#personal ofts rambles

[itsmelb]

WE WERE ROBBED OF A FUCKING TOPMEW SCENE WHERE FORCE ACTED THE SHIT OUT OF AND WE WONT GET IT JUST BECAUSE PPL SAY SHIT ABOUT FORCEBOOK. I FUCKING HATE PPL

Urg sorry but why can't u just enjoy a series and dont hate on fucking actors or 'pairs' I DONT GET IT.

[nothingmatters-everythingmatters]

Hi hi! It's ya girrrlll

So I read your rant (delightful BTW, I'm a nosey hater at heart lol) and am here to ramble too! :3

Firstly though, I'm really sorry for the situation you're in and hope it gets better. I'm lucky enough to have an accepting family (my parents and sister at the very least) and to have recently moved to western Europe where it's pretty progressive(?) in terms of lgbt stuff (ignore the fascists and right wingers behind me trying to access the governments), but I can imagine how isolating your experiences might feel. Hang in there, there are better things in store, I'm sure!

Now for the rest of your rant, I found that you've raised some interesting points, notably about how amabs can easily take on the lesbian label while some afabs have yet to claim it for themselves due to the homophobia they mightve endured and amabs probably haven't thus far (they probably dealt with transphobia as transfems, which I'm not gonna diminish no matter my views on transgenderism, but they probably haven't really dealt with lesbo/homophobia especially if they're pre-transition). Afterall, lesbian transfems were probably straight guys before, and their orientation is sure as hell not condemned by the wider society.

It kind of reminds me of this one lesbian transgirl ik who I met on a server on discord and formed a group of online friends there which included her. I knew her before she came out/identified as trans and I remember at that time she'd sometimes mention how she'd listen to lewd asmr of girls and such. She also talked about how she wished she was lesbian. So I, being the lesbian debator I am, basically said that that's not a great thing to say (I refrained from saying it sounds fetishy), but she replied with basically saying that I don't understand and that lesbian love or whatever is so "pure" unlike hetero love or something. So guess how I felt when she started identifying as a lesbian trans girl and later found out it's something observable in a portion of the online transbian community (not saying every transbian is like this, but still). (Oh yh she also (sort of?) cheated on her gf so there's that but I don't think it's related.)

I think I feel a similar sentiment as you in the sense that while I can sympathise with some of the struggles transfems may face, I find it irritating at times when people seem to go above and beyond to label/treat them as "the most sapphic and lesbian ever" as you put it, most of the time in an effort to validate their identity and place in the sapphic and wider lgbt community, when they probably never had to face the struggles afab sapphics were faced with since forever and more importantly some say some... Questionable things about their orientation and attraction to women. Not all obviously, but still. Am I making any sense lol?

I definetely don't think transbians have 0 place in the sapphic community, I think it's a complicated matter and there can be some gray areas (I also have grown increasingly distant from the (at least online) lgbt/lesbian community the past year so idrc about most discourse ig), but I kind of wish this was all treated more "normally" if that makes sense and that afab lesbians or sapphic could talk about certain things related to their orientation without constantly being scrutinised to make sure they're including trans folk in everything ever. I also kind of wish we could call out problematic behaviour in trans people without being called transphobic, but I think this applies to specific cases mostly.

Anyway I think I was mostly nonsensical here, apologies, but feel free to reply to whatever you managed to latch onto here lol.

Also, if you ever feel the need to vent and don't feel comfortable airing those issues on tumblr.com for whatever reason, my dms are always open, I check into this hellsite daily <3

~🪼

(wow retroactive preface I go on a long ass ramble about semantics in this I apologize in advance for how many times you might have to read the word "definition" lmao)

hey!! so happy to keep seeing you here around these parts (my inbox, that is) and I'm glad you especially do get some enjoyment out of my far less polished vent posts :p I always feel bad when I post something so singularly interesting to me and me alone because it is just a full on personal blog moment, but to be fair to myself this entire blog is an exercise in actually voicing my own opinions and feelings for the sake of learning to express myself better, and it is nice to know even in the least poignant or least thought out posts, it isn't just fully self-beneficial lmao

I also (of course, as always) appreciated your response! honestly, I admire how level-headed and nuanced you can be with these topics, I myself often feel like I swing wildly from being harsher with my words and trying desperately to be as passive as possible to appease everyone, and I do have to say it is an ongoing challenge for me sometimes to strike that perfect balance between understanding but still standing by my convictions and not solely focused on people pleasing. it's a bit of a weird life, in my private time I do feel like I tend to be highly cynical and sort of an asshole lolol, especially towards other people, but in public I would never dare say any of the things I think because at the end of the day, I do still feel as if preserving friendly atmospheres among peers is paramount to being a productive part of a society. I'm like the opposite of the asshole with a heart of gold trope, in a way. gold with the heart of an asshole lmao

all that to say, I think you make some really astute observations that are still compassionate to trans women who identify as lesbian, while still pointing out the objective faults of their common language and behavior! I really think this (like so many issues whose current is pushed most strongly by the english speaking west) is a matter of semantics for the most part. labels, communities based on labels, and their inherent flaws I guess. because I really have no problem with someone identifying as a trans woman and also having a sexuality surrounding liking women, or if they want to talk about it or even if they want to define it separately than heterosexual attraction. it's their attraction, and I'm not the ceo of how people choose to define their own sexuality (and I wouldn't want to be, that sounds like a headache job lmao). for me, I think the issue really comes with when personal definitions of sexuality are enforced upon others, and when suddenly, highly personal definitions become community-defining ones. the term "sapphic" is such a great example of this weird treatment of labels and their definitions. the term "sapphic" can mean a lot of different things to different people, despite the fact that it is, at its core, a term held together by a single definition. in our society people will ideologically define every single word in a definition differently (ex. what does love mean? what does a woman mean (lol)?) and so even a fairly universal term can be personal based on one's own framework of thinking. BUT the thing is, a lot of transbians/people who identify as queer/tra positive/whatever you want to call the current hegemonic popular opinions of the lgbtq+ have taken to a personal definition of words like lesbian and sapphic, and have decided to supplant the originally fairly universal term and replace it with something that does kind of inadvertently alienate a lot of people who identify with the most "neutral" and non-ideological version of the definition (women who love/are attracted to women). instead, the basic definition has essentially shifted in its meta, though the words stay the same, the meaning is pushed to imply these terms can be understood as "someone who identifies as a woman who loves/are attracted to people who they identify as women" and that's just both too broad and too specific at the same time, excluding those who don't agree with the notion of identifying into what was previously understood as a sex class, and including people who wouldn't have even met the original definitional criteria to begin with. this, in turn, creates a vacuum in meaning, allowing for "aesthetic" to take over as the primary meaning of the term. I think that's where that "weirdness" comes in.

it's hard to find community with people who are coming at the definition of what the community is built on from a completely different direction. when I think of being "sapphic" (other than the brainrotting pop culture/online/algorithmically driven stereotypes) I simply think of being attracted to my same sex, that being female, and that being women. but, I would assume for transfems, they obviously don't have the simple way of just relying on same sex attraction as a definition, because they don't see the world in that way definitionally, and must apply more effort to justify why their attraction to women deserves to distinctively be defined from regular opposite sex attraction. that's where we get the strange insistence on sapphic love being more "pure" or making their entire personality curated towards "sapphic culture". in a way, though on the surface I am still pretty jealous that they get the privilege to express these thoughts and be backed up so strongly by people I know who would care less about me, I do feel bad that they must subconsciously feel the need to "prove" they meet the criteria for these labels because for them, there is no easy, biologically material fitting of the definition. I personally will have never have to care that much about fitting lesbian stereotypes or involving my life in sapphic culture. in fact, I basically can't not be sapphic. it's just the only way my future looks. it's the only way my attraction manifests. people will see me as a lesbian (well, that or a nerdy disheveled teenage boy at first glance lmao) just based on how I don't present in a way that centers men. it's the only way I fall in love.

and yeah, it really would be nice if there was space for a community where we could discuss that reality, openly, in mainstream progressive spaces! but for reasons that would be pretty bleak if we unraveled them, people would much rather play these games of labels and proving your place in them than creating avenues for people to congregate in spaces that actually bring them community and cater to their needs.

as always after these really really tangled word threads I slowly begin to run out of steam so I'll just wrap this up and say you made excellent points dear anon! maybe one day we can all just accept that sometimes definitions should be exclusive in that they exclude people who don't fit them, and not exclusive in the way that they exclude people who do fit them, and that afab women, and especially afab sapphics, deserve the right to preserve spaces for themselves without having to worry about appeasing men or anyone they don't want to!

and wow holy shit this is a whole lot of words trying to pick apart the way words can mean other words sometimes I would not blame anyone if they skim most of it lmao.

tl;dr the meta of labels and their definitions are kinda dumb and I'm maybe more dumb for spending so much time thinking about them

and lastly, thank you for the kind offer of your dm space as an area for venting! perhaps...I will take you up on that offer...it is inevitable I will be struck by another petty urge to vent about people in my life because I continue to work with people who are essentially the most fascinating but headache inducing parts of tumblr and twitter personified and I do still primarily have very "gendery" friends irl! we'll see if I end up having anything interesting to say about it though first, or if I can bear to actually talk to someone online once instead of passively yelling into the digital void!

[jenyifer]

Not done my rewatch of ep6 but I’m still thinking about the end of the episode where Boston goes to Nicks apartment and they go to bed fully clothed and Boston doesn’t let Nick comfort him psychically. It hurts me so bad and at the same time… for Boston everything is exploding into a million pieces. He’s been out of it since his fight with Ray and the the party cements that to Boston. He has lost the three people he wanted to keep. And yet he goes back to Nick’s? Is taken back to Nick’s? He could have been alone or sought to forget his problems with sex but he doesn’t. I think he subconsciously is comforted by Nick who does want him there and he thinks Nick is probably the last person who cares about him in any capacity. He can’t take comfort from Nick because Boston feels like he doesn’t deserve it. And.. sadly that’s probably true. Gahh I’m just going to think about it all week.

[athousandbyeol]

but i'm glad it's over. the topboston scene that has been bothering me since the trailer was released is over now. wow. i think i can breathe better (maybe).

whatever bullshit mew or top are going to do after this; if they're going to kiss or fcuk or anything with other people or with each other— i don't think it would bother me that much. i'm becoming numb and receptive to every possibility.

[morathicain]

Maybe an unpopular opinion, but there's no episode 11 curse. It's the natural course of storytelling that the second to last episode is maxing the drama out once more before we can move to the final. If the standard length of certain shows is 12 episodes, it will always be episode 11 but cliffhangers or shocking reveals can be expected, sometimes even from rather fluffy shows. And ones who don't do it, are regularly deemed boring, so ...

And if a show has more or less episodes, it will be second to last again. Just ... it's not a curse, it's the science of storytelling. Calling it a curse paints it as something bad which it absolutely and totally isn't (except if the show does the height of its drama badly).

[crazy-fruit]

Manchmal vergesse ich was für einen tollen Beruf meine Eltern ausgeübt haben.

[gerdy-sertorius]

The Definitive Damsel Analysis (if I do say so myself)

(Disclaimer: I know it’s absurdly long, and for that I apologize. I apparently am more unwilling to make cuts than I am to present subpar work. I’m working on it. Only editing I do for my autistic ramblings is copyediting, baby! Whoo! I will be updating this for the Pristine Cut once it comes out and we get even *more* Damsel. Obviously, as I’m sure you can tell from the length, I really like Damsel. There will be all of the bias. It will be great.)

(Author’s Note: For the love of the most high God, it took me like twenty read throughs for me to standardize what I wanted to call the Scorched Grey. Here is a brief list of all the terms I used to refer to her: Scorched Grey, Burned Grey, Burning Grey, Fire Grey, Damsel Chapter 3. Sometimes but not always preceded by “the” or “The”.)

Alright, ladies and gentlemen. I have oft made the statement on here that Damsel is the best route in the game, and this began as me trying to definitively prove that, by microscopically going through the route, I could establish exactly why, it would seem, that Damsel has objective superiority. It sorta… evolved, though, so instead I will be going relatively chronologically throughout, and trying to point out a couple things that all of you know about and maybe a couple things you don’t about the best character in the game. With that preamble out of the way, let’s begin with the goofy stuff, the grab bag if you will. 

This will certainly be more personal taste than anything else, but I do think there’s a lot of miscellaneous stuff that Damsel does better than the other chapters. For example, I am convinced that it has the third best music, behind Tower and her routes and then Thorn. I am genuinely obsessed with “It Was Always That Easy”. The basement has some *fantastic* art, and I think that really carries a chapter that is otherwise generally bland when it comes to actual visual activity. It’s really carried by its genuinely perfect dialogue. 

Overall, and most importantly, this chapter is the undisputed master of the idea of positive ambience. You know elevator music? How it’s there to artificially increase the cheeriness of an otherwise dreary moment, like a hotel hallway or, yanno, an elevator? Well, this is the chapter that does it perfectly. Everything is designed to make it “nicer” than it actually is. The Narrator even takes that into account when describing the basement. The sound design is fresh and relaxing, the music is uplifting, the Princess’s voice is obviously fantastically done, but also the Voice of the Smitten plays a large role in making it feel “good”. It’s something that exists in order to communicate exactly the feelings it wants the player to feel, which is all warm and fuzzy inside. But let’s move on to the actual content, shall we?

Damsel has *the* best Chapter One and it isn’t even close. Certainly not in the horror department, where I think Beast and Nightmare shine, or even in the whole characterization bit, where the award can only go to Spectre and the masterclass that is her Chapter One. But Damsel has something else to it. Damsel has tragedy, almost Shakespearean in nature. Nobody else has it (except Witch, to some extent, but nowhere close to the same level), nobody manages to reach that connection, there and then broken, to honestly feel for both Princess and Slayer. Allow me to paint a picture of a playthrough. 

You are on a path in the woods. At the end of that path is a cabin. In the basement of that cabin is a princess. You are here to slay her. But you don’t do that. That voice itching in the back of your skull, the one you quite literally call Hero, your moral compass even, raises some objections. You don’t want to kill *anybody*. That isn’t something you want to mark yourself with, especially not solely on the word of an individual you just met. For now, violence is a nonstarter.

You enter the cabin. And you hear her voice. And you see her. You even talk with her for a while. The moment is… hypnotizing. Despite the Narrator’s warning of manipulation, well, you cannot help but be manipulated. This is a genuinely nice, sweet, scared Princess who simply wants to be free. You have to save her. It is the right thing to do, it is the… only thing to do. Anything else marks you with the dirtiness of simply being unwilling to help someone in need when you had the full ability to. 

You go to get a key. Unsuccessful. The door locks. Even worse. The Narrator is moving from irritating to downright malicious, clearly enjoying recounting the lock of the door. Disgust for Him has been present since you entered the cabin, but it shifts to anger very quickly. That shift continues with full force as you attempt with what little ability you have to save the Princess, even if you don’t quite know how you will get out. The question does not last long. For the shift to anger shifts once more, to a sort of incomprehensible fury.

For the Narrator has crossed a line. Not only has he taken away any semblance of choice, not only has he raised your own knife against an innocent, someone who has been nothing but kind to you, but you are the one who must bear the shame for it. You are the only one who is doing the foul deed in any eyes but your own. Speaking of, the Princess’s eyes are filled with genuine happiness at the moment, as you are finally giving her the freedom she has yearned for such a  long time. Yet through no fault of your own, you raise the pristine blade, the one you refused to bring down to the basement in the first place. You scramble through the list of options, attempting to find anything that could provide a sliver of hope in the situation, anything without the grim finality of “Slay the Princess”. 

At last, you find one, and are able to bark out a warning to the Princess. That happiness in her eyes is shifted to a look of fear, one directed at you alone, one condemning you with such a sorrowful betrayal that it almost hurts to see. She begs for you to stop, and then she says something that almost calms the internal storm of the player: “Please, I know this isn’t you.” She recognizes that it isn’t us that betrayed her, she understands that we aren’t trying to do this, that we are flat-out trying to stop it. But the eye of that storm is passing, and soon.

And as she takes the blade, as she prepares to do what she must to live, that same look of tragic betrayal crosses her eyes, this time not directed at us, but at herself. She hates that this is her only option, the only way that she can live is to kill another, one with every intention of freeing her and no intention of harming her. And in the end, she simultaneously underscores the tragedy of the moment while confirming our perception that she could never be a threat to the world. As she plunges the blade into our chest, she has failed to even do the bare minimum of making our death painless, something that fills her with even more guilt, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tries and fails to end our own agony. The last thing we see of her are her endless cascade of both tears and apologies, as everything goes dark. 

This… is beautiful. A glorious tragedy, one with limited theming, simply two characters with emotions that feel natural. And, quite strangely, the first chapter has almost nothing to do with the second chapter. But it is still important. I’ll get to that later. Better things await now! For with the end of the tale of the Hero and the Princess, we have a new individual, everyone’s favorite buddy, the Voice of the Smitten. 

I am certain I do not need to underscore just how popular Smitten is. Easily the most fan favorite of the fan favorites, especially solidifying his place within that roster with the Kiss from a Thorn. He is jovial, passionate, he is Don Quixote, complete with the unlimited self-delusion that comes with the territory. There’s a reason people love him. Romantic in a game entitled a love story, the largest of personalities in a game stuffed with them, he is the storybook hero come to life in a game that has just as much reverence for storybook heroes as the deconstructions of them. In short, he is the visage of likability itself, with all the bombast that comes with that. Yet that is only from a wholly external perspective. 

For what I am certain I do need to underscore is just how sinister Smitten is. For all of his likability, the Smitten is also probably the single slimiest voice out of all of them with the possible exception of the Opportunist. This is not a new revelation – people have understood that since the beginning with his frankly disturbing behavior regarding the Princess. What is perhaps more interesting is his relationship with the player. For he is one of the two options that reflect the player at this point within the story. Either the player is trying to do the right thing and free an innocent, or they have somewhat… different motivations. 

The former reflects the Hero. Somewhat naive, in many routes somewhat bumbling even, but first and foremost focused on the external. That is, “how can I make a positive impact on the world around me?” As contradictory as it may seem to how the Hero is presented, it’s something of an intellectualist approach. The Hero is trying to find the best possible world and working towards that with all of his might. It is, one could say, devoid of emotion except that determination to change the world, to make it a better place. While the goal remains the same, the path to get there is fundamentally continuously being calculated. The Hero is your conscience, and as such he must *always* work overtime for that. 

The Smitten is not that. No, he has made no secret that he is the path of passion. Even when he is generally considered to be a better person, he declares that, “Whatever world would condemn two star-crossed lovers to a cycle of violence and despair isn’t a world worth saving.” His focus is internal, it is on ourself and our romance. There is no extensive study into what is the correct option, there is only what would assist in our relationship, which is somehow ordained by the universe. To put it into understandable terms, Hero is a modern hero while Smitten is a Romantic-era hero. 

There’s an important line when going down the stairs that I think speaks volumes about the type of player and playthrough currently occurring. That is “We can still do right by her without all this over-the-top fawning.” *That* is the line of demarcation between the route of the Hero and the route of the Smitten. If you decide to embrace or repudiate the Smitten at that point, I think the route is sealed. I am convinced that the game will continue on in a fixed way based on that philosophy. The point where you must, internally that is, decide if you are doing this out of a desire for what is right, or an infatuation with the Princess. 

Now, of course there isn’t anything wrong with taking the path of the Smitten, and it’s personally one of my top points in the game, but whether you admit it or not, you are long past morality being what decides your actions. That has come and gone. Now, the goal is to express the passion of the moment and delve into your romantic relationship with the Princess. I’ll be evaluating each of the routes differently, loosely organized with a focus on how it reacts to the player. After that, I’ll go on into theming of each route one by one and all that jazz.

The path of the Smitten first. The player embraces that he has been sent to save the Princess from her unjust and foul imprisonment above all else. So that is what he does. He marches downstairs, the blade being nothing but a passing afterthought as it is immediately dismissed out of hand. When it comes to the crucial point of “doing right by her”, the justification is made that two things can be done at once, that you can do this for her and do a little bit of fawning on the way. Doesn’t harm anyone.

And with that the basement arrives, and you see the Princess on the floor. She is perfect in all ways. There is nothing wrong with her. And that’s before you start talking to her. When you do begin talking to her, all of the kindness and innocence from Chapter 1 are magnified to the greatest degree possible. She can do no wrong. And, from a meta standpoint, there’s another thing that stands out – it is really, *really* funny. From everything the Smitten says to the “Then I didn’t end the world!” to the Narrator’s (a villain at this point) growing exasperation at your trust for the Princess, it endears you to the moment even more. 

Because it’s not only that it’s funny. It’s not only that the Princess is genuinely nice to you. It’s something more than that. Something that I am loath to talk about but will anyway. The Princess is incredibly – *sigh* – **cute** within this chapter. This is objective, with science to back me up, I’m sure. But she is specifically designed to be as heartwarming as possible, and every line makes her more and more into someone who should be saved by you, into, well, a Damsel. While it isn’t explicitly stated, throughout the progression of dialogue, the need to protect her becomes more pronounced. You were already primed to like the Princess, you already internally committed to a romantic future. But after stepping into the bear trap willingly, you cannot escape. 

And if you’re anything like me, you are perfectly fine with that. So you take in the moment, you rescue her from her chains and laugh at the way her hands slipped out of the chains and the Narrator’s comical anger at it. It’s all very feel-good, all cleanly written dialogue, and both the Princess and the Smitten are likable, they’re fun, and the Narrator is a fun enough villain for the Smitten and you to unite against. The Hero, if we’re being honest, barely registers, and if he does it’s usually as an extension to the Narrator, as a foil to yourself. And with her finally free, she embraces you, sealing the deal on her perfection. 

And after that, something else happens. The deconstruction begins. You want to see if her dialogue has any more of that saccharine present throughout the rest of the chapter, and are immediately rewarded with the “The princess closes her eyes in deep reflection” and the follow up joke. Hungry for more, you click through some more of the dialogue, but something begins to happen. She begins to… unwind. The Smitten seems to reciprocate in turn, to a lesser extent. In fact, she really starts to return to the horror that this chapter was a nice respite from. So you cut your losses, decide to leave with her, and everything returns to normal. Bathed in the glow of your future, you immediately forget about the deconstruction.

After that, you finally get out of the basement, get a genuinely great moment opening the door alongside the Princess, never think twice about clicking “You’re not doing that.” as fast as humanly possible, and finally await the door at the end of the cabin. You finally get your fairytale ending. The princess goes out into the world together with you. You brought her out. And then she is taken by the Shifting Mound in a way reminiscent of her dying. Even if this wasn’t your first playthrough, it still comes as a shock. For the most part, you were being that Romantic hero, living in the moment with your passion. The thought of this happening was gone entirely. This wasn’t supposed to happen. And it *hurts*. And the chapter is over. 

The route of the Hero has a different point of view on the whole situation. That’s not to say it’s not easy to get drawn in by the hilarious dialogue and sheer cuteness of the Princess – far from it. It is, after all, what drives the conflict within this. For the Hero, and the player that goes along his path, has one bit of information stand out. That the world ended after the Princess killed you. Now, you can naturally be skeptical of the information, but the Princess isn’t helping her case here. Entirely vague, entirely unwilling to mention anything about it. The only thing she seems to care about is getting on your good side. 

Now, you still want to save her. That much is clear. You still don’t take the knife in the beginning, and you saw her Chapter 1 incarnation. She is still a good person, kind and loving. But there are questions raised, important questions. Which is why not all Hero routers get the same ending. There is a conflict between how far you’re able to go before the risk of the world ending eclipses your distrust of the Narrator and your trust of the Princess. If the whole world really does end if she’s free, is it worth it? And as such you get to the major points of the Hero ending. 

The first is the Deconstructed ending. As you question the Princess, you desperately try to figure out what the best way to go forward is for you. And that starts with getting a straight answer from the Princess on what exactly she plans on doing. The operation… does not go well. As you try and push for anything, any sign that she isn’t going to end the world, the same rejoinder comes in, alongside a distorted track. “I just want to make you happy.” The Princess is not an individual anymore, and begins to change shape. But you are locked in with a horrified inability to look away, like one who sees a car accident. And with that, the Princess is a Princess no longer, and the Shifting Mound takes her away. 

There’s also the option of taking the Hero’s advice when confronted with the scenario: to leave. You don’t like what’s going on and you try to do whatever you can to undo the doing. Perhaps surprisingly, it works. And then you’re forced to deal with the cognitive dissonance of the Princess and *that* being the same individual. But you, not without a healthy dose of skepticism, still head upstairs alongside the Princess. In the end, you can’t bring yourself to kill her. Throughout it all, she still has been the beautifully endearing picture of innocence, if a questionable one, and especially with regards to the knife on the table, there is no way you can take it to her chest with no warning, especially after everything you did in the first Chapter. So you leave with her, and the “end of the world” really does come in one fell swoop with the call of the Shifting Mound. You can’t help but wonder if the decision you made was the right one, not really. Like, you still believe she didn’t deserve to die, but maybe, just maybe, it would have been a better ending.

So what if you did kill her? What happens when love *truly* melts away into skepticism. After the continuous question dodging and whatever the… other thing was, this is clearly not an ordinary Princess, it is not the same Princess that you tried to save at the beginning. There is only a sliver of her, a shadow of her former self. Slaying her, well, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. It might be doing the world a favor, too. Maybe she is an individual with malicious intent. And as you take the blade and plunge it into her chest, you instantly know you made the wrong decision. She does not oppose it. She simply lets you kill her with a single tear hanging in her eye, saying “I think this is what you want.” It’s meant to feel dirty and it does, even heartbreaking in the moment, although it is immediately counterbalanced by the effect of the Smitten killing you over it.

I won’t exactly go over Scorched Grey the same way, I think there’s generally only two frames of mind going into it, and that’s either the standard “Hero-Skeptic” framework that I’ll expand on later, or simply a completionist mindset. Plus, it’s technically not The Damsel. Plus I’m lazy. But this is the point where I will try to expand on the theming of each and every route and mindset to go through within the Chapter, and that *will* include the Scorched Grey theming. 

It’s made quite clear from the chapter that one of the primary themes is objectification, the making of the Princess into nothing more than a vehicle to live one’s fantasy into. The taking of an individual and making them into an it. The destruction of humanity by your own desire, and what that says about your desires in the first place. Ironically, this is merely one fourth wall away from the rest of the Princesses, each of them being a piece of fiction that many simply engage with *because* they are an object, but with the Damsel it is directly nodded to within the narrative. One meta-layer is peeled back, if you will. 

Nothing hammers this more home than the entirely jarring line that escapes the Shifting Mound’s lips when you ask about the vessel she holds. Unlike the rest of the fragments, which are all given an indication that they have been fulfilled after the Shifting Mound takes them, the only note she has to say is that the Damsel has “served her purpose”. There is nothing that she wished for, as anyone who has obtained the deconstructed ending can attest to. But even in the more standard runs, she is simply a tool to be used and discarded. And there are three general reactions to this line. 

The first is the hardcore Smitten route’s preferred choice, denial. “The Princess was far more than an object, she had character, she had kindness, she had motivations from the beginning! The narrative is what is wrong, there’s nothing wrong with the Princess. She. Is. Perfect. Not just from a narrative standpoint but a metanarrative one as well. She has depth, she *is* a character.” All in the hopes that if they insist on it enough, it will become true. The Damsel was not designed to be viewed in a vacuum. There are themes that run through her character, and including negative ones, and the denial of them is a far truer denial of the character than any sort of objectification could ever be. 

Then the more moderate Smitten routers get a different response. A slap in the face. They did all of this, they had fun, they laughed with her, they cried when she was taken. They were connected to her, they had a real connection to what she was. One could even accuse them of… loving her. They honest to goodness cared about this Princess, they were invested in her story. Yet, in the end, they also formed her around themselves. They “molded her to love you”. As much as they loved the Princess, that was only because they cut out a piece of the Shifting Mound that they *could* love, a caricature of her true nature. They still took an individual, and despite truly loving her, made her into something that she was not so they could do that very thing. She is not a person. She is a plot device, an individual made to love and be loved with nothing beyond that. She is an object. 

Lastly, those who went on the route of the Hero get that same slap in the face, that selfsame bucket of water poured over their heads, but in a different way. They didn’t try to objectify her. They didn’t want anything of the sort. All they wanted to do was the right thing. Right? Yet even in that desire to do the right thing, they still get that same chilling text from the Shifting Mound. They have built an individual just like those who went on the route of the Smitten. Just a different one. Not one who was built around your “glorious romance”, but rather one built around something of a glorious Romance. The need to be a Hero. The desire to do what was right, to save an unjustly imprisoned Princess. The Princess became a plot device in the end anyway, just one that needed to be saved rather than one who needed to be loved. 

I want to continue off of that. The player is trying to do nothing more than the right thing, he is simply doing what a Hero should. And that determination to do what is right leads to him getting impacted the most by that line in the ending, the line that implies that whatever right he was doing, he was still being driven by selfishness, by that need to be a Hero. That hits the player right within where it hurts, it almost could be said to strike at the one emotional vulnerability of them. To have your hard work, your pain, your desire for what is right to be considered nothing more than the delusions of a Don Quixote tilting at windmills in order to fight giants, just as lost as Smitten, that doesn’t feel too great. It almost minimizes your struggle, and it is genius. You play as a Hero because you want to feel like a Hero, not because the morality of this world means anything to you. It is stripping that meta-layer down one by one.

But objectification is not the only theme present. While it may seem like something of a potpourri topic to throw in, earlier on the server we were talking about the Damsel in particular’s perceptiveness with regards to perception. When the door shuts and locks, it is the first and only time the Princess gets visibly **negative** in any way during the entirety of the Chapter. Even when you kill her, she still does so with nary a frown on her face. Even as a tear rolls down her cheek, she still smiles. But not at the door. The narration points out quite clearly that she frowns. This is, I reiterate, the only thing that happens. And her response is not “we’re stuck down here”, it is not “I’m unable to leave now”. 

What it is happens to be “that’s not supposed to happen”. She recognizes the construct in a way very few allude to within the game. Adding onto that note, within the Scorched Grey chapter, she (correctly) determines the very nature of the construct and that inherent “cycle of violence and despair” inherent to it, even (correctly) determining that the only way to leave was to annihilate that very construct. This is shown even clearer at the other major event at the door. When you ask if the Princess can open the door, the sole question she throws back at you is “Do you think I can?”, and after a response in the affirmative, “Then I can”. In the end, it is quite clear that she is, *heavily* ironically, one of the more aware characters in the game with regards to your circumstance. 

While speaking of the Scorched Grey, I think this route also exemplifies another major theme – the nature of the Princess as a being of perception. All routes exemplify one facet of the Shifting Mound: Spectre represents the gravity of her, Tower her divinity, Prisoner the very incarnation in and of itself of her within the construct, and so on. Damsel has something different, though, and that is that she’s just a slippery little fella. Far more than anybody else, Damsel changes throughout her chapters, in ways more pronounced than anybody else. The Shifting Mound declares that we “molded her to love you”, as I quoted previously. That molding takes stage front and center throughout all of our interactions with her. 

The most obvious example is her deconstruction, which when her sole true motivation (to leave) is discarded, she begins to break down, unable to offer to the player anything beyond the only desire every other Princess has. With the compulsive need to love the player, etched into her core, there is nothing she can do other than try to add to that love, losing herself within the process. But that is not the only time she changes. Because she is willing to give up that freedom in, well, a heartbeat. Attempting to kill her does not lead to any sort of resistance from her. The one goal she had, staying alive and winning her freedom, is out the window despite being (questionably) willing to kill for it in the last chapter. Now, throughout the Scorched Grey, it’s made clear that she did not, in fact, want to die, that she just wanted to be free together, but the complete unwillingness to save her own life is a stark contrast to the first chapter. 

In fact, that perpetually changing nature alongside her being so objectified means that it’s really, *really* hard to figure out her true character. There is very little in her that does not change and very little remaining that isn’t specifically put there by you. She is an eel, wriggling out of your grasp and impossible to pin down, in a large way like the Shifting Mound herself. But… for the most part, there are two facets to her character beyond the already listed themes. And a sharp divide between them. 

Chapter One Damsel and Chapter Two Damsel are not the same person. That’s usually true for most of them, but they also usually have some semblance of similarity between their counterparts. The only exceptions I can think off the top of my head are Spectre and *maaybe* Stranger if you want to count that. The rest of them act as exaggerated versions of the existing individuals shown. Chapter One Adversary likes fights. Chapter Two Adversary likes fights. Chapter One Witch is built on the back of distrust. Chapter Two Witch is built on the back of distrust. Everything lines up nicely. 

That is not the case for the Damsel. The only thing that you can say with both of them is that they are nice and do not want to hurt you. The Chapter One incarnation (henceforth Princess) is a tragedy of a character that doesn’t want to kill you but still must to secure her own life and freedom against a renegade puppeting you. The Chapter Two incarnation (henceforth Damsel) is a Horror-”Feel-Good”-Comedic-Tragic character that shows nothing about the emotional anguish she went through in chapter one. I love both of them, but they have an unmatched disconnect. And I think that sort of adds to the character. Now, there is absolutely a benefit from an emotional through-line (there’s a reason Thorn is my second-favorite chapter), but in this case, only brief touches to the beginning enhance the story. 

The most striking thing is the sense of comedic horror that comes when Damsel just completely ignores any expected trauma from the Princess’s emotional destruction. It, depending on the route you take, either makes you love her character more and more as the humor begins to entrap you, or it begins the process of getting the player unnerved, exactly like the developers wanted. It is a key dividing point in the mindset of the player and the route that they have chosen. The Damsel says nothing about what happened, heck, she barely acknowledges it except to indicate that “You died!” 

Secondly, it sets up Damsel as a sympathetic figure while still allowing her to begin establishing herself. Without the setup from the Princess, the player has no idea how to view Damsel, potentially even seeing her as a less on-the-nose Razor, with her comedically hiding her sinister intentions. The Princess allows the player to begin on a note that the Princess is *actually* friendly rather than simply pretending to be so. At the same time, it’s divorced enough that apart from that frame of reference at the beginning, Damsel is still allowed to shine within her own character. 

Lastly, and most importantly, it sets her up for the Scorched Grey. The guilt at causing the death of an innocent and the belief that you would be unable to cause the death of an innocent yourself leads her to blame the construct and attempt to bring it down, which seals your fate in the third Damsel chapter, the only time where the two chapters meet in a beautiful climax of Passion going too far and causing pain, in attempt of running away from that very thing, morphing into something that not even the Smitten is able to remain devoted to in an awful tragedy of love being not enough in the end. 

Wait, wait, wait. Did I hear “the end” being spoken? At this time of year? Localized entirely within this essay? Well then, it’s time to talk about what puts this saga at pure perfection, shall we? I probably could just use the awesome power of Ctrl + V to get the desired effect, but I still do want to offer my narration, so I’ll compromise and do a bit of both. “Your lover drives a stake into your body. And another. And another. And another. And another. Do I miss your heart because I cannot stand to see it go? But the stakes meant nothing to you. You had a desire, and you set that desire free, you lifting me and me lifting you, forever and ever and ever, consumed by true belief, there was nothing that could hold us back.” 

Do I even need to explain why that’s so good? Definitively the best poem in the end, it isn’t even close, especially when coupled with Ms. Goodnight’s awe-inspiring delivery. Did I say that the Scorched Grey was the perfect synthesis of the Princess and the Damsel? I was lying. This is. Every word so lovingly placed, the language sounds like it comes from the pen of God Himself. It is emotionally resonant, the art is beautiful, I have not run into such a short piece of dialogue that outdoes it. Gonna be honest, mostly just wrote up this essay to gush about it. Even now, it is considered by most everyone to be one of the best lines of dialogue in a game filled with magnificent ones. 

And the other one, that of the Scorched Grey. It’s simpler, ironically. “I kill you. You kill me. Back and forth we go, faster and faster and faster. I kill you. You kill me. Hollow eyes watch from the dry corners of a memory. A home built on all of the futures that were supposed to be, preserved until the moment of reunion. The fire of the heart sets it all ablaze. I kill you and me.”

This, this right here is one of the most slept on ending poems and it’s not even funny. So fantastic at expressing the heartbreak inherent to the Scorched Grey’s character. I don’t know how you can see the line “A home built on all the futures that were supposed to be”, especially with the Scorched Grey dead and charring in a wedding gown, and not feel *something*. It’s not as good as the standard Damsel stuff, but then again, nothing is. It’s still deserving of more praise than it currently receives, and one of my top three ending poems of all time, only edged out by Prisoner. Gosh, this game belongs in a museum. 

Seems I need to debunk some stuff that happens to get a lot of traction regarding those who speculate on Damsel, too. First of all, her character motivation is not guilt nor gratitude. That sort of thing works incredibly well in fanworks, and I’m happy to see it ~~because that means I get to see Damsel in a fanwork~~. It has little to no backing within canon. Damsel is a chapter about the only motivations for the Princess being those put in place by the objectification of the player. There is nothing regarding anything beyond that, and it detracts from the existing, well-elucidated themes that are actually within the chapter. The only sort of substance to them is both Chapter 1 Princess and Scorched Grey indicating guilt for killing you, but that is almost entirely repudiated within the actual Chapter 2. 

Speaking of the Scorched Grey, another thing I saw somewhat extensively is that you somehow “taught her” that killing is the way to love one another, and that’s why she kills you in Chapter 3, and I honestly do not know how that gained any traction at all. It’s pretty clear that she views all the death as a pretty terrible and messed up thing and only kills the two of you to escape the cycle of death. It’s spoken of as a means to an end, not an end in and of itself. I am genuinely confused on how this got started, because it really just… opposes the main *in-narrative* themes of the Chapter??? Like, you don’t even have to analyze it, it’s just within the text, plain and simple. 

Anyway, I deeply apologize for the length of this once again, look forward to an appendix when Pristine Cut comes out. I’ve already played it because my uncle works at Black Tabby, but I don’t want to spoil it for you gents. If my opinions change massively after playing through the new update from today, I will change that too. Anyway, Damsel is the best character, literally does not do a single thing wrong within any of her chapters, has definitively the best Shifty stuff, and you should invest in her. As more people vocally become willing to throw money at anything related to Damsel, the likelier it is that we get Damsel merch. I need it so badly. Please. Anyway, if anything stands out to you or you disagree, I am begging you to tell me to get my act together and explain what I said wrong, so do that. Also please. 

[olderthannetfic]

The ace asks about how asexuality and being aromantic is increasingly seen to mean "has sex and romance like a normal person" reminds me of the time I accidentally deeply angered an author. She had the tag 'asexual character' in her fic's tags, but since it's a 300k word long fic involving a lot of characters, it wasn't clear who that referred to right away. I left long comments on each chapter, talking about what I liked, sections that hit really hard, lines that I loved, etc., as I always do. (I like to ramble IRL and I can't turn it off even online.) At the halfway point of the fanfic, during a long comment about the OCs that helped flesh out the oft-mentioned but barely explored organizations and companies in the world of canon, I said that I hoped This One Specific OC or That Other Specific OC would turn out to be the asexual character, as I saw in them echoes of myself and a friend of mine (we're both ace).

She had never responded to a comment of mine before, but she did for that one... to yell at me about how the main character OC was aroace, actually. This was apparently supposed to be obvious since the word ace was used in the tie-in prequel fic, which I had held off on reading because the author's note mentioned it would have spoilers if you hadn't read the whole main fic. The character in question has a relationship not remotely different from any of the cishetallo or cisqueerallo relationships presented in the text. She develops a snarky sarcastic friendship with someone she finds visually beautiful and impossible to look away from, gets to know him a little, watches movies with him, they get into urban fantasy danger which they help each other through, they fuck and do so extremely regularly, and she has past exes who she also did all of this with.

And I was, apparently, a bigot with internalized aphobia and negative attitudes towards women who have sex because I didn't look at her and go, "Ah, yes, an aroace!" She informed me I was forcing unrealistic stereotypes no one adhered to onto ace people by thinking aces had to be a certain way and by refusing to see that

Her angry reply was so long it took three AO3 comments to send to me, and it didn't really make me convinced I'd misread the situation. It just made me convinced this wasn't an author I wanted to read more fic from, because 1. this is a lot of anger, holy crap and 2., I really think this is an excusable mistake on my part. I saw no signs this character was in any way different from any other couple in the fic beyond that she and her love interest didn't get to know each other's backstories as much and instead bonded more through experiences they shared, which in my opinion is not something that can be linked to any sexuality or lack thereof.

I feel like there's a moral in here. Like, authors, as a fellow author, I get that it sucks when someone else doesn't see the characters like you do, or misses something you thought was clear, etc. I get that it's frustrating. But don't rip into someone who's been gushing about every chapter of your fic individually just because they didn't catch one thing. I failed to realize one character's sexuality. That's not the same as hating you, the character or the writing.

Mostly I remember that incident as the day I stopped asking questions in my long comments. A sea of gushing does not make up for a mistake and the best way not to make those is to not ask if a tag relates to a character or line.

--

Oof. I mean, sure, there's a diversity of experience. Everything is a spectrum. Yada yadda. But if two labels become entirely indistinguishable, what's the point of even having them, much less getting mad when people can't spot the difference?

[fuckyeahdwarffortress]

I had exactly one person ask about my inane fantasy writing ramblings when it comes to dwarf currency, so I'm going to pen it. See more below!

In the novel I am penning (slowly, surely), coinage in the dwarven kingdom are dubbed Hands.

Theyr'e called this for the four-fingered, one-thumbed hand that is displayed. Each section of a Finger is worth 1 (totalling 3 for each fully-extended Finger), and each section of a Thumb is worth 4 (totalling 8 for a fully extended thumb).

In total, a fully-opened palm on a Hand is worth 20, meaning 5 Hands are worth 100.

Hands are made of stone, as metals are considered too precious to waste on a common occurrence such as currency. Any coins received from, say, Humans or Elves, are melted back into metals for reforging, though are received with equivalent metal value (meaning elven chips are worth less due to being made primarily of lacquered wood, and human coinage is worth more due to being made primarily of metals).

Each "tier" of stone makes the currency double in value:

Shale Open Hand = 20

Basalt Open Hand = 40

Gneiss Open Hand = 80

Granite Open Hand = 160

Marble Open Hand = 320

As these stones can be hard to identify, masons and stoneworkers oft double as accountants or bookkeepers. To ensure a healthy economy, there is a 10% tax on all income brackets; taxed Hands usually returning into public works or provided to aiding those who either cannot perform labour (whether unskilled or injured), or to public projects (bunkers for those without homes, farming initiatives, funding military strength, etc).

The current system of governance falls under what would be described as a technocracy, where the major dwarven heads of mining, agriculture, military, magic, economy, crafting, safety, and transit meet biweekly to balance affairs between each circle of dwarven society, though typically, the economic hold is the one with the final say, and previous heads have been happy to throw Hands around to get their way.

I hope you all enjoy this little snippet. It's not my best writing, persay, but it's something that's been in the back of my head for a while.

[itsmelb]

Just wanna leave this here. Because this is all I thought the whole day.

Thank u for this 🥹

[mealvaan]

Morsel

TW. Domestic abuse, alcoholism, body horror.

There were so few bells in the day, and Viscount Adrant de Zaciere occupied all of them.

Almost all of them. The Viscountess found nooks of time out of the sun to breathe in the company of a cursed journal and a worn-down quill. Visits to the Durendaire demesne and Jeweled Crozier were savoured too, though she longed for someone to speak to her bereft of courtesy and title, and conversations died like fruit flies under Adrant's purview.

Dinnertime was upon them. The lady of the house refused the retinue of manor staff she'd been assigned; she would not have what little work she was allowed to be taken away from her. Adrant insisted only on choosing the wine, which she would allow; it was a pretentious drink, and she cared little what label got her inebriated.

She beat the dough before her with the vigor of the Fury. The beef, she dug into relentlessly with her carver, as a dragoon would worm under dragon scale. She unapologetically tasted sauces with a two-finger dip just because no one was looking. How she'd longed to be a Dame, once upon a time. Bovine meat bore the only blood she ever got to spill.

The house staff were permitted to present the food she cooked. She didn't like dining with her husband alone.

"Beef wellington," Adrant said, breathlessly impressed. He held her in his gaze like a caged bird of paradise, marvelling at the new feathers she'd grown after that she'd shed. "You've outdone yourself, Imogen."

"It's not that difficult. We're just raised to be afraid of kitchen knives." Imogen indulged in the bite she was permitted at their dinner table. To her persistent irritation, Adrant merely found her scathing remarks amusing. His laughter, the tumbling currents of the deep sea.

"Hahaha. True, that. That's why I married you, my dear."

The table fell silent, save the wet sound of silver to meat. Imogen spent the rest of her evening sipping the Caelumtree Red 1540, as she begrudgingly recalled from Adrant's rambling.

He was an insistent sommelier, asking her all manner of questions. How does it feel? What does it remind you of? What kind of person do you think the wine best suits?

She spun fanciful, sardonic stories, for all the wine tasted the same to her. It's gravel-esque. Reminds me of a four-bell homily at the Cathedral. Best suits someone who hates their life.

In excruciating time, the meal was over.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Often the Viscountess rose before the sun. It was one of those secrets she indulged in, basking in the time before dawn while Adrant had left to gods know where. She hoped, often, that he would find a new wife wherever he went and leave her an honorable old maid. Or at least knock some poor woman up so she would have an excuse to leave with the Lafontaine name intact.

How fairytales die when midnight passes. How many moon-eyed little girls no longer dream of prince charming?

Her vanity was remarkably sparse for her station. There was a hairy brush on one side and a set of tissues on the other. Powders and glosses were luxuries she once enjoyed, but then she learned that as Viscountess, they weren't for her. So she stopped wearing them, allowing the star to witness the dark circles under her eyes and the creases where grimaces oft lay. She wanted people to wonder, to care.

Perhaps she still believed in prince charming after all.

As she examined the crests and troughs of her face, she noticed something catch the light.

It was on the tail of her sideburns, tucked away under a tuft. She lifted her index finger and brushed the hair aside. It was a shard of obsidian. Rough to the touch. Just off the curve of her cheekbone. At its hems, it emerged from her skin, as if it'd punctured through the layers and embedded itself through the tissue. She ran her finger over it incessantly, trying to discern what it was.

Something about it made her uneasy. Rather than visit a chirurgeon, she felt the need to cover it up.

"Please fetch me a set of powders from the Crozier," she asked of the courier from a crease within her door. Excited for the Viscountess' final foray into glamour, the maid was bubbly. "Right away, madame."

The compact was slid through a crack in the door. What did they think she was afraid of them seeing? Though her mind raced with anxious intrusions, her hands were quick to work. She contoured light where the shard cast a shadow, worked its bumps out into an even tone. Then she clipped her hair that it would fall over the blemish, just in case. As her hair was pinned up with an elegant clip, a gift from Adrant that she had once forgone, she struggled to see herself in the mirror.

Tonight was another challenge: dodo confit, for which she'd sourced the ingredients to great toil. She retrieved the fowl from its preserve and marvelled at the beautiful marination she'd managed, after half a dozen failed attempts. The jelly would make for good stock.

A steaming platter of elegant dodo legs arrived at the dinner table, complete with a side of ornate asparagus. Adrant revered her with his sonnets of praise. She merely ate because she could, savouring her own internal congratulations.

Stereotypically, the Viscount had paired her dodo confit with a pinot noir.

"Chardonnay would've been more interesting," she's quick to remark, looking over yet another red wine with disdain.

"We should indulge in the richness of this dish, not shy away from it. Give it a try, dearest."

Imogen drank the wine despite her protests; she needed something to wash the richness down, even if it was a tart beverage that did little to rinse her palate. To feel light rather than gaudy.

"You've done your hair differently this eve. What is the occasion?"

Imogen brushed her bangs in front of her ear for good measure. "I just felt like doing something different."

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

She awoke to her lungs on fire.

"Adrant—!" She startled in their bed. His name ran her voice ragged. Loathe she was to beg him for help, but O Gods! Smoke claimed her inside and out! Every breath seared with Nald'thal's flame! She scratched her throat with her nails, begging the Fury for it to stop.

"My love," he awoke quickly, as if he was never asleep. "My love, what's wrong?"

"It hurts! It hurts!" She gasped and writhed in the sheets, pulling the duvet off him entirely. "Call the maids!"

Adrant's neck craned over her, his eyes the twin moons. Tears in her eyes, she could barely carve out the features of his face. Just a line for a mouth and hair hanging over his lashes.

"How does it feel?"

"Wh... What?" she made out before coughing and spluttering. Smoke was emanating from her nostrils, burning away the hairs within. What a sickening stench that she couldn't escape. Was she going to die here, burnt from the stake within, witch that she was?

All the while, Adrant merely hovered over her, not moving for the door, not ringing their bedside bell.

"What does it remind you of?"

"A... Adrant!" She was choking on her own air now. He was a pale bouquet of roses in her teary, gaze. She was going to die.

"What kind of person..."

How quickly her consciousness faded without the astral air. The last she remembered was his hand, brushing away her hair, and then it all winked to black.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

When she awoke then, it was like she had dreamed the whole thing.

The afternoon sun lanced through the window, her duvet peachy. She couldn't smell smoke or char, and she breathed clearer than she had in years.

Adrant wasn't in bed, but his briefcase remained at the foot of the bed. He hadn't left the estate. She heard, in the distance, the sound of a pot clanging to stove.

It was enough to send her running in her nightgown, a flurry of silk down the stairs and to the kitchen.

Adrant's shadow cast a deep groove along her counter. Along the marble lay several cutting boards of roughly chopped, vivid ingredients. Onion, popoto and spices. He was making some sort of Thavnairian curry, an easy dish if one knew the recipe. So little to wash. Though, cooking was an effort for Adrant.

"What are you doing?" she asked with such grave offense in the doorway. It was like she'd caught him in bed with another woman.

"After what happened this morning, I thought I'd give you a break, my sweet." His tone was airy and thin. No offense taken.

"But... I..." She had a carbonara planned, all the ingredients ordered fresh and to spec. She'd spent evenings preparing for the battle to come, whetting the cheese grater and pushing the pasta mold to its limits. How hard she'd trained and toiled...

"Go sit at the table," he chided, chipper. She relented. He was already making food and she didn't want to waste it.

The bell at the table felt agonising. She wanted to jump out of her itchy skin and do something, but no other chores suited her. Cleaning the house wasn't expressive; it was about maintaining the image Adrant had declared for the manse, keeping evidence of her existence out of his life. Nor was doing the laundry, a repetitive and banal act that never seemed to cease. As he indulged in her kitchen, she found herself territorial. That was her domain, and he'd crossed into it. The smoke emanating from him burning the pan, her pan — it bruised her lungs again.

The maids apologetically set the table around the Viscountess. In a large bowl atop steaming rice, she received a quaint, demure portion of hot massaman curry, paired with...

"Merlot?!" Imogen was aghast with offense. "Adrant, come off it! I want a white."

Adrant sat at the table and showed no change in his expression to Imogen's protests, as usual. "Merlot will enrich the body of the curry," he chided. "Think of it as a sauce."

"Like cranberry sauce? This isn't going to go together at all."

"We don't have any white in the cellar."

Her bottom lip jutted out. "Then we should get some."

"Sure." It mattered little to him how odd this was. "Tomorrow. For now, it's all we have."

Imogen considered water. The combination of the two would be sickening. She couldn't imagine a future where she didn't throw it all up. But wine was her only indulgence in this godsforsaken home. It was merlot or spending the rest of the evening sober, which she couldn't, wouldn't have.

Deep she drank of the grapesblood, and Adrant smile was warped in the body of her glass. Like he was smiling far too wide for his face, a monster's maw. When she put her glass down, it was merely a simper.

Adrant's cooking was passable. It was needed. It was just food. When he asked for her opinion on it, she made that apparent. It's fine. It will keep us alive. It fills the stomach.

That shut him up, for a mercy. The plates were shortly cleared (hers before his) and taken to the kitchen to wash. Adrant's tense jaw didn't move as he left to change into his nightwear upstairs. He did this when he was angry, so she tried to make him as angry as she could get away with.

The kitchen was a mess when she returned. She wanted it put back to how she remembered it, places where the implements made sense, cupboards that she could reach things in. She forbade the maids from helping her — "I need something to do today," she bristled, and they gave her a wide berth.

All the dishes to wash were to be stacked in the order they were to be washed; the smallest cutlery first, then the plates, then the massive pots and pans that Adrant had somehow amassed making a basic curry. She grumbled to herself as she started with the littlest of glass.

It was a clear vial which she'd presumed to be a spice container. On further inspection... She noticed dots of red liquid lining the membrane.

Imogen took the bottle away from the sink and held it up to the candlelight. The glow scorched it red, sending a shiver down her spine. It was not unlike the red of the cutting board she'd used to cut the bovine meat two suns ago.

It was so delicate, too. What could possibly be stored in here, if not a tiny amount of chili powder? It barely needed her thumb and forefinger to hold aloft.

Tentatively, she lifted the bottle to her lips.

It was immediately dizzying, the tinny, metallic smell that had pooled at the bottom. It assailed her nostrils as if rusting the hairs within them over, billowing iron into her throat like it was air. She coughed—

And the cough singed her hand.

She opened her eyes to a remnant of a plume from her very own lips. The glass dropped to the floor and shattered. It was a high pitched sound. Footsteps down the stairs followed as she stared at her prickling, red-hot skin.

"Imogen, my sweetheart?" Adrant was rounding the bannister. The blood was mercurial, seeping into the cracks of the kitchen tile. There was nothing coagulating within it, as if it were a smooth red.

"Imogen, how are you feeling?" Anticipation hammered in his voice. She couldn't find hers. There was fear that she would cough again, and she held her breath hostage in the back of her throat.

Eventually, the kitchen door swung open.

"What have you done, Adrant," she managed, voice hoarse. "What is this?" At her foot, he could see it, plain as day. The broken vial, the spilled contents.

Ever so gently, he shut the door behind them.

"Adrant," and then she was spluttering over the counter. Great fumes were squeezing out of her nose, her mouth, her ears, her eyes. O, Great Gods, kill her — O, Gods, end it all — !

"How does it feel?" He hunched over her, the pall that he was, running his hand along her back... no, her hair. He pushed her hair aside, running a finger along the nape of her neck.

There were bumps and ridges that became apparent when he pressed down on them, and only then. The feeling of hard chitin lining her spine, all the way up to her hairline. She gasped for life and for death.

Scales?

"What... What..." How her tongue smarted with every consonant, having been burned all along the top. "What have you d-done to me..."

"What does it remind you of? Dig deep, Imogen."

She didn't want to believe it, tears pricking in her eyes as she spoke the word aloud.

"M-m-monster—"

"Not a monster. A miracle." He traced circles along her spine that from anyone else would've been a calming gesture. Her father, perhaps. The highborn blood within her, so latent, yet dominating her every demesne at this moment. "Long did I await the miracle. What kind of person do you think you'll become? If a person, at all?"

"Stop it. St... Stop it. Take it ba— ack..." She hacked, trying to eject her lungs from her body.

"Breathe as normal, and you'll wield it better. You'll have the power."

She was clinging to the countertop now, trying to scrabble away from him. Towards the moonlight, where the curtains breathed fresh air. He accompanied her with the maddeningly slow clicks of his heels.

"Four in, four out."

In the small bells of the night, at the crest of the Pillar, there was a sickening scream — the cracking of bones — and then a silence permeated only by the occasional, gravelly sob.

But all knew better than to disturb the Viscount in the middle of the night. 'Twas an ill omen.

[okthatsgreat]

WOWWWW it has been so so so long. i changed my url even. kozuelovemail …. But just got caught up and the last chapter made me sprint around my house and run into various objects. i might be back when i get everything down into Words but god the way hiyoko’s trying but she’s like. awful at it. mikan trying but also being so capable of that kind of cruelty. FINALLY getting more insight into The Akane Incident. so good!!!!!!!!! do u have any insights into ur writing process here ,,,

HIIIIIII HI HI!!!!!!!!! NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN loving the name change. it rules so hardddd hiiii :3

IVE BEEN SO EXCITEDDD for this one ive been so exciteddd. so much bitterness all compiling until this very momenttt where everybody reverts back to a version of themselves they hate so badddddddddd. YAYYY!!!!!

AND of course The Akane Incident YEA!!! really having fun piecing together what her whole deal is........... slowly but surely. and we'll definitely be getting more into that next chapter with her and fuyuhiko. Jesus

SOME INSIGHTS DOWN BELOW!!!!

OK SO!! a LOT of this chapter was straight up dialogueeeeee it was almost like writing a script there was so much dialogue LMAO. something i do with huge dialogue scenes like this is take a lesson from every acting class and give every character a motive going in. so basically everybody in that room had a goal or a position to take in that scene and i made sure a lot of it clashheeedddd just to really amp up the tension. mikans role was to explain and then to defend herself at any cost, a lot of which stems from this "me and against them" mentality that she's backed herself into. hiyokos was to understand/to defend the kids, and while she does genuinely care about making sure those kids are safe she is really uncomfortable around mikan and that tends to make her louder/more argumentative/more suspicious in her unease. ibuki is unusually quiet and her goal is to have little opinion especially if that opinion goes against what mikan is saying (reflecting that gullible disease she had in the killing game). mahiru is in that uncomfortable position where she has to act as a sort of moderator, especially with hiyoko and mikan but more so hiyoko (which has already been established as a role she doesnttttt want to take lol). and because this scene was so argumentative i felt it was best if none of them ever really "achieved" their goal in the end lmaoo

with arguments as well i LOVEEEEE having characters cut each other off and stammer!!!! i think its important to note that in real life arguments dont tend to be these perfect back and forths where Person A gets to say something biting and then Person B waits their turn before saying something biting back. depending on the character and also how much power they have in the conversation, a lot of the time people will fight for their voice to be heard or make smaller comments in between sentences if this makes sense. especially with characters like hiyoko and mikan, hiyoko especially wants to feel heard, which means when she DOES get a moment to speak it tends to come out a bit louder and more biting. mikan, who is rambling at this point and hardly listening, will cut people off a lot and in turn has to BE cut off. so nobody in this scene (especially when it gets super tense!!) is able to communicate their opinion in a formal, "perfect" way, whether that be because another character is unwilling to listen, they are stammering or nervous, or simply because they just keep getting cut off by another character who wants to state their piece !!! does any of that make sense.

and then of course with dialogue heavy scenes building tension is important too!!! with this scene especially it starts out at its lowest, builds tension, goes back down again, and then REALLYYYY BUILDS up until mikan yells out that last comment!!! i tried playing with who was "in control" of the conversation just to help build that tension, and had it flip flop back and forth between people pretty often as it progressed. like as much as hiyoko acts confident and loud i tried to have a few moments where its clear she is losing control in this conversation while mikan is grabbing it, and vice versa. and even at the end when mikan """won""" the argument she immediately reverts back to powerless and lets the other three take control of whatever happens next

with two characters who are both so angry but so different it was a TON OF FUN TO WRITE!!!!!!!!!!!! because ultimately their discomfort over their past is turning them into people they well and truly hate and they KNOWWWW that, which is just making them even MORE uneased and argumentative. mikans pov deals a lot with regret and how angry she was becoming with this, and its all balled up into THIS! this TERRIBLE TERRIBLE SITUATION!!! especially with how high-stakes everything is, its extremely difficult for mikan and hiyoko to have a rational explanation where they explain their feelings in a calm and collected manner without the both of them reverting back to their high-school selves.... mikans resentment boiling over and her need to defend herself quickly turning into a need to hurt others, and hiyoko feeling as if the only way she can obtain power over the person who killed her is by becoming harsh and mean. YAY!

anyways goddd. hopefully this was understandable im just typing words at this point HGJFDKG. but YEAH SUPER FUN TO WRITE CANT WAIT TO GET BACK TO AKANE because yeppppppp her situation is slowly becoming more clear :) its all so fucked up

[happyk44]

Can I learn more about the freshwater babies of Neptune? their abilities, character, behavioral traits, and your original characters. It's so interesting, I want more.

Haha, sure! Let's start with the freshwater guppies! Some possible powers:

Creating and stopping rain

Advanced healing with water, so they have an easier time healing other people

Purifying any liquid they come across

Turning available fluids into water (reverse of the water into wine Jesus trick, lol)

Creating droughts (because droughts are oft linked to rainfall)

Obviously the stormy fingerlings can do all of the above as well, but the freshwater fry are the ones who are most instinctive to it, and vice versa. For example, with the rain - the stormchasers may have a harder time making it only rain without adding a turbulent element.

The non-saline alevins are typically more social, have softer vocal tones, and don't mind helping people. Not all freshwater is drinkable without treatment, so sometimes they're a little awkward upon first meeting, but consistent interaction can help make them palatable.

Where anger may be one of the more easily and commonly felt, and stronger emotion in the Poseidon kids and Neptune's mini tempests, it's less abrupt in the baby wells. They have a slower buildup to rage, tend to be more gentle. But when rage does hit them, it's a sudden downpour causing soil erosion and destroying crops. However, they're often more clear-headed than their volatile counterparts.

Under certain circumstances, they can become a vicious sea type of child, but it does not go the other way (storm into freshwater). Melpomene is an example of this! She started out as a gentle caring person, but childhood abuse pushed her into becoming a hurricane as a defense mechanism. She doesn't recall being potable, as a result. Of course, not all the potables grow into brackish waves.

They enjoy summer (Neptunalia!) the most. Mentioned before but in the past, they would travel from town to town at the peak of summer to help refill freshwater sources and clear up droughts. They'd do so by dancing and singing in honour of their father. On the day of the actual festival, they'd be revered and treated with utmost importance. As Neptune became more associated with the sea, this practice was seen less and less as they began to associate his offspring with undrinkable salt and became unnerved by their presence at a time when water was already lacking.

They're not the biggest fans of the sun though. Excess heat dries up water, and the sun blocks the rain clouds.

Like all Neptune and Poseidon children, they can be very stubborn (their father is represented by the bull after all). Even they have trouble in getting along with Jupiter's kids. Fresh water is reliant on being replenished by the water cycle, so the kids can be very "go with the flow" and chill. They get easily annoyed when people interrupt their flow, or if they feel they're being consumed faster than they can recover from (water scarcity, lol).

As for my OCs, I have a lot of them, haha. Currently I'm focusing on June's story but I've got a billion other things going on, plus writer's block, so the story itself is paused. Luckily it's pretty much outlined, but honestly if I don't get it all written out at some point I will probably explode.

Sometimes I ramble about my OCs (mostly Alex, I think 😂) and their stories in #happy talks about his stories, and you can scroll through goof posts in #oc shitposting. 👍

[constantvariations]

I remember someone saying "there's no such thing as a good racism allegory" and it's been bouncing around in my head for a while. I'm someone who typically thinks anything can work if given the right circumstances, but then I really started thinking about it and I believe they're right

Because if you want to talk about racism, you should just talk about racism

(This is unpolished and ramble-y, so strap yourselves in)

Racism is deeply ingrained into our society, no matter where you live. Imperialism and colonialism has ensured that no corner of Earth has been left untouched. Choices from hundreds of years ago are still being felt today. There's practically no end to the discussion of its effects on the world and its people

So, why should anyone feel the need to dress it up in cat ears?

I've consumed a lot of media where writers have consciously echoed in part some aspect of racism in their fantasy story: Bright 2017, Dragon Age, RWBY, the MCU, Harry Potter, Detroit: Become Human, etc. The biggest thing they have in common is that the narrative is told to side with the victims, but it somehow always ends up against them

It always sides with the status quo

It's confusing, maddening even, because the narrative oft goes out of its way to show how horrible the system is and how these folk don't deserve their treatment, so why are we going back to normal as if it's a good thing? Why are the people actively working to improve the system decried as annoying at best and monstrous at worst?

Then you look at the people who write these storylines. The beliefs they hold, the people they vote for, which charities and organizations they give to, and it all makes sense. Centrists (at best) trying to look progressive are the ones who need to dress racism up in cat ears and rainbow freckles. They set aside the long, brutal histories and crushing systemic realities to play pretend that racism is Not That Bad and is only done by Those Bad Individuals

That's why Velvet's ears are tugged instead of culled. That's why the Mantle drunkards say mean things to Blake instead of attempting to assault her. That's why everything surrounding the SDC's labor practices is so vague as to be useless while the biggest evidence of their malice is hand-waved away by a writer who says the victim "had it coming" as if someone can deserve being branded by being too much of a brat

These stories aren't meant to make the audience question why our society works off the bloodied backs of the exploited or demands we take good, hard looks at ourselves and how we've been duped into believing so much garbage about entire swathes of people. They're meant to satisfy the people who only feel bad that these things are happening because they (white folk) look like the bad guys. It's a self-congratulatory wank about how "I'm not like THOSE guys, therefore I'm a good person!"

And then there's the characters meant to convey this story in the first place: always inoffensive, mostly aimless, "not like the other girl" types that pander to that delicate palate. Blake - a conventionally attractive, pale skinned girl in fashionable clothes - used to be passionate about equality but only in the right way, and demonizes anyone who does not conform to this mindset despite having no reasoning to back it up while never once demanding better of the privileged people around her even when they do racially insensitive things

The biggest downfall of these racial allegories, be they about cat girls or orcs or elves or robots, is that they do something that marginalized folk have been forced to endure since the dawn of time: literal dehumanization. There are tangible differences between humans and whatever the allegory is, which undermines the very fundamental fact that black/asian/queer/neurodivergent/disabled/whatever folk are unapologetically, undeniably, exceedingly human. By dressing up their plights in cat ears or spottled blue skin, you're creating theater not for the people who actually live through these struggles as a means of connecting with them and providing them a safe outlet for their feelings, but giving the people who benefit from passively allowing the system to enforce said struggles a pat on the head for not being the grand wizard

I don't really know where I'm going or how to end this, so I'll just sign off with if you're going to talk about racism, just talk about racism

[wachtelspinat]

@negativepotato wieso auch immer hatte ich eine email bekommen zu deiner ask, aber... die ask is nich in meinem posteingang........ deswegen mal händisch alles hier hin kopiert (trotzdem sehr seltsam)

negativepotato hat gefragt:

"Hey hey!! Ich habe gerade deinen Post gelesen. Der hat mich berührt, weil ich das fühle. Kaum ist man in einem Job, schon gleitet einem die Zeit durch die Finger und man hat kaum noch Energie, kreativ zu sein. Und dann immer wieder so den fallback und safe-space an fanart zu haben, wo ich auch immer die Angst habe mich nicht "weiter zu entwickeln", wie man das immer liest, dass man das machen soll. Was mir ein bisschen Frieden gegeben hat, ist zu wissen, das ich nie ganz loslassen kann von meinen Zeichnungen und Malerei und einfach versuche, mich zu freuen, wenn ich mich mal hinsetze und dazu komme, you know. Egal wie simple und klein und wenns der 10.000 Headshot von slightly-rechts ist von fav character. Es ist schwer zu akzeptieren, weil man früher einen krassen Output hatte und der jetzt nicht mehr so da ist. Aber ich glaube, so wie du es geschrieben hast, wird dir das nie wirklich abhanden gehen. Es wird sich einfach nur ein bisschen ändern - und das muss nichts schlimmes sein. Dauert nur sich einzugrooven, ihmo. Außerdem wollte ich dir gefühlt seit Jahrzehnten schreiben, seit so dem...Problem Sleuth/Midnight Crew-high. Ich schau immer noch gerne auf deine Zeichnungen von damals, weil du eine Energie hast, die mich einfach abholt und inspiriert. Damals wie heute. :^) Anyway!! es ist sehr langer text geworden; ich hoffe, dass ich etwas trost spenden konnte...weil yeah. Mich berührt sowas zu lesen und ich kenns. Anyway! have a good night <3"

______

hey ey, danke für die nachricht ;o; dass mit in fandoms zurück fallen und sich iwie heimisch fühlen, aber gleichzeitig immer diesen hintergedanken zu haben, dass man sich nicht weiterentwickelt, irkt mich ehrlich gesagt schon seit jahren... ich dachte immer ich habe meinen frieden damit geschlossen, dass ich eigtl nur fanart zeichne (ich bin einfach zu doof für OCs... wirklich, ich kanns nicht anders beschreiben, bin in der hinsicht massivst unkreativ. ich hatt' halt aber aber auch nie das bedürfnis unbedingt OCs zu erschaffen? ich war immer sehr happy einfach mit charakteren die schon da waren, zu denen geschichten zu spinnen etc (und wenn das fandom auch noch so hart reinhaut, dann hat man zu denen auch ein schier bodenloses fass an absolut genialen ffs und art T_T)

anyway... der grundtonus, den ich über die jahre auf social media aufgefangen habe, ist allerdings oft "fanart sollte nicht das goal für artists sein". enge freunde, die selber zeichnen / illustratoren sind, meinte auch in gesprächen schon, sie hören jetzt auf fanart zu machen, weil "iwann muss man sich davon lösen", oder "sie sind aus dem alter raus, jetzt gibt es nur noch original content" oder mein fave: "ich habe mich endlich davon befreit fanart zu machen" als obs eine bürde war und ey... da fällt mir immer dezent die kinnlade runter. als ob fanart kein kreativer output ist, als ob man mit fanart nicht auch art skills lernt, als ob fanart vorallem auch keine freude bringt? ich kann dann immer nur erwidern "du weißt schon dass du das MIR gerade ggü geäußert hast, die person die literally NUR fanart malt". und ich versteh es ehrlich gesagt nich. OCs zu haben ist geil, ich glaube es ist unglaublich krass eine eigene geschichte / welt zu erschaffen und im besten fall zu sehen, dass leute den eigenen originalen content feiern. aber wieso wird im gleichen atemzug so oft auf fanart geschissen. das ist iwie so eine weirde performance die ich nich begreife.

ANYWAY tut mir leid fürs rambling, aber dein einer satz da hat ins schwarze getroffen. bin eh ein relativ unsicherer mensch, und zu wissen dass man für den schnulli den man neben seiner arbeit stemmt um spaß zu haben online wahrscheinlich komisch beäugt wird, nur weils in der artists community als "auf der stelle treten" kategorisiert wird, nervt mich schon seit jahren 8(

danke für deine nachricht, es hat mich sehr gefreut sie zu lesen, da alles, was du in worte gepackt hast, so wahr ist. ich weiß, dass ich nie aufhören werde zu zeichnen, dafür ist es mir einfach zu wichtig (und den satz fühl ich besonders: "Egal wie simple und klein und wenns der 10.000 Headshot von slightly-rechts ist von fav character." mehr will ich nicht, das macht mich happy 🧡). ich brauch denk ich nur ewig und 10 jahre mich an den neuen status quo mit arbeit und allem drum und dran zu gewöhnen. aber aufhören steht nich auf dem plan. (danke auch für deine lieben worte zum schluss zwecks der midnight crew und so ;; erwärmt mein herz gerade maximal <333)

hoffe du hast einen schönen sonntag (und sorry fürs lahme anworten, tumblr hat die nachricht iwie geschluckt but thank god für email notifs)

[scandalouslamb]

hmmm, I have a very specific vision for codependent, identity blurring relationships, so I enjoy that in different flavors. Also secret third thing relationships (I think this is obvious based on just what I write).

since i am very normal about those tropes /j i’m curious if you could elaborate? :D

Hi! Sorry, it took me a bit to respond, I've had a bit of a busy time!

Honestly, for both tropes, they kind of blur together for me! I'm not fixated on strict trope definitions, haha, which is kind of unfortunate in this day and age when trying to communicate what I like!

This previous ask that you sent covers a lot of my thoughts, but I'll definitely try to elaborate! I really like undying loyalty. I love inexplicable, undying loyalty (and barring that, I love love that persists even when all that remains in the wreckage of a relationship, either romantic or platonic, is thorny hurt).

(I started rambling about an eclectic bunch of examples... whoops)

It's Augustus and Agrippa (historical dead people), levels of loyalty and entanglement that thousands of years people have trouble distinguishing Augustus' accomplishments from Agrippa's. This is without even saying that the Julio-Claudian dynasty descends as much from Agrippa as it does Augustus! (Also see Imperium, a historical drama film)

I love Twelfth Doctor-Clara (Doctor Who)'s "Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?"

I love Palamedes-Camilla(-Dulcinea), Augustine-Mercymorn-John and their respective cavaliers... and actually many such cases in The Locked Tomb series...

I love in general, the horror and totality of "It's finished, it's done. You can't take loved away."

Of course, there is the oft quoted "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same" from Wuthering Heights, which I love. Catherine Earnshaw, my problematic queen <3. (Really everyone must remember that she goes on in the same section to talk about she would not degrade herself to marry Heathcliff but also they're the same person so her marriage doesn't really matter! <3 true love to me. jk jk. but also actually)

I love people so intertwined that to label it anything cannot capture the whole. <- that's where the secret third thing comes in.

Some of these dynamics are certainly healthier than others... And even then well... But yeah, I suppose the reason, I'm so nebulous about them is that they're hard to define lol. I've tried to come up with some examples, but well, I have eclectic interests and I'm unsure how much crossover there is with things people in the fandom might know...