#on the opposite end of the spectrum we have a simple question that I’ll get asked

[blaithnne]

Sometimes you guys ask me questions about Lauren and I’m like. Idk. You’ve clearly thought this through more than I ever did

[typenull]

While the climax of Dunmesh [here’s your warning for spoilers] gives us an extremely thorough look into Laios’s psyche and his own desires, we don’t actually know that much about Falin, despite her “death” kicking the entire story into motion. The only bits of Falin we get to see are through the lens of other characters, who inherently show us their own biased perceptions of her. I’d go as far to say that Falin is actually the character in Dungeon Meshi who’s true desires we know the least about!

We know with absolute certainty at least a few things: Falin is gifted with powerful magic, wants to follow behind and travel with her brother who she deeply respects, loves her friend Marcille, likes fruits and creams, loves insects and is curious about monsters, once again like Laios… most of the things we learn about Falin are things that she has in common with her brother, but what does SHE want, deep down? How does she feel about everything? I don’t think we’ll fully get an answer to that question before the manga is over. This is definitely on purpose though, and has even been hinted at in the text (which I’ll get to later).

In my opinion the main difference between Falin and Laios is that Falin doesn’t want to hurt anyone besides herself (for the sake of others, and she barely knows who that self is) and Laios wants to hurt anyone who he “doesn’t like” (anyone who endangers him and those he loves). Both of these feelings stem from the same shared events of their childhood where they both began to feel “disconnected” from humanity so to speak, but they reacted to it in opposite ways.

Where Laios stubbornly ran away and refused to deal with being hurt and surrounded by hurt, Falin, who we rarely see making choices based on any desires for herself (staying in the academy for 8 years after being sent by her father despite not thinking it’s for her, nearly agreeing to marry Shuro just so that she doesn’t have to deal with being asked later, etc.), doesn’t object to anything she’s subject to because the only person being “hurt” in these scenarios is herself, which to her is acceptable. She accepts the fact that she’s considered “othered” extremely easily, and this reflects openly in both her behavior and in the few things we know about her: she connects with and cares deeply for spirits despite being ostracized, admires insects and monsters like her brother, and is even fine planning to take on a job that’s revered in her hometown. To Falin, being “othered” is more normal to her than the alternative

The only people in Falin’s life that make her feel like *more* than just an outsider are Laios and Marcille. As a result Laios and Falin end up with similar sounding mindsets on the surface; "As long as [the people I love] are okay, I don't care about anything else" — but underneath, they actually manifest completely differently! Where Laios “doesn’t care about people”, Falin cares deeply about them despite barely being treated as one.

The only *active* decision from Falin we see that most obviously reflects her deepest desires is her choice to die for those she loves, which I think says a lot about her.

I think that if Laios is “a human who wants to become a monster” because he hates humans due to his past, the most obvious foil to him is Kabru, “a human who wants to destroy monsters” because of his past in Utaya (and feeling like a monster himself). Thinking of them as two ends of a spectrum, in the grey middle ground of this is where I think I’d put Falin.

She’s simultaneously a human made subhuman, a monster made to follow Thistle, a “ghost” of her former self haunting Laios and Marcille — she really IS the absolute epitome of a “chimera”.

The Lion cursing Laios was the “hinting in the text” I talked about earlier: forcing his deepest desire into something seemingly impossible to achieve, a chimera. The surface level conclusion when reading this is that Falin won’t be revived, but I seriously don’t think it’ll be that simple in the end. After all, a chimera is multifaceted.

My hope for the final chapter of Dungeon Meshi is that, *if* by some chance Falin is revived, she will finally have to grapple with not only having to look deep within herself to answer all of these things for her own sake, but also with having the one opportunity in which she chose to use any sort of agency to act upon her deepest desires not only be completely reversed, but also hurting so many people in the process. When Falin is revived in the Red Dragon arc, she doesn’t even remember sacrificing herself for her friends — but she promises Laios to never do it again, falling back into her typical submissive obedience. How would she react the second time? Will we even get to know? Something tells me, probably not.

[hongism]

05 - j.wooyoung + lingerie (18+)

» j.wooyoung x gn!reader » 18+ dni if minor, nsfw/pwp » language, feminization, lap dancing, strip tease, bratty wooyoung, manual stimulation, grinding, cum eating, dirty talk, finger sucking » wc 3.3k » link to masterlist

you’ve almost come to the conclusion that tonight was a complete and utter waste of time when your eyes pause in their subtle search across the room. it’s fast, and you almost miss him because of how quickly you’re surveying the club, but you have to backtrack at the sight of the pink head of hair. it’s not too out of the ordinary — not for a club like this one at least, and frankly, the face connected to the stark hair entrances you more than the hair does. the friend at your side seems to notice where your gaze keeps lingering, elbow careening into your ribs seconds later.

“like what you see over there?” she giggles, most likely amused by how you jolt and startle with the contact.

“he’s pretty,” you mutter back as you strain your neck a little to catch sight of the rest of him. he’s not up on a stage with the other dancers, not wrapped around a pole or anything like that, so you can’t get a full and clear view of what he’s wearing.

“he doesn’t perform with the others, i hear. solo performer, and only does private shows.”

sure, there’s a stack of money set aside for this particular reason, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to cave and spend it all on this one man.

you aren’t.

it’s not going to stop you from getting up and going over there to get a better look at him.

“i’ll be back,” you mutter, picking up your wallet and drink with the same hand. you’re hoping it won’t look obvious to your friend, but the laugh that follows your movements is telling enough.

“have fun!”

you step through the crowd of couches that are mostly full of older men and women, apologizing each time you cross in front of them and accidentally block their view of the dancers. your target hasn’t moved, still lingering near the bar with a drink set in front of him as he also indulges in the sight of the dancers on stage. you’re almost fooled into believing that he’s simply a client here and not actually a worker, but there’s a certain sway to his hips and head against the music thumping through the club that says otherwise. he moves his body too well even with subtle and small movements. elbows propped up on the bar counter behind him, a lollipop dangling from his fingertips and periodically going up to catch on his tongue, and that pretty pink hair bouncing with each movement he makes. you’re enticed in an instant.

the obscenity of his outfit doesn’t help one bit either. and perhaps obscenity is a bit too strong a word to describe it, but your brain goes to static and white noise the more you see of him, and it’s easy to see why that is. a sheer lavender crop top that does nothing to hide the lace bralette underneath, along with a pretty plaid skirt that tapers his waist almost too well, belts and buckles hanging from both sides and jingling when he sways his hips in time with the music. the further down your eyes go, the more overwhelmed you get because he’s got fishnets (of course) that lead to chunky black combat boots. he looks simultaneously quite out of place here while also seeming like there’s no other logical place for him to be. your steps towards him falter a little; it’s no wonder that he doesn’t have anyone at his side right now. he’d outshine them without even trying, and the air around him feels a bit untouchable as well like he’s too good for anyone’s presence except his own and the bartender behind him. the thought to turn around and return to your friend like a dog with its tail between its legs crosses your mind. that’s all it does though because as you shift to act on that thought, sharp eyes snap over to meet yours across the bar counter.

opposite ends of the spectrum, separated by at least ten barstools if not more, plenty of other people in front of him to look at, yet the dancer cranes his head in your direction and makes eye contact. 

your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, an act more out of nerves than meant to be seductive in the slightest. 

there’s no direct invitation to go further towards him. really all he does is incline his head slightly, and you take it as a cue to step around the barstools and walk over to where he’s tapping his chunky boot against the floor.

“hi.”

you startle upon hearing his clear tone, although you aren’t wholly sure why that’s the case. 

“hello,” you greet in return. you keep your glass caught firmly between your fingers as you sit in the barstool beside him. he looks even prettier in this light — with blinking up at him from where you sit and the neon lights cascading over his face and hair. there’s a stunning beauty mark under his eye, and another on his lower lip under the sheen of pink lip gloss. something sparkles under his eyes and in the inner corners, what you can only assume to be eyeshadow and glitter. 

“i caught your eye, huh?”

there’s a twinge of embarrassment that shoots through your body, and you duck your chin to your chest, clearing your throat as quietly as you can like it’ll dispel the nerves accompanied by the feeling. 

“cute,” the man continues. his sweet tone is almost like honey, or some syrup that tastes like it could be too much after a certain point. “wanna buy my time then?”

the offer comes so quickly that you’re a bit shocked. all these people in the club and yet not one has approached him? or accepted his offer? it seems far too unbelievable.

“you’re not gonna ask me anything first? my name, my age, anything like that?”

he laughs for the first time tonight, and you think you’ll grow to love that sound by the end of it. the lollipop pushes back between his lips only for him to make a show of how he swirls his tongue around the ball of candy. when he pulls it back out, it springs free with a lewd pop in its wake.

“you’re the first one tonight who’s stopped me to ask that. most just jump straight to it. i’m wooyoung. and you?”

“y/n.”

“hmm, it’ll sound prettier coming from my lips later.”

your brain buffers and hits a wall. you lose whatever thought was lingering in your mind, and wooyoung has the audacity to flash a grin and send a wink your way.

“you’re in luck tonight, y/n. i only start taking clients at ten o’clock, and it’s two minutes past ten right now.” a strobe of neon red flashes over his face, illuminating his eyes in a way that makes your heart jump in your chest. “assuming you want me, that is,” he adds through a stretched grin, and you wouldn’t dream of denying him the pleasure of hearing your affirmation.

“yes, i’d like that quite a bit.”

wooyoung leads you off to the side of the club, where the hallway of private rooms begins, and he wastes no time in bringing you into the nearest unlocked one. you’ve got your wallet still clasped between nervous hands, but your drink was long forgotten on the bar counter you found wooyoung at. it’s fairly standard for this type of room, nothing to gawk at or make note of aside from the metal pole that stretches up to the ceiling. you’re certain your attention will be firmly planted on wooyoung throughout the entirety of your stay here, so you aren’t worried much about making yourself at home.

the dancer seems keen on the same as well, or at least he’s excited to get started. knowing how much money you’ve got in your wallet, you can’t blame him for the excitement. he turns to face you after shutting and locking the door, skirt billowing around his thighs a little. you think you see a flash of lace underneath, tucked under the fishnets, but that could very well be merely a wistful thought and nothing else. 

“lay down,” he demands, motioning to the short round table right in front of the couches.

“um…” you blink from the white surface to wooyoung’s serious expression. 

“what? never had a lap dance before?” he quirks a brow and flashes another dastardly grin, and you hate the way your stomach flips over at the sight of it.

“not one where i’ve had to lay down, no.” 

wooyoung huffs out a laugh and pops his lollipop back into his mouth. he steps around your awkward, still form to put one of his feet up on the pristine white surface. the boot releases a hollow noise when it hits the table.

“oh, you’ll love it, i promise. now come on, on your back, legs relaxed. i’ll make it worth your while. and your money too, we hope.” 

wooyoung’s little tilt to his chin and the soft bats of his lashes are what convince you to do as told. you slip your shoes off next to the couch and tuck your wallet away in one of them lest wooyoung has the bright idea to make off with all your belongings. then you scramble over the slick surface to lay flat atop it, eyeing wooyoung as he hums and steps up fully on the table over you. his feet straddle your body, right in the gap between your hands and hips, and he pushes that stupid lollipop back between his lips.

“here are my rules, y/n. no touching, no kissing on the lips, no marking, and no demands. you’re here for a show, so i’ll give you one. and maybe i’ll use you to get off a little too? what do you say?”

you suck your lower lip between your teeth, contemplating his words and rolling them over in your mind a bit.

“and if i say no?”

“then i’ll give you a simple lap dance, and that’ll be that. and don’t worry. if i cum… i’ll clean up after myself. you don’t have to do any work really, if you don’t want to.”

“if i don’t want to?” you echo your question.

“how do you feel about sucking my fingers?”

your dumb and stuttered blinking are answer enough for him, and wooyoung leans over to the couch, balancing on one foot as he stretches to reach for something on the cushions. the position give you a far too direct view straight up his skirt. you get confirmation that you did indeed spot lace — a matching set with his pink bralette it seems on top of that.

the music that begins to thump through the speaks is foreign to you, not a song you’ve ever heard before, but the beat is sultry enough for you to understand why wooyoung would play this.

and truly, when he starts to move above you, you fully understand the appeal of this angle. getting to watch the way his skirt sways and teases what’s underneath as his cropped top flutters with his winding movements — it’s a heady feeling being under him and seeing this unfold over you.

wooyoung does his job, and he does it well in only a few swaying moves that promise more to come. if you had to make a comparison, you’d say it’s like watching art in motion, an exhibit where the artist shows you each stroke and twist of his brush. that’s wooyoung now, with the showcase of how he stretches his arms to the ceiling and brings them down the front of his body. the dim lighting in the room does nothing to make the mood less than what it is — pure seduction at its finest, and wooyoung is quickly bringing you down that pit of lust with him. you only know that’s where he’s headed as well because of how his skirt begins to tent a little as time goes on, evidence to how turned on he is by merely dancing to the music. he hasn’t gotten down far enough to even have physical contact with you, but with the way he’s moving now, you aren’t sure he’ll even get that far either.

he does go lower as the song shifts, beat still unfamiliar against your ears, but you’re barely hearing the music beyond how the bass thumps through your veins. as his knees settle on either side of you, close to your waist now and closing in just enough to squeeze you with a hair of pressure, his hands move up under the fabric of his top. they press higher and higher, catching on the hem and tugging as he reaches his neck. your eyes burn like you haven’t blinked in ages, and to be frank, you most likely haven’t because the grip wooyoung has on your focus currently occupies every fiber of your being.

wooyoung works the shirt off, tossing the sheer material over to the side. the look of his tanned skin with blush pink lace overtop clinging to him like a vice under the low lights: it’s sin in its purest form. and that sin only amplifies as he draws his hands down to the waistband of his skirt. he teases and pulls at the material, still lost somewhere between his mind and the music. one of his hands works back up his chest and throat, and when he reaches his mouth, he pulls the lollipop stick out to reveal a now empty stick that is also promptly tossed in the same direction his shirt went. 

“aren’t i pretty, y/n?” he asks all of a sudden. he’s not looking at you, not with the way his eyelids are barely shut, but it captures all your attention nonetheless. “pretty and feminine, hm? some people think i don’t dance as well as the girls out on the stages. but i’m just as pretty as them, aren’t i?”

“more,” you exhale without thinking.

“more,” he echoes back to you with an airy giggle to accompany it. his hands go to the side of his skirt, grabbing onto something on the left, and two seconds later he’s pulling away the entire strip of fabric in one swift movement. you inhale so sharply it stings your nostrils and aches in your chest, and wooyoung takes that as the opportune moment to roll his hips down against your abdomen. it’s not meant for your please, not in the slightest, but you still feel the coil of arousal in your gut snap and pull at itself as he repeats the motion and rubs his barely concealed erection against your stomach. “i’m always prettier than them, y/n.”

wooyoung’s eyes snap open at last, and he drops his skirt to the side before sitting up on his knees over you. the position is nothing if not lewd with how close to your face he is like this. you don’t have much time to think about it because he’s tugging the band of his fishnets down as well, shoes still caught on his feet so there’s no way they’ll go all the way off, but that doesn’t seem to be his intention anyway.

no, wooyoung just tugs them low enough to go under his knees, then he’s back to sitting on his heels and splaying his thighs to the side. the whole thing is a show: each piece of clothing, each drag of his hands, and every word from his lips. 

it continues with him pressing his hand against your chin, then teasing your lower lip with his middle and pointer fingers.

“you know… people always call me a brat. a bratty little bitch, to be specific. they aren’t wrong, of course. but they mean it as an insult whereas i take it as a compliment.” you suck wooyoung’s fingers between your lips and let him explore your mouth with the pads of them. he makes a show of stretching the insides of your cheeks, stabbing against them and watching your skin bulge under the pressure, then he’s pinching your tongue and scraping his nails over the top of it. it tickles in a pleasurable way, the kind that makes your stomach knot up and tense with lust. “i think i’m prettiest when i cum though. and that’s not something i let a lot of people see. they always get handsy even after i tell them not to. think that because i’m all subby and docile, they can break my rules.”

you watch in something of a daze as wooyoung reaches his other hand down to the lace lingerie clinging to his cock. he grips hard enough for you to see the harsh outline of his member, strained and stretching the fabric like it’s about to break. his slow rolls and sways of his hips continue even as he fucks into the palm of his own hand. you don’t think you could move or touch him even if you wanted to right now. each limb feels like it weighs ten tons.

“call me pretty again, y/n. a pretty little brat, yeah?” 

you can’t very well do that with his hand halfway down your throat like it is now, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. all that comes out are muffled moans caught on wooyoung’s fingers. he laughs, throwing his head back as the sound permeates the air, and you were right. you love the sound even more now when he’s a bit breathless and hoarse from arousal, hips canting against your abdomen still as he pushes himself closer to the edge.

“gonna cum, y/n, and make a pretty mess of myself. pay good attention to me please. i want you to see every second of it.” his eyes blaze with unbridled desire as he rubs over his panties a few more times. teeth sink into his lower lip, his nose scrunches up, eyes fighting to stay open and stay on yours without blinking. then he hits his high. it’s beautiful the way he falls apart over you, how his hips stutter and give a few jerky thrusts until his whole body goes still on top of yours. you think you have to agree with him too; this is the prettiest he’s looked all night in your eyes. 

it lasts either ten seconds or ten minutes — you have no concept of time right now, too enamored with the man above you and every movement he makes.

when he does come down, there are stars in his eyes and a sheen on his brow that trickles down the side of his face to his chin. he pulls his hand out of your mouth, but you can’t even bring yourself to close it as you watch him tuck the same hand into his underwear and scoop the stain of translucent white cum out. 

“taste for me?”

you manage a shaky nod, letting wooyoung return his hand to your lips, and when he cups your mouth gently, you poke your tongue out to lap the cum off his palm. 

“hm, now wasn’t that good? better than promised, in fact?”

“y-yeah,” you exhale, finally finding your voice after god knows how long of shocked and aroused silence. wooyoung grins. he leans over you, all but bare chest pressing to your clothed one, and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin with ease. his face hovers over yours. you can see his eyes clearer than ever.

“how about we go again then?”

[84reedsy]

A Reunion

Rating: E- Explicit Characters: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger, Various other characters Summary:  A Hogwarts reunion leads two former Hogwarts students to an unexpected evening. Setting: Post 2nd Wizarding War, Snape Lives AU Warnings: Smut, drunkeness

The same faces year after year had lost their allure. Some had aged ever so gracefully while some seemed to speed along the path of degradation. It was to be expected; some had darker demons than others. The war had left its mark on almost every person in this room. But the camaraderie that had existed in the aftermath had ebbed and people had fallen back into somewhat predictable  comfort zones of their inner circles. And to say her inner circle had been reduced was an understatement. 

She’d rather sit at her home and read through yet another text. The company of books had always been more enjoyable to Hermione than people...at least most of them.  

Hermione was by no means anti-social, but there were many times where she was intimidated by the prospect of socialization, especially at these Hogwarts reunions where the attendance spanned every age.

She still saw Ron and Harry on occasion, but they never made it to these things. Harry had tired of the hero’s role and what came with it. He was content to hide away. Ron seemed to regress not long after they’d been able to complete their 7th year o.w.l.s. He longed for the careless childhood of which he claimed to have been robbed of. To say it strained their relationship was an understatement. Being the proactivist that she was, Hermione parted ways before things worsened, remaining amicable friends for the last 10 years. 

That was her in a nutshell - a proactive realist. And a lonely one at that. Sitting at the bar, her half empty glass of merlot seemed to magnify that reality. People spoke to her, yes, but no one seemed to hold a conversation with her for any length of time. She wasn’t upset about that for the most part; the conversations only went one of a few ways. Either they asked about Harry, errantly assumed she was still with Ron, or asked details of the war that she didn’t feel like repeating in light-hearted company. She may not have been the poster-boy that Harry was, but she felt like a martyr in her own right. 

She grinned politely and waved at George from across Hog’s Head. He stood with other wizards from his year, each holding a pint and laughing. He got along as well as one could expect, but even from a distance you could tell when someone mentioned Fred - there was a sadness to his smile and a far away look in his eyes. She supposed twins would have a more difficult time being separated by death than most, but remarkably, George had held up well all things considered.

“Another glass?” The barkeep tended the counter while the bottle of merlot hovered over her glass, just short of pouring, “This one’s compliments of the ginger bloke standing over near ‘is lads,” Hermione glanced at George once again, smiling as he lifted his pint towards her. She nodded towards the barkeep and the bottle titled as her glass floated from the bar top. 

The truth was, Hermione wanted conversation. She wanted to reconnect with people from her youth. But, she’d always been bored by her own peers. They lacked a certain...something. It was hard to put her finger on it as she tipped her wine glass back and surveyed the room. The crowd was slowly thinning, people had lives to return to. Children, careers, some seeking one night of companionship with an old (maybe even a new) flame. Some bid her farewell as they departed, others were too inebriated to abide by any social niceties. 

This was the after-party of the reunion, moving from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. A fine dance had been held in the Great Hall. Hermione had been treated to moments of fond memories of the Yule Ball from her Fourth Year. She, Pavarti and a Ravenclaw a few years their senior had spent most of that sitting around a table attempting to catch up, but mostly commenting on the myriad of fashions chosen for the evening. They ranged from elegant to extremely gaudy, Luna sporting something near the latter of that spectrum. Neville in his dashing suit couldn’t have looked more proud to have the odd, but loyal lady on his arm. 

It was the solid black of his wardrobe that stood out first as the din of the ballroom had lessened. No one had ever expected Severus Snape to make an appearance even though an invitation was extended every year. To say he had become a hermit underemphasized the lonely existence he kept. It had not taken long for word to spread about his covert involvement that, many agreed, was the only reason the Second Wizarding War was ever winnable. His short temper and penchant for insults still left a sour reputation among the wizarding community but their gratitude was evident by leaving him be - just as he wished.

Hermione had felt then that she should make an effort to speak with him. Perhaps his loneliness had reached a point he could no longer endure. Though as an instructor he’d never offered her any sort of compassion or understanding, she felt compelled to provide both those things to him - especially with the way he spent most of the evening void of everything but uneasy glances. 

She should get home. It was very late in the evening and more wine was only going to make her sleepier. She slid from her stool, balancing the stem of her glass between her fingers. She would bid George and his mates good night and be on her way. Just as she turned, her eyes were drawn to the shadowy corner nearly vacated. 

Dressed still in solid black sat Severus Snape, a small glass of fire whiskey sat in front of him with his fingers lazily wrapped around it. The two gazes connected across the room and both knew they were equally as seen by the other. He’d noticed her at the ball and he’d settled in this quiet, hidden nook of a booth early enough to see her arrive here as well. As they stared, he had not a clue what they had to speak to the other about, but he found himself curious enough to invite her company.

“Miss Granger,” he slid from the booth, but stood still, not approaching her.

“Professor Snape,” She acknowledged him back, nodding slightly. She was only slightly aware that her grip tightened around her glass. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to company,” It was the closest to an invitation he could muster. In his years of solitude his grasp of social graces had deteriorated a bit, not that they were ever that well-honed in the first place. He was relieved, but did not show it when she smiled politely and nodded. 

Hermione looked around as if she needed to tread carefully. Old habits must die hard; she was an adult - her school mates would not look on in shock if she were to associate with her former Potions and Dark Arts Professor. She approached the booth and slid in the side opposite him. She sat a napkin down before placing her wine glass on top of it. His curious look made her nervous.

“Muggle custom,” She mumbled. Mentioning the word muggle may have been a grave mistake as an awkwardness surrounded them. Years of memories both flooded their minds - the existence of muggles in the magical world is what nearly tore it apart. She worried that the slip of her tongue may have ended this conversation before it began. She chewed her lip and looked downward and Severus was surprised to find himself amused. It was the same motion she used to make when he called her out in class for her know-it-all conduct. 

“Miss Granger, if I may,” He spoke first, knowing she was likely about to excuse herself, “I taught at Hogwarts for many years and saw thousands of witches and wizards with varying levels of magical genealogy. As much as it pains me to admit, and I’ll deny it if ever asked again, I never once came across one that matched your brilliance or hunger for knowledge.” 

Hermione had to wet her mouth with more wine, dried in shock of such a compliment from this particular source.

“Professor,” She had to struggle with an appropriate response, “I dare say that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” 

“I suppose I’m getting soft in my old age,” He lifted his fire whiskey and just before it tipped back over his lips, there was an ever so subtle wink of his eye.

“It can be difficult to let your guard down,” Hermione glanced around the room before returning her attention to Severus, still somewhat mired in shadow, “It’s hard to know who to trust, or who’s just out to get something from you.” 

“I have more experience with the latter - which should easily explain my absence from such….festivities.” He glanced toward the lively, drunken bunches near the front of the bar.

“So why now? Why this year, Professor?” Hermione’s curiosity subdued her hesitance.

Severus swirled the base of his glass along the table top. His face was obstructed only by the long locks of lanky black hair that had surprisingly few greys among them. His sharp nose was still as prominent as ever, though his face wasn’t pursed nearly as much as it used to be. Perhaps his years of seclusion had brought him some peace.

“Curiosity, Miss Granger,” He motioned towards the barkeep as Hermione had nearly drained her glass, “Curiosity to see Hogwarts again, to see what’s become of my students,”

“Curiosity?” Hermione couldn’t helped but be amused at the thought of simple curiosity bringing him out into the public eye, “Congratulations, Professor, that’s a new one to me” 

“Are you calling me a liar?” He questioned as their glasses were filled. From a glance she could see a facetious nature to his query.

“Not at all, Professor,” Another sip added to the ones before were calming (or numbing) her nerves, “Just...surprised,”

“I wasn’t sure you’d accept my invitation, so considered us both surprised by the other.” He lifted his glass slightly, awaiting her to return the gesture.

“Do you take me for someone that rude?” She returned in a subdued jest, only pausing shortly before clinking her glass to his, “What are we drinking to?”

“New surprises from old acquaintances,” He answered after a short pause, “And not rude...perhaps forthright.”

“That I am guilty of without question.” She sipped the fresh glass.

“Oh I remember you, quiet well Granger.” Even if she hadn’t been the ever present partner of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, Severus imagined she still would have stuck out from her lack of shyness and her vigor for learning.

"You rarely missed an opportunity to call me out on it," her hand around her glass pointed a finger at him as she found herself falling into an oddly natural repartee. Odd, especially considering there was a time in her life where she viewed him as the enemy.

"It didn't appear to deter you," he noticed that his whiskey seemed to be going down much smoother in the company of someone. Perhaps this was a benefit of not drinking alone. Seveus found it difficult not to be amused as he cheeks stretched in a smile though he could tell she was trying to fight it.

“I suppose not, Professor.”  She still had that know-it-all look in her eye and though she knew the criticism when intended to inspire or shame her into subduing it, she still felt somewhat prideful in her acquisition of knowledge. His mouth crooked into a half smile of amusement. It was odd to be having a conversation as adults without the construct of student/teacher.

“It has been many years since I have entered a classroom, Miss Granger. I haven’t been your instructor for an even longer period. I believe at the present time, you are no longer obligated to address me as your superior.” He drawled, speaking over the top of his glass. 

“Old habits die hard,” She swallowed back the address of sir or professor, “That’s the only way I’ve ever known to address you. It definitely wouldn’t have done  to address you so informally before. I don’t doubt you would have been pleased with the lot of us Gryffindors referring to you as Sev or mate.” She joked, wondering if she could turn that half a grin into a whole one.

“You’re absolutely correct, Miss Granger,” He swirled the spicy libation in his mouth, “I would have been rather displeased.

“I do have a first name too, you can address me by it if I’m  allowed to address you by yours.” Hermione leaned forward a little, squinting her eyes with a peculiar amusement. She needed to see if he was game for such familiarity.

Severus sat in silence for a moment, resting his hand on the table as he sized her up in his mind. She was no longer the mousey, fresh faced child and student he’d first met. She was clearly a woman. The war and subsequent years had aged her as it had everyone else, but she did not fare as poorly as some. If anything she’d acquired beauty in her physical maturity. While her hair was still curly, she tamed it better now. She did not paint her face with anything too obtuse. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the edge of the table.

“Very well, Hermione,” Severus had to admit to himself that it felt odd saying her name out loud.

“That’s better, Severus,” Though in private, she and her friends had referred to him as Snape since nearly the moment they met him, there was a certain comfort she found in calling him by his name. Perhaps it was relief that she could view them as equitable instead of existing on two different planes.

Severus couldn’t help the quick, fleeting smirk on his lips, amused by her ability to change a pattern so easily. He decided not to let the moment linger. He was in need of any conversation outside of the internal dialogue that had been such a constant companion.

“So speaking of...Gryffindors…” He still grimaced, though Hermione found it comical, “How are those friends of yours?” His dark eyes were trained on her as he sipped again.

“We still leave that bad of a taste in your mouth?” She questioned, chuckling behind closed lips at his incredulous look, “I guess Slytherin’s and Gryffidor’s are just not made to see eye to eye?”

“In my experience, most of my interactions have been….unpleasant - current company excluded,” He was slow to the save, humored by the way her eyebrows lifted as if he would leave the insult as his last word.

“Nice save Prof- Severus,” She nodded, “I have to admit, I have occasionally thought of you over the years,” She hiccuped a little, “That is, wondering what you did to occupy your time.” She recovered quickly. 

“Have you now?” Of all the people she’d known, he would have thought given the circumstances that most of them rarely, if ever, thought of him, “After so many years playing a double agent and spending my career in the view of so many, I find that I prefer my privacy. I stay in my home, reading, writing, documenting,”

“Documenting?” She leaned her cheek into her palm, looking interested. 

“Yes. Though it was not my preferred subject, I did have a rather well adapted aptitude for potion-making. I developed many unique and novel substances even back to my own days at Hogwarts. I plan to release the formulas for a reasonable premium.” 

“Reasonable? But you’re Severus Snape; the man who lied bold faced to -Voldemort-” Hermione felt odd saying the name out loud, she hadn’t had to in so long, “Harry may have been the poster boy, but many see you as much of a hero as they do him.” She said matter-of-factly.

“That bold tone, that’s the girl I remember, Hermione.” He caught himself from referring to her as Miss Granger, “And I prefer not to label myself as such. I believe there are many that still despise me,” He took another sip and for a moment Hermione felt some pity for him, but mostly warm from his first chiding remark. 

“Well, regardless, I appreciate what you did. And you deserve a well earned drink on me,” She peered at his empty glass, not letting him refute her offer. She motioned towards the bar as a  decanter floated their way and refilled his glass, “I insist,”

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate, you buying me a drink. After all I’m an old man,” he eyed the drink, his mouth thirsting for another taste.

“You’re not that old,” She leaned forward as she spoke a little quieter, “In fact it looks like you’ve barely aged,” She noted his appearance, the last decade had been devoid of most of the stresses that had strained him so much before. 

“You’re attempting to flatter me, Hermione. I can’t on earth imagine why,” He toyed with her a bit, finally sipping his fresh fire whiskey.

“I resent the accusation that my politeness is anything but,” She was quick to match his wit, but there was also a teasing, sarcastic suggestion. Surely it was the wine speaking for her or at least prodding her in such a flirtatious direction.

“I believe you’ve had too much wine, Hermione,” He noted her once again empty glass. 

She smirked holding it up in the air to the side, not breaking her gaze from his. It refilled from the bottle, this time settling itself on the table rather than behind the bar. 

“Am I of age, Severus?” She challenged his assessment coyly.

“Yes, I believe you are,” His eyes couldn’t help but look her over and confirm for himself that his thoughts were well founded.

“Then let me worry about my own levels of intoxication. After all have you ever know me to be *hiccup* irresponsible?” Her words and her behavior seemed to be sending two very distinct but different signals. He lifted his brow in a moment of question, but he was feeling rather warm and fuzzy himself. What harm could it do to let a bit of his guard down around someone who seemed so interested in his company.

“I cannot recall such a time, but perhaps you should put a little more in  your stomach,” He pushed a plate of bread and cheese he’d barely touched towards her, “How is Potter these days?” He wanted to change the subject until her obvious buzz was a little more subdued.

“You really want to know about Harry?” She looked somewhat surprised, but continued without his confirmation, “He’s alright I suppose. Still with Ginny Weasley, they have Lupin’s boy and one of their own. He turns down public appearances on an hourly basis. Tough to be treated fairly when everyone either wants something from you or to treat you like a god.” 

“I know about the former, not so much the latter,” He pursed his lips as he heard the name of Harry’s wife, “I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised he stayed with that girl. She was the least insufferable of the lot, in my experience. How about your Weasley. The daft one.”

“Ohhh, I can tell you’ve been sitting on that question for a moment, haven’t you?” Hermione noticed that he seemed compelled to ask it more than willful, “We didn’t last long at all - after school. We went our separate ways and I don’t see much of him at all. I keep in contact with his mum more than any of them.” She watched as he took a drink, but through the arc of the glass, she could see him conceal and satisfactory smirk.

“What I shame, you two seemed to compliment each other well,” He offered with little conviction.

“Ha, you don’t believe that for a moment, Severus,” She chortled a bit, “we had a history, but in the end he turned out to be very wrong for me. I need someone with more, with more…” She struggled to describe what was missing.

“Maturity,” Severus answered with a slow enunciation, not at all questioning.

Hermione glanced at him again, but the shared gaze had a different energy to it, “Yes. That’s exactly it,”

Though a silence passed between them, it felt as if they were wordlessly communicating. There was no awkward air between them. 

“So, there’s been no one else to fill the,” his eyes flickered down as if in the subtlest of suggestions, “void?”

Hermione nibbled a bit of bread, wiping a cumb from her lip before shaking her head slightly. She struggled to speak for a few moments, resisting the urge to suppress her impulse. 

“No. No one has filled that void in ages...Severus,” She said suggestively, but felt an intense nervousness as she waited with baited breath for his reply. 

“That’s quite a shame,” He replied after a brief pause. Either an awkwardness would follow or she might-

“Yes, it is,” She looked at him with determination and agenda. Though the conversation had been finding its way to this point, it still surprised him that she was this bold.

“Being alone does have its disadvantages,” He set his glass down, no longer interested in being satiated by a substance. 

“Perhaps tonight,” She ran her nail along a ridge in the wood grain on the table before looking back up at him, “We throw our cautions to the wind and give this whole ‘not being alone’ a go,” 

She had no doubt that snogging in public was something Severus was very much against, so taking the initiative she stood from the quiet booth, noting that the bar was nearly empty. She walked with some stealth but still a natural gate to a wooden door that led behind the bar. She opened it slightly, enough only to slip past the gap and keep the old rusty hinges from screeching. She looked back towards him in a silent invitation.

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

Hermione waited in the room filled with wooden casks and crates of bottles, stacked upon wooden shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. She leaned her back against one such post, the anticipation did the job of sobering her a bit. At least if she was rejected, it wouldn’t be with an audience. Only a short time had passed (though it felt like eons) when she was startled by the door pushing open. Severus also passed through a gap only large enough for him to float through, still sporting the black robes she remembered over the black suit. 

They did not need to speak. Each knew why they were there. 

Hermione did not move from her spot, but her spine arched every so slightly that her chest jutted forward as the room echoed his footsteps and her controlled breath. He approached, standing mere inches from her, making it no secret that his eyes were taking in her form. 

She was the first to break the barrier of touch, her curious core aching for a reprieve of its neglect. Her palm rested against his chest, sliding upwards over his collar. Her fingers slid without pause over the lingering scars on his neck that his cloak normally concealed. She did not let it deter her and he returned the gesture with one of appreciation. 

The first kiss was soft as if gently testing the waters.

“Severus…” She whispered feeling his breath rolling across her tempted lips. 

The confirmation of her desire saw his return kiss much more feverish and impassioned. As if seduction had evaded him so long that he dared not let it slip between his fingers. She arched more as his hands passed around her waist to her back, pressing her body into his. Her arms were around his broad shoulders. The kiss was not sloppy, but not at all contained. The only parting was out of the shear need for air. 

“Let’s not waste time, Severus,” She slid her hands to her blouse, yanking it open so the buttons scattered across the room. Her chest heaved, only contained by her lacy brassiere. 

“You witches and your frivolous underthings,” He paused to look into her eyes only a moment before both hands grasped her breasts, squeezing and lifting them as she struggled between a groan and a gasp. Their lips were quick to meet again as he tugged the lace cups down roughly, exposing her breasts directly to his greedy grasp, “Its a shame to cover these at all,”

Severus pulled his lips from hers to let his eyes absorb the visual of her toplessness into his memory. They were perky, their containment unneeded. He lifted one swell to meet his descending mouth, his tongue impatient for the taste of her firm nipples. 

“Holy Merlin’s fuck!” Hermione let her fingers grip his signature black tresses. She didn’t pull them either which way, more or less just holding on to him, “Severus, you devil,” 

“On the contrary, Hermione,” He rose up, stopping a maddening inch from her face, “I believe you’re the devil in this scenario.” Still holding her attention, his hand reached for hers and pressed it firmly against the evidence of her perverse inspiration. She gripped around the rigid shaft, still encompassed by his trousers, but the rush of arousal between her own legs almost left her dizzy. She was thankful for the sturdy post behind her or she’d likely have fallen off balance.

“What torture for you, you poor thing,” She squeezed and palmed his member. She grinned while gnawing her lip, lowering herself by sliding down the post. She knelt her splayed legs at his feet, her hand moving to unfaster his trousers while her humored gaze peered back up at his still serious countenance. 

His angular jaw clenched and shifted as she revealed him, her hand almost surprisingly warm as it wrapped around his vein-laced, pulsing shaft. He noticed her eyes fell upon her prey and she studied it as she stimulated it as if applying a science to extracting his pleasurable nuances. Ever the scholarly approach, typical Hermione.

“It won’t bite, Hermione,” He teased with a taunting chuckle. His fingers were unable to grip into her hair, partially impaired from Nagini’s venom. Instead, his hand slid over the top of her head, gently pushing it back so it rested against the wooden pillar. He stepped closer as her lips lazily lay agape, her chin tilted slightly upward. Her eyes followed the tip of his cock as it prodded against her lips, tainting them with a sticky string of precum before slipping between them. 

Severus’s breath shuddered as he struggled to acclimate to the warmth of her willing mouth. He moved slowly, keeping a shallow depth as she kept submissively still. 

“What a good little witch,” He growled.

Hermione’s now free hands allowed her the freedom to stimulate herself; reaching between her splayed thighs, her skirt allowed her quick access. She couldn’t resist the throb of her own sex, keeping her touch gentle to keep from cumming too quickly. She was desperate for an orgasm, but would rather the first explosion be at the mercy of his penetration.

As his eyes closed and his head tilted back, Hermione took more of an active roll. Her lips tightened around his cock, her tongue wiggled in a slow, purposeful massage. She was thrilled to earn the groan that rumbled in his throat soon after. She gagged but did not relent as his hips pushed him a little beyond her tolerance.

“Hungry little thing, aren’t you?” He tried not to wheeze, but the invigoration of her oral stimulation was nearly impossible to overcome. His balls ached and twitched a little as he pulled himself away, her eager mouth fighting his retreat, “I’d toss those knickers if I were you.” 

Hermione was eager to work the stretched garment down her thighs and let them fall the rest of the way to the floor as she stood again, her hand too covetous to leave his member untouched. 

“Get that cock inside me, Severus, now,” She coolly demanded, her leg lifted, her thigh resting on his hip as her other hand pulled him closer by his collar. His dexterity may have deteriorated, but his own therapies had regained his strength. She giggled a little in surprise as he lifted her other leg, letting them grip around his waist tightly. She was trapped between him and the post as his shaft nestled itself between the lips of her dampened sex, “Severus!” she gasped impatiently.

Hermione groaned a moment later when his swollen glans slipped inside of her, the tip a temporary tease. Severus watched her face intently as he let her weight sink her helplessly. Though she stretched to accommodate him and her cheeks reddened from resisting the urge to cry out louder, he did not allow her more time to acclimate. He flexed his hips, the movement thrusting her upwards only so gravity could force her full of him again, the pleasurable dive escalating now with matching force.

She balled up her fists full of his shirt, her thighs gripping his waist with a surprising strength. Her sex ached from his invasion, but it was a delicious ache that stole her breath from her lungs and made her wish it would never end. 

Severus quickened his thrusts into a satisfying rhythm. It was paced enough to keep her sex constantly roused with pleasure, but not so quickly that it lacked apparent skill. 

“Sev,” Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed as she gasped, then bit the tip of her tongue, “That cock...is fucking magnificent,” 

He felt a tingle in his core, he hadn’t been called ‘Sev’ in years, but something about her husky tone made it a treat to his ear. 

“I was just about to say the same thing about this juicy cunt of yours, Hermione,” He seethed, his thrusts absorbed by her impaled sex. The post behind her did not cushion any of his plunging campaign. She was glad for it, she wanted to feel the entirety of his talent.

They only paused for a moment as the door opened, their drunken state a mix of alcohol and lustful intoxication. The barkeep paused in his tracks, carrying a crate of empty bottles.

“For fucks sake get lost,” Hermione slurred, her cunt completely full of his cock at the moment, “can’t you see someone’s shagging in here??” She barked at the shocked man, who quickly departed with a slightly frightened look on his face. 

“Such a feisty thing,” He was humored by her audaciousness, rewarding her with several quick strokes that pummeled her sex and drew a quivering release from her. She called his name in a raspy plea, slickening his cock so that it slid even more easily and quickly into her. 

Severus felt an overwhelming pleasure that his body had been devoid of for far too long and though he would have preferred to let it linger for hours, the time and place did not allow for such a reality. Perhaps his choice of partner added to his perversion. He leaned into her, pinning her tightly as his mouth latched on to her exposed neck. He suckled and nipped at the flushed flesh, crushing her breasts under the weight of his chest.

Hermione wiggled her hips, trying to match his movement. She tried to satiate the recurring tickle that burned inside of her sex. She chased the impending release with fervor, feeling his movements become more instinctual and primal. His breaths labored into almost gravely moans that matched his pace. 

“Severus….Severus!” She gasped as her release teetered on the edge, “Fuck...fuck! I’m cumming!” She finally exclaimed as the heated explosion swelled her core, making the pusing eruptions of his cumming cock even more pronounced and gratifying. 

Severus felt light-headed as his body’s concentration was on the orgasm that engulfed his being. Her cunt gripped his invading member with a possessive hold, still trembling with aftershocks. 

The room was filled with only the sound of weathered, heaving breaths, desperate to fill their lungs and restore their senses.There was a silent stare between them as her shaking legs released him and he helped her feet back under her. She straightened her skirt and brassiere, noticing a disappointed scowl as she covered her breasts. She only smirked, reaching for her wand as she repaired the buttons on her shirt. 

The bar was empty as they left, save for the barkeep who kept his gaze downturned as they passed. They parted ways with cordial ‘nice to see you again’s’, neither wanting to make awkward their peculiar evening.

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

The interaction did not leave either of their minds, though they continued about their individual lives as normal. Hermione continued her work alongside the department of International Magical Cooperation, travelling abroad to lands and sights that were thrilling and exciting. But even with her busy occupation, the moment of secret passion wove its way to the front of her thoughts often. 

One particular evening when the draw of self-indulgent pleasure was too prominent to resist, Hermione used that motivation to extend a greeting. She wrote a letter with careful intent and included an enchanted photograph as she folded and sealed it. She entrusted its delivery with a jet-black owl and set it off into the dark night.

The letter was delivered to its intended recipient as he continued his solitary work. His name scrawled in a feminine penmanship is what caught his attention first. When he flipped it over, Hermione’s initials impressed in the wax seal made excitement well up in his belly, though his exterior remained reserved.

Severus,

I very much enjoyed the chance to be in your company the other evening. And what exhilarating company it was. I hope my letter finds you well and please accept this photograph as a token of my admiration.

I look forward with a great deal of interest in our next ‘reunion’.

Warmest Regards,

Hermione

Severus smirked at the simple, concise letter. The smirk faded only slightly as he watched the enchanted photograph move before his very eyes. Though the border provided only a neck down view, the unbuttoning blouse slowly revealing a familiar lace and cleavage made no mystery of its subject. 

[baddyzarc]

7/7 Ruins: World of Chaos

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Let’s start with a simple question? What is “Chaos”?

From the show, Don Thousand says that it is disorder and the source of life, Ena says it’s the power to protect others and ones desires created by oneself, Black Mist says it contributes to hatred and malice, Eliphas says it's poison, and Shark says this:

So Trash aliens.

However, this poses a problem.

Chaos is highly prominent to the story of Zexal, but it is difficult to define. The first signs of Chaos (excluding Haruto using it to toss trash in Episode 13) was when Astral’s airship unlocked “Chaos Number 39: King of Wishes, Hope Ray” as early as Episode 18. It constantly shows up with multiple definitions with some describing it as evil while others describing it as good. Both the protagonists and antagonists utilize it, and the meaning gets scrambled as the show progresses. So is this red, gooey stuff evil or good? 

In my opinion, Chaos is a nuanced type of “disorder”. With the word “disorder”, it isn’t clear what the show means by this since disorder (entropy?) is a super broad definition. Comparing it to the Astral’s “order” or Cosmos makes it slightly easier to grasp, but as a set definition that covers everything, I don’t have a good answer. The most accurate is Ena’s definition, where she says Chaos represents the desires set up by oneself. My problem with this is that all characters in this show have desires. Even Eliphas, who desires for Astral World to Rank-Up by ridding itself of Chaos. It’s a good definition and fits into the themes of Chaos, but there’s those glaring issues. However, I’m not here to define Chaos. Think of it as trying to define “species” or a word where a set definition isn’t concrete, but we sorta know what it looks like. With Chaos, I’m not going to be defining it as much as I am categorizing the types of Chaos in the Zexal. 

Going back to this list of Chaos characters. 

It is incredibly tough to define them on the basis of a single type of Chaos other than maybe “disorderly creatures” or people with desires.

But if you look at it as a spectrum that a character can shift back and forth along, then it starts to make sense. The characters in the show actually point that there are different forms of Chaos, with the clearest distinction being Nasch’s unique Chaos and Ena implying that Chaos has other, important forms.

Since Chaos manifests in different ways, it’s likely that all of the definitions stated above are correct. They get very close to stating what these different forms are, however, but it’s not explicit like “there is good Chaos and bad Chaos in the universe”. 

My proposal is that there are two definable categories of Chaos within the show: “Destructive Chaos” and “Constructive Chaos”. I think if you see it like this, it’s easier to see where Zexal was going with this concept. 

Okay, so what does this mean?

To begin, destructive Chaos can be described most simply as cannibalistic. It devours other Chaos creatures with the sole purpose of bettering its users. It is malice, hatred, selfishness, basically the qualities of the “bad Chaos” that the show speaks of. This could be seen in Vector and Don Thousand, who were literally eating other Barians to make themselves stronger. 

By nature, destructive Chaos benefits one person. It has to destroy everything else. With Vector, Number 96, and Don Thousand specifically, if they’re malicious plans succeeded, all three worlds would’ve been destroyed and they themselves would be standing alone as powerful gods. 

All the Emperors and any persons who inherited Don Thousand’s destructive Chaos were devoured in the end (this also ties in with how Nasch’s unique Chaos resulted in his survival). Also Mr. Heartland burned to death. Destructive Chaos destroys for the benefit of few. 

On the other hand, constructive Chaos can be described as altruistic. Unlike destructive Chaos, which draws its powers by consuming those around it, constructive Chaos gains its powers through combining their strengths. 

It is the power that allows you to protect your friends, or “strength in numbers”. This is the Chaos that Yuma and Nasch heavily relies on. By its nature, constructive Chaos shares for the benefit of many.

Something belongs in the middle too: maybe common Barians or some of the Emperors perhaps? Altruistic but also a little selfish? Giving to some but not to others. The ends could be on the more extreme sides that few probably get to.

As a general example, let’s look at Tron, a character who gravitates along the spectrum. There’s a clear distinction in the transformation of Tron and the Arclights from destructive Chaos to a more constructive Chaos. Not gonna get into it that deeply, but the first half of Zexal, Tron quite literally uses and destroys his sons to progress his own motivations. In the second half of Zexal, Tron shares his crest with his sons via the bracelets, and through this, they are able to create “Rank-Up Magic: Argent Chaos Force”, the symbol used to represent the bonds of humanity and a powerful one at that. 

Another really clear example is the Vector vs. Durbe/Merag. Merag, Durbe, and Vector uses Nasch’s strength throughout this battle. With Durbe and Merag, they send out their strongest monster using Nasch’s “Rank-Up Magic - The Seventh One”, something he shared with them in the prior episode. Vector, on the other hand, uses Nasch as a blood-bag; he sucks the life out of him to increase his own. Lending versus draining. Constructive versus destructive.

These two descriptions pose some interesting relationships. There are probably more than this but i’ll focus on a few.

First is Number 96 and Yuma, and how they relate to Astral.

Yuma and Number 96 are fragments of Don Thousand’s original self, who is a composite of all forms of Chaos. Although, the final Don Thousand clearly utilizes destructive Chaos. When Astral shattered him, I believe that his general from of Chaos split into Yuma, someone who uses constructive Chaos, and into Number 96, someone who uses destructive Chaos. Each individual views their Chaos appropriately. 

Number 96 has a very bleak view of Chaos, often describing it as something born from resentment, hatred, and the such. He also does not believe in the power of bonds, declaring it something used by weaklings. 

Aside from that, Number 96 has a god-complex, something he shares with the likes of Vector and Don Thousand, and is a person who is willing to destroy all of the worlds in order to create his own, ideal world. 

On the other hand, Yuma is the exact opposite. He sees Chaos as a force of goodness that allows different people to come together.

These two characters are supposed to be opposites of each other in regards to Chaos, and this is clearly shown in their relationship with Astral.

Back to Vector’s Royal Palace, this duel states a problem with the theory that there is only single type of Chaos. Number 96 said that Astral must use Chaos if he wanted to gather all the Numbers. 

The major issue with this is that Number 96 utilizes destructive Chaos. If Astral were to rely on his powers, it will destroy Astral in the process. And this occurs. When Number 96 enters Astral, the incompatibility and destructive nature of his Chaos causes both of them to explode. This is likely to be the Chaos that Eliphas fears would destroy Astral and Astral World.

And even Number 96 isn’t immune to this destructive power. When he accepted Vector/Don Thousand’s Chaos into his own, it nearly destroyed him. This just shows how deadly this type of Chaos is to others.

But if Astral has to use Chaos, he will likely rely on the constructive Chaos that derives from Yuma. And I think you guys know where this is going,

It’s those Zexal Morphs. 

The Zexal Morphs are the show’s flagship of “ultimate bonds”. Although probably unintentional, Astral does end up heavily relying on multiple forms of Chaos— the Chaos Hopes and Yuma specifically—which allows him to fulfill his mission (but doing so altered his objective). By using constructive Chaos, they were able to become stronger than they were as individuals.

However, there is one Zexal Morph that needs to be addressed.

The Dark Zexal Morph is a product of a “Vector-influenced” Yuma and a broken-hearted Astral. It’s difficult to say if Yuma is using destructive Chaos here, but due to Vector shenanigans, this Zexal Morph is an embodiment of Astral possibly mixing himself with destructive Chaos. Although it is incredibly powerful, Dark Zexal self-cannibalizes itself.

And then there’s Nasch and Vector. Not really the duel between them, but their entire characters reflect the two Chaos.

These two are on the opposite ends of the spectrum. When Vector said they are incompatible, it means that Nasch uses constructive Chaos while Vector uses destructive Chaos. One will tend to give and the other will always take. They are quite the antithesis of each other. 

Because of this, they simply cannot mix. In this system, Vector will take and Nasch will give (assuming he is unaware the entire time; he trusts Vector for thousands of years and after his return, which,,,,). One will die in this system, and it’s likely to be Nasch because altruism tends to lose to selfishness. This isn’t how Nasch died though; Vector kinda pushed him off a cliff, but it does explain why the two cannot get along. 

But there are a lot of examples in how these characters contrast each other. Their past lives, for example, were prominent in how Vector was willing to slaughter his own men to defeat Nasch, while Nasch eventually tried to keep his army out of his and Vector’s fight in the Labyrinth. 

Their Mythyrian Numbers also showcase Vector’s tendency to ignore bonds while Nasch’s tendency to build bonds. Vector doesn’t even touch the base-form to access his Chaos Number while Nasch summons the base-form first and heavily utilize it. 

Their signature Rank-Up cards too. 

Nasch represents the power of shared Chaos. One of his first moves after becoming an Emperor is giving the power of “Rank-Up Magic - The Seventh One” to the rest of the Emperors. This Rank-Up Magic allows the Emperors to defeat their human opponents during the Barian Onslaught Arc, who they were struggling to beat before Nasch granted it to them. But Vector, after destroying Don Thousand, uses the card “Rank-Up-Magic - Admire Death Thousand” and he is the only person who has access to this card.

Another really good example is how they represent the combined powers of the Emperors.

Starting with Vector, it’s safe to say that he does not cherish the bonds between them at all. He is vicious even to his own team, going as far as to mortally wound two of them for the fun of it, insults them on a regular basis, and then absorbs them to make himself stronger. 

After absorbing four of the six Emperors, Vector uses their powers to make himself god-like. He alters his entire figure and uses this strength to “kill” Don Thousand, absorbing his strength as well. 

Furthermore and like Nasch, Vector uses a monster that represents the combined strength of the Emperors he gathered thus far. “Chaos Number 5: Perishing-Gloom Dragon - Chaos Chimera Dragon” represents this, but it is almost, say, tragic in how this monster represents those bonds? Aside from Vector summoning it before telling Nasch that, “Yeah, i took your dumbass buddies’ powers and made this sick bad boy out of it. Eat my shit”

Now, this monster is different from Nasch’s monster but it shares one similar effect, which is “This card's ATK becomes equal to the number of Xyz Materials attached to it x 1000.” This monster derives its powers from its overlay units (or from the other Emperors, if you look at the subtext) but a key difference from Nasch’s monster is that this monster has a special condition regarding its overlay units. For “Chimera Dragon” to attack, it must detach an overlay unit. This means it must always use and discard the strength of its “allies” in order to fight. Following this, “Chimera Dragon” can reattach its overlay units at the beginning of your opponent's turn, allowing it to use and discard its overlay units forever (provided the user can pay the lifepoint cost). Vector detaches all of the overlay units, essentially ditching the cards that represent his allies in order to use the power of his dragon.

But, for Nasch, oh boy, his duel kinda spells it out in big flashing letters. His moves in this duel is the embodiment of constructive Chaos. 

Before we get to the main monster, the Chaos cards used by Nasch follow a heavy theme of the Barian’s bonds, and Nasch makes several references to his dead friends during this duel.

I mean, just look at them. He’s obsessed.

The main attraction is Nasch’s ace monster, “Chaos Xyz: King of Hope - Barian”, a monster summoned by using each of the Emperor’s Over-Hundred Numbers, giving it seven overlay units that represent each Emperor. This monster is the complete opposite of “Chimera Dragon”. Everything about it represents the ideals of constructive Chaos.

Let’s start with the design. Now I’m a little skeptical on some of these, but according to some, “Barian King” has parts that derive from the other Chaos Over-Hundreds. 

The spear it uses comes from Dark Knight and Noble Daemon (and I’d argue that the shield comes from Noble Daemon too, since Durbe is said to the Barian’s shield), the crest on its head comes from Ragna Infinity, the armored knuckles come from Caestus the Comet, the style of its hair/tail things resembles the neck of Tachyon Dragon, and the color palette comes from Umbral and Giant Red Hand. 

Some of these are easy to see, while some are obscure-ish (not too sure about the color things since red is a general Barian thing), but it’s highly likely that the artists who designed “Barian King” considered the other Over-Hundreds when designing this monster, especially when you consider what happens in this duel. 

Moving to the effects, this monster also derives its ATK-points from its overlay units too, gaining 1000 points for each material attached. The difference between “Barian King” and “Chimera Dragon”, whereas its effects are unrelated to the monsters attached to it, is that “Barian King” effects are the effects of its overlay units. Since its overlay units are the seven Over-Hundred Numbers, “Barian King” has the unique powers of each Barian Emperor.

Stated in the show, Nasch is fighting alongside the other Emperors (or Yuma is facing all seven Emperors as a single entity).

Not only that, but the Emperors’ spirits are depicted with their duel disks, so they are not simply bystanders in the duel, but active participants in the fight. They are just as involved in this battle as much as Nasch is.

The cherry on top is an additional effect. The user can “detach an overlay unit to use one of the Over-Hundred effects” or the user can “pay 400 lifepoints to use the effect without detaching a material”. This is the major difference from Vector’s monster. Aside from having its effects be directly influenced from its overlay units, this monster gives the user an option of keeping its overlay units (or keeping the other Emperors by Nasch’s side) in exchange for Nasch’s lifepoints. 

And Nasch always pays the lifepoints. Over the course of the duel, in addition to paying lifepoints to SUMMON “Barian King”, he consistently pays lifepoints to prevent the overlay units from being detached, to keep “Barian King” alive, and to stop its overlay units from being destroyed. (I think he paid up to 8600 lifepoints total, so thats yikes)

Unlike Vector, who sees the other Emperors as tools to use and discard, Nasch sees them as invaluable allies who should stand by his side. 

Yuma even points out that Nasch is paying a lot of lifepoints to keep his monster safe. And then he destroys “Barian King” because fuck it. Nasch’s reaction when “Barian King” explodes, however, isn’t seen as an attack on himself but on his companions and their dreams. Like, that’s the face of hurt right there.

Look at his face. He’s so upset :( aw

It’s clear that Nasch derives his power and passion from the other Emperors; without them, he breaks apart.  

(it’s also worth noting that when he loses “Barian King”, or his bonds with the Barian Emperors, he immediately sends out several monsters that are deeply connected to Ryouga (Big Jaws, Aeroshark, Black Ray Lancer…). I don’t know what to make of this. It may be that Nasch is so driven by bonds that once “the Seven Emperors” are defeated, he turns to the bonds he built with Yuma. Or maybe it's just a nostalgic homage before the final battle concludes.)

Before he lost, Nasch’s final moves were to resummon “Barian King” and reattach each of Over-Hundreds on his monster. This final move may have been what killed him (due to some Double Up Chance shenanigans) but Nasch was set on letting all Seven Emperors win as one, or fall as one. 

That brings us to the final discussion of Yuma and Nasch. These characters have resonated with each other since the start of the show. I honestly believe this is due to their similar Chaos, which is why Yuma is able to always worm himself into Ryouga’s heart on multiple occasions, and vice-versa. The most interesting bit of information I found was this scene. 

Nasch understands Yuma because they both utilize the Chaos of bonds. Yuma heavily relies on his friends as much as Nasch does; it’s in their nature, so of course they understand each other.  

Furthermore, these characters seem to be able to fight most effectively in the presence of friends. For Yuma, he usually has Astral, Kotori, or the Numbers Club by his side, and during his duel with Michael, where he loses his father’s Kattobingu spirit and his friends, Yuma is unable to fight against his opponent. Yuma relies on constant support. Heck, his strongest form uses the bonds of Zexal Morph, and during the ceremonial duel, or the duel he fights without Astral or Zexal Morph, all of his (living) friends are there to support him. 

Nasch does this too. Like, a lot, to name a few:

And during his duel with Vector, where Nasch basically lost or assumes he lost all of his friends, he looks to be very distressed when he realizes he’s all alone.

And appropriately enough, when Yuma pops in at this exact moment, Nasch looks slightly less distressed? 

I don’t know what expression mr. no-mouth is doing here but he doesn’t look upset to see Yuma and Astral. He snaps out of his “loneliness” state when Yuma arrives for sure. By looks of it, Nasch fights better when he has certain people by his side, whether it be the soul of Barians or a familiar face. 

It’s this reasoning that both are strong constructive Chaos users, but they see it in slightly different ways. They both believe in strength in numbers, altruism, and friendship, but Nasch is limited to the in-group of his fellow Barians. He wants to protect them above everything else, and since the Astrals want to destroy them, Nasch reacts accordingly. On the other side, Yuma probably doesn’t have any in-groups (like maybe Don Thousand). He wants to protect the Barians, the Astrals, and the humans. 

And if you consider that Yuma is a fragment of Don Thousand’s original Chaos, someone who represents the strongest of all Chaos, it sorta makes sense that Yuma is potentially the strongest user of constructive Chaos (any by logic, Number 96 should be the strongest user of destructive Chaos, but he uh, he exploded.), making him stronger than Nasch despite their similar ideals. It’s this bond, I believe, is why Yuma persisted in the final battle and not Nasch. 

I don’t know how to end this really. There’s still a lot more I want to talk about that i couldn't fit in this entire series, but final thoughts is that barians, uh they’re friend-shaped 

[amphtaminedreams]

Paris Haute Couture Week S/S 2020 Plus a Little Jacquemus: Okay, Dior DID Suck (Part 2/2)

Hi to anyone reading,

First of all, thank you! I have never had a post do as well as the part 1 of my haute couture week review did and I am so overwhelmed with the positive feedback. This is probably funny to read for those of you getting thousands of reblogs on your posts, me acting like I won an academy award because I got a couple of hundred, but honestly I don’t expect any traction when I write on here (it’s basically just me word vomiting everything I’m thinking as if people want to hear it aka. mouthing off into what I thought was the void) so if you did read it, thank you! I do spend a long-ass time on these so it means a lot:-)

I’ll leave the self-indulgent ramble there though as it’s probably not what you came for and jump straight into part 2 of my thoughts, starting with Jacquemus. Yeah, I knew what I was doing when I tagged that in my last post. Simon Porte Jacquemus is the man of the *fashion* people right now; I’ve even found myself coming round to the Le Chiquito bag despite my original thought being “well, that’s fucking useless”. I know, I know, technically it’s not haute couture; it was part of Men’s Fashion Week, but it happened around the same time and everyone was talking about it on Twitter, so I feel like I have to include it.

In a way, it kind of reminds me of Bottega Veneta’s last RTW show, in that, especially with the women’s outfits, we seem to be sticking with simple, fitted garments and chunky, more statement jewellery. I’ve got to say I like the styling here a lot more though, and in general I’m a fan of this collection. The collared tops with cut outs underneath blazers are cool and I can’t wait until it gets warm enough for me to not feel dumb wearing my headscarfs like this; there’s a LOT of summer outfit inspiration. It’s not a mind-blowing collection or anything but it is effortlessly sexy and that’s something I wish I could say about myself. Most of us can only hope to look half as good as these models do whilst making the effort but at least Jacquemus is aspirational, lol. 

I also fucking adore this colour palette. I’m sick of neutrals literally just meaning brown and white; the navy, sand and muted khaki is a fresh edition to what is usually interpreted as the colours you’d seen worn by Disney’s Riverboat Cruise staff and only Disney’s Riverboat Cruise staff. And I mean, come on-what is more neutral than typical English school carpet blue.

Next for the whole reason I had to make this haute couture week review 2 separate posts: Jean Paul Gaultier’s final show.

In the best way possible, it’s a lot. I don’t even really know where to start, except to say that I guess this is a fitting last show; a celebration of everything campy, messy, weird, performative, and punk is the perfect send off for a brand whose best known perfume of the last few years is called Scandal. More than anything, the final show represented the range of characters and cultures that have influenced JPG throughout his half-a-decade-long career, the lines that supposedly separate what is “masculine” and “feminine”, “old” and “young” and ultimately art and fashion blurred in the most exaggerated way possible. Sure, there are some looks which are individually a bit messy here but the way they were grouped into almost chapter-like segments meant that when you see them all together, they work. Nods to the patterns and structures that recurred from season to season were sprinkled throughout, from sailor stripes to corsets to the expected whirlwinds of colour. I’ll even allow the wellies in that one outfit; if I can get over bucket hats in Peter fucking Pilotto’s last RTW show, I can get over some questionable shoes here. Middle aged fishermen and boys who liked to pose with monster carp in their Tinder pictures as some weird display of masculinity everywhere rejoice.

Now onto a show that I personally found slightly disappointing: Margiela.

I think this one is a bit TOO weird for me. Like if you’re gonna go avant-garde, go all out. Chiffon gimp masks (I don’t know if that’s the intention here but that’s what I’m getting, sorry Maison) are something I’m not particularly fond of and I’ve never been a fan of the Tabi boots in the first place, let alone when they’ve seemingly been blown up to Michelin man style proportions. I didn’t find the show to be a total lost cause-I enjoyed the colour palette and I’ve always liked that contrast stitching detail, plus the bowler hats are interesting-but on the whole considering how much I liked the last RTW show, this is a bit of a let down. 

The looks I included are salvageable but (I feel mean saying this) there were genuinely a lot of pieces that did just resemble bits of fabric draped over each over with no discernible rhyme or reason, so much so that they reminded me of some of the monstrosities I saw at a Drag Race pub quiz this one time where we had 5 mins to make some garms out of loo roll and then have a team member model them for points down a makeshift runway. 

Ralph and Russo was alright. There were a few pieces that I really liked but again, I can’t help but compare this collection to the last, where it felt like the fussy details of bows and sequins and feathers and the Barbie Dreamhouse palette were utilised with a direction in mind. Here, I don’t get that. As ever, the gowns are gorgeous and I’d pay good money just to try one on for five minutes but as an overall collection I’d say there was a lack of higher vision, which is probably the snobbiest sentence I’ve ever written so forgive me.

As for Ronald Van Der Kemp, I could’ve done without including it to be honest, if it weren’t for the few pieces I’m in love with: the velvet cape, fur trimmed jacket and blue satin dress are probably my favourite pieces here.

So onto a collection I liked a lot more: Schiaparelli. 

The influence of nature from flowers in bloom to insects to the organic structure of the human skeleton is as present as ever, though this collection includes a lot more delicate symbolism than usual. Honestly, the details make it for me; the brooches, earrings and facial jewellery are other-worldly touches to outfits that could otherwise be simple fashion magazine editor on-the-go. That’s not in itself a bad thing! The suits are gorgeous. I mean, I’m talking fashion editor in New York in a power suit yelling orders down the phone while she rushes along with a coffee. A Miranda Priestley in the making type woman. THAT’S a modern take on the divine feminine that Maria Grazia should’ve been going for; our goddesses aren’t women who sit around looking pretty (though that helps too) and place curses on mere mortals anymore, they’re women who get shit done. 

With regards to Valentino, which was also a delight, let me start by saying this colour palette is EVERYTHING. It’s ugly sisters in Cinderella fantastic, and we know those 2 were the real fashion icons really. Other than that, I adore the Old Hollywood silhouettes from the gloves to the Liz Taylor-in-Cleopatra-level-dramatic earrings. Everything is opulent and expensive-looking and pretty much what we’ve all come to expect from Valentino. A strong 8/10.

For me personally, Viktor and Rolf was a standout and one of my favourite collections of haute couture week. It’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea and I know it’s at the complete opposite end of the spectrum to what was probably my other favourite collection, Elie Saab, but this is just my style down to a T, the perfect balance of grungy and cutesy that I want to achieve. 

There’s probably going to be a lot of objections to the temporary face tattoos and I get that, but I think they’re fucking sick. I obviously wouldn’t get a permanent one lest my mother murder me in cold blood however if I did, you bet I would be pairing them with frilly-ass babydoll dresses that you could pick up in Camden Market like this. 

And last but not least (that would be Dior), there’s Zuhair Murad.

Sigh.

IDK, man. Seeing Zuhair Murad dresses on Tumblr and WeHeartIt (remember that site? It still exists!) as a 14 year old was one of the things that got me into fashion, so it sucks that almost every time a new collection comes around, I feel underwhelmed. Disappointingly, the brand hasn’t really progressed all that much since 2013. It goes without saying that the stoning and the embroidery and sequins are stunning and would make anyone feel like a princess but from a critical point of view, I’m just not seeing anything new here. Whereas I feel like Elie Saab, for example, reflected the growing fascination with East Asian fashion and recognition of the supremacy of the region’s street style in his haute couture last collection, Zuhair Murad seems to be stuck designing the same dresses he was 6 years ago. 

To pick one example, the rounded stoned necklines are so outdated that they’ve been making their way onto department store prom dresses for years. I get that it’s supposed to be a reference to Ancient Egyptian style and I respect that, I was one of those 8 year old that was obsessed with mummies and the “Curse of Tutankhamun”, but couldn’t it be done in a more interesting way? It’s Maria Grazia’s spin on Ancient Greece all over again. Now I get how how the I imagine very niche subsection of people who are into fashion and Julius Caesar (okay, so I don’t even know if they still believed in mythology and all that malarky at that point in history but just roll with my comparison here) might’ve felt going through Vogue Runway. Anyway, I hate to end on a critical note and so be clear, these are still absolutely magnificent dresses. If we ignore those ugly round necklines, that is.

So that’s it for this post! If you read part 1 and 2, I hope you enjoyed it! As always, let me know your opinions and feel free to disagree. I’m literally just about to start trawling through all the A/W 2020 RTW collections though I imagine that’s gonna take me way longer to do than this, so I wouldn’t expect that for a month or two. In the meantime, I’m trying to fit shooting a Euphoria-inspired lookbook into my days off work which is looking atm like it’s going to be the end of March, so look out for that, and also a review of the red carpet fashion from this season’s award shows. 

As ever, thank you so much for reading and again, thank you for the reception on part 1 if you were one of the people that read it. It makes staying up til 3am with the jitters seem worthwhile, lol! 

Lauren x

[phdcedotcom]

Self-Protection and Machiavelli

A requirement I maintain for my Black Belts is to read certain books from a list that I have found over the years to be wellsprings of knowledge concerning self-protection. While I do require some of the traditional tomes such as the Hagakure, much of what I require my Black Belts to read was never intended to be read from a traditional martial arts context. One such book is The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli.

At the onset, if Machiavelli were still alive today, there is substantial doubt that he and I would see eye to eye on many topics, most notably religion. He did however understand the role of violence in human relations, or lack thereof. He understood that civility has its limits. He was far ahead of his time in understanding that social contracts are anything but binding. Among the many assertions made in The Prince, one is meritorious in our society as we watch it disintegrate before our very eyes.

“People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance.”

I can hear the gasps from here. Why on Earth would someone teaching people to protect themselves from harmful elements in society espouse such aggressive ideologies? The answer to that question is rather straightforward and simple. If you are one that has asked  the aforementioned question, have you turned on a television in the last four weeks? Have you been ensnared in a rapidly evolving cultural exercise in the American inner city referred to as a protest, the burning buildings notwithstanding?

Bravado is part of the American lexicon. “You may start it, but I’ll finish it.” This rather simple statement of self-identified gallantry begs one question: To what extent will you finish it, whatever “it” may be? Is that a bloody nose? A bruised ego? To expand on these possibilities, now ask yourself if the bruised ego or bloody nose will be sufficient to repel an assault from one of the cultural ballets that entertains us on a frequent basis in America.

Recently, I have had some animated conversations with many people close to me in my personal and professional life. Each individual related to me what they were willing to do in order to protect themselves, their family, and their sacred treasure if confronted with a throng of roving hordes of protesters. The question then becomes, what is driving them to make such statements? To examine this question, we return to Machiavelli, who stated that men are driven by one of two primary impulses, which are fear or love.

I mean this with as much love and respect as I can muster, but in the vast majority of cases, almost all cases actually, even the highest trained martial artist, marksman, or security conscious citizen stands ill-equipped to confront savagery in its most raw form. I will go as far as to say that most law enforcement officers that patrol our neighborhoods daily are ill equipped to look into the abyss. The reason for this is not because they are guided by one of the two impulses mentioned by Machiavelli. It is because they are governed and driven by both impulses simultaneously. We are terrified by the thought of losing what we love.

Being ensconced in the criminal culture, one thing that has not escaped me in my research and my professional travels is that the most violent people in society act on impulse, not rote reaction to stimuli. They are hyper-focused on the task at hand. They have little regard for short-term or long-term consequences that may result from decisions surrounding pleasure versus pain. They have been trained by doing, not by rehearsal. Their thought process does not stray into musings regarding things of value and endearment. They simply revert back to a natural state devoid of morality and become killing machines.

I asked several close associates of mine recently what things would go through their mind if confronted with a life and death situation that would likely result in the necessity of utilizing lethal force. The usual emotional suspects were resurrected, which were thoughts of their families, safety, their livelihoods, and the potential liability that could endanger their acquired treasure. In these cases, the individual in question has already lost the encounter because their focus has been diverted from the threat to their emotional or tangible sustainability. They are not seeking victory that will be made manifest through violence. Rather, they are seeking not to lose by holding on to the things that cannot help them survive in the moment of truth.

I am quickly becoming cognizant of the fact that many of my students and clients are not adapting to the “new normal” in American society. I detest that term by the way because it connotes the defining of normal by unknown, future facets of life that we can neither predict nor control. But it does have merit in our present circumstance because the new normal in America has strayed from peace and prosperity to angst, distrust, and barbarism. As martial arts instructors and self-protection teachers and mentors, we can no longer bury our heads in the sand and teach antiquated methodologies and mindsets. To do so is simply turning our clients and students into cannon fodder.

Our neighbors in the law enforcement community often make reference to a use of force continuum. This continuum dictates how they use physical violence to protect themselves or citizens during the unfortunate circumstance of a confrontation. To varying degrees, these continuums are made up of variables such as officer presence at a scene, verbal commands, and the use of various physical implements that can cause physical pain. The continuum also includes the use of tools that by their nature are lethal and can cause death or serious bodily injury.

My business partner and I make clear distinctions between martial artists and practitioners of self-protection methods and strategies. Self-protection practitioners learn skills and tactics that aid them in the detection, deterrence, and defeat of criminal threats against their well-being. Martial artists also share this skillset, but it is light years ahead in terms of refinement. Martial artists study violence and war and apply it accordingly.

We teach our clients to flee at all cost if conditions warrant. These conditions may include social elements such as crowds, or it may encompass physical elements such as terrain. The physical or emotional capacity of the person must also be taken into account. What may be justified for a physically fit adult male in his forties may not be conducive for a man confined to a wheelchair, and vice versa. If confrontation results, we teach our clients to “fight to flee,” meaning we do enough damage to ensure a safe retreat out of the clutches of the aggressor.

We now live in different times, in which mass gatherings can arise out of a very limited time and space continuum. The spaces that used to be safe for many Americans are now a battleground. What then do we teach our clients in a social climate where the social contract has come undone and savagery is the new soup du jour?

We teach a three-pronged approach to self-protection. First, principles of environmental and situational awareness are now paramount. It is simply not enough to be aware of situations. We must now be ever mindful of our environment. The places we used to think were safe may devolve into hotbeds of activity in an instant. Second, we must change what may be termed our emotion set instead of the mindset. Thoughts of loss, grief, and anxiety must be placed into the proper context in life at that specific moment in time. When teaching women, I reject the idea of not fighting back because it has taken her agency and dignity away from her in return for a future that will be wrought with uncertainty and memories of horror.

Finally, we must refine our training methodologies to include malicious tactics without malicious intent. It is at this point that teachings of Machiavelli come into play. In situations where one’s life hangs in the balance, there is no room for second guessing or the fear of judgment by others. A common complaint amongst law enforcement officers is the mischief associated with the Monday Morning Quarterback. The same holds true for a person that is truly in fear for their life in a circumstance that evolves quickly. If a student is truly in fear for their life in a scenario witnessed on television far too frequently today, we are not being honest with them when we teach them to fight with rules as they are being ravaged by those who have no regard for the rule of law. If your life hangs in the balance, give your adversary no room for retaliation. The difference between the criminal and the righteous citizen lies in the condition of the heart, not the act itself.

I hope one day to be able to retract this shift in focus. Social and political movements tend to swing like pendulums. We are witnessing an extreme swing to one side of the pendulum at present moment, and eventually it will move in the opposite direction. We must prepare our clients and students for what lies on each end of that spectrum as well as the middle.

Find me.

-PhDCE

[neptunium134]

Hey Neptunium134! Quick question, I heard you had a lot of theories and headcanons about Jamie (Midsomer Murders). Mind to share some? 🙏

Damn, asking me the hard questions 😂

First of all hi! Thanks for the ask! Sorry for the late reply!

To be perfectly honest, I don’t have an amazingly large amount, and one I do have won’t be surprising seeing as it’s pretty much canon at this point.

I’ll do the two I’ve given the most thought to, though.

So the first one is there’s a huge father-son relationship between John and Jamie. More of ‘John-sees-Jamie-as-a-son’ and ‘Jamie-wants-to-make-John-proud-like-a-son-would-to-his-father’ type thing.

This is the one that is pratically canon, and @tiger-moran has mentioned it as well. 

But the one I’ve given the most thought to is one that may be a bit surprising, espically considering DOTSC, but it’s one that I can see as a possibility.

It’s just, I love the idea of asexual or ace-spec Jamie. I’ve found some things that could count, but first I just wanna do a quick run-down on what asexuality is and some of the ace-spec identities I can see Jamie as.

So asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction. Asexuals feel little to no sexual attraction. They can, however, feel romantic attraction. Some don’t, and also identify as aromantic. You can be a biromantic asexual, meaning you feel romantic attraction to both sexes, but no sexual attraction.

The asexual spectrum, or ace-spec, is a spectrum of asexual identities. These include aceflux (someone who's sexual orientation fluctuates but generally stays on the asexual spectrum), acespike (someone who usually feels no sexual attraction, but occasionally feel intense sexual feelings for a short amount of time), fraysexual/ ignotasexual (when someone only experiences sexual attraction towards those that they are not deeply connected with, and lose that attraction as they get to know the person), lithosexual/ akoisexual (Someone who may experience sexual attraction but does not want it reciprocated) and reciprosexual (someone who does not experience sexual attraction unless they know that the other person is sexually attracted to them first).

That seems like a lot, I know, but there are two other ace-spec identities I see Jamie as more. These are greysexual or greyasexual and demisexual.

Greysexual/greyasexual- Someone who relates with asexuality, yet feel that there are parts of their experience that aren't fully described by the word asexual. Someone may identify as greysexual is that they experience sexual attraction but very infrequently. Some greysexual people may only feel sexual attraction once or twice in their life. Others may experience it more frequently, but still not as frequently as allosexual people. Again, a lot of info, but how I remember it is it’s a bit of a ‘grey area’, where someone doesn’t quite fit into allosexuality or asexuality. If you’d like a simple definition - their sexual attraction can fluctuate- sometimes they feel sexual attraction, but they often don’t.

Demisexual- Someone who does not experience sexual attraction until they have formed a deep emotional connection with someone. I don’t know how much of my blog you’ve seen regarding sexuality, but I identify as a demisexual, so of course I could be slightly biased when I say this is what I see Jamie most likely being. Demisexuality is seen more as a form of attraction rather than an orientation- how a person feels attraction rather than who they are attracted to. For example, someone could be a bidemisexual- a demi who feels sexual attraction to both sexes; or pandemisexual, a demi who feels attraction to all genders; or even heterodemisexual, a demi who only feels sexual attraction to people of the opposite sex. Personally, I think I’m a polydemisexual- a demi who is attracted to many, but not all, genders, but that’s a meltdown for my blog and not this answer.

Like I said, this may seem a bit surprising, espically given the events of Death of the Small Coppers, of which his romantic involvment with Penny Kingdom was the driving point of the climax of the episode.

I could go into a whole essay about my views on his ‘romance’ with Penny in that episode, but personally I don’t think he was as interested in Penny as she was in him, espically after she almost ran him over, but that’s an essay for another time if you’re interested.

But the main reason I think Jamie might be demi (other than the fact I want some ace representation in the show), is because of what he said to Kam in The Village That Rose From the Dead. It’s been a little while since I saw the episode, but I believe they were talking about how long it was, and throughout S19 we see their relationship grow. In each episode, Jamie seems a little more interested in Kam. I won’t start theorising about the timings of the episode, but we can assume a few months have passed in between each episode, espically if each series represents a year. So if S19 represents a year, then, taking out Red In Tooth and Claw and Death by Persuasion, Jamie and Kam have roughly a year in Midsomer together, give or take, plus that weekend (?) in Dorset (?).

Of course, everyone experiences sexual attraction differently, some demis take less time to feel attraction and others take more time.

Here’s a link to the LGBTA Wiki on ace-spec identities, if you wish to do some more reading on the subject: https://lgbta.wikia.org/wiki/Asexual_Spectrum

Talking of Death by Persuasion (as it’s the episode that’s on currently), the relationship between Petra and Jamie is brought up many times. Petra is  obviously very into Jamie, even going as far as to ask Sarah about him, while Jamie is very obviously not into her, and even looks incredibly uncomfortable when Sarah mentions Petra asking about him, which is the complete opposite to how he looked the episode pior, when Sarah mentioned Kam asking how he was (Jamie even induced that comment, asking “Did she say anything else?”).

To me, that fits into the idea of him being demi- he’s happy when Kam asks about him because he is attracted to her, but is uncomfortable when Petra asks since he isn’t attracted to her. He also makes excuses to not spend time with her; when she asked if he could show her the “local night life” (which I’m assuming is clubs and bars and stuff) and he said he was “playing five-a-side”, and when she asked him to dance at the Oswald’s Austen ball, he hesitated, said he was working and only danced with her when John encouraged him, and at the end of the episode John mentioned he was supposed to be going out for a drink with Petra but then changed his mind.

But those moments are probably just there to show how much into Kam he is, he is either ignorant to other women’s attraction to him, or he straight-up reject them. It’s meant to show how much he likes Kam.

I mean, like I said, I’m a demi myself, so it could be me reading far too much into Nick’s acting and my own wishful thinking.

Those are really the only two I’ve given extensive thought to. I hope this answers the question (I know there’s probably not a lot of useful info, I tend to waffle a lot, sorry!)

If you have any other theories/ headcanons/ ideas I’d love to hear them!

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Do you think Asirpa's unresolved feelings/crush for Sugimoto is going to cause issues with them finding the gold/fighting for the ainu? Reading the latest chapter it felt a bit weird towards the end where she said she was prepared to go to hell with him. It felt different from their initial strong bond of friendship. Now it feels almost ominous that she would go so far for him.

Sorry for the late reply but actually this topic is pretty complex.

Let’s start with the simple parts first.

It’s hard to predict the consequences of Asirpa’s crush for Sugimoto. Noda put that in it for a reason though, so it’s possible there will be some.

So far we already had two women who had to deal with unreturned feelings of love for a man, Inkarmat and Sofia. Both of them apparently chose to leave the man in question, Wilk, but actually dealt with the whole matter rather differently.

Inkarmat, who was an orphaned child at the time, remained trapped in her feelings for Wilk. Basically she wouldn’t be in the plot if it wasn’t because her obsession with Wilk lead her to investigate in his death, to cooperate with Tsurumi, to reveal to him of the Abashiri infiltration plan, to go on the roof to see Wilk and to attack Kiro.

Even though she could chose Tanigaki and wash her hands clean of Wilk, she clearly can’t. The way she climbed on the roof and her expression as she looked around in hope to see him are quite telling of how, deep down, the Inkarmat we’re seeing is actually not the woman we’re familiar with but the child who fell hard for Wilk.

You could even easily compare it to how Asirpa tried to rush to Sugimoto’s help.

Asirpa has the potential to become this, a woman who just can’t really part ways from the man she loves even though he doesn’t return her feelings.

It’s not she would lose independence, Inkarmat is pretty independent herself, but that all her actions would circle around Sugimoto.

Honestly I like to think this won’t happen because Asirpa showed also a huge concern for the Ainu... but it’s also true she’s now saying she would go to hell for Sugimoto, instead than for Sugimoto and the Ainu, which might show how she’s conflicted on the inside and hadn’t decided who to prioritize yet.

On the other side of the spectrum we’ve Sofia.

While Inkarmat had left Wilk, but, more than her own choice her actions had been dictated by circumstances, by how Wilk was marrying another woman and Inkarmat saw in her future that they wouldn’t met again because she would die, Sofia left Wilk of her own accord for her own ideals.

Circumstances forced her to realize that she had to chose if to remain in Russia and serve the revolutionary cause or follow Wilk in the hope she would marry him one day and know happiness as his wife and mother of his children.

Sure, her own choice was hugely influenced by the baby whose death she believed she caused and, in a way, she too never managed to replace Wilk as it’s not like she had found someone else, but this can be also due to her decision to devote herself to the cause.

I like to think Sofia will act with her cause in mind, not with her unresolved feelings for Wilk in mind, as she’s a leader who’s meant to care for her underlings as she did in Ankou prison and not sacrifice them to chase an impossible love.

Asirpa can become this as well, she can chose the Ainu cause over Sugimoto, chose to devote herself to her own people instead than to a man.

Honestly my hopes for her are she’ll continue to dedicate tot the Ainu cause but that this won’t stop her from having a family if she wishes to have one.

Having a family or even just a loved one isn’t mandatory, there’s people who can live just fine without one, but in Inkarmat and Sofia’s case the choice seemed forced as they would have liked to have a loved one and a family with him but couldn’t. Not only they weren’t chosen but Sofia actually thought it would be an hindrance to her cause so, in order to serve her own cause, she would have to give up on that.

I wish for Asirpa, if she’ll remain interested in having a loved one and a family, to not have to give up. It doesn’t mean she has to marry Sugimoto, she can marry whoever she wants. The point is I want her to be free to decide SHE CAN MARRY AND, AT THE SAME TIME, SERVE THE AINU CAUSE.

Of course though, this is just me.

Now... in regard to Sugimoto and Asirpa’s bond of friendship... the sad truth is that Noda started foreshadowing long ago how Asirpa could take this path.

For start their friendship already contained the‘I’ll kill to protect you’ part, which is normally not included in many normal friendships. We saw Sugimoto more than once kill people in order to protect Asirpa...

Killing someone to protect a friend is no part of a normal bond of friendship. Many of us turned their eyes away from this because Sugimoto is the male, adult, action manga hero, and this allows him not only to get a pass in such situations, but makes them normal.... even if it actually isn’t and even if put pressure on Asirpa as not only she’s on the receiving end of such behaviour and of Sugimoto’s attempts to normalize it...

...but for a long while she will actively try to stop it.

It’s however worth to remember Asirpa wasn’t doing the same not because she was a child or a female or because she cared less about Sugimoto or about protecting him, but because she held on the strong belief that killing was wrong...

...to the point more than once she tried to hold back Sugimoto from killing or even using violence.

Note that Asirpa said ANYONE, and in the discussion they were considering the possibility to kill her father’s murderer so it’s not ‘I don’t want to kill good/normal people’ or ‘I don’t want to kill without a reason’. Asirpa’s statement is that she doesn’t want to kill ANYONE. No matter the reason, no matter who that person is or what he did, she doesn’t want to kill.

That’s why Asirpa for a long time won’t consider killing people, because she views it as wrong.

This however didn’t mean to stay frozen and immutable. Noda hinted more than once at how Asirpa’s relationship with Sugimoto could lead her to end up doing the same as Sugimoto pretty early on and then repeated the hint more than once.

@chibivesicle listed in the past how Noda constructed 4 (an unlucky number tied with death) situations in which Asirpa turned her weapons against someone and they’re all tied to Sugimoto.

Sure, ultimately she didn’t intend to kill anyone, but Noda’s idea wasn’t to have her be ready to murder back then, but to show there was the potential for her to pick up that choice and why she would eventually pick it up.

So, remember chap 17? Asirpa threatened Shiraishi with her arrow and bow in order to save Sugimoto.

We don’t know if the poison is removed from the arrow and she tecnically had no time to do it as she didn’t expect to have to threaten someone when she got in that building.

Look at her eyes in the close up, they’re as dark as when she’ll say she’ll go to hell with Sugimoto.

The relevance of this scene is that Asirpa acted out of instinct.

While I think she would ultimately held herself back and not shoot Shiraishi if he still were to refuse, because I like to think reason would prevail, her feelings immediately lead her to this decision and this only because Sugimoto is in danger.

Noda was already warning us Asirpa’s bond with Sugimoto might lead her to a path opposite to the one she wanted to take.

The two following warnings are pretty similar.

Asirpa will shoot an arrow to one of Sugimoto’s opponents to stop him from harming Sugimoto. In Henmi’s case (chap 40) we see how she’ll remove the poison... but this ultimately matters little in the big picture.

Asirpa wounding Henmi gives Sugimoto the chance to stab him to death. It’s the kind of wound that kills slowly and painfully, like we saw with Kiro, but that ultimately kills you without fail.

In the west we’re more tolerant with this sort of situations. Since Sugimoto did the deed, we tend to consider him the sole responsible. However not only Sugimoto’s actions were entirely predictable but Japan is actually stricter with this sort of things. We see it in many tales how merely indirectly causing something, even when you mean well, ends up with you being held accountable for it.

So, while here Asirpa doesn’t kill anyone, Noda is telling us that again, in order to protect Sugimoto, she could cause other people to be killed (by him).

We jump a little ahead to chap 99.

Asirpa shoots an arrow in Koito’s direction.

We don’t know if she has managed to remove the poison. My heart tells me she did but it matters little. Not only, like in Henmi’s case, this could give Sugimoto the chance to kill Koito but she could end up on killing Koito anyway, without not even needing to hit him, just by causing him to lose balance and fall, not against a tree but on the hard ground.

Koito was on precarious balance on that aerovehicle which was quite high. The possibility of falling was high.

Sure, Noda will have Koito fall due to Shiraishi and without really getting injured but this is technically luck. The possibility for him to break his back or his head against a branch or the hard ground and die was there.

This time Asirpa didn’t just gave Sugimoto the chance to kill Koito in consequence of her own actions, but took the risk she could end up causing his death herself.

Flash forward to occurrence number 4.

Ogata lies to Asirpa about Sugimoto’s last words, Asirpa catches his lie and threatens him with her bow and arrow, telling him to keep away from her.

While her actions are aimed at protecting herself and the tie with Sugimoto is small although it produced such a huge distrust she felt herself in danger for her own life (she hadn’t connected the dots about Ogata killing her father and shooting Sugimoto yet so her reaction over what, as far as she knows, is just a lie, is a tad over the top and a good hint of how that lie upset her), look at her expression in the close up.

There’s light in her eyes. She lacks the same determination to murder she had when facing Shiraishi... and her resolve will weaken with Ogata’s following words. She’ll be sweaty, uncertain, although she’ll keep on aiming at him.

Ogata, who clearly has a suicidal wish, will try to force her hand by telling her he murdered her father.

All he’ll get will be for Asirpa’s eyes to grey slightly... before she’ll decide she won’t kill him and she’ll stop pulling the rope, loosening it.

But instead than this ending with the confirmation Asirpa won’t kill, no matter what, Sugimoto’s voice ends up on startling her and she let go of the arrow, hitting Ogata and almost killing him.

In short Noda was hinting at how, when Sugimoto is involved, Asirpa loses her cool and does things she normally wouldn’t do and this was dangerous because this contributed into leading her to think the words we heard in chap 215.

However Noda didn’t make things so that it were just Asirpa’s feelings what lead her into making such declaration.

She’s not a girl who grew so obsessed with Sugimoto she’s okay killing whoever were to touch him... in fact her feelings for Sugimoto hadn’t changed radically from when she believed she shouldn’t kill nor they are weaker than Sugimoto’s.

What had changed was Asirpa. For good and for bad.

Sure, Sugimoto has been Asirpa’s first influencer.

Where she insisted she didn’t want to kill anyone, he persuaded her to take part to a gold hunt in which he promised he would kill people for her so that she could avenge her father.

Where she insisted she didn’t want him to kill, he told her if he were threatened he wouldn’t hesitate in doing so because that’s how one survives.

Where she insisted she wanted to mediate with Dunn, he kept on telling her it was easier if he were to use violence.

Sugimoto NEVER meant for Asirpa to embrace his way... but Asirpa was young and she was constantly presented with this as the only way to make things work... and the other males she interacted with weren’t better.

They all actively believed killing was the best way to get things done.

And then the whole thing with Kiro happened and yes, in a way it has a positive influence on her, as it helped her to open her eyes and become aware of her people’s problems and the danger they were facing, of how the gold was relevant and she couldn’t wash her hands clean of it and give it as a present to the first person who came to ask just because ‘she isn’t interested in it’.

But this growing up tossed upon her shoulders a problem that’s too huge for her to fix easily, in the same way as just eating dried persimmons won’t cure Sugimoto.

Asirpa tried. She believed just with some movies she could solve everything... but it was a failure. To be honest the idea wasn’t bad... but she wasn’t up for the execution.

Asirpa has failed other times to solve everything peacefully, like how she couldn’t persuade Sugimoto not to kill or Nihei to just talk... but this time she takes the failure even worse then usual. She feels helpless to change things yet desperate in her wish to do so and wonder if the only way to protect the AInu is by taking arms.

Although Sugimoto doesn’t want her to do so, all he can tell her is the one taking arms shouldn’t be her, not that it’s wrong to take arms per se.

Sugimoto attempts to scare her out of it, by telling her she’ll go to hell...

...but doesn’t offer her another possible path she could take beyond letting someone else do the fighting.

And so, ultimately, Asirpa ended up accepting it, accepting that murdering people could be the only way... even though in her own way, deep down, she’s still fighting it.

She didn’t harm Tsurumi’s men even if it would have been easier... but this caused her to see how Sugimoto, who had followed her, got hurt.

Asirpa likely felt responsible for it. She had said long ago she wanted to save Sugimoto, she clearly didn’t want to have him hurt...

...but the situation is no more one she can solve by throwing a snake and she hadn’t been taught by the people around her any other technique beyond killing people...

...and so, ultimately, she embraces that idea.

Oh she tries to resist to it as well as she’s saying she’ll do it only if there’s a reason to do it.... but now she’s no more refusing the idea a priori.

If she has to protect Sugimoto, and there’s no other option but this, she’ll kill. She’ll go to hell with him because she’s willing to sacrifice herself to save him.

Likely, believing Sugimoto had died in Abashiri, affected her greatly as she clearly wants to keep him tied to her and, at the same time, protect him.

But this is not her loving him more or less, this is just her being scared of losing him. She always was, the loss of her father and then Retar as a child had traumatized her, but now her fear had gotten worse and she’s copying with it in the wrong way.

The result is tragically that she takes all the wrong decisions in regard to her friendship with Sugimoto, from trying to tie her to him to turning into a human shield and weapon to protect him.

This though, was Asirpa changing, Asirpa not being helped to understand there are other ways to handle things, that her initial beliefs weren’t wrong, they were just very hard to put into practice.

I like to hope either she’ll finally meet someone who’ll be a POSITIVE influence to her or she’ll manage to grow and think things through further and realize the way of murder and violence isn’t the right way, just the apparently easier one.

But we’ll see.

Sorry if I came out unclear.

Asirpa’s evolution is complicate and long and even if I tried to sum it up I had to cut too many things so I’m not sure I delivered it well.

Still, thank you for your ask!

[mugen-monogatari]

Star Watching Dog - Tragedy and Love through the eyes of a pet.

The opening pages of Hoshi Mamoru Inu sets the tone for the very short series straight away. We’re greeted with a gorgeous art work of a broken down car in a field, while investigators state that within the car, the corpse of a man, dead for a year, and the corpse of a dog, dead for several months, have been found. We’re told straight away the fate of our two main characters, “Happy” the dog, and “Dad”. This isn’t a spoiler, this is the opening scene of the series, what we start with and finish with. You’re told up front, this isn’t going to be a happy ending. 

And yet, what I find so strange about this, is that this isn’t sad. This isn’t death in the tragic sense. The artwork is gorgeous and clean. The field is beautiful and the car has faded, worn down by the time it has spent in the field. Much like the memory of our protagonists over the course of the series. 

For those of you that haven’t read it, Hoshi Mamoru Inu (Star Watching Dog) is a really amazing short story, that literally everyone should go read. Being a pet owner myself, there were multiple scenes that had me sobbing like a child, and even recounting the story to my girlfriend later that day, I began sobbing uncontrollably in front of her again. This story just hits you with all the feels in all the right ways. When you’re finished, despite being a very digestible 6 chapters, you’ll feel like you’ve been on a journey.

To give a brief plot summary, we follow “Happy” the dog and his owner, simply referred to as Dad. The story begins with Dad getting a divorce and setting out on a cross country road trip to the south, taking whatever belongings he has and Happy, before setting out in his little car. From there, they face hardship after hardship, before reaching the conclusion of their already foretold deaths. 

So let's talk about why I loved it so much. Why did a simple story about a man and his dog, hit me so damn hard, and why am I suddenly raving about it on Tumblr?

Well first of all, there’s no pissing about. We’re told straight away, both of our main characters are going to die. We don’t know how or why. Just that they have died somehow. The premise is set up very simply, and we’re told within seconds “Hey. It’s going to be this type of story.” I love this honestly. Knowing how the story will end is all the more tragic, since it makes the journey all the more heartbreaking. Seeing the good times is a lot harder when you know everything will end up poorly for everyone. 

And the series pulls it off so well. SO WELL. 

Watching these two set out on their optimistic journey was nice, but there was always this ever growing fear, that the events shown in the first pages will come about. It’s less of a question of “will things be okay?”, and more of a “When do they go awfully wrong?” Which is it’s own kind of suspense. When the tragedy does strike, it’s set up well enough to where it’s still powerful, heartbreaking and tragic, but not BS. The author doesn’t pull a fast one on us, and especially reading it a second time, the signs are all there, to the point where it actually goes in the opposite direction, and the author literally flags you down and tells you everything will go wrong and how. 

The story handles this well. There isn’t an incredibly deep meaning to be had here. It’s not quite the sort of story where you can break it down, it’s just a story about a man, his dog, their bond and the people they affect on their way through life. It’s very tragic, but sweet and uplifting. If I had to find a message in the story, it’s just one of, treat your pets well. Treat your family well. Make sure to show love to the things that are precious to you, because you won’t have them forever. Which I’ll come back to in the end. 

And while I could probably gush about this series for hours, for the sake of Brevity, I’ll just talk about my two favorite aspects of the series. The first is perspective, while the second is how the story handles all the characters that are affected by the life of Happy and Dad. 

First of all, the series plays a lot with perspective. For the first half while our characters are alive, we follow Happy, and see the world through his eyes. From his adoption to death, we watch the world as he sees it. Which is interesting as he doesn’t understand a lot of things that we would. He monologues internally like a young child, and he doesn’t get the horrors of the world. He’s optimistic about everything, which makes it even more heart wrenching when things go wrong.

To elaborate, I’m going to have to go into spoilers briefly. You’ve been warned. The series isn’t incredibly plot heavy, so it shouldn’t matter too much, but still. I really recommend you go take an hour or two and read this before you continue onwards.

Early on, we get a scene where Dad buys a pair of sunglasses. At the time, nothing is thought of it, he mentions they’re just a fashion statement, yet doesn’t really take them off until the end of his arc, where it’s revealed that he now has (what I presume to be cataracts) in his eyes, meaning he’s genuinely gone blind. And then it clicked with me. This was foreshadowed, outright even said, but as a reader, I dismissed it because Happy dismissed it. I didn’t understand because he didn’t understand. 

Suddenly several more panels made far more sense. For example there’s one scene where he goes to a restaurant by the sea, and just sits and eats for several hours. He attempts to take the Dog with him, but is refused entry on account of no pets, but then claims he is blind and it is his guide dog. We dismiss this as lying, due to the fact we’ve been shown he just doesn’t want to leave happy alone. Happy even dismisses this, not really understanding why Dad just sat there for hours watching the sunset. But then it clicks, that he was genuinely going blind. He really did need happy to guide him, and the sunset was him coming to terms with losing his sight. Much as the sun sets on another day, another chapter in his book of life ends. Past this point, his vision is almost entirely gone. 

That makes the last panel of him, just gazing up at the sky, the starry sky, as he passes away peacefully, all the more powerful. He mentions the sky is full of stars, but one glance at his eyes reveals they’re white and clouded over. He can’t even see them properly. A tragic moment, since the sky is genuinely gorgeous, but he’ll never see it again. Almost as if that’s where the title comes from. Star watching dog, a dog that gazes at the stars, even knowing that it can never reach them.

What drives this home is Happy’s reaction to this. He doesn’t understand his master is ill. He doesn’t understand his master has just passed away, even though we as an audience do. So seeing him try to remain optimistic, trying to find food and survive, as well as still trying to communicate with the corpse, is so heartbreaking. This was where I sobbed especially fucking hard. I was like a child. Happy, in his final moments, wishes to be reunited with his owner, curling up into a ball, before slipping away into a dark abyss, waking in the field of flowers him and his master crashed into, before reuniting with Dad, and stepping out into the field at the end of the story. 

It’s not a happy ending, not by a long shot, but seeing it portrayed in such an optimistic way, makes it so hard to read. Happy, doesn’t understand any of this, so watching him struggle on, knowing the futility of his actions, the dramatic irony in the situation is heartbreaking. Making the story all the more powerful in turn. 

But this happens around 3 chapters in, with the other half of the story being what I liked even more than this. 

For the second half of the story, we follow an investigator looking for clues to do with the death of the protagonists, an old lady who adopts Happy’s brother and a young boy who was helped out by Dad in his story. Which all worked out to make the story even stronger, as it shows the effects we have on those around us in our lives. The detective is especially interesting, because we see the opposite of Happy. We see how humans see their pets, instead of the other way around. And that view is distressing and almost nihilistic. While Happy only saw the best in his owner (who was set up to seem kind of like a dick), the detective only found his own pet he had as a child, annoying and obstructive. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with it, and only lashes out at it in annoyance, providing an interesting contrast between our main characters and the opposite end of the spectrum. Only after studying Happy and Dad, does he begin to regret his actions towards his dog, and reflects back on his life and what he’s done. It’s a rather emotional scene, a man coming to terms with the fact that he now has all these regrets, it was very genuine and sincere, a stage that we’ve all as humans gone through at some point. I wish I did that different, or this that way. We all have thought like that. But this change and sudden reflection is only brought about by the influence of Happy and Dad.

The contrasting viewpoints, really hammers home the relationship between the Dad and the Dog, as we've shown it was truly something special, but also that pets are a really wonderful thing. They’ll support you and love you forever, they sense your sadness, and will share in your happiness. No matter how you treat them, they will always love you, because they are just as important as the people around you. A pet isn’t a Christmas gift or some sort of toy. They’re family too. And just like family they might one day disappear from your life.

But this has been going on for long enough, I’ve said my peace, I don’t want to ruin everything in a series and if reading this has interested you at all, I highly recommend reading the series itself. It’s very short, just 6 chapters, taking no more than an hour or two to read, but it’ll stick with you for your entire life. 

I just want to close things out with a quote from the series. 

“What did I do for my dog? I should have played with him more… I should have taken him for more walks. I should have let him go along guard rails, curbs and telephone poles without pulling too much, so he could sniff them until he was happy. I should… Given him more love without being Scared…” 

That’s all from me for now though, please take care of yourselves guys, 

Saki~

[its-a-writer-thing]

Character Guide – What Your Character Experiences While Leaving the Military

As I blundered through yet another wave of revisions for my sci-fi/fantasy WIP, I had an epiphany which, reasonably, should’ve come when the project first began. But didn’t, as all glaring plot holes don’t.

Here I have a soldier-esque character, whose background and experience affects huge swashes of the plot. I’ve nailed down what happens while they’re with the military; I’ve nailed down what happens several years after they’re out. But what about that transitional phase? What did they do there? What would they feel? For that matter, rent exists even in a rundown sci-fi/fantasy – am I looking forward to a played-for-laughs convenience store job, or could my character arguably rocket into a steady position somewhere they like?

Good question.

The answer to those question(s) – and yours, if you’re asking them – took some research, and finally resulted in reading “Leaving the Military: Life After Resettlement; How to Get a Job That Doesn’t Suck,” by Chris Hitchens. What makes it a great resource? Unlike many an article I read and books I checked out at the library, it doesn’t just dive into “hut hut hut get a job here we go!” It takes time to evaluate what may motivate servicemen and women to leave the military, what they might experience in response from their peers, and what an emotional experience it really can be.

In this article, I’ll walk you through the main questions and considerations this book brought to my attention and then answered… so you can write better military characters, figure out that transitional phase and weave it into the plot, or hey – learn what your or a loved one’s options are for exiting the military!

Let’s dive in.

The Five Stages of Grief Apply

My MC doesn’t care much for her military-esque group, especially not at the end of their service. So I always assumed she’d bounce back pretty quickly, and move on to the next stage. However, it’s important to consider that – whether or not you liked something, if it took a huge place in your life, you will feel its absence. Either your character LOVED the military and misses the camaraderie, the structure, the sense of doing good, or any number of things… or they hated the military, but they miss the routine, the sense of direction (even if they disagreed with the direction), or the security of that career. You can’t spend 24 hours a day, 7 days a week at something and not feel a gap when it’s vanished.

So your character will sense that pit, a pit which is grief in some small or great capacity. Do they fill it up with something, like a distraction? How fast do they go through the stages? Do they skip some stages? Do they go back to the career for a time, draw out the ‘quitting’ process, or do they cut it entirely? No matter what they feel – they will feel something. Nail down what that is!

Civilian Jobs ARE Different From Military Jobs

This is what I’ve heard from most ex-military I’ve spoken to, and this book emphasized it again – officially making it earn a place in my ‘transitional notes for MC’ category. Civvies don’t act like the military, and neither do their jobs. Not only is there less of a strict hierarchy and a lot more (what will be perceived by your character as) disorder, but their values will be different. The military is very goal-oriented, with a task at hand that needs completion. However, a civilian company may be sales- and profit-oriented, motivating them to cut corners or bend quality to achieve that.

No matter what job your character takes up, there will be differences in the company culture as well as the general structure of their new job. The important thing is to identify what your character could and couldn’t tolerate. How does your character feel about this? Do they do something to improve or worsen this? Would it cause them to adapt, or rebel? How important is the job to them? Are they invested in this new team?

Military Skills Do Translate, But Not (Always) Directly

Your character may not create an organizational chart of their strengths and weaknesses, but I recommend that you do. What did they enjoy about their previous career, and what did they hate? What were they good and bad at? This is what narrows military talents into civvy talents like ‘team building’ or ‘unsupervised discipline.’ If your character was a fantastic pilot, then maybe a civilian flying career would be a great choice; or maybe all that skill at multitasking will make them incredible at running a tech company.

This sort of thing can also serve as an excellent way to disguise your characters’ past. Who would suspect an accountant of being an ace tank mechanic? Well, their photographic memory always came in handy.

It’s important to remember your character has real talents – but they haven’t been labeled in the way civilians categorize talents. Marksmanship doesn’t look as typical on a resume as an English degree, but can still be useful. They could be an instructor, could be excellent at sports, could work with the parks department – any number of choices.  

The Lingo is Different

Even if your character finds their way into a secure civilian job, there will still be differences to overcome, mainly in the language. The Army, Air Force, Navy – you name it – operate through a series of shorthand and code words, some not as fancy as you’d imagine, while others downright unintelligible. As Hitchens outlined, even ordering a drink can result in a language barrier, since “Tea, Standard NATO” doesn’t mean “Tea, white, two sugars” to most people.

That doesn’t mean your character runs around shouting “ALPHA DELTA NINER” like a loon, but think of it like this; how often do you translate “Big Mood” to “I feel the same way” when around your grandma? The military has their own ‘meme speak.’ Keep that in mind, and you’re on the right path.

Your character will feel ostracized in the little ways and forced to adjust, which may further their feelings of grief (however intense those may be). Do they adjust quickly? Do they make a conscious effort or let it happen naturally? What do they feel after several months of immersion when they run into a fellow ex-military who knows the lingo? What happens if they’re trying to disguise their past, but keep sliding distinct terms into their speech by accident? Does it hurt their productivity at their job or social life at all?

A Quick and Successful Leap Requires Preparation

Most of us sail out of high school and into the job market, where we flail for a period of time. But that’s expected, because we’re new, right? If your character is fresh from the military, they’re likely past that newbie age group, but are still faced with the same problems. Very little (if any) civilian job experience, an outdated (or nonexistent) CV, and rusty skills (at best) for job interviews. Now, this can be the set-up for a played-for-laughs job at the local grocery store, should you character be the kind who takes things slowly or instinctually.

However, if you want to skip your character to the higher end of the career spectrum – or if they themselves wouldn’t be content with taking it slow – then it’s important to be aware of one thing: making that happen takes preparation. More than probably anyone else leverages to get a job. They’re behind the eight-ball and need to make it up fast. So, this means using some of that military know-how and putting it to good work.

What is the opposition? How to best take it down? Does this mean highlighter pens and a list of keywords from the job description to tailor your CV? Does this mean rehearsing job interview questions? Does this mean thoroughly researching positions online (or cornering other employees under the guise of a drink, should your character be the cunning and over dedicated type)? Keep in mind that, during this transition period, either they will take it slow and adjust gingerly, as most do when they first enter the job market. …Or, if they wouldn’t be content with minimum wage, they will need to actively raise themselves above this – abnormally fast.

All in All

Leaving the military and taking up a civilian life isn’t as simple as ‘sign your name here, you’re a civilian, good luck’ and then immediately diving into a regular life. The transitional phase exists either in a large and dramatic way, or a smaller but still influential manner. Allowing your character to experience this can help round out their personality and create ties from their past to their present in subtle, crafty ways. Even more-so, keeping this in mind can allow you to portray a character of their nature and situation more realistically, so they resonate as human beings.

I touched the high points, but be sure to read the official “Leaving the Military” by Chris Hitchens for a more thorough look. Support a fellow self-published author and give a read! It’s an introduction to the namesake experience, and one of an ongoing series. I’d recommend it as a great resource for a military character – or hey, for an actual member of the armed forces, if you know someone who’s bringing their career to a close. It’s short, funny, and contains actionable tips

Happy writing!

[halogensleep]

pour your gasoline on me (let’s torch the whole world down) Ch. 7

When the phone buzzed in her back pocket three times succinctly, for the first time in six months, Charlotte became curious and… another emotion that she didn’t quite have the words.

Excitement. That was it, she realised.

She remembered the feeling fondly, savouring it on a moment to moment basis as she reached into her jeans to slowly pull the phone screen into view. When she clicked the home screen and opened the camera streaming app, the weakly felt feelings vanished instantly, the space they left behind was filled with a cold and clinical kind of boredom.

She watched Becky stand there beside a decomposing body without a care in the world, brow furrowed, expression scrunched, reading the two sentences of handwriting that Charlotte had left there some months prior. When she was done she tore the letter into pieces and exhaled a deep sigh. Her eyes found the man in the chair, the man that Charlotte had robbed her of the simple pleasure of killing, and Becky said something to him that Charlotte couldn’t quite make out.

“Er…” The woman sat across the table cleared her throat. “Am I interrupting something?” She fidgeted uncomfortably and played with her long ginger hair.

“Yes,” Charlotte said pithily.

“We can rearrange?” Her tone was upbeat, the disappointment still detectable. “I haven’t been using dating websites for very long… and I’m not… I’m not really busy with much what with being so new in town?” She winced, well aware of how pathetic it all was. “Maybe we could do something next—”

“No.” Charlotte put her phone away and finally met the tacitly embarrassed brown eyes opposite. “I’ll be busy.”

“I didn’t say when?” The woman smiled politely through her humiliation, still upbeat, still hopeful for something more beyond tonight.

Charlotte got up from the table and put her jacket on, purse tucked over her shoulder, drink necked quickly. She caught the waiter’s attention with a wave of her hand and gave the universal hand gesture for the bill.

“I know.” Charlotte lifted her eyebrows at the woman, and then left just like that.

…

“You know,” Laszlo said, chewing his food. “I was hoping you called me over to tell me you’re ready to work again. I got you a new chop shop. I had the refrigerator moved for you. Your cooking is very good but…” He paused and smiled, glancing from the plate back to the disinterested woman drinking red wine at the kitchen counter. “Without murder, you and I really do have nothing.”

“My psychiatrist said I need a break from work to clear my mind.”

“Which one? They don’t seem to last very long.”

“All of them.” Charlotte shrugged and itched the back of her neck, longing for something she wasn’t sure could exist in her tiny, insulated world of violence and boredom. “Besides, you have the troublemaker on the payroll so it’s not as if there’s no one to pick up the slack.”

“You haven’t said her name in six months.” Laszlo laughed and gawked at her. “You know this, right?”

Charlotte said nothing to that. She nursed the wine in her hand and rubbed the side of her temple, and after a moment Laszlo stopped waiting for an answer, the moussaka was shovelled down by the forkful until there was nothing to annoy her last nerve but the sound of Laszlo’s slapping, gobbling mouth.

“Have you seen her?” Charlotte’s voice was full of disinterest as she asked the question.

“You know the rules. You both agreed to them.”

“I’m not asking where she is or what job she’s doing… just… whether you have seen her?” Charlotte insisted. “Did she look angry, preoccupied, maybe?”

“I’m always watching both of you, very carefully.” Laszlo eyed her sternly. “I bailed you out with the Collective at risk to myself, don’t forget that. There will be no more favours, just work.” He nodded to his plate. “And, maybe sometimes dinner.” His big red cheeks bunched into a smirk.

“I invited you over here to tell you that things might get messy, between me and her.” Charlotte got to the point. “I thought I would give you the courtesy of telling you to your face.”

“I’m well aware of the gift you left her.” Laszlo set down his cutlery. “So long as there is at least one of you left ready to work at the end of this… I’ll mind my own business and leave you both to finish your own.”

“And if there isn’t one of us left, in the end?” Charlotte smirked.

“What do you care? You would be dead too.”

“Are you a gambling man?”

“Sometimes.”

“Who would you bet on?” Charlotte’s stare lingered over him curiously.

“Eh, it could go either way.” Laszlo shrugged. “I like you both but one hitwoman is easier than two, dead women don’t cause problems or tell secrets.”

“Pragmatical, even for you.”

…

The thing that felt infuriating in Charlotte’s mind—which was the only thing she did feel between the long pangs of boredom, occasional infuriation—was that Becky was so disappointingly easy to predict.

She was at fault for that, partly, and she knew it too. She asked questions that should never have been asked. She snatched at every bit of information she could get, always thirsty for a new revelation, always hungry for a new puzzle piece. Then, when there was nothing else exciting to discover, she had nothing left but routine and predictability.

She ached for Becky to push the envelope.

She ached for something unforgivable.

Instead, Charlotte came home a month later from her first official business trip to discover flowers at the back door of the new chop shop. It was pathetic. It was underwhelming. It was, for all intents and purposes, the calling card of a woman trying to subtly gloat that she had found the address, the foreshadowing of a face to face visit, soon.

Before, when Becky did something, Charlotte always felt one-upped and impressed. Now she just felt bored; so incredibly bored that it was becoming all the more impressive on a day-to-day basis just how fucking bored she really was.

Charlotte dumped the flowers in the sink and didn’t even bother to look at the card attached to the neat black cellophane wrapping.

“Let me guess.” Charlotte rolled her eyes and looked at the bedroom door that was left cracked open a millimeter or two, hopeful for a taste of something familiar at the very least. “I’m going to walk in there and find you masturbating?” She walked over and kicked the door open.

Nothing but pristinely made bed sheets.

“Of course you’re not,” Charlotte lowered her voice and sighed.

She spent the evening neatly unpacking her clothes and hanging them back in the wardrobe, washing what needed to be wash, burning what needed to be burned in the incinerator. The guns, the knives, the toolbox of her profession, that was carefully placed back under her bed.

She had lost the joy of killing, and she wished she had the emotional spectrum to grieve for that loss on some level. It felt as though her favourite past-time had been tainted by someone else, as if every time she thought about a job she was also thinking about Becky. Boring predictable Becky, whispering insults in her ear about how she would have done one thing or another differently.

She spent two hours in the bath, drinking wine, preening, soaking, toying with the idea of whether things might become interesting again if she just got it over with and killed the troublemaker. Becky—because she was so achingly predictable—would galavant straight into a clear trap just to prove a point that Charlotte couldn’t actually kill her. Except she could. Charlotte could kill her. She could make it quick and boring too, a bullet right between the eyes, or maybe cut her throat and leave her to bleed to death, alone, cold, waiting for the other shoe to drop right to her last breath.

Eventually, Charlotte sat at the kitchen counter and ate instant noodles for dinner with a chilled glass of Dom Perignon. Thinking, not thinking, stirring the soup at the bottom, drinking a little more than she ever used to, waiting for it to be late enough to go to sleep.

Charlotte glanced at the flowers in the sink and blinked for a moment, unsure on whether she was noticing something interesting or whether she was just inserting it there herself. Except what she was seeing wasn’t interesting, it was worrisome, it was evoking a slither of emotion she wasn’t sure she had ever felt before, it was making her crave for the simpleness of boredom again.

Charlotte reached over and picked up the flowers from the sink, a selection of newly bloomed pink chrysanthemums to be precise. If Becky had gone somewhere to buy flowers she would have chose lilies, carnations, a typical white funeral flower that was symbolic of death, because she was boring and predictable. Charlotte stared at the flowers and thought about the one place she knew for certain where chrysanthemums were lovingly grown in the front garden. The one place that she hadn’t in her wildest dreams predicted Becky would ever visit.

Charlotte swallowed and opened the card.

It had been left blank.

…

Charlotte didn’t bother to call ahead, partly because she already knew what was waiting for her, and partly because she wasn’t sure she wanted the truth confirmed. In the part of her brain that understood how morality worked on a mechanical level she knew that she had brought this on herself, and that it was her cross to bear because of it.

A thing that was always going to happen, someway or somehow.

Charlotte walked calmly up the path towards her sister’s front door and rang the bell. She waited for some minutes before she pressed it again, slightly hopeful that this was a ruse, slightly hopeful that this wasn’t a line they were truly willing to cross with one another. She glanced around the front of the property to see if there were any signs of a forced entry. Of course there wasn’t. Becky didn’t have to force her way anywhere, ever, one smile was always more than enough to do the dirty work for her.

Charlotte walked around the rear of the property and swiftly kicked the lock off of the back door.

‘Baby… I wanna keep my reputation. I'm a sensation… you try me once you'll beg for more. Oh, yes sir. I can boogie. But I need a certain song… yes sir, I can boogie! If you stay you can't go wrong, I can boogie, boogie boogie, all night long…’

The song playing from the iPod speaker had been slowed down to three quarters of its usual speed. It was haunting, drawn out, every note dragging on and on until it was no longer a disco song but rather an elegy, a reminder that Charlotte had played with fire and this was her wound. Stupid games, stupid prizes.

Charlotte clicked it off and calmly walked over to the slumped over bodies on the sofa.

She was crying, strangely, quietly, almost as it were a secret even from herself, but she wasn’t upset in the slightest, not really at least. She was crying but on the inside there was just… nothing. It was as if her body knew what to do with the grief but her brain simply didn’t.

She bent down slightly and appraised the work. Her sister first and then the little one, although she needed a moment to gather herself in between. A bullet for each, no bruises, no marks to suggest it was a prolonged affair. Becky had simply came and went, was probably here for no longer than ten minutes all in all.

Then Charlotte felt it.

Anger, visceral untempered furious white-hot blinding maddening neverending screaming into the aether burn the world to the ground and pour the ashes in Becky’s goddamn fucking mouth until they scald her throat the entire way down anger.

She saw the note Becky had positioned inside two tiny hands and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she reached over and took it.

Did you really think I didn’t know she was yours?

Who are you now they’re all gone, Charlotte?

Come show me,

Becky xo

[silver-wields-a-pen]

“Frost Bitten & Mistletoe Kissed” A “Guardians of Las” short

“I understand the concept,” Nyima stated, eyeing the tiny sprig of green leaves and red berries, with a cool expression. “What I don't understand is why anyone would bother.” Abaddon, Nyima and the other women were clustered around the table, sharing stories about holiday traditions. The half-bloods and Scyanatha gushed, sighed and melted when the topic turned to a tradition which stated that any two people meeting under a cluster of leaves and inedible fruit had to kiss each other. “Maybe you wouldn't be so disinterested if you happened to meet someone you were attracted to,” suggested Scyanatha. She didn't mention any names, but the Aos Si faery's smile stretched wider, as the blue in Nyima's cheeks deepened in colour. Solstice had come and gone and there was much that changed in the passed three days. The fact that one face came unbidden to Nyima's mind at Scy's subtle prodding was plenty proof of that. Still, the Aetumuh strove to keep her dignity, and pulled her shoulders back. Putting on airs, she stated, “I don't know what you're talking about.” “Pshh,” Vyxen said, laughing. “I'm going to get you a crown, because you're the Queen of Denial.” They were an unusual group of people. Nyima didn't mind the differences, but they were note-worthy. The part-humans, part-faeries, Zercey and Vyxen, were on one end of the spectrum of personalities, while she resided on the other. Scyanatha and Abaddon fell somewhere in between. “I don't think anyone believes you,” Abaddon murmured, leaning over to speak into Nyima's ear. They had positioned themself between the ice elemental and the stove to protect her from the heat. “Not even you do.” Lovely. Even the blind one can see through me. Nyima stood up, determined to hold her ground. “I really don't think it would make a difference,” she informed the rest. “I don't see the point in being kissed under mistletoe.”

They were all remarkably steadfast in who they were; Teysuht – as she sometimes went by – still saw parts of them that were the same as the day they all met in the trainee barracks. Vyxen was still wild and untamed, Zercey was still eager to meet expectations, Abaddon was still quietly contemplative, Scyanatha still the voice of life experience. And then there was her: the indomitable Ice Queen, with a warrior's spirit at her core. “There isn't really a point,” Zercey tried to make things clearer. “It's more an excuse to do it than anything. The idea is that if a person wants to kiss someone they haven't started dating yet, they will put in a little extra effort to make sure that they both end up at the right place at the right time.” “That's a rather spineless way to begin a courtship,” Nyima concluded. “It would be far simpler if they would be direct.” “Simple? Okay, yeah, sure; you're right, it would be,” she replied, rocking her head side to side. “But, it's not nearly as romantic.” “Sometimes,” Scyanatha chimed in with an air of nostalgia in her voice,  “it's when someone shows how weak or nervous they are, that we find them to be the strongest and the most brave.” “Maybe for some, but I wouldn't be so moved,” Nyima stated, her mind made up. Rising from her seat, she announced, “I am on patrol today. I expect that I will see all of you later, at some point.” Her team-mates called their farewells, and the blue-skinned woman made her way out the heavy, wooden door that barricaded the womens’ barracks from the main hallway. She stepped out onto the staircase that led up the spiral tower in the Order of Mana's Headquarters. She did think that some of them would have understood her position, being that the vast majority of them weren't from this world, either. However, it did feel at times they would conveniently forget their time there was supposed to be temporary and that some – her especially – had missions of their own to accomplish. Every passing day was like a bell ringing the death of thousands in her ears. She had to achieve the required victories necessary to win back her freedom before Ifrit, or the world she knew would be reduced to a smoldering ball of fire and ash. How many did she have left to go? In truth, Nyima had forgotten, lost track, so long ago. Each summon was a tick mark on her score card; one summon, one victory. Regardless of how she ended up trapped in this place, with it's own complications to be sure, every battle she took part in here was not going to be a step closer. She was effectively wasting her precious time in Illthdar and there was little she could do about it. It was frustrating. She was more than aware of the choices she had and the costs that came with them, so to throw herself into a weak and feeble romance on a whim, with nothing to gain except heartbreak in the end...

It was sobering, and Nyima found it difficult to let fate take the reigns. “Nyima!”

She froze in her tracks, recognising the deep voice. She braced herself because it was him, and she, with her mind in such turmoil, didn't want to see him at the moment.

“You have a quick stride,” Tundra noted as he reached her side. A fine layer of white frost draped his bare arms from the shoulders down, contrasting the black and blue of his clothing. “I almost had to run to catch up.” “Was there something you needed from me?” She disregarded his statement, face blank as she looked at him. Jingyi, better known as Tundra, was a man with a broad and muscular frame. A martial artist, with chiseled features and a square jawline. He was a cryomancer, a step below her in the ice magic hierarchy, but one with a some skill and distinction. Tundra shook his head slowly to indicate he did not. “But, we are on the same patrol today,” he reminded her.

Nyima kicked herself internally for having forgotten that detail.

“We're taking the south-east route, I see.” He wasn't an unobservant person, taking information in easily and reproducing it as necessary.

Nyima looked around, her feet had indeed led her down the path in the direction he indicated. “I chose at random,” she said. Though, she added, “We can change if you'd prefer a different route. I have no preference.” “Me, neither. We might as well just keep going, it'll take us by the cliff side and the air will be cooler there.” Had she not known of his abilities, his statement might have come off as one of reservation or concern for her, but it seemed he liked the colder weather, too. “It has been excellent weather of late,” she commented, settling on a safe topic.

Tundra chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his throat. “Seth can't stand it.” He shared his amusement. “I've threatened to put him on ice if he keeps complaining. I keep my dislike for the summer to myself, I expect nothing less of him.” “You dislike the heat, too?” She was surprised by the admission, having again assumed it would not have been the case, due to his human lineage. “I put up with it, but my abilities suffer greatly. It takes more effort to produce cold in a hot climate. I get tired more easily.” He confessed to his weaknesses easily and Nyima turned her head to regard him. “I have similar problems,” she admitted. “More so here than where I was from before.” “You must be impressive back on your own world,” he guessed. “You're quite powerful as it is.” How little did he know. Her most powerful attacks she couldn't even muster in this place. She was limited to the most basic of moves; it was like returning to a child state. “Thank you,” was all she could give in reply. The distant crash of the waves below filled the air between them as they reached the cliff-side. They sky was cloudy, with the promise of snow by the afternoon. Most humans had visible breath long before temperatures dropped to that point, but it was only just then where the wind was further cooled by the salty brine that Tundra's became visible.

“You're warm-blooded after all,” Nyima remarked, taking in his countenance. “You're surprised?” Blue eyes locked with hers. “I had begun to question the likelihood,” she confessed and he chuckled. Changing the subject, he said, “This is the coolest place in all of Illthdar during the summer. The shallow waters on the opposite coast get too warm. It's the best place to find relief during the hottest days.” “I'll be sure to remember that.” Nyima responded, wondering if he was trying to share the secret with her out of consideration or if he was just making small-talk. “The view isn't bad either,” he remarked, taking a couple of strides backwards. Holding his arms aloft, he formed a frame with his fingers and thumbs which he then peered through. “It's further improved with you in it.” The compliment was subtle and though it was far from the directness that she would have preferred, Nyima's cheeks blued noticeably in response. “We should keep going,” she stated, gathering her wits and shaking herself out of her stupor. ~*~*~ The patrol was completed in record time thanks in part to Nyima's quickened strides and Tundra's quiet pursuit. At the steps leading up to the doors of their temporary home, Tundra said at last, “I should have invited you to a sparring match.” “Beg pardon?” Nyima blinked at him. “It would have been an excellent learning experience for me,” he reasoned, concluding with a one-armed shrug. “Oh well, another time, then.” “Yes,” she agreed readily, “another time, perhaps.” For once, feeling the cold in her own voice. The bitter sting of realisation. He was interested in her for the sake of experience. The knowledge burned like cold fire in her heart. About to ascend the steps, she was caught off-guard by an additional question. “Might I ask for two more things?” “That was the first one,” she replied, turning to face him, her face blank and unreadable. “Then would it be all right by you if I gave you a kiss?” There was no awkward shifting, nor fidgeting fingers or hands. Tundra stood calm and tall with open arms in silent anticipation of her reply. “Why?” she asked, her eyes instantly drifting to the top of the doorway. No stupid plants hanging anywhere. It still left her with the question. An amused smile spread across his lips. “Because you look kissable.” Oh. “Very well.” He bounded down the steps two at a time to reach her. Sweeping one hand around her waist, he spun them around, his other cupping the curve of her cheek and jaw. Lips first brushing and then locking as they drank each other in.

~*~*~

That evening, in Jasper barracks, Tundra returned to find Inari and the rest of his friends already waiting. “Man, where have you been?” Seth looked at the clock, which said the time was nearing rustern, “Your patrol finished hours ago. What happened?” “Hmm,” Inari said as they paced around Tundra, examining him. “Something serious, I imagine.” “Not particularly,” Tundra  responded, reaching his fingers into his bracer. “Though I was right.” “About what?” challenged Date. “I didn't need this after all.” He produced a sprig of mistletoe hidden there and flicked it onto the table.

Written by @illthdar

[passionandpurposeblog-blog]

Sexuality: No More to say and so over it

A few months after my long term girlfriend and I split up, I ended up in bed with Phillip, A nice guy that I’d known for some time. During the post-sex talk, he turns and asks “So does that mean you’re straight now?” 

“LMFAO” 

‘You’ve got a nice cock and I had a great orgasm, …..but you haven’t awoken anything in me that wasn’t already there. You cannot ‘make’ me straight and no one forced me to fuck you’ 

Infact, No one else would sexually awaken anything in me. Not the next guy after Phil, or the guy after that guy, or the girl after the guy after Phil. The list goes on and the list started waaaay back into my early teens. I've always been open, I was experimenting with drugs and people at a young age, I had a threesome with a guy and a girl when I was just 18. When I look back, I must admit that was very young for such an experience, but I just went with the flow. I don’t regret it, but I wish I had done it at a later age to really make the most of it and have the emotional maturity that you need to go with it. 

I’ve been listening to an interview with Kate Pierson (B52’s) and she has recently married her long term partner, a woman that she has dated for 15 years. She said that she had always dated men, and was even married before and that this lady came along and bang she was in love, just like that. Kate Pierson is now 71, So this is her 55-year-old self experiencing a major transition and shift in her life. Whilst trawling through the B52s back catalog online I read so many comments from random fans. ‘She's a lesbian’ ‘I never knew’ ‘But she was married to so and so’ and this is exactly the snooze fest that I am writing about today. Yawn...... If she spent 40 years with different men and now met a woman, perhaps shes just er just bisexual? And more importantly, shouldn’t we be interested in the music and her voice? As much as I love her, when all is said and done I don’t really want to think about the bedroom antics of a 71-year-old yknow.  

What is it with the labels?  

It’s like no one is comfortable until they know exactly which box you belong in, and if you stray from that box then their tiny minds scramble and system overload occurs. ‘ANNOUNCE YOURSELF AT ONCE’ ‘What are you?’ and ‘Don’t you dare have options or change, it doesn’t fit with the label I’ve prescribed you’.  

Before we label Kate a lesbian, how about we mention that she’s a brilliant talented vocalist with over 40 years in the band? Or is that how we are defining her now ‘The lesbian’?. *Insert laughing emoji here* 

“Bisexuals always get dumped on,” says Cynthia Nixon from Sex in the City...The Media has too labeled her a lesbian when much like Kate Pierson, she was in fact with men and entered into this new world later on in her life. It’s like now we must erase her whole previous life and deny that any man has ever come close to her! How dare she now turnaround and say she's’ attracted to men! How fucking dare she, she’s lesbian property now and she has no voice! She never said she was anything, You did!   

I thought, ‘I get it! I get You, I just get it’. She’s attracted to people, they may be male or they may be female yet shes being kettled to a place she never asked to be. It really is that simple. Should her current relationship end, nothing stops her going back to men, dating another woman or even staying single. Your past partners do not mean that your future self is set in stone. It’s not difficult to understand really is it?  

But! And there is a But!  

Say Cinthia and her gf/wife did break up and she dated a man. She won’t find it that easy, because of what I call, the whole ‘lesbian fragility’ - Gay women who pride themselves on being with women and only women and god fucking forbid should you show any interest in a guy. Well, You are now damaged goods my girl. A sell-out, banished!....exiled from the pride....like the Lioness in last weeks BBC Planet Earth. How can you and the gay community ever really watch the L Word again together or listen to Ani Difranco in the same way? ‘It’s just not the same’ they’ll whine.  

I’m being serious. There is a reverse discrimination within the gay community! I’ve seen it first hand. I’ve seen a few women in same sex relationships end, then go for a guy and their ‘friends’ no longer feel the same way about them, there’s no time to hang out anymore and she is “too busy with her straight friends”.  

Awwwww did someone emasculate you? 

I’ve never really enjoyed the company of gay women if I'm honest. I always found their friendships forged on sharing of sexual preference rather than common interest, views or hobbies. I usually think their haircuts are shit and they present me with this feeling where they are unsure if they want to fuck me or fight me. Very awkward, not to mention its a very childish and incestuous scene.  

I have seen this so many times with women, either in a same sex or opposite and then switch later on down the line which is what I mean about experience and just understanding those around you. I think a lot of women are on the bi spectrum. Not all, no, but a lot are, and sexuality is fluid.  About three months ago my cock hungry straight friend told me she’d met some woman online and is now having the best sex of her life! Great, wonderful, Whoppie.  So how do I label her? …....‘Err Mary’......... I label her Mary. I can’t really call her cock hungry right now, so I’ll just label her ‘Hungry Mary’. 

One of my oldest friends is gay – full blown lesbian, never been with a guy but totally cool with every bi girl that has. She and I sit on a different part of the spectrum, but she gets it and like myself she gives those around her that mutual respect and safe space to be who they are. If she turned around tomorrow and said she’s dating a guy, I wouldn’t be shocked, not because she has ever indicated that she likes guys, but simply because people change.  

I know three guys that have also experimented with other guys, would identify as straight and two of the three have long term girlfriends and kids. I just think at the time they took the ‘any holes a goal’ attitude and like my younger self, just went with the flow. 

As we age and grow the fuck up, this should be more accepted and we should just allow people to do who and what they want without the questions, especially the silly questions. It’s really mind numbingly boring, not to mention so nosey!? Jeez, get your own life in order. Despite my ramblings, I'm actually a pretty private person.  I just don’t discuss my private life or anyone I’m dating, I have so many transient non-committal interactions with people that I just don’t feel I need to. 

 I’ve been chatting to some people for ages, and I still wouldn’t discuss parts of my life with them. I keep my circle so small, and If we don’t click like that, we don’t click like that. It’s cool, because there is far more to me and far more to you than who we have in our beds right? I cant imagine meeting someone and asking them, “so what are ya?” CRINGE. I’d die. I’ve got some friends that I’ve spoken to for years, we’ve had really great conversations and it’s never occurred to me to stop and ask ‘do you have a partner? Are you gay?’  

The small circle of friends that I have know me, they get me and that’s my safe space.  

I do find some of the questions and statements really annoying, and if I’m honest just plain weird. I have an irritating male friend in that likes to continually remind me that I’m attracted to women, and of course, there is no way that I can be attracted to men, because I’m not attracted to him..... *eye roll* Dick! It’s like me saying to someone, ‘but you said you like mixed raced girls, so why don’t you like me’ it’s really really weird and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Its uncomfortable because he cannot address or acknowledge his own fascination with bisexuality and cannot stop mentioning it every time he sees me? He makes out he is cool and open-minded, yet I seem to be the topic of convo or butt of his jokes. Address your homophobia or your weird unrequited sexualisation of me whatever the issue is. Seek help mate, Your issue not mine. 

I cannot recall being asked what two women do in bed, but I have heard of it being asked to other people. It’s hilarious. I honestly believe that if you are over 25 and cannot work that out then you have a really dull imagination and I’d bet you are not very experienced. Not necessarily in bedding two women at once, but just in experiencing people; hearing their stories, watching porn, understanding their anatomy and physiology. OR You are being a menace and condescending..... I’ve never seen two men at it live, but I’m pretty sure I know how it goes down ;-)  

Sometime ago I spent a fair amount of time at a bdsm sex dungeon helping out an old friend. Id mostly film her sessions, and now and then Id help out by giving some guys the odd little kick in the nuts etc. Boy, I could write a whole new blog on that experience LOL! I saw some things!  

Meeting all the different types of people that came in the dungeon really opened my eyes to the world of sex and sexuality and just what turns people on. You really cannot judge what people are into, and you’d never know. It’s funny, the ‘geezers’ that make the gay jokes about bumming are often the same ones that ask the women to wear strap ons ;-). People have their quirks and their kinks, they just hide it well BELIEVE me. 

I’ve seen a lot and I’m very open and not much phases me, but because I’m not phased, or excited by the gossip or the fascination of it all I'm over it. …....over the labels, the questions, the presumptions, opinions and the basic inability to let people do what they want in peace. So because of this I decided a long time ago that I’m actually over my sexuality and stopped speaking about it  back in my twenties. 

Yawn.  

No one owns me and no one dictates.

I’m not anything, I’m just me in that particular point of time. No path is set and I answer to no one except who’s in my bed. 

Keep your own truth

[sosthemortalcoil]

As a nb person i feel profoundly.... weird about people being essentially reduced to their shells gender. It feels incredibly reductionist to see things like 'stephanie is STRAIGHT but she'll go for dmab nb people because hey they're MEN right?' I understand its a complicated issue and not every nb person minds that, but it felt super uncomfortable to me to see that...

1. Thank you for sharing you feelings. I appreciate it. My goal is to make people feel comfortable, and in no way did I mean for it to be reductionist. I do not think, nor do I want it to feel like, that I am saying“stephanie is STRAIGHT but she’ll go for dmab nb people because hey they’re MEN right?“ That’s not okay, and not at all my intentions (Seriously, reading this makes me upset because I made you uncomfortable, to the point that I can’t work on the game until I find a resolution for this). I do not want to, nor am I trying to, conflate gender with physical characteristics. I would like to explain my thought process and see if that clears things up; if not, I would love to discuss other solutions.

Putting the rest below a readline (if it works) because of the nature of the discussion (physical sexual characteristics are brought up) and because of length.

2. To begin with, I should probably update the character’s sexuality and explain that it’s not a rigid I’m straight/I’m gay and more of a “I’m not attracted to the same/opposite sex.” This is probably going to be the first and last game I’ll do through hg with sexual preference, due to the many headaches and me feeling like I’m running around in circles and being an insensitive arse while doing it. This is also unfamiliar territory for me; I have tried to research and discuss with others, but at the end of the day, I am not nb and therefore may say or write things that are not as they should be. That is one of the things I value most about the CoG community, the general willingness to provide feedback and work with authors on correcting these things. This is a WIP, and I am more than happy to make these changes, but I cannot always identify what/how to change them. This is where feedback, like yours, comes into play.

I want to balance character representation with actual balance–i.e. the number of romances available to a single person. Especially because trying to write anything about being attracted or not attracted to a certain genders calls into question what about that gender is attractive to a character.We all have a preference, but for these characters it’s a very, very broad preference.

The way I am currently planning on approaching these four characters is that there are two components of their attraction to the player. One component is the attraction to how you present yourself to the world. For that component, Stephanie isn’t interested in females. The second component is physical attraction. Now, way, way back (and this is no longer the case) she was only going to be available to cis-gender males, because she is not attracted to female sexual characteristics. This was changed, because it did not respect afab characters who identify as males. Now, with that case, Stephanie is not attracted to them physically. That doesn’t mean this is now an asexual romance path, but rather that she will discuss what is and isn’t within her comfort zones when it comes to intimacy, should the player choose to pursue her.

Stephanie has only, in the past, been attracted to men. She (and the other three) have never dated a nb person. I did not want to eliminate these four as an option for an nb Gabriel, especially when I see asks like this one and this one. With a nb Gabriel, she values that they are not male or female, but it is new to her to be attracted to someone who doesn’t identify as male. An nb Gabriel with a physical body that she isn’t attracted to is just one step too far outside of her comfort zone. She hasn’t explored her attraction to non-binary people, and doing so with a body she is not physically attracted to isn’t within her interest. She won’t be attracted to their body, and she isn’t sure of her attraction to their representation, which, currently, means she wouldn’t be interested in them overall.

Now, something I do have planned that might further reduce the choices but I feel is better, is that anyone playing as non-binary will have the chance to further specify their identification. You can choose to be male-aligned, female-aligned, or neither. (I know the spectrum is broader than this, but for the sake of scope I am trying to keep it simple. Adding genderfluid, agender, and bigender, for instance, increases the scope quite a bit). Now, with this further specification, Stephanie would not be attracted to someone who is nb but female-aligned, regardless of physical characteristics.

I’m quoting some of my conversation with another nb fan who was kind enough to take some time and discuss with me, though in that conversation we were referring to Tom, not Stephanie.

“That also helps, knowing that it’s less “I’m straight” and more “I’m not into men”. The question of a male-aligned Gabriel could still be a bit iffy, but I know I, for one, don’t expect people to justify why they aren’t attracted to me. It just happens or it doesn’t. It’s when you start trying to put labels on it all that it gets messy, because language is imperfect and experiences and identities are diverse”

At no point in the story will the characters say I’m not attracted to you because you aren’t male/female–this is in code only. The rejections will be along the lines of “Thanks, but I’m just not interested.”

Frankly, at this point, the other solution I’m considering is to just make them as not available for a nb Gabriel, period. That’s not an equal balance number, but at this point, I feel like I’m really reaching for a better solution without significantly increasing the scope of what is already a massive game. I welcome thoughts, and at this point, I am not comfortable enough to continue writing until I feel this has been resolved. ((Honestly, at times, I’ve considered just cutting them as romances period. I hate feeling like I’ve been disrespectful and offensive to someone, and I’m NOT making all the characters available for everyone. Part of the reason is that I want people, potentially, to play as someone they might not normally. If every character is available to every Gabriel, then I feel that there is little incentive to play as a different character.))

[umyikesiguess]

“You don’t need dysphoria to be transgender.”

“You don’t need dysphoria to be trans.” 

This is a sentence that can make people feel strongly. This is a sentence that has sparked up countless debates. People push and pull on either side of the argument until the sentences exchanged dissolve into petty insults; into worthless exchanges. No one seems to get anywhere.

I think the biggest problem here is that lots of people see this as an open debate, when in reality there truly is only one correct side. This correct side has scientific analysis and data to back up their reasoning, while the other side simply makes claims based off of their own opinions of what exactly gender is. Definitions are not taken into account. Data is not taken account. The only thing taken into account is one’s own warped definitions, opinions, and sick ideas of “inclusivity.”  

Another problem that usually arises is truscum leave areas of the conversation open, instead of closing and filling in all of the gaps. This leads tucutes to jab at areas where the argument has not yet been developed, only briefed upon for fleeting moments. They take words and twist them, purposefully misunderstanding them to make up for their lack of any real argument.

So here, in this post, I will leave nothing up to debate (well, you can still express your opinion and explain why or why not you agree or disagree with me, but factually, I will be correct), I will tie all loose ends. I will cite my sources and be thorough. I will fill in the gaps.

Truscum, terf, tucute, feminist, transphobe, lgbt, cishet, and so on, I welcome you all to read this post and give me your input.

Now, onto the main post: You need dysphoria to be transgender.

Firstly, let’s get some definitions out of the way.

Google defines the word “Transgender” as, ‘denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.’

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines the word as, ‘of, relating to, or being a person whose gender identity differs from the sex the person had or was identified as having at birth; especially : of, relating to, or being a person whose gender identity is opposite the sex the person had or was identified as having at birth.’ (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/transgender)

“Gender” is defined by Google as, ‘the state of being male or female (typically used with reference to social and cultural differences rather than biological ones).’

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines “Gender” as, ‘the behavioral, cultural, or psychological traits typically associated with one sex.’

The term “Gender Dysphoria” is defined by Google as, ‘the condition of feeling one's emotional and psychological identity as male or female to be opposite to one's biological sex.’

And by Merriam-Webster Dictionary as, ‘a distressed state arising from conflict between a person's gender identity and the sex the person has or was identified as having at birth; also : a condition marked by such distress.’

Keep in mind (tucutes especially), I am not choosing to define these words the way that they have been defined. These definitions have been worded carefully and are based upon factual evidence. How you or I may define these terms is irrelevant, because these are the correct definitions, and they have already been decided upon. Unless new data comes up stating otherwise, which I doubt will happen, these definitions are static.

Now that we have defined these key terms, we should move on to the argument, and it’s simple, this sentence will sum it up: You need dysphoria to be transgender.

Why, though? Isn’t being transgender just an identity? And can’t anyone identify as whatever they please? And after all, gender is on a spectrum, and non-dysphoric transgenders aren’t hurting anyone. Maybe truscum should stop being gatekeepers---the LGBT community doesn’t need that kind of negativity.

These are common arguments I see tucutes making. First, I’m going to address the “why?”

Now, my favourite place to gather information from is the DSM. If you’re not already aware, the DSM stands for Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DSM) (and before we go any further, I do want to say that the DSM I’m using for reference is two editions out of date. The current version of the DSM does not include transgenderism in it, as the DSM stopped considering it a mental illness in 2013 [https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/where-transgender-is-no-longer-a-diagnosis/]. Furthermore, recently the WHO (World Health Organization) changed the classification of transgenderism, following in the DSM’s footsteps, just five years after the fact. However, despite the fact that my references are slightly out of date, I assure you they are reliable sources, and that the diagnosis that I present is still valid.) The DSM is basically just a big book of diagnoses for any and all mental illnesses. It is a book used religiously by psychiatrists, and me too.

The DSM I’ll be using for reference is the DSM-III (https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10508-009-9562-y) (which by the way, links countless references that you can check out.) In this book, we see the diagnostic criteria for transsexualism (transgenderism, GID, GD, or GI, whichever term you choose to use is fine. Though some of these terms may be classified as out of date, they all mean the same thing) as (a) sense of discomfort and inappropriateness about one’s anatomic sex, wish to be rid of one’s own genitals and to live as a member of the other sex, the disturbance has been continuous (not limited to periods of stress) for at least 2 years, absence of physical intersex or genetic abnormality, not due to another mental disorder, such as Schizophrenia.

Here what we see is what I’ll call The Pattern of Distress.

Now, if the criteria provided by the DSM doesn’t cut it for you, then let’s take a look at some other symptoms of transgenderism.

Psychology Today has this to say about transgenderism.

‘Gender dysphoria (formerly gender identity disorder) is defined by strong, persistent feelings of identification with the opposite gender and discomfort with one's own assigned sex that results in significant distress or impairment. People with gender dysphoria desire to live as members of the opposite sex and often dress and use mannerisms associated with the other gender. For instance, a person identified as a boy may feel and act like a girl. This incongruence causes significant distress, and this distress is not limited to a desire to simply be of the other gender, but may include a desire to be of an alternative gender.’

(https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/conditions/gender-dysphoria)

Now, what I want to address first is what I called the Pattern of Distress.

From each symptom of transsexualism, we see one consistent thing: Distress is caused by one’s biological sex. This is the key symptom of transsexualism, and this distress is otherwise known as Gender Dysphoria.

“A sense of discomfort and inappropriateness:” Distress. “Wish to be rid of one’s own genitals:” Distress. “The disturbance is continuous:” Distress.

All of these symptoms include distress. This distress is Gender Dysphoria, which is needed to transgender. You know why? Because distress is a key symptom of being transgender, and distress is equivalent to Gender Dysphoria.

Transgenderism and Gender Dysphoria are synonymous. Which is another thing I want to briefly touch on. In the medical world, these two words are, more or less, the same, and warrant the same diagnosis.

So, I think I’ve proved my point significantly. There’s no way around it: Gender Dysphoria is needed to be transgender.

Now, let’s move on to arguments I see tucutes commonly using. The most used argument that I’ve seen is anyone can identify themself however they please. The only way to be transgender is to identify as it. However, this argument lacks any evidence to support it.

Firstly, this implies that being transgender is simply a choice. If all you have to do is identify as transgender to be transgender then hypothetically, anyone could be transgender. And then, if being transgender is a choice, that would mean that it’s not a serious condition, and therefore things like top surgery, bottom surgery, and HRT would no longer be covered by insurance, and would be classified as cosmetic procedures. There would also no longer be a medical diagnosis for transgenderism, and it would not be a valid disorder, because, after all, you can just identify yourself as transgender and then you are. By that logic, being transgender is clearly just a choice and a choice does not warrant the need for a diagnosis.

Furthermore, what would be the incentive for people to not discriminate against people who identify themselves as transgender? After all, who would make a conscious decision to become the other gender. Who would pay thousands of dollars to mutilate themself in an irreversible way. Who would want those pink, puffy scars on their chest, or the pain of taking hormones? Surely only a freak would. So again I ask: What would the incentive be? (Also any discrimination would not even be classified as such because being transgender would a choice.)

See, this wishy washy idea that anyone can be transgender as long as they identify that way is extremely dangerous. It’s important to consider the consequences before we decide that being blindly all-inclusive is a good idea. We must consider the risks that these ideas pose. All of them.

But, now, let’s go into why someone can’t just identify as transgender and...be it.

First we must ask the question: Why is someone transgender? What makes this disorder valid?

The simple answer here is that there is an observable neurological difference between the transgender brain, and the cisgender brain.

‘In particular, researchers are identifying similarities and differences between aspects of the structure and function of the brains of trans- and cisgender individuals that could help explain the conviction that one’s gender and natal sex don’t match.

The results may not have much effect on how gender dysphoria is diagnosed and treated, notes Baudewijntje Kreukels, who studies gender incongruence at VU University Medical Center in Amsterdam. “It’s really important that it will not be seen as, ‘When you see [gender dysphoria] in the brain, then it’s true.’” But the insights from such research could go a long way toward satisfying the desire of some transgender people to understand the roots of their condition, she adds. “In that way, it is good to find out if these differences between them and their sex assigned at birth are reflected by measures in the brain.”’ (https://www.the-scientist.com/features/are-the-brains-of-transgender-people-different-from-those-of-cisgender-people-30027)

‘Several studies have looked for signs that transgender people have brains more similar to their experienced gender. Spanish investigators—led by psychobiologist Antonio Guillamon of the National Distance Education University in Madrid and neuropsychologist Carme Junqu Plaja of the University of Barcelona—used MRI to examine the brains of 24 female-to-males and 18 male-to-females—both before and after treatment with cross-sex hormones. Their results, published in 2013, showed that even before treatment the brain structures of the trans people were more similar in some respects to the brains of their experienced gender than those of their natal gender. For example, the female-to-male subjects had relatively thin subcortical areas (these areas tend to be thinner in men than in women). Male-to-female subjects tended to have thinner cortical regions in the right hemisphere, which is characteristic of a female brain. (Such differences became more pronounced after treatment.)’ (https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/is-there-something-unique-about-the-transgender-brain/)

The cause of these neurological differences is not yet known, and it is extremely difficult to pinpoint where they stem from, however, it is speculated that it starts from the development of the baby in the mother’s womb.

‘One prominent hypothesis on the basis of gender dysphoria is that sexual differentiation of the genitals occurs separately from sexual differentiation of the brain in utero, making it possible that the body can veer in one direction and the mind in another. At the root of this idea is the notion that gender itself—the sense of which category one belongs in, as opposed to biological sex—is determined in the womb for humans. This hasn’t always been the scientific consensus. As recently as the 1980s, many researchers argued that social norms in how we raised our children solely dictated the behavioral differences that developed between girls and boys.’ (https://www.the-scientist.com/features/are-the-brains-of-transgender-people-different-from-those-of-cisgender-people-30027)

So, if there is a clear difference between the brain of a cisgender person and of a transgender, and this clear difference is the cause of Gender Dysphoria, then that means that you cannot just identify as trans and just be it. You must have the transgender brain (which causes Gender Dysphoria) to be trans.

Now, onto the whole, “gender is on a spectrum” myth.

There’s this idea that’s been going around that is less than factually correct, yet it spread like wildfire simply because it allowed Tumblr’s narrative on gender to flourish.

Is gender on a spectrum? No. Biologically, there are only two genders, and there always will be. Now, I know some people will be happy to argue that gender is different from sex (I used to be one of those people), and while there are only two sexes, there can be millions of genders. And gender isn’t biological; it can shift and change...but this simply isn’t right. (Take a look at the definition of “Gender” again.)

You see, there is a clear difference between the male and female brain (this is part of the reason why transgenderism is valid.) An example of this is brainmass; a male brain is slightly larger than a female’s (for more information on the neurological differences between the sexes, you can read this wiki article, though it is a little dry https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neuroscience_of_sex_differences.) And (with the exception of intersex people) you will either have a female brain or male brain. Your brain will usually correspond with your sex, the only exception to this is transgender people, who have a brain that acts more like that of the opposite sex.

Therefore, gender is not on a spectrum. Nor is is a feeling. Nor is it something that can shift or change. Gender is innate; biological; ingrained in you from birth. And though it’s fun to think that you can shift throughout the “gender spectrum,” and be a boy one day and a girl the next, it is impossible.

(I think people are mistaking gender with gender expression. These are two separate things.)

“But non-dysphoric transgenders aren’t hurting anyone. Let people live!”

See: Firstly, this implies that being transgender is simply a choice…

The last argument I’ve come across is that truscum are gatekeeping, and I’m gonna give it to you straight: We are. And we have to. You know why? Because we cannot blindly accept everyone into the trans community. The more we accept non-valid trans people into the community, the more we water down what it means to be transgender. The more we water down the severity of the condition. The more our community becomes a joke to society. And the more we are at risk to the demedicalization of transgenderism, to the shift of surgeries and HRT from medical procedures to cosmetic. The more we are risk to discrimination not even being classified as such.

All of these are things clear issues that come along with supporting a factually incorrect narrative. I understand that wanting to include everyone stems from a place of kindness; of not wanting to hurt anyone, but sometimes people need to be told “no.” They need to know where they belong and where they don’t, and they need to understand that being transgender is not quirky, cute, or fun. It’s a serious, painful disorder that is not to be taken lightly.