals as they continued on their way… bringing the good news of rock to other points of the compass.

I was now flush with copies of their album. I sent one to Salim and one to Sue Harshe – a friend we made on a pilgrimage to see Scrawl (godmothers of riot grrl — look them up!) in Knoxville in 2015.

Fast forward…

Life changing time with Salim on the road Feb 2020… two last shows: Caroline’s Spine in Tulsa… And the Pool Kids in Houston. March 2020. On an impressive bill with the Wonder Years. Bigger! Poised for up up up bigger and better things.

Then the world ended.

But it got better….

(didn’t it?)

We saw them in Dallas this March at Amplified Live.

And I cried.

Not just a quiet trickle from the corner of my eye.

I cried hard. There they were. Rocking. Bigger and better. Christine working the crowd like a young Bono at Red Rocks. Coming in to herself. Coming into themselves as young rock gods. Master of the stage. Master of all they survey. I was just so in love with what I was seeing and hearing. So proud of them. So happy that we as humans were back. Able to watch a show like this and just be together again. Maybe everything would be ok after all.

I talked to Nicolette (complete bass domination — Doug commented much later that she seems to have the most fun performing on stage of anyone he’s ever seen… and his history as a fine appreciator of rock is ten years longer than mine) at the merch table later. Tried to get myself under control. Still had an embarrassing hitch in my throat. I have seen a LOT of good performances before, but none that have gotten that kind of response before.

She remembers me. I know not a huge amount of time has passed, but in their history and progression as a band and our progression as a now traumatized people… millennia has passed.

I am touched.

So now we are back up to current. They are headlining. Of course they are. They deserve every bit of this. Again I swell with pride though… I’ve backed a winning horse. This is rare. Usually when I love you, you break up (RIP People in Planes).

The deciding factor that made us pick Ohio though was two fold: first date of the tour and where it was: ACE OF CUPS. Ace of Cups was owned by the other half of Scrawl, Marcy Mays (what I didn’t know at the time was that Marcy no longer owns it as of the end of 2022.)

I Facebook squeal. Sue, I tag, can I take ANY sort of credit for this? She agrees that I can, but without elaboration. I don’t know if the credit comes in the fact that I just love them THAT much and have therefore done that “manifesting” thing I keep hearing about. I have WISHED this in to existence. In my happy mind movie though, back in 2019, Sue passes the album on to Marcy. Marcy agrees that they wail. Mentions as ownership of Ace of Cups passes from her, that the Pool Kids are really amazing and if they come by, you should totally get them. Pool Kids acquired.

Perhaps best to just enjoy my happy mind movies and not require further elaboration.

Back to present-present.

Flying always seems like such a doable thing until you (I) are there. I forgot my calm-down pills. The little white bits of magic that make the anxiety grey out for a few hours. There’s also that lull where you watch your airport gate fill up. Maybe *this* time the flight won’t be full.

It’s always full.

Leg one is to Atlanta. Short layover.

Text from Salim, “Can you talk at some point today?”

Literally, right now. This is the most available I will be all day.

So he calls. He’s had a health set back (read his Facebook… I never know what I’m allowed to talk about when it comes to other people.) Our trip that was on the books for the 07/21-07/27 with Rhett {Miller} is off. Off 100% sure? I am just trying to clarify for the purpose of undoing plans. But the voice that lives in my head and constantly tells me I’m an asshole pipes up. Way to make it about you. Jerk. He’s poorly and you are asking if the trip really, truly is off. That’s not what I meant. It’s never what I mean.

I am able to cancel all the hotels and get credit for the plane fare before we even line queue up for next boarding.

I have always had a sense for when something is meant to happen. I didn’t feel like this trip was a good idea. Salim is a big proponent for listening to the universe when it tells you something. I try to be too. We were all meant to stay here for now. I hate that he had to have something health related happen, but in the end… I think we will all realize we were supposed to stay home. Whether I get sick, or Doug, or one of the cats. Something will happen to make me go, “Oh. Here it is. I hear you, universe.” For Salim, I think his prescription is stillness. He is the most go-go-go person I know. He never stops swimming. Something wants him to stop swimming for right now.

This is ok. Seriously. I don’t mind and the only thing I am worried about is my friend.

So we board for hop to. Columbus. Our destination.

The flight is not bad. I feel optimistic. Maybe soon I will master my fear. Fly all the time like it’s not a big deal… maybe make an international jaunt before too long — an idea I’ve never entertained before.

We land at two-ish. Haven’t eaten. There’s a Bob Evans in our hotel’s parking lot. I’ve never been to a Bob Evans. It feels sort of like a Dennified Cracker Barrel. I don’t eat much. I drink even less (there’s that foreshadowing thing again).

We go back to our room and sleep. It’s good sleep. The bed is soft, but not too soft. We wake up at 6:30. Venue is a mile away. Doors at 7.

I primp a bit. No makeup this time. Though it’s easily 25 degrees cooler here than home and there are perceptible dark clouds that might mean a bit of rain if we behave ourselves. I could have worn makeup, but it doesn’t matter.

The venue… there’s that twinge in my chest again. It’s worse this time. But I am delighted. The stage is dark and light chevrons, the backdrop: red curtains. There’s a recognizable symbol on the wall (the thing that looks like an ant’s head with antennae on either side). This is what BLM would have looked like. We HAD the red curtains purchased — they are in our dining room now. The chevron design is a rug … that’s still rolled up in a corner and hasn’t been touched for a year now. Someone else is like me. They know. Again I don’t know if that was Marcy or the new owners and it doesn’t matter if I ask. It still exists. If I managed to walk any further back past the stage… there probably would’ve been owls. Schrodinger’s venue. By not exploring further, it contains all possibilities.

The first band is Chase Petra (the second is Sydney Sprague per the tour poster.) I didn’t look either up ahead of time. I have never given much credence to the idea that I could be influenced to love just by proximity to the band I came to see… but I instantly recognize this idea as false: I got Salim from being an opener. I got Jesse and Landon from Salim… sight unseen.

And I love them both.

Chase Petra is amazing. They are young and saucy. They have attitude. In keeping with the name of the tour, emphasis on “girls.” Chase Petra are 3/4 girl. And all power. The vibe is similar to the Pool Kids. A strong, young, shredding female vocalist, but the show stopper was the other guitarist. She was an eighties hair metal rock god reincarnate. All flying fingers and whipping hair.

It’s so FUCKING LOUD. The hair on my arms vibrates, my heart doesn’t know when to beat, my stomach vibrates.

I love them. The audience loves them too and shouts along with most of their songs.

Band two: Sydney Sprague. They are older. The bass player wears a neckerchief like Fred from Scooby Doo and commands a Moog in between bass slinging duties. The singer is all in black and reminds me of me. Same dark hair style and cut I kept in high school. She’s got a sweet voice, higher than the other girls on the bill. Their performance is a little more low key, but no less powerful. They are a fantastic, cohesive unit in total control of their art.

Someone further to my left up front has brought huge bunches of roses. One for each band. Chase Petra’s bunch lives on stage by their set list, Sydney receives hers like a beauty queen. All blushing and sweet thanks. “Fred” leans over and buries his nose in the bouquet for a moment.

Finally, the moment draws close. I am keenly aware that I am running out of time. I have spent energy enjoying the first two bands. I will pay for this. My spine continues to grind itself to sand, as I assume it will for the rest of my life. I have already remarked that it’s “hot in here.” Liz, it’s not, Doug says. Not good. I’ve had a total of maybe 4 ounces to drink today. All in the name of easier travel.

I’ve taken small moments in between each band to sit on the edge of the stage. I know I will eventually hinder something to do with the bands and their myriad cables and plugs, or the imposing young doorman with the impressive afro will come along and tell me to get up.

Neither.

It’s Nicolette the lovely bass player again. “Excuse me, I have to get in here,” I was sitting on a blank plate that ended up covering electrical sockets. I touch her shoulder. She looks at me. Ah, there’s the recognition. She’s glad to see me.

She puts out the setlist. I’m excited. But filled with dread. I have to last this long. I have to fight my own body for 12 songs and I’m already flagging… but it’s starting and I can’t think about it now.

Their entrance music is… “Sandstorm” and I’m dying. I’m ready to rave. But the music stops abruptly. Starts again. But the moment is gone. Oh well. They tried.

Christine is wearing white platform go go boots, short skirt, fishnets, midi top. Nicolette has an equally short skirt, neckerchief too, but there’s nothing Scooby Doo about hers. I don’t know where to look. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. They look amazing. Someone on TikTok later declares, “Their fits!!!” Fits… ‘fits… outfits? That has to be it. Woman have been weaponizing their sexuality since woman were admitted to the boys club that is rock music. Courtney Love’s ripped baby doll dresses and bruised innocence, L7 and… throwing… stuff… on stage, performing in bikinis, performing in too little, too much. Anything open for interpretation and therefore derision or scorn. But sexualizing is not cool anymore. I don’t know what kind of commentary I am allowed on this subject, but I am left echoing the same cry, “their fits!!” Their oufits, they are “fit”, they are there and raw and breathtakingly sexual and powerful. You don’t stare at the sun either, but you’ve done it. You’ve dared.

I also have a revelation. Role models. These people are amazing, iconic. I take a moment to bless the proliferation of media I’ve cursed in past. If I had access to these kinds of strong female role models as a teen, my life would have been completely different. I wouldn’t have let my mother’s flat declaration, “You aren’t good at music. PICK SOMETHING ELSE.” Turn me from my fated course.

It makes me happy that social media is exposing young people to bands like the ones on this bill. There’s hope for the future.

They open with “Swallow,” one of the songs on my revised Ketamine playlist. There’s a bit of treated vocal that is the absolutely definition of why music is good. Music should give you that thrill like sticking your head out of the window of a moving car. That drop in your stomach. Momentary breathlessness.

Can’t put my finger on it Don’t know what makes it so appealing I’m not begging for your affection I’m just addicted to the feeling…

Two songs in. Time for the third. How many people here were around for our first album – Music to Practice Safe Sex to? ME!! MEEEEeeeeeEEEE…. I scream. You can hear it on the video. I should be embarrassed. I’m too old to be reacting like this. But I got such a late start…

The music doesn’t know the social constructs of age or sex… it just knows what feels good.

The “Safe Sex” portion of the show is two songs long. This makes me sad. You never forget the album you came in on. It’s a much more forlorn sounding album though. I know from Salim that the forlorn ones don’t get people dancing. But “Patterns,” ah… I would have lost my mind for “Patterns.”

And I spent one too many nights banging my head against the wall to hear another voice telling me that I’m doing something wrong So excommunicate me You’re no better than the fucked up doctrine that sent me running to your doorstep in the first place

Fucked up doctrine. My youth is fucked up doctrine. My memories are tainted by it. I still wonder how they can wield so much word power at such a young age, but then again these struggles are as old as the generations. As long as their have been the elder and the younger, the subjugator and the subjugated, rulers, oppressed, one group will chafe against the other. It hurts the heart, grinds down the soul… but it makes the music amazing.

We make art, music, poetry, to feel hope.

I make it almost to the end… almost… Talk Too Much: Christine does the young Bono thing and goes out in to the crowd. Several times a mini mosh pit has broken out right where she is. At some point, someone flicks beer on us… at least I hope it was beer. Ugh. I am done. The anesthetized feeling starts in my finger tips.

I am going to pass out.

I mouth to Doug, “I have to go. NOW.” I head for the stool previously occupied by the imposing young doorman. I lay my head on the counter for a second. I wait to be booted off. I’ve been doing this for years. I’ve passed out, tried to pass out, and all stages in between for years, in myriad venues in cities all across the US. I like to be in the front. My constitution takes issue with this. But I do it anyway.

I try to gesture to Doug: thumb at my lips, fingers curved around an invisible cup. Drink. Please I need water. But there are too many people.

Next best thing: air. I lurch out the door and land on the pavement beside the door. The Kids are launching in to an encore. I can’t heard what it is. Doug is on his phone summoning the Uber. Imposing Young Doorman Man appears… with a cup of ice water in his hand. THANK YOU, DEAR BLESSING, SIR! You have no idea how many people normally just go, ‘YOU — you can’t sit there!’ (Hi, La Zona Rosa in Austin… the scuzzy incarnation not the gentrified one) even though I’m pretty sure if you kick me out of your establishment while swooning and I faceplant on the cement, I could sue you. Or something.

People aren’t normally friendly about it because they assume I drank too much… when it’s the opposite: I didn’t drink at all.

The Uber appears and we are whiskered away. I still couldn’t hear what the encore was. But I’m not sad. I got most of it and it was AMAZING. Nicolette saw me so I exist. Mission accomplished.

We are back in the hotel. Doug orders Denny’s Doordash. The thing about prolonged exposure to sonic assault is: nausea. Nothing sounds good. Until Doug says… macaroni and cheese. And I know EXACLTY what kind Denny’s has because I’ve noticed it on the menu before. It doesn’t lie. It doesn’t pretend to be something else. It is real: really Kraft boxed mac… and at that moment it sounds like the AMBROSIA of the GODS.

Which is exactly what it tastes like.

I am replenished. The gods of rock are appeased for another night …

[caniskhan]

Marathon Man: Starting Gun

Hi everyone: Welcome into a Ken Burns-style documentary. An opinionated, repetitive, seemingly never-ending dive into love, relationships, and their much more fun sibling! 

I recommend you read these in the posted order - it’ll make much more sense. This disclaimer doesn’t help anyone who picks it up halfway through, which I’m just now realizing while typing this. Still, it’s here, and I’ll get the unwarranted sense of satisfaction I crave pointing it out to a future commenter (sorry in advance friend).

Okay, let’s do this! 

*romantic music… mixed with circus music*

Every single relationship is different: people are unique. We all offer a different form of love and naturally gravitate towards what we need. In the best relationships, each person knows it well enough to define the qualities their partner brings. They just get each other. They know when to push each other, when to comfort, what to do to show the other they’re appreciated. 

Every single relationship is exactly alike: we’re simply animals. Human beings. 

Most species have their own unique relationships. Take black widows. The male is going to find the female, hop on her web, and fertilize her eggs. Sex burns plenty of calories; she gets hungry. Naturally, she eats him after he serves his purpose. 

Side note: ladies… we inherently understand when you have burned plenty of calories for the day. Maybe through stress or working out, whatever it is. There’s some sort of common ancestry between us and widows - neither of us wants to find out if that impulse still exists in you. So we suck it up, bite the bullet, and only last like 30 seconds sometimes. A selfless act, and I think you ladies really need to acknowledge these kinds of sacrifices guys make for you.

I digress. In people, every relationship boils down to a few things. Working towards a common purpose and how hard you’re willing to fight for each other when adversity hits. We’ve all seen the story: a seemingly great couple has kids. For 18+ years they do great! A model family - mom and dad are amazing parents and raise great kids. Soon after? Divorce, distance in the marriage, whatever it might be. A fracture in the relationship nobody saw coming. Why? Parenting was that common goal. They both were willing to fight through any amount of adversity for their kids.The common goal is now accomplished. Each realizes their next purpose is too different. The fight to maintain the relationship and bridge the gap they didn’t realize was forming over those 18 years isn’t worth the time and effort necessary to close. Life is short. 

I chose the word adversity because it’s a wide-ranging term. It can show up like this: a girl feels her boyfriend is too overbearing. That’s a big issue: leave it unaddressed and she’ll eventually feel smothered and bam she’s out the door and it’s over. Should she communicate that to him? Yep. It’s strictly his issue, right? Well… sort of. He’s the one who needs to change and adjust his behavior for her. Her responsibility? Understanding it stems from protective instincts. His intentions are (most likely) pure. Understanding change doesn’t happen overnight. If he’s making a little progress everyday, he’s fighting for you. It might not be enough. That’s a valid reason to break up. The same overbearing quality to another girl is seen as appropriately protective and cute. The original girl will find a guy with a more relaxed temperament. In most situations the guy is the one who is making the change. Very unfair, but I don’t make the rules.