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system-of-a-feather · 1 year ago

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Full Integration, Final Fusion, Functional Multiplicitly, and General "Spirituality"

(Disclaimer: this is a very long post)

Heyyo, this is a bit of a hodgepodge of connected topics that I was thinking on this morning. For those that don't know, after like three months of being a really solid fused whole, we really decided that we needed to redivide back into our core parts to recenter, rebalance, and reorganize ourselves since our fused whole was loosing sight / vision of the "plot". We don't consider this "splitting" because we are still in - what we like to call "full integration" - and we don't really engage in much dissociation when we do this as the means of how we do this largely stems from the way we perceive, engage with, and view the concept of "self" and "identity." Our system highly values the mastery and art of a very fluid and ever changing sense of identity and self. This morning - thank you Chunn brain for batting our collective brain from the usual urge to get out of bed and get started with our day to give us time to really sit with our inner selves - we spent about an hour and a half and a small half hour nap just laying there thinking among ourselves and I wanted to share a few.

I think at the moment I am still mostly a fused whole and I had considered trying to go to Ray or Lin for them to write this, but it didn't feel right to go to Ray brain and Lin brain directly told me "Dude, this thought line started with Riku-dominant fused brain, trying to have someone else write it would be a disservice to the reflection. Let Riku or Riku-dominant fused brain do it, it's their thought." and you know, fair point. I think I'll use this post as a temporary "bye few thoughts" and love letter to our parts as a fused whole before leaving it to the individual specialists to do their things.

So introduction to this post aside, hello and temporary soon to be farewell before I choose to temporarily redivide into my main parts. Today is May 15, 2024 and I'm gonna document this a bit for when I come back whenever that is and kind of see if my fused-whole perspective and nature changes - mostly for myself. Online I go by Feathers, irl I just go by our chosen name.

I'm a (mostly, technically non-denominational independent, but most of my views and perspectives come from and align closely with) Zen Buddhist. I'm nonbinary vaguely transmasc (not really though?) intersex individual with the pronouns of they/them. I am extremely pro-endo and if I honestly felt like sticking around longer, I was thinking about writing a much more nuanced essay on tulpa-terminology discourse with my current reflections as a fused whole and as a pretty avid Buddhist but, unforunately, unless one of my parts still shares the same insight AND interest, that essay will have to wait for me to potentially be back (hey, Riku or Chunn might still want to who knows). I dunno what else to say, I love bird, Bleach, walking, driving, listening to music, video games, writing, art? I dunno man, I'm just me.

Documentation aside anyways, I gotta figure out where I want to start. I think I will actually piss my high-school English teachers off and start with the LAST thing in the title card. I might loose a lot of close minded white anti-endos here, but hey, if you are that close minded, then its your loss cause I'm just talking about late-stage recovery as a person with diagnosed DID that is considered polyfragmented. It's a fun conversation to have with other people with DID aiming for recovery so, if you're hell bent on hating people talking about plurality form a non-DID lens enough to disregard cool information, that's your loss. (Thank you XIV brain, crediting that to you for part of our goal today)

Buddhism, Spirituality, Plurality and Our Perspective of Full Integration

According to Buddhism, and one of the largest concepts and principles of Buddhism that we believe the most in and actively work to practice and cultivate the mindset of - is that the concept of "I" and the concept of a singular, distinct, and separate self from the world and others simply does not exist - only the experience and illusion of experience exists. I was talking about it with @quoigenicfromhell in DMs since they were interested in talking shop about Buddhism.

To save myself a whole effort of rewriting a discussion on how one can hold together the clear sensation of existing and being an individual with the idea and Buddhist understanding that the "self" does not exist, I'm going to copy a little bit of what I wrote in response to them. If it doesn't make sense cause its in a bit of Buddhist jargon, then oh well, I'm lazy, it's written for an audience that has done some reading and looking into Buddhist thought so RIP yall srry not srry (Thank you Chunn brain lol)

Honestly the development and understanding of holding those two things together (the non-self and non-existence with the clear experience of self and existence) is largely a lot of exploration on the understanding and respect for the experience without applying too much value or regard to said experience. Its kind of a hard thing to understand just based off of words alone and like all things Buddhism, its one of those sorts of things you really gotta sit on and explore in your own mental space, but like

The experience of self and personhood and existence is a denied concept in Buddhist thought, but its not a bad or incorrect thing, the experience of self and existence is kind of considered an inherent expression of life and the world and while its important to be cognicent that it is an illusion that can cause suffering and muddy an individuals ability to see Things As They Are, the experience and illusion of self is additionally an entirely natural thing to experience and is an important part of being able to, well, be

I kinda of personally perceive it kind of similarly to say a part in a system. Innately the part is not (at least in my experiences of systemhood) a literal entire separate being and thats an important thing to acknowledge for a number of reasons (life organization and direction, system accountability, etc) but its would also be incredibly foolish to completely ignore that the part operates, experiences themselves, and lives in the world (both inner and outer) as if they were an individual of their own

In the same sense that a part in a system can be seen both as an individual and a part of a whole / collective depending on what perspective and demands the moment needs. An individual can be seen both as the individual expression of a self informed by the arguably incorrect illusion of isolation OR as a part of the whole worlds expression depending on what serves the moment the best. I largely kind of see myself as part of a system that is the world much like I see my parts as part of a system that is "me". While the self may be an illusion, its not an experience that can be denied and it is an innate expression that in its own right can prove to be a great teacher So you deny the concept of a self but respect and revere the experience and innate natural expression of self

With that context in mind, while we do not believe in the concept of self and find that trying to seek out a concrete idea of a singular person and singular self in society is a source of extreme suffering, stress, and displeasure, we DEEPLY revere and honor the expression of self. As we see it, in a complete ideal and impossible the world would be in perfect harmony if we let the world express itself as it naturally does. We find that the experiences of self - in whatever form they take - are inherent and natural expressions of the world as a whole and to try to shape oneself to fit a specific image - may that be societally imposed or internally / personally imposed or a sense of envy or any sort of clinging or desire to a specific version / image of self - is a disrespect to the innate beauty found in the natural expression and a means of adding disharmony into the world.

As a result, our system and whole aims deeply, above almost all else to exist simply as we naturally would in any moment time to time. If we find that something we are doing with our sense of self is drawn and influenced too much on a "I should" or "I want" or "I wish" or "I hope" then we tend to pause, self reflect, and ask if we are actually existing in our natural state, or are we trying to fight against our natural state of self to fit into a self-imposed idea of what we "should be".

As a result of that, our system deeply values our flexibility, fluidity, and ability to change any aspect of ourselves, any opinion we hold, any identity label we consider, and our overall presentation in all ways and forms to a very high level. The desire to be consistent and predictable serves us little in simply practicing on "being" and finding the true and simply-run life that we want. That then results in why our system so casually flips around in system size, fusions, redivisions, how we refer to ourselves, etc. We find very little value in committing to labels and concepts and do whatever is natural for us.

Additionally, another large aspect of Buddhism our system deeply reveres and appreciates is the acknowledgement that there are "Buddhas" - or in less Jargon terms, potential for everything both internal and external to be teachers and guides into finding a sense of peace and simplicity in the world - and that it is deeply important to cultivating peace, happiness, and insight to actively always be seeking out the "Buddha" in everything and everyone. It's important to reflect, engage with, and talk with those "Buddhas" as they are the best and number one way to gain the insight that brings happiness and peace into life and removes excessive suffering and stress.

As many Buddhists agree (at least of the Mahayanan branches), everyone is inherently a Buddha because the world and everything is a Buddha. The only issue people have is that they can not connect, hear, and see clearly enough to be in that state due to a large number of human conditions - one large one being the aforementioned illusion of self.

Having lived my life as someone with DID and having gone through a lot of trauma therapy, self reflection, communication and coordination with my parts, and all that to the point we have reached functional multiplicity over a year plus ago and been able to hold a fully fused state for over three months, I feel like its a given to say that of ALL things in the world, the "Buddha nature" of my parts have been the best and most insightful teachers I've ever had. We revere each other's strengths and specialties greatly as each of us have taught the other great strengths, great understandings, great insights, and great appreciations that have collectively brought us so much peace and happiness. It's not to say any part is "enlightened" because each part is also deeply flawed and struggling in their own realms, but it is largely by working and talking and supporting one another and ACTIVELY looking to one another for insight and lessons about the world and our existence that we are able to reach a uniquely peaceful space.

For us, its an incredibly important practice - both for self care and in the art / spirituality of Buddhism - to regularly talk and engage with these specialized and uniquely-wise (and uniquely stupid - thank you XIV) parts of ourselves to gain deeper insight and overall understanding of ourselves and our place in the world.

In the same sense, it is why - despite being completely capable of operating as a fully fused whole - we regularly choose to INTENTIONALLY redivide into our parts. And no, its not us "splitting again" or even really throwing up any real level of dissociation / dissociative barriers. If anything, we usually do this through meditation and mindfulness.

It's a Buddhist practice, its not a mental disorder and its not stemming from the same mechanism's DID stems from. It might operate *based* on the foundation our history with DID stems from, but at this point in our healing, the way our system operates at functional multiplicity that is intentionally chosen to be that way AFTER reaching "final fusion" has a number of differences from how it operated before we reached general full integration.

Again, for those more familiar with the tulpa-terminology discussion, you might be able to see where I would have a long post delving into a highly nuanced and more middle-ground perspective of that syscourse from the paragraph above this one, but I'm gonna leave that cause I already know this post is long and it would detract from the purpose.

At this point, my system is mostly an "intentionally created one" to Western label standards. We personally do not see any significance or binary in plural VS singular people beyond it being a label some people identify with and not. Plural VS Singular is a false binary perpetuated in white, western, and european society and while I respect that perspective and view in a space that is primarily filled with white, western, and/or european individuals, I am going to firmly state that and expect you to give me that same respect. (and if you refuse to give me that same respect, then you are close minded and being very white / western lmao <- thank you XIV, again)

And so the other related but slightly different topic away from the more philosophical, esoteric, mysticism sounding topic of Buddhism...

Full Integration, Final Fusion, and Functional Multiplicitly

At this point, what we used to call "Wishiwashi Recovery" we kind of have taken to just calling "full integration" generally as a means of really breaking apart the suggested categorical and boxed binary of "final fusion" and "functional multiplicity" as our own experience and discussion with other systems at and near full integration have made us realize that the difference between functional multiplicity and final fusion is FAR more a spectrum than it is two seperate categories. Some systems stick to one end, some to the others, but the largest difference is in external and internal expression of the parts and less any fundamental or biological / clinical difference; at least not in terms of integration. (Note: Integration =/= Fusion; Integration is the general connectivity and accessibility of parts with less / limited / no dissociation)

It's a false binary to say Final Fusion or Functional Multiplicity and its why a lot of the "ones bad and ones good" syscourse is dumb. They're two heads of the same Doduo and they should be kissing. (JOKING, thank you Riku-Aya brain)

With that said, our system, as we've made clear, regularly and freely practices sliding and flying all over that spectrum as just how we like to engage with ourselves. We change between the two as we see fit and having spent probably like 9~ months in functional multiplicity and 3~ months in final fusion I wanted to share some pros and cons of both sides.

I would also like to put a disclaimer that this isn't meant to be "positives and why this side sucks" as much as it is the differences in life style according to our opinion and our experience. Both final fusion and functional multiplicity are absolutely WONDERFUL things overall and we love both states. If we got "stuck" in either, we would still be immensely happy. The purpose of this part is just to share certain differences in how we experience the two different ends. The Cons in these case are only "cons" relative to the "alternative" and not "to not ever reaching either"

Functional Multiplicity Pros:

A lot more clear and direct communication between parts internally that allows for a SHIT ton of internal banter, productive conversation about complex topic and perspectives from unique and diverse perspectives; the communication is a lot more intentional and a lot more in focus so its easier to properly sit and attend to the complex differences and sometimes conflicting directions

It's honestly just a lot of fun, not gonna lie. A lot more dramatic and extravagant expression + brain friends in a more overt sense

Easier to let certain parts of the brain take "breaks" - it's not the same as it is with not-fully-integrated DID but compared to Full Fusion, certain parts of the brain can "tune out" easier than not

More palatable to DID / OSDD spaces online

Easier to focus and use a wide variety of skills, interests, hobbies, and thinking patterns by simply just having a specialist part take their look at it

Generally easier to target specific boxes to look into as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated

Final Fusion Pros:

Quick and a lot more inherent understanding of all parts on a general gut level without necessarily needing to fully think about everything and listen to every opinion and perspective; there is a lot more of an inherent understanding, trust, and awareness of the collective whole which makes decision making and seeing whats good for the system as a whole a lot easier

It's honestly way more calming, relaxing, and solid feeling. There is a unique sense of confidence, understanding, and trust within yourself and you have a HUGE arsenal of skills and interests that come from the combined parts that you've lived as

You are a lot more present and aware of your life and you actually get to live YOUR life and have all parts of yourself be engaged in life; no part feels really left behind or is caught off guard from having their brain partially turned off. The awareness is really present and engagement is so much more complete.

More palatable in real life and non-DID/OSDD spaces

Easier to simultaneously use skills from multiple parts at once; very much a jack of all trades all at once situation

Generally easier to integrate multiple complex and otherwise seemingly detatched boxes of memory and the past as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated

Functional Multiplicity Cons:

Takes more intention, focus, and often time to get the same level of full understanding of the whole system when making decisions. It can be slow and it requires a lot more internal engagement which can make it harder to be fully present in life

Sometimes you can get what I call "lite" amnesia where a part was not paying attention and doesn't fully process what was going on / what is going on and so sometimes you get poor attention-driven "amnesia". It's small and easily recovered by simply going "hold up wait" and thinking back or asking another part

Harder to use skills from different parts at the same time; albeit definitely still possible and only "harder" relative to final fusion

Generally harder / requires intentional discussion between parts to integrate multiple complex boxes as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated

Final Fusion Cons:

Less direct and overt bantering and discussion between parts (still present by the way, just less frequent and less overt). It can be a little less fun (still is fun cause they are sill there) and it can be a bit harder to fully see the extent of a more extreme perspective

It can be tiring and overwhelming to be aware and present so much for so long if you were accustomed to the breaks DID / OSDD tends to give parts

Easier to forget to use a lot of the skills and hobbies that may have been more niche to less-dominant and less-prominent parts; you don't "loose" the skills, you just aren't accustomed to using them as much so you can just kinda forget to use them

Harder to focus on a targetted recovered memory / information that you want to process and can sometimes be a bit overwhelming trying to connect a number of things at once

And this is all just to say that both are absolutely astonishing and great places to mentally be. The main point is that - for us - sometimes one state works better for us in the moment and another state works better for us later and that's completely cool cause - as aforementioned - the difference between plural vs singular is not a binary one for us anyways.

Anyways, I don't know how to wrap this up so I'mma just post it

Ideally today we will focus on cultivating our independent parts and return to Functional Multiplicity end of the spectrum so I guess tata for now

-Feathers

EDIT and PS: Anyone is allowed to add their thoughts to this so long it is in good faith.

#feathers speaks #functional mulitplicity #final fusion #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder #syscourse #syscourse tw #tulpacourse #tulpacourse tw #full integration #buddhism #long post

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waytootiredforthistoo · 3 months ago

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On The Grammys (AOTY)

I've had this conversation probably 6 times this week already, and I'm going to try to get my thoughts down in one coherent place so that I can start just pointing back to this instead of yapping endlessly again.

I think more people need to be cognizant of how racism and classism play a role in how they talk about the AOTY results from this year. I wanna be clear about my bias from the start, I'm a Swiftie through and through, Fearless was literally the first album I was ever allowed to buy on my own. I loved Tortured Poets, and I still think Beyonce's win on Sunday makes sense.

I'm not going to try and convince anyone that her album was better than your fav's, and if your whole argument is "I love ___'s album so much! I think it was the best album of all time!" Then I love your enthusiasm, and I want to hear all about why you love it! Pop off! But if your thought process revolves around thoughts like "Beyonce just isn't that popular," or "people didn't really listen to Cowboy Carter like that," or "A country album? As AOTY?" Then I'd like to invite you to take just a minute to consider how racism and classism might play a hidden role in how you got to those conclusions.

(more below the cut)

I'll start with the classism bc I feel like that will somehow be the most controversial, but also the most straight forward. Cowboy Carter is a country album. Full stop. Country. Album. If you look at literally the first song on the album she explicitly talks about how hard she has had to work to have this album perceived as country. "Used to say I spoke too country, and the rejection came. Said I wasn't country 'nough. Said I wouldn't saddle up, but if that ain't country, tell me what is? Plant my bare feet on solid ground for years. They don't know how hard I had to fight for this." Beyonce is from Houston, Texas. She is southern, and she is, in this album, writing country music. Since 1969, 5 other country albums have won AOTY. A lot of people have large prejudice against country music and a lot of the time it's just thinly veiled classism.

I am literally from the deep south, but every day I get on the internet and people act like I'm supposed to be embarrassed by my love of country music (quite frankly, it happens a lot irl too). For some reason, the only acceptable verbiage to praise country is "I hate country... well, obviously except Dolly. And oh, I like Kacey Musgraves," or "actually Taylor was better when she still did country," and this or that and on and on and at what point can you just admit that you might like the genre? That maybe every single song doesn't tickle your fancy, but that maybe that's true of every single genre ever, and that maybe you shouldn't make a blanket statement of hatred about someone else's deep rooted cultural tradition! I know we're poor! I know we're not always the most educated! I know we make bad decisions sometimes! But why does that empower people to say that our cultural traditions and music are uniquely bad and mockable? Why does the poorness of our music, the instruments we traditionally had available to us, the themes that are relevant in country music make it fair game for you to make fun of to my face?

I think, perhaps, it is the world's hottest take to imply that Beyonce of all people could possibly be subjected to classism, the irony is not lost on me, but I still think it's true! I think people have a distinct prejudice against country music that is almost always based in classism and ignorance on their part (I have never had a person who 'hates all country music' be able to tell me any songs/artists they've actually listened to that solidify that hate. They can only name major artists with recent scandals, songs that got too annoyingly popular on the radio- as if that is a country specific problem, or their slew of exceptions, the good country songs).

Also, if your argument is that you don't think this was a country album because a black person wrote it I need you to fuck all the way off bc that's straight racism and you are not who I'm trying to reach with this post.

On to my second main point, which is one I hear a lot. It has to do with the alleged popularity of Cowboy Carter, especially as it relates to the other albums nominated. If you think Beyonce's album wasn't popular because it wasn't playing in the spaces you were in or around the people you hang out with, I invite you to take a second and think about who and where those people and places were. I so sincerely do not mean this as any kind of indictment on anyone, but demographic studies have shown numbers like 76% of Black Americans being Beyonce fans. Do you hang out with Black Americans? Black people? Americans? It's not shocking that her biggest demographic is the one she comes from. It's not shocking that if you're not spending your time in spaces with people who like her, that you would hear less of her music. (to be clear, every racial demographic in America polls at over 50% Beyonce fans, but I am aware than generally in other countries her biggest audiences are often black women).

SNL did a skit about this literally 8 years ago. It's called "The Day Beyonce Turned Black" and it's obviously goofy, but it really highlights my point here. Beyonce had just put out Formation, which had a lot of overt references to her blackness, and white people lost their shit about it. If you don't remember the skit, it birthed this reaction image, which you've probably seen:

If you find the concept of Beyonce winning AOTY genuinely unfathomable, I invite you to consider the possibility that maybe it just wasn't for you, but that doesn't mean that it also wasn't for millions of other people. If you don't know anyone who listened to Cowboy Carter then I'd say maybe look at who might be missing in your friend group demographics because the album had a billion streams, so clearly it's hitting with somebody.

Another thing point worth mentioning bc it has come up a shocking amount to me, is that if you are one of the people who genuinely believes this win must have been part of some kind of conspiracy, but you also haven't even listened to the whole album then that's maybe also worth taking into account! Is it possible that Cowboy Carter would have been your favorite album this year too if you gave it a proper chance? Is it possible that the Grammy voters were simply making a more informed decision than you were?

Again, I just want to say that I don't want to tell you that you have to also believe that Cowboy Carter deserved Album of the Year, and not liking Beyonce doesn't make someone a racist/ classist. I just want people to be mindful of how quickly the rhetoric we use around our favs can backslide into some pretty nasty prejudices if we're not keeping an eye on our blind spots. (Hell, I'm sure I have plenty of blind spots of my own in this post, and I welcome any other thoughts/ critiques/ perspectives/ questions)

#the grammys #aoty #album of the year #beyonce #taylor swift #sabrina carpenter #billie eilish #this was a very long post #that's my bad #but I'm happy to clarify any of my points if they're not clear!#I promise this isn't directed at any one person #I've just had this conversation approx. 8000 times this week #and it's making me upset #if it doesn't apply let it fly

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honeyhotteoks · 3 months ago

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hi,

i recently saw a tiktok about like fanfic. i’m not sure if you have seen the trend where it goes like “when x does something” vs. “when y does something” where x is okay and y is not.

basically it was about how reading fanfiction about characters is okay but when it is about like real people it is weird. and everyone in the comments was like “that’s so weird” and other comments that weren’t so nice. like some were dissing x reader inserts as well and i was baffled likeee…

i’ve read fanfiction for years and i have never seen so much discourse about it being wrong until kpop and i never understood it. i wanted to hear your thoughts on it as a fanfiction writer. (although i am one too, you’ve been writing for a lot longer than i have)

— 🪻 anon

oh great question and i’d absolutely love to answer it.

so for context i have been involved in fandom spaces since i was a kid, i was reading fanfiction probably as young as eight or nine (not necessarily smutty fic, ofc, but like my little fandom brain needed to know what fanficition.net had to say about spyro the dragon even before i understood what fandom or fan works were). for many, many years i read and wrote only fanfic based on already fictional works, and i genuinely thought rpf (real person fiction) was weird. i use to be one of those people that would have been in those comments saying it was weird like i had some kind of moral superiority about it.

i say all that so that everyone understands where i’m coming from when i answer this question, but just as a note up top…… this conversation has been around for YEARS. i think it’s gotten worse in recent years because we’re having a very strange moral backslide globally and conversations about sex and sexuality have gotten even more conservative and laden with shame. it’s no surprise to me we’re seeing it heavily in the kpop space that has a lot of young fans, passionate fans, and parasocially committed fans. but the tension between rpf and non-rpf has been around for a while for sure.

kpop fanfiction changed my mind about writing rpf, but that being said i still have some personal boundaries about rpf as a genre in general. kpop is an interesting fandom to be involved in for so many reasons, but one of the reasons that i think i started to break down some of those internalized reservations about rpf is because of how clearly manufactured the parasocial elements of kpop are. there’s no other fandom experience in the world (that i am aware of) where famous celebrities do not have romantic partners intentionally, actively treat fans like romantic partners, have apps to text those fans with a y/n feature, and do literal relationship fan service. the culture of kpop in general fosters this level of parasocial connection that as a writer, i perceive as almost a stage play. basically what i mean by that is that the nature of the industry pushes a romantic real-person storyline for fans to either self insert into or ship members, and not only do i think the industry is aware of fanfiction, i think it benefits from it.

when i write RPF about kpop boys….. i’m writing about their characters that we’re allowed to see. i know we speculate and we have fun etc., but at this point I consider ateez and yunho for me in particular more like writing muses to play around with romance novel scenarios. I could easily sub out yunho’s name in across stardust and swap it out of second person and have a totally agnostic novel about a girl and a celebrity.

that being said, rpf still sometimes makes me uncomfortable in other scenarios. i’m not saying that i’m right or wrong in this, but i just don’t feel as comfortable reading rpf of like…… idk tom holland and zendaya let’s say, where they are a cute public couple but the industries and the fan relationships are completely different. again, that’s purely a personal preference, but just an example of what feels good and doesn’t feel as good to me as a writer and reader. that is not at all to say those readers and writers and doing anything wrong, i don’t think they are and would defend them, but it’s where my personal preferences with rpf lie.

the other thing i’ll say is this….. a lot of people have a problem with rpf for a few big reasons, and i just want to dig into those below -

the real person didn’t consent to this - I understand that, but I think this is a bit of a flawed argument when it comes to fanfiction. While I do believe RPF should never, ever be shared with the person being written about because that to me crosses boundary lines, I think the consent conversation is faulty logic. Firstly, if a famous person (or any person) needed to consent to be fantasized about romantically, platonically, sexually, etc. we’re very quickly running into weird thought-crime territory and I have a distinct problem with this. People have fantasized about people forever, that’s how romance and sexuality works, and there’s truly nothing wrong with that. I mean that truly in all senses of the word too, I don’t care of people dream about marrying someone or getting railed by someone, it’s their internal thoughts and that’s not my business. The line cross comes when those fantasies get pushed into the famous person’s real life. I am not at all okay with sexually explicit signs at concerts, sending fanfic to idols, or pushing them to do more ‘shipping�� content. THAT is where the parasocial lines blur and to me that tells me the person engaging in that content is not mature enough to understand fiction vs. reality. Muddling that with the argument that famous people need to ‘consent’ to being sexualized or written about is an oversimplification and frankly, pretty puritanical. People crossing those lines, to me anyways, are proving that they do not see the idols as people, they see them as objects. Whereas a lot of writers and artists, myself included, see them as people presenting a character and I am happy to keep my delulu fun with those characters fully separate and divorced from any interactions i may ever have with them as a real people.

shipping is wrong! you can’t assume their sexuality! - I know I write m/f rpf mostly, but you’ve seen m/m pairings in my work and i also love to read a quality m/m fic from time to time. I don’t write shipping fic because it’s not really in my arsenal to do that, I prefer writing female POVs, but I have absolutely no problem with that as a genre. People do though, and often it’s coming from a deep place of internalized homophobia. What I would say to this is…. one, why are you assuming someone’s sexuality is straight as the default? Two, while some rpf shippers are “truthers” who take it a bit too far and think that idols are actually coupled up….. most of the time these are people just writing a gay relationship. In the same way that my fic could be swapped out into a romcom, so could theirs if you changed the names. It’s truly not that serious. If you’re the type of person who can’t separate the characters of woosan or matz from the actual people, I would argue again that this is a maturity problem, if not a more insidious morality problem rooted in homophobia.

shipping yourself with a famous person is gross and weird! you must be a crazy fan/sad loser! - Yeah, no. Once again, if you’re able to separate person and character, then all you’re doing is writing imaginary scenarios with a character. Self insert as a genre is more just the flexibility to write second person present tense to me rather than coming up with an entire rich character with a name every time - it lends itself to quick scenarios, flexible readership, and feels better than writing “I” all the time. While yeah, some fans take things too far as they always do, this is the exception and not the rule. As far as if that means we’re ‘crazy fans’ or ‘sad losers’…….. I think you’ll find the crazy fans are the ones acting without boundaries at barricade or at fansigns, not the quiet writers playing in lovely little scenarios. I’ve never once had a fancall with Yunho, and I’m not sure if I would even be comfortable doing so after writing him as a character after all this time. Comparing that to the rabid serial fancall problem where I see fans saying things like “you don’t understand, he knows me” ….. I think I’ll stick on the side of rpf fiction versus that line cross every time.

The last thing I’ll say is this……….. look around in fandoms, particularly those creating works in fandom spaces like art, fiction, etc. and you will find a sea of neurodivergent people. Anecdotally, you’ll also find so many people dealing with things like depression, anxiety, traumatic events or childhoods, etc. Of course that’s not a rule by any means, and this is entirely based on my personal experience in fandoms over the years, but what I think is important to emphasize here is that a lot of people who fall into those buckets explore their internal selves through character and through creative expression. I think it’s important as people to stop labeling people as “weird” when they are doing something different to you, and start leading with empathy and curiosity.

I could talk for hours about unpacking trauma through the romance genre, or exploring sexuality in safe spaces through shipping, or even just learning how to write using characters in existing spaces……. but that’s probably best for another post if people are interested. At the end of the day, my take on RPF is that it’s no different to other forms of fanfiction, especially within a space as parasocial and crafted as kpop. People are free to disagree with me, just as they are free to scroll and not engage with my content, but to me there’s nothing inherently ‘wrong’ or shameful about it. And in my experience, people who need to shame others for their preferences in fandom often have a lot of internal shame they’ve yet to unpack.

#answered anon #🪻 anon

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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WIBTA if I restart an argument with a friend?

🌊⚓ <- so I can search for it.

So, a while ago, a friend was over and we talked. She is from South Germany while I am from North Germany, where we are both living (this'll be important in a sec).

I don't really remember why we were talking about the topic, but we started talking about regional dialects and sayings and then she called Low German* a dialect. Which tldr: big no-no. But I don't think she was being malicious, she just didn't know about the topic at all.

So naturally I explained: "You absolutely cannot call Low German a dialect to peoples faces around here. People will take offense to it. I don't really, because I consider the difference between dialect and language is arbitrary to begin with. But you will provoke incredibly unkind reactions from other people."

Her response was "Yeah but like. Doesn't everyone think their own dialect should be a language."

And... Idk why that one hurt but it did. It just felt incredibly dismissive. And I didn't really know how to respond other than "but this is the one case where it is true" which felt weird so I just. Didn't. We kinda moved on to other topics. But in hindsight, I really wish I hadn't?

Because I wish I had explained it in depth to her so she understands why what she said is considered unacceptable. But also for her own sake, because she will piss people off if she says the same thing to other people. And honestly for my sake so I can make peace with the conversation.

So I'm considering either finding a way to restart the argument/ conversation when we are together or go the cowardly route and send her a couple screenshots explaining the topic. But I also feel like restarting a fight we never really had and really doesn't matter is kind of a dick move.

Additionally I tend to be a person that corrects people when they are wrong and starts discussion way too much. Because in my family academic debates are a love language.** So I tend to reaaaaaally overestimate the amount of debating/ arguing people are comfortable with. They tend to perceive me as being upset with them while I am just having fun hashing out a topic from different angles.

So Tumblr. WIBTA?

Footnotes

* Low German is the regional language of North Germany. The definition of North Germany is actually pretty much "wherever they are speaking Low German". There is some controversy if Low German is a dialect or a language. Which like... People often describe it as closer to Dutch and English than Standard German, it's a recognised language in every state it is spoken in, it is recognized as a regional language in the fucking European Union WHY is it still controversial.

It is also very much an endangered language because in the past decades especially it has been looked down on as being "lower class". No that's not where the name comes from, low german is spoken where the terrain is flat/ low and high/ upper german is spoken where the mountains are. This attitude towards Low German is shifting a lot recently but it is entirely possible it's too late to prevent it from dying out.

** I felt like this part needed some clarification too. I can't count how many dinners in my childhood were spent eating while getting into the meat of whatever topic caught our attention. Politics or science or more spiritual stuff. Ask questions about things we were wondering about. Absolutely tear into each other when we had opposing positions, but concede when we were convinced. Oftentimes I'd get up to grab pen and paper, or demonstrate orbital dynamics with the jam container, a bowl and my plate, or use the butter as an impromptu drawing board.

But that doesn't mean we were fighting in the normal sense even if someone got upset occasionally. It was really just communicating with one another. It was connecting. Exercising our debate skills. Play-fighting but make it academia. It was genuinely fun to us and still is. An alternative outlet for sibling rivalry. There is no need to fight over the TV remote when you can just reason it out together.

So yeah. That's how academic debates can be a love language (and simultaneously absolutely destroy your conception of what is considered arguing).

#aita #am i the asshole

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transfemme-shelterdog · 4 months ago

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More transandrophobia experiences:

Had an ex-friend repeatedly talk us having kids in detail, how dating/having sex with him would fix me and he was told in a vision that he had to marry and "nurture" me (when I was in the middle of a panic attack) or I was going to hell. When I finally cut him off, he spent a few weeks wait in the common room outside my dorm. Eventually he left me alone.

My ex-partner's friends were just generally rude to me. Once when she wasn't around, they carried on about how much they hate men and how all men should die etc. When I asked them to maybe not have that conversation in front of me, on account of me being a man, they said "oh well, you don't really count!" and I was on my last nerves with them so I said "so you don't consider me a man then? You're just misgendering me now?" to which they said if I wanted to me a man that badly, sure, I should die too, I should kill myself like every other man. That was the worst of a number of little comments.

This ex-partner herself was abusive, routinely very infantilizing, comparing me to a little kid, etc. At one point (this was a non-sexual qpp, both of us open to date others) when I offered for us to watch a show together I thought she'd like since we hadn't spent much time together recently, she said she'd rather go to her boyfriend's place, "since he actually has a dick."

(I am not in contact with any of these people anymore btw!! I have much better friends now!!)

My oldest sister called me "it" and "that thing" for about a year, and asked me why I would want to be disgusting and hairy and sweaty all the time, along with number of other rude comments and still constantly reminds me that I don't "look like a man" and she's "just saying it for your own good. So you're aware of how other people perceive you" as if I don't know????? The first thing she said when I came out was "does this mean you're a lesbian now?" My mom started snapping at me if I got upset about misgendering or rude comments, told me if I wanted to be a boy then I wasn't allowed to get upset about things like that because it was my own fault. They've both improved (and now deny saying any of those things, conveniently).

One of my professors told me I'd never be able to play anything more than a little boy on stage without years of hormones and surgery, so I really shouldn't bother with theatre. She was also caught specifically saying she only wanted one trans guy in the musical theatre department so she could work with someone who's on T to see what their voice was like (she got fired! For a number of reasons, discrimination included). I had a classmate who, before coming out as nb, was super careful about being respectful to me. After coming out? Got drunk and said "all men should die" and when I said "maybe just the shitty ones" (trying to at least soften the statement) they leaned in and said "all men are shit, and you're a shitty man too." They had also previously rubbed their finger on my tongue with no warning or anything. Not necessarily connected to me being transmasc, but wildly uncomfortable.

Work-related: one supervisor who would go out of her way to misgender me (young lady was most common) and misspell my name (differently. on every schedule). Some other older coworkers (middle-aged cishet women) also going out of their way to ask which bathroom I use, if I'm getting "those surgeries" (with a disgusted fascination sort of tone), if I want to get pregnant/"be a mother", if I had been assaulted, if I want a penis, etc. All while on the clock!

#transandrophobia #ta testimony

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beautifulpersonpeach · 4 months ago

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Hi BPP,

You don't wind any bows around your opinions. Can't say I hate that even if I myself would never dare be so self assured.

The way you answered this ask:

https://www.tumblr.com/beautifulpersonpeach/769438426516815872/bpp-i-was-having-a-conversation-with-a-friend-the?source=share

Please. You cannot say Namjoon's weakness is being 'morally gray' and just bolt. I need more because I am intrigued what you mean by this, how you came to hold this opinion. I hope you get a chance to see his RPWP film because it might aid your assessment.

Also, Yoongi big dick? Metaphorically, you mean, right?

Ask 2:

You're back!!! I was already worried you might have left tumblr, I'm glad you didn't. I always appreciate your take on different matters even though I do not always agree with you.

You said in one of your answers you see Namjoon as morally grey and that being on of his weaknesses. Would you mind elaborating why you see him like that and why you think it's a weakness? I think it's a very interesting way to perceive him.

Ask 3:

Hi happy new year Peach!

I was going through your recent posts and saw you said Rm's weakness is morally grey. That intrigued me. Isn't Rm your bias? Why do you think he's not a good person?

Can you explain this pls?

Thx!

***

Hi Anon(s),

Your link, Anon in ask 1.

Yeah, I don't think Namjoon is a good person. He's my bias and I like him but I thought this was obvious.

Granted, I don't think he's a bad or evil person either. 'Good or bad' aren't typically how I think about people anyway since most of us have had to make difficult choices at some point and generally act in our own self interest pondering moral considerations only after the fact. Joon appears to be self-aware that he's sometimes the asshole with the capacity to be much worse and that he's primarily motivated by his own personal objectives, rather than any clear creed or theology on right and wrong.

And let's be real, nobody gets to the top of an industry as morally bankrupt as the k-pop industry without being a bit of a freak. Namjoon is the leader of BTS and by virtue of his position has the closest working and personal relationship with Bang Sihyuk. K-pop is a blood sport especially at the highest levels, the men at the helm of this machine maintain a system that is sadistic, unrelenting, inhumane, absolutely ruthless - and it takes a certain kind of disposition to stick your hands into this dogfight pit of madness and take away only the things that serve you.

That's who Kim Namjoon is. In my opinion.

I'm probably telling on myself a bit here, but to be morally grey isn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact I see it as a strength for some kinds of people. The reason I see Joon's moral ambiguity as a weakness is perhaps ironically, because of the power and influence he wields as RM of BTS.

Because it shows the gap between his ability and his ambition.

Because the fact is he could be, should be, wrecking more havoc on this mad house. It's not like he gives a fuck about the old cronies skimming the cream off the top or about the junior nugu idols who are trying out this industry as one of several potential career paths or about the lunatics who call themselves k-pop stans. Namjoon is one of the few idols who commands outsized power in an industry that is long overdue for cataclysmic disruption. Unlike Yoongi who frequently (but privately) grapples with the existential implications for not just himself/BTS but also for random idols as a result of his actions, Joon has no such constraints. Not to say Namjoon never reflects on the moral implications of his actions or considers what happens to other people, but that it's not a preoccupation for him. At least not to the degree it appears to be for Yoongi. Again in my opinion. His nature, as I see it, is one that allows for him to fuck it all up if he actually wants to, the moral fallout be damned.

He chooses not to because doing that doesn't particularly benefit him at this time. Rather, he's put no effort into seeing how it would benefit him.

And that's a damn shame.

#happy new year to you too!#And I'm not going to dignify that quip about Yoongi's magnificent dong with a reply #look up the lyrics of Beyonce's Ego then apply it to Min Yoongi's cock #I'm yet to see his RPWP film though and you're right it could inform my view on Joon so I'll get on that soon #Thanks for mentioning it #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #bts rm #bts

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dhwty-writes · 8 months ago

Text

Assumptions, Innocently Made

It's been three years but I am back with a fic! This is a two parter with the second part almost done that will hopefully stay this way. Please enjoy your fake dating!

Summary: Essek's mother worngfully assumes that her son and the wizard of the Mighty Nein and recently proclaimed Hero of the Dynasty are more than what they appear to be. After inviting both of them to a ball, Essek must ask Caleb to indulge the Umavi's misunderstanding for all three of them to avoid losing face.

Warnings: none

Read on Ao3

Hovering in Caleb's room, wringing his hands, Essek Thelyss did not look any less out of place than the first times he had deigned to enter the Xhorhaus. His perpetual smile was replaced by an anxious expression that did not seem to befit his otherwise composed appearance.

Exactly fifteen minutes and forty-two seconds had passed since Caleb had bid the Shadowhand enter, over ten of which have been spent in Caleb’s room with Essek evidently trying to gather his courage and his words. All of Caleb’s attempts at conversation – offering refreshments, asking how he might help – had been rebuffed so far, so he figured he might as well wait.

“There has been... an assumption,” the Shadowhand finally managed.

“An assumption,” Caleb echoed. He had no clue what to do with that information.

“And a misunderstanding.” Essek’s brow furrowed even deeper.

“I'm afraid I do not follow.”

Essek Thelyss sighed as if this whole ordeal was a terrible imposition on him. Which it probably was. “It appears as if the first time I entered this abode it had been perceived by another member of Den Thelyss. Who in turn took it upon themself to report your… display to the Umavi.”

Caleb frowned, still not completely sure if he understood. His time in Xhorhas had been characterized by rapid departures and daring missions and had not left much time for studying this society they now apparently lived in. As such, his grasp on the intricate workings of the upper echelons of Kryn society remained rather loose, although he understood that the Umavi were not to be trifled with.

Essek continued: “After that first interaction, we have been watched closely and… an assumption has been made that we are much more closely entangled than we actually are.” For the first time since Essek had come to him, he looked Caleb in the eye with a sneer of contempt and annoyance. “It has been... suggested that you accompany me to the Umavi's ball to celebrate the homecoming of her younger son.”

“I see,” Caleb said although he very much did not see. “And I suppose that is not the kind of suggestion one can refuse?”

Essek looked genuinely taken aback at that. “Certainly not.”

“Well, I suppose there is no harm in that”, Caleb said with a shrug, although the very thought of it made his insides crawl. “I will come with you, and we shall clear this up. Nothing to worry about, friend.”

“And embarrass the Umavi in front of her whole court?” A pained expression passed Essek's face. “I think not. It is much safer to claim we broke this off after this occasion.”

“You said we were followed, yes? But the only times we met were in public or when you teleported us across the continent. How many people can truly believe that we are… entangled?” “Were wizards”, Essek replied as if that explained everything. And for one such as Essek Thelyss it probably did. Caleb supposed the Shadowhand would have no issue in teleporting to the Xhorhaus without any of the Nein being able to prevent him from doing so. Or Caleb's room for that matter. Awkwardly, Caleb coughed and dearly wished for his beard to hide the flush coloring his cheeks.

“Besides, it does not matter what people believe,” Essek continued. “The only thing that matters is what the Umavi believes. And the Umavi believes that I have been hiding a relationship from her.”

Caleb considered this for a moment. While there were many things that he could think of that he would rather be doing than spend an evening in Kryn high society with only Essek Thelyss at his side, the man in question seemed genuinely quite perturbed by the thought. It seemed only right to try and help him seek a way out of this situation. “I could go on a mission and not return in time,” he suggested. “Or I could pretend I fell sick on the day of the event.”

“The first would be a terrible insult to Den and Umavi alike and in case of the second, clerics would be queueing in front of your house to relieve you of your ailment.” Essek sighed and passed a hand through his perfectly styled hair, liberating one strand that now stood up at an odd angle. He muttered something under his breath and before Caleb could inquire, he continued louder. “I do not know what I was attempting here, but I am afraid I do not see a way out of this situation without insulting the Umavi and ruining your reputation. So, I would be much obliged if you could do me this favor... and take one off the list you and your group owe me.”

“What about your reputation?” Caleb couldn’t help but ask.

“Let that be of no concern of yours.”

“I will do you this favor,” he quickly agreed, hoping he had not angered the Shadowhand beyond measure. “I am happy to be of assistance to a friend. It is only that you seem rather bothered by the idea.”

“I will manage,” Essek snapped. And that seemed to be that.

Caleb politely waited for Essek to speak again but when the silence stretched too long, he quietly cleared his throat. “What will be expected of me?”

“Well, in this case I am glad to say that I happen to be a rather solitary creature. Bringing another soul with me will already raise enough eyebrows, never mind public displays of affection.” Essek winced and Caleb couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at that. “You need do nothing more than hold my hand. There will be enough drink and food and music available to divert you, and you will likely not lack in conversational partners as half the Den will jump at the chance to thank one of the heroes of the dynasty.”

“Conversation, yes? And here I thought you only required me to look pretty.”

“That too,” Essek said, apparently having missed the joke entirely. “I will forward you some books you might peruse with regards to Kryn etiquette, as well as the address if my tailor, if you are amenable.” “Yes Essek,” Caleb said kindly, “I am amenable.” He did not dare say that he likely couldn’t afford the services of the tailor that usually dressed the Shadowhand; he would find a solution to that when the time came. At least the books should prove to be useful.

It was not long after that that Essek excused himself and Caleb was left with the insurmountable task of telling the Mighty Nein of what had transpired. The recollection of the events was accompanied by much shrieking and hollering that Caleb was glad Essek did not have to suffer, although it did end in the rather conscientious act of Beauregard cornering him later and asking with real concern: “Are you alright?”

Caleb shrugged. “I will be. It is a favor for a friend, ja?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. But it is a pretty big ask to essentially pretend to be someone’s boyfriend. Especially if you have a crush on that guy.”

He bristled at that. “I do not have a crush on Essek Thelyss,” he insisted perhaps a bit too loudly because next he knew he heard Jester cooing from one room over:

“Cay-leb, it is alright if you are in love with Essek, he is like super hot!”

‘I do not even trust him yet,’ he thought but did not dare say out loud, lest he be harassed by Jester. “I’ll be fine,” he ground out and beat a tactical retreat to his room.

The distance and the wall between them allowed him to ignore Beauregard sedulously: “Yeah man, it’s whatever! I just wanted to offer you to talk!”

The next morning, there was a knock on the door as they all ate breakfast. After they all shouted for the visitor to come in and they didn’t, it was Caduceus who went to great them. When he returned, it was with a confused expression on his face and a stack of books under his arm. “There were some books floating outside the door. I think they’re for you, Caleb?”

Absentmindedly Caleb nodded as he took hold of the books, silently wondering if Essek was nearby or if he had somehow managed to relieve himself of the range restrictions that usually came with the Unseen Servant spell. When he finally concluded that he would never ask but instead try and see if he couldn’t find a work-around himself, he was already surrounded by the rest of the Mighty Nein, who were attempting to see what it was that he had received.

With a sigh he spread the books out for them to peruse while he dug around in his component pouch for a pinch of soot and salt and began flipping through his spellbook.

“That’s not fair, I can’t read any of that!” Jester complained the same instant that Beauregard shouted, “Sick, they’re all in Undercommon! Hey, can I borrow one of those? I really need to practice.” There was no way Caleb would be able to concentrate like this.

Without a word, he pushed back his chair, eliciting shouts from various members of the Nein and announced: “I’ll be in the library to read. Any of you are welcome to join so long as you are quiet.”

In the end, Beauregard indeed did join him but not before she had caused quite a ruckus in the training room. When she entered the library sweaty with a “’sup” and plopped down on a chair opposite of Caleb he leveled her with a detached glare. When she then deigned to make grabby hands for one of the books, his glare grew even more unimpressed.

Only by virtue of being loans from one Essek Thelyss were the books saved from being thrown at Beauregard’s head. Instead, he calmly handed her one of the slimmer tomes via his Mage Hand.

She assumed a position in the chair that Caleb refused to believe was comfortable and began skimming the table of contents. As soon as she appeared to be done, supposedly already bored, she interrupted him for the second time since entering the room: “So how’s the study sesh been so far?” she asked with a yawn.

“Not as quiet as I hoped,” he grumbled. On the other hand, when was time spent with the Mighty Nein ever?

“Hah!” Beauregard laughed at that and looked at the book again. “Man, this shit looks complicated. There’s an entire chapter about hair ties. And another about buttons and cufflinks. Shit and I thought empire rich folk were obnoxious.”

Caleb sighed. He couldn’t say that he didn’t agree. In his time under Ikithon’s tutelage he had received a modicum of training as to how to behave in high society and even though his training had been rudimentary, he could not recall it being even remotely as complicated as what he was dealing with now.

Since this morning, he had made it only halfway through one of the books and despite his perfect memory, his mind was swimming with the exact angle at which one had to bow as well as greetings and different forms of address that seemed to have repercussions on the use of a language he didn’t speak. He could only hope that a casting of Tongues would equip him with the ability to not make a total fool of himself. And that he would have enough spell slots for the entirety of the ball.

The next days were spent like this: Caleb and Beauregard retreated to the library where they would spend their time perusing the books Essek had sent, occasionally debating their contents. They would be left in relative peace from the rest of the Mighty Nein, except for Caduceus poking in his head to ask if they were hungry or thirsty or the usual cracks and bangs that their friends caused. While most of them sounded concerning, Caleb was called only once to cast Control Flames on a misfired Fluffernutter that threatened to set their pantry aflame. What those materials had been even doing close to the kitchen, Caleb thought better not to ask.

Occasionally, he would receive a Sending from Essek, requesting this or that or reminding him of something he had previously forgotten. Caleb acquiesced his every wish and in turn asked Jester more than once to send a message back to Essek to clarify something. While Essek’s books spoke a great deal about the hairstyles of different dens, what about people without dens? Caleb insisted that he could just wear his customary ponytail, Jester insisted that he wouldn’t fit in. Essek assured him that any hairstyle was fine, as long as he didn’t mirror any style from a prominent Den. Caleb asked about the right color of clothing – anything but white – and the need for gifts – Essek would take care of that – as well as if he should wear his token of the Bright Queen – absolutely, if he wanted to be taken seriously. Despite his previously prickly demeanor when dealing with them, Essek remained ever patient in face of the constant probing.

He and Beau did not read every day. One day, Caleb cast Tongues on himself and attempted to hold a conversation with individuals of different stations. They came to the conclusion that while the spell was able to inflect the words correctly, it only did so if the titles were spoken in the original Undercommon. So, the next day was spent trying to teach Caleb the correct pronunciation so the spell would pick up on his intention.

One of the books was entirely about ballroom dances that were currently fashionable in the Dynasty. After quite a lot of ridicule at his attempts, Beauregard finally volunteered herself to help him. The upside of that was that Beauregard was trained enough to pose as a suitable dance partner. The downside was that they had to move to the training room for that and soon attracted an audience.

Jester was the first to jump in and demand to “learn the Xhorhas dances too pretty please!” And Caleb had not yet found the strength to deny her anything and seriously doubted that he ever would. After that came Nott and after Fjord joked that Caleb would only dance with the ladies, he dragged him in as well. After that it was almost a point of pride, to dance with the rest of the Mighty Nein as well, including Yeza, who seemed exceptionally clumsy for a man of his profession.

Almost a week had passed when Jester grew evidently bored with the lack of something to do.

“Cay-leb,” she whined, draped across a chaise longue in a position she had no doubt copied from her mother. “Do you know what you’ll wear yet?”

“No,” he said simply. He was busy trying to memorize the correct order of meal items as well as the corresponding cutlery. Many he was familiar with, but he could not quite grasp how to crack the shell of a giant spider leg or why purple worm tartare was to be eaten only from specialized silver spoons. When she’d read that Beauregard had apparently been unable to keep herself from making a joke about Essek’s circumstances of birth.

“Have you not even… like, thought about it, though?” Jester continued to inquire.

It took a moment for him to recall what this was in reference to. Eventually he said. “Essek gave me the name of his tailor. I’m sure they’ll have something suitable.”

Jester gasped at that and sat up. “Cay-leb!” she shouted way too loudly. “The ball is in like less than a week!”

“So?”

“It takes time to make pretty clothes, you know?”

Caduceus, who was currently watering the plants, nodded sagely. “Nine women can’t make a baby in a month.”

“I don’t need entirely new clothes. They can just alter something for me to fit.”

Without looking up from her book on the genealogy of Den Thelyss, Beauregard snorted.

“What?”

“Dude.” She levelled him with a glare. “There is no way Essek buys off the rack.”

“But-!”

“Just go to the damn tailor, Caleb,” Beauregard interrupted him rudely. With an eyeroll she turned back to her reading.

“I’ll come with you!” Jester immediately volunteered. Caleb wasn’t sure if he found that prospect reassuring. However, he had spent enough time with Jester to know she was a woman not easily denied once she had put her mind to something.

Beauregard had the audacity to sink deeper into her armchair and wave at him. “Have fun!”

It was like this that Caleb found himself in the company of Jester standing in the middle of a tailor’s shop in the Gallimaufry district where everything in the shop window looked like it was worth more than everything Caleb owned combined.

They were greeted by a very friendly Drow who introduced herself as Phaere. “Caleb Widogast, I presume?” she inquired with a small bow as appropriate for greeting someone of a higher station in employ of one of the ruling Dens. “The Shadowhand told us to expect you. We are honored to provide you with whatever you need.”

Caleb was quite taken aback. He didn’t know that he had ever been treated with this much respect and deference, much less since he had become Caleb Widogast. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, not quite sure how to respond.

At least one good thing came from having Jester around, for he was spared from having to figure that out. “Ohmygosh that’s so nice!” she squealed and barreled to the front. “Hi, I’m Jester! I’m Caleb’s friend and I’m here to make sure that he looks his best for Essek!”

“Then you have come to the right place,” Phaere said with a smile and bowed again. “Whatever your wish, you shall receive it.”

“I am not yet very familiar with the fashions of the Dynasty,” he finally managed to say. “So I commend myself to your capable hands. Whatever you think will suit a wizard of my station and stature I am sure will serve well.”

A minute expression of confusion passed over the tailor’s face. “As a hero of the Dynasty at the Shadowhand’s side? I’ll say you can wear whatever you want to.”

Again, Caleb felt wrong-footed and unsure as to how to respond. This time, Phaere seemed to sense his discomfort and suggested: “How about I show you some fabrics? We can talk about the design later.”

The fabrics Phaere did show him were difficult to comprehend. He had never felt anything as soft as spidersilk, never seen anything as finely embroidered as the borders on display, never thought brocade could look as rich as that. Occasionally they would be interrupted by Jester who had found something herself: “Cay-leb, look at this! Wouldn’t hat be a great sash,” holding a bolt of sheer white fabric that made Phaere freeze. She only relaxed when he explained that white was reserved for Umavi. Or: “Cay-leb, we could weave that into your hair!” pointing at ribbons of cloth-of-gold or -silver that were surely for bound edges. They even spent twenty minutes debating over buttons with Jester insisting he should get the gem-encrusted ones to “treat himself” while he maintained that the plain silver ones would be enough. When he mentioned that he did not want to overshadow Essek, Phaere laughed and assured him that wouldn’t be possible.

Eventually, they settled on fabrics that were simple, but only deceptively so. The cut Phaere suggested was traditional and a little flashy for his tastes, though she was excited to include his suggestions on how to adjust it according to Empire fashions, if only subtly. In the end, Caleb couldn’t help but admit that he was satisfied.

“Thank you,” Caleb said earnestly. He genuinely believed that he was in good hands with the tailor. “I would now like to discuss the matter of payment.” He had been dreading this conversation.

Phaere blinked at him dumbstruck. Eventually, she said: “I can assure you, the Shadowhand has that matter quite handled.”

He suddenly felt faint. It was one thing receiving a new set of robes that probably cost more than his childhood home. It was quite another to have someone else pay for it.

He opened his mouth to protest but before he could get a single word out, he was interrupted by an armful of blue tiefling. “Ohmygosh Cay-leb!” Jester squealed as he hugged him tight. “That’s so romantic! Essek wants you to look so good for him and you don’t even have to pay!”

“Right,” he muttered. “Very romantic.” In his mind he made a note to thoroughly thank Essek for his expense. “Then at least allow me a tip for an excellent service.”

Phaere bowed her head, hardly in a place to object to that. So, Caleb dug around in his purse and set seven gold pieces on the counter, the last he had left to his name. Surely the Mighty Nein would take another mission soon and until then he would get by.

Eventually, the day of the ball arrived and while Caleb didn’t feel comfortable, he was at least reasonably confident that he would be able to spend one night among Kryn nobles without making a complete fool of himself. Or Essek for that matter.

He was fussing with his new robes in front of his mirror, still adjusting to the asymmetrical style favored in the dynasty. Additionally, he fought the urge to hunch his shoulders and disappear in the crowd. That was not why Essek was bringing him tonight. Essek was an individual few could overlook, and Caleb had vowed to do him proud.

Far too soon came the quiet knock on the door, but when he bid them enter, it was not one of the Mighty Nein announcing that Essek had arrived. Instead, surprisingly, it was Yasha, who quietly closed the door behind her. “You look good,” she said after scrutinizing him from head to toe.

“Thank you.”

“Not like when we first met,” she added. “I mean, I didn’t want to say something back then but… you know. You look better now. Good. These robes look good.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said again, unsure how else to react.

“Are you nervous?” Yasha blurted suddenly. When he didn’t immediately answer, she just barreled on: “I mean, I’m sure you are. It’s alright to be. I’m also sure that you’ll have a great date tonight.”

Despite his resolutions, Caleb hunched his shoulders. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Well…” she said with a shrug.

Before he could ask her to elaborate, the moment was interrupted by Jester’s shout: “Cay-LEB! He’s here!”

And that was all the warning he got before the Mighty Nein barged into his room to herd him outside. In the foyer, he was stopped by Nott, who was wiping away a fake tear. “Look at my boy!” she screeched. “All grown up and ready for prom night!”

Caleb frowned deeply. “I’m not sure I’m familiar with that tradition.”

“Never mind. Go get him, Lebby!”

He was about to reply something when Beauregard shouted: “Caleb, your man’s getting impatient!”

Naturally, all the Nein were there to see them off. Caleb wished he could vanish in the ground, especially with all the jeers and calls of “Hot boi!” that sounded from the porch. Fjord managed to shout above them all instructing Essek to “have him home by ten, young man!”

Hurriedly, Caleb walked over to Essek who frowned with confusion. “I do not believe the ball will be done by ten o’clock.”

“Ignore them,” he griped. “Are you ready?”

Essek heaved a sigh. “As ready as I’ll be.” He offered his arm to Caleb and within a breath they were gone.

#shadowgast #critical role #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #the mighty nein #jester lavorre #nott the brave #yasha nydoorin #caduceus clay #fjord stone #beauregard lionett #critical role fanfiction #critical role fic #cr fanfic #cr fic #shadowgast fic #my fic #my writing

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doomsdaydicecascader · 1 year ago

Note

What would you say was the thing that really shifted your opinion on postcanon stuff? I remember reading your long form posts about it and finding them pretty eloquent and interesting given the information I had (and I admit they did nudge me to me to end up not reading the epilogues along with the sheer length and my own squeamishness, though of course you also gave them their due when you felt it was fair)

if i'm being real, it's primarily interaction with other homestuck fans - my social media spaces tend to be pretty heavily curated, i basically only follow people i trust to be intelligent, since like. there is a level of comfort and complacency with social media? i don't like following new people, i don't like unfollowing old people. so i just dont branch out that much.

but i joined the mspfa discord in........ may of last year? while i really enjoy playing the role of like, i compared myself to solaire of astora once. guy who is there to help. i enjoy doing that, there is fun in that. i have spent many hours over the past months explaining homestuck plot points in ways that basically only i would and it is largely, pearls before swine, because the fact is that people dont want to understand post-canon, they don't want to like, pick at it critically, to understand why the decisions were made, they want to hate post-canon. and this is a very critical difference between me not liking post-canon and the majority of people hating post-canon.

and there is something to be said about experiencing homestuck as it is perceived by other people, to really solidify what i liked about homestuck post-canon, because there was stuff i liked to begin with. and seeing people who hate it without good reason frustrate me! genuinely, if you had to see the same "i heard jade has a dog penis" discussions every 2 weeks from some sprout who showed up only to be mad, you would start to defend it too.

like, i actually delayed that second blog post at the time because hatred for the team was flaring up again, for whatever reason, i don't even remember. but i remember putting it off because i didn't want to contribute to people who were blindly angry about homestuck^2

there are reasons to not like post-canon, lord knows there are plenty. i actually stand by basically everything i said about it not actually working and the times where it goes too far. in the second blog post, not the first one. but like, there is a total and all-encompassing difference in what the conversation is, "yeah, the meat and candy thing doesnt really work and dirks graphic suicide is ill-considered at best" doesnt matter at all when the level people are operating on is "say a plot point as a joke, make people mad, have fun circlejerking over how bad it is"

part of it is also that in the process of writing my own comic, it kind of comes with the territory to be less precious about the characters. like, team slime, my home discord server, watches movies every saturday. for a while, our theme was musicals, and eventually, we watched hamilton. and i realized that lin manuel miranda writes alexander hamilton in the exact way i am always afraid i am writing jane and vriska, like. just. truly relentlessly protective of them. and so being less precious about these characters means recognizing the flaws therein, not being afraid to write them just being kind of disasters. i still am pretty precious about them, but its a work in progress. you gotta get your hands dirty with them, and that puts it in context of respecting when others do the same

like, there are still a lot of really glaring flaws in post-canon, dont get me wrong, but theyre not insurmountable, and it helps to have spaces like burning down the house for me to express directly like. what i wanted out of homestuck. post-canon is not what i want it to be, but when has homestuck ever given anyone what they wanted without any complications whatsoever

and i think it is genuinely capable of being extremely good - this recent update (yiffy overlooking the rosemary drama) is extremely choice! i genuinely love how everyone involved is characterized, the panels are flashy, it puts to bed really stupid shit, like. its unbelievably fucking good how the problem kanaya has isnt "rose had another kid with jade in secret, our marriage is in shambles" but "jane knows about this kid", like. the absence of infidelity conflict is refreshing and says so much about everyone involved. and i have been thinking nonstop about how rose and jades daughters takes after caliborn of all characters. like. "you hope they eat each other alive" with the perspective of like, a caliborn grin is such an INSANE direction to take yiffy! holy shit! its awesome!!!!!!!!

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hey-heigo · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 21

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BYAKUYA ok i said i would be going on hiatus but i got really inspired and also it's my guy's birthday today so surprise update. going on hiatus fr now tho

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

trust ended with makoto and never really started with kyoko now celeste is my new conversation partner

cant believe hes 31. and blond

@digitaldollsworld roman my friend romannn !!!

Content warning tags: description of depression/PTSD, mention of suicide, description of eating disorder

< previous - from start - next >

“Your hand.”

It’s the first thing Byakuya says to her as they leave the bathhouse. Kirigiri pauses mid-step, already halfway to the stairs, and turns over her shoulder.

“What of it?”

He gives her a pointed look. WIth her gloves on, he can’t tell the extent of the damage, but remembering how hard he’d tried to shut that door, he can imagine it’s not exactly pretty. “Is it broken?”

In response, she raises the hand in question, flexing it in front of him with the soft creak of well-worn leather. “It’s fine.”

Like hell it is. The fingers of her left hand hadn’t even been moving when she was typing, curled into a half-moon that skittered clumsily over the keys. But if she doesn’t want to admit it, there’s no point in him pointing it out. He has other questions, anyway. “Did you already know?”

He doesn’t mention Alter Ego out loud, but he doesn’t need to; there’s nothing else he could be referring to. She lowers her hand slowly. “Why do you think so?”

Of course, she would answer with another question. It was nothing but ambiguities and obstructions with her. “You didn’t seem surprised at all. You opened up the locker without any trouble. And you were very quick to volunteer yourself to take full responsibility.” It had been a thought in the back of his mind since the possibility of having to reveal Alter Ego to the others was brought up. She was the one who gave the computer to Chihiro, after all. He lowers his voice: “Considering how you were the one who passed that computer off to Chihiro, I can’t imagine that you weren’t aware of what he was up to.”

She doesn’t reply immediately, instead glancing around the ceiling for any wayward cameras, then behind Byakuya for any stray ears. But everyone else was still gathered around the bathhouse entrance, preoccupied with discussing their next move. Hiro was at the head of it, voice loud and excessively optimistic. “I’m curious as to how you perceived me as being unsurprised, all things considered.” She says flatly, and he feels a muscle twitch in his cheek. “And it wasn’t as if there was any lock on the locker itself. And it was the most logical thing to do, considering our room assignments.”

It doesn’t escape him how she hasn’t bothered to respond to his last statement, and it was too risky to make her answer it out loud, and especially not here or now. He hated having to concede, and especially not to her of all people, but the risk outweighed his pride. “Fine.” He grits out. Let her keep her secrets. “And where are you going now?”

He can probably guess, but he wants to hear it from her anyways. “The third floor was recently opened to us.” She replies coolly. “I am going to investigate.”

“Alone.” He doesn’t say it like a question. “You’re not bringing Makoto?”

“I always investigate alone. Anyone else…would get in the way.” She says that last part hesitantly, as if she’s not sure of her own reasoning. “I doubt he’d want to go with me regardless. Not after yesterday.”

Yesterday? He tries to think, if there was anything that happened yesterday that could have affected their relationship, but all he comes up with are the worst parts of the trial, the body discovery, the confrontation with Fukawa. The memories of everything else had blurred, melting together to become indiscernible.

She’s answering before he can even open his mouth to ask further. “I was the one who told Makoto to out you in the trial.” She says, monotone and unreadable, and then stands there, almost expectantly, as understanding sinks in.

He tries to feel angry, that familiar rush of fury, but there’s nothing, and it leaves him feeling jarringly cold in its absence. At his silence, she continues: “Let me be clear, Makoto did not want to betray you to begin with. I told him that it would be unavoidable, and the only way to clear you of all suspicion.”

“The two of you made me into a bigger target.” He points out, bitterly. A person who would be of no help in investigations or otherwise, who was helpless enough on his own to be an appealing victim who couldn’t retaliate.

“There’s only ten of us left, in an enclosed space. With smaller numbers, it’s less likely for any one person to be willing to kill. Or get away with it, at least.” If she was trying to reassure him, she was failing miserably.

“Why Makoto? If you were aware, why couldn’t you have told them instead?”

She takes a step closer, and he barely keeps himself from stepping back. “Would they have been as ready to believe me?” She asks quietly. “You said it yourself: I’m someone who you all know nothing about. If I was the one who did it, would they be as quick to accept it? Or would they have started wrongly accusing me as well? Where would we be then?” She reaches out and grabs his lapels - in her left hand - and pulls him close, just enough to whisper: “I am the only one who can get us out of here. I’m sure you know that well.”

He feels his hands clenching into fists at his sides, but she’s right. Of course she is. Out of everyone here, she was the only one who was actively searching, trying to escape, and probably the closest to succeeding. That was the most frustrating part; that he couldn’t even properly argue back.

She releases him and retreats, tucking her hair behind her shoulders. “I will admit. If I had been the one to absolve you, then maybe you wouldn’t have had to be betrayed.” She says simply, and it’s probably the closest thing he’ll get to an apology. An offhanded acknowledgement of his miserable state.

He’s heard enough. He turns on his heel, but hasn’t made even a step when she grabs his arm so suddenly that he almost stumbles. “What?” He demands. Her fingers are tight around his forearm, and he can feel her leather glove, smooth and creased at the knuckles, digging through the fabric of his jacket.

There’s another pause, as she opens her mouth, but she’s silent long enough for him to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Then she releases him. “Nothing. Go eat.”

He was already planning to head to the cafeteria to do just that, but her tone irks him so much that he’s almost tempted to turn around and stomp back to his room. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Starve, then. But don’t wear yourself out.” She was already brushing past him, hair streaming behind her like a ghost. “You still have some use yet.”

He watches her go, a little stunned and more than a little scandalized. For her to belittle him, patronize him, and mock him, after he tried to help her - demonstrated concern, even - he clenches his fists to stop them from trembling, and smothers down the insult that she was already too far away to hear.

What an-! Insufferable little-! He sputters silently. To go from blatantly labeling him as ‘useless’ just a few days ago to saying this now, when his most fatal flaw had been laid bare to everyone…even more frustrating, was how underneath the anger, a smallest shred of pride had curled to life in his chest, undaunted by the disgust that immediately followed. As if he were a dog easily placated by nice words.

…The hunger must have started to interfere with my thoughts. He shakes his head, and turns back to the cafeteria. Behind him, he can hear the squeak of sneakered footsteps, pattering to catch up with him, and starts walking a little faster, knowing full well who it could be. And sure enough:

“Byakuya!”

It was just one after another. Makoto’s hand pinches onto his elbow sleeve, and Byakuya jerks out of his grasp with enough force that he almost stumbles, staggering awkwardly to maintain his balance. Makoto steps back, one hand still raised hesitantly, and his breath stutters slightly as he freezes, unsure what to do.

There’s a lot that Byakuya can say here. He’s envisioned this interaction a thousand times, in between chess and shogi games with Alter Ego, as he showered, as he rested his exhausted, sightless eyes. But the vitriol he prepared doesn’t come; the very act of trying to come up with something to hurl at him just leaves him feeling drained. Hollowed out.

Luckily, he’s saved from having to say anything at all. Seemingly out of nowhere, with only a sudden rustle of velvet to announce her arrival, Celeste appears by his side, placing one hand delicately on his elbow.

“Oh, excuse me,” She hums serenely, entirely ignoring the strange, tense air between the other two. “I pray I am not intruding. Byakuya, won’t you please join me for tea?”

She’d never shown interest in him before. He scowls, instantly wary. “What for?”

“There’s no need for such frightening looks. I have no ulterior motives.” She’s probably smiling, though he can’t make out her mouth on her pale face. Just her eyes, pinpricks of an artificial, unsettling red. “But you have not eaten since yesterday’s breakfast, no? Hifumi’s milk tea is almost passable, and I would appreciate it if you could offer your refined opinion on it.”

He doesn’t move, arm held at an awkward position away from himself to keep her at a distance. Makoto is still there, watching them, hesitating. “Um, Byakuya-”

“And…I would like to apologize for my actions during the trial.” Byakuya’s eyes snap back to her. Her posture has relaxed somewhat, and she speaks slowly, as if every word was pushing against her pride. “I spoke rather callously, and…shed some rather insulting suggestions of your relation with Chihiro. At the time, I genuinely thought I was doing the right thing, but it seems I should not have been so rash.” The hand on his elbow slackens, just enough to be in danger of sliding off his arm entirely. “I can’t imagine how you are feeling now. It’s clear now, you were one of the people closest to him, if he was able to entrust you with something so precious.”

He feels his lip curling with disgust, at her shamelessness. It was unsurprising that someone such as the Ultimate Gambler would use words like cards, and know exactly how to play them. But even despite knowing that she wasn’t likely to be genuine, the stifling, uncomfortable pressure on his chest dissipates, just a little.

And he was hungry. And he has no desire to be face-to-face with Makoto at all, and he doubts Celeste’s intentions to kill him. And there was no motive, nor had he slighted her in any way - and besides. Prepositioning him here, in the middle of the hallway with Makoto to witness it, meant that it would be very difficult for her to free herself of suspicion if he were to turn up dead.

“Fine.” He forces his posture to relax. At that, her hand twines around his arm with the grace of a snake, much like how a lady might be led by a gentleman, resting there lightly.

She radiates smugness, and the self-satisfaction of a pampered cat as she leans into him. “Then, shall we go?”

He doesn’t really want to. But sometimes sacrifices were a means for a better end, and he only spares a single glance at Makoto as he leaves, standing ignored and alone in the middle of the hallway.

___

“Ah, Princess!” Yamada calls as they enter. And then, slightly panicked: “And - M-Mister Togami-?”

Byakuya scoffs, disgusted, but Celeste tugs him along. “Yes, I am aware of the nature of the company that I keep.” She sounds almost apologetic about it, as she half-guides, half-steers him towards a two-person table near the far end of the cafeteria. “But I assure you, he has his uses. He’s loyal where it counts, and accomplishes things decently well.” She pats his arm, a gesture that feels far too familiar for his comfort. “I’m sure you understand?”

He makes no comment, seating himself with a scowl, and eyeing Celeste warily from across the table, a graceful shape of black and white before him. The girl had always been an enigma - much like Kirigiri in her careful, conniving ways - but he hasn’t forgiven her for how she so carelessly dropped the mention of his meeting with Chihiro. It hadn’t been to clear anything up either; he was sure that her intentions were for her own self-satisfaction, and nothing more.

Yamada waddles out of the kitchen, a large, silver tray balanced between his hands. He sets it on the table with a flourish, its contents rattling slightly - an intricate porcelain tea set decorated with a swirling black design, with a plate full of small teacakes, cookies, and other such deserts - and begins pouring out two cups of tea. He’s surprisingly graceful about it, making a show of pouring the milk in a large arc and stirring it all with a tiny silver spoon, before he sets one down in front of both of them.

Celeste lifts her cup to her lips, taking a careful sip. “Hm. Better,” She praises, and Yamada swells with pride, his chest puffing out. “Thank you. You may go.”

He deflates immediately. “Ah, but-” He clutches the empty tray to his chest like a shield. “Er, to sit alone w-with another man-!”

“Now, please.” There’s a firmness behind her gentle politeness, and after a moment’s hesitation, Yamada retreats to the kitchen with a quiet grumble.

There’s some sound near the entrance of the cafeteria, and when Byakuya looks up he sees Hagakure leading Owada towards a table, talking jovially about the importance of health and food, asking about any preferred dishes, and launching into some inane story about a hamburger and aliens.

“He’s been like that since this morning.” Celeste comments, and he turns back to her. She sets her teacup down with a gentle click, and laces her fingers beneath her chin as she leans forward, her voice lowered to an exaggeratedly conspiratorial degree. “You were not there, but Hiro declared himself the de facto leader in Taka’s absence. He stated that he has rights by age, but thus far he’s only taken responsibility for Owada.”

De facto leader…as if they had such a thing. “Good. Someone has to.” Byakuya grunts, as he lifts the cup to his lips. Owada was the farthest thing from stable at the moment, and he would rather avoid having to participate in another trial so soon. The tea Yamada made is passable, though too sweet for his tastes and richer than he would like.

“Hm, quite right.” She sighs. “I have no interest in repeating yesterday’s events for as long as I live.”

She says what he was thinking out loud, and somehow, that bothers him deeply. He didn’t like how similar the two of them were, how similar she was perceiving them to be. How similar they already were.

“But let’s not waste time on depressing things.” She claps her hands lightly. “I am curious. How is your relationship with Makoto now?”

He chokes on the teacake he had just taken a bite of, crumbling into crumbs and dust into his throat, and takes a hasty gulp of tea. It’s too hot and scalds his tongue, and the raw, healing wounds on his inner cheek. He almost doubles over with the pain, just barely managing to keep his posture. This whole time, he was painfully aware of Celeste watching him over her crossed hands.

“Are you alright?” She asks, offering him a handkerchief. He ignores it and takes another sip of tea, ignoring the burns.

“M’ f-ine.” He spits. He has the feeling his eyes are watering, though there’s not exactly a clear difference in his vision to suggest if that’s the case, and counts himself lucky for not choking. He tries to blink the tears inconspicuously away, and clears his throat. “Why - why do you ask about him?”

She tilts her head as if his question is the odd one. “You underestimate how much attention you drew when you accepted Makoto’s company. In the course of just a few short weeks, we’ve seen you two develop a sudden companionship, then a sudden lull, and then rekindle that relationship as if nothing had happened at all.” He has the feeling she’s smiling, though he can’t make out the gleam of her teeth compared to her chalk-white face. “Would you like to hear some of the rumors that have been spread?”

“Not in the slightest.” He can imagine what tasteless things have been whispered already. “The truth is nothing as scandalous as you’re hoping to hear. He was the first person who discovered my blindness, and was simply assisting me. Though-”

He grimaces inwardly now, at the memory of the trial. The earth-shattering feeling of betrayal. The quiet, hesitant way that Makoto had reached out to him afterwards, guilty as a thief. “Though, I have no need for people that can’t obey orders.”

That’s not the exact reason for his avoidance of Makoto, but he’s not interested in analyzing exactly why the other boy was bothering him so, and especially not now. It’s also not the sort of answer he would expect Celeste to be satisfied with, but to his surprise, she simply shrugs, and nods as if she understands it completely.

“I am the same. Though given our situation…I have had to be a little accommodating.” She flicks a hand carelessly in the direction of the kitchen. “I am surprised, however. Given your nature, I hadn’t expected you to be so merciful. You seemed to let Makoto off very kindly compared to the injustice he did you.” She leans forward slightly, staring at him. “You’ve changed, it seems.”

“Excuse me?”

“It is not an insult.” She says, with the same, gentle tone as a nanny with a displeased child. “If anything, it is praise. You’re far more open now, when compared to before.” She taps at her face. “You’ve stopped wearing your glasses, which you didn’t need in the first place. It’s a sign that you have become less shut off, no?”

“It’s not a sign of anything. My glasses broke when Owada punched me.” Never mind the fact that he has several spare pairs in his room. Trying to wear them now when everyone knew they were pointless would be more humiliating than anything, though he still has to consciously refrain from reaching up to touch his temples, fighting the habit to adjust something that wasn’t there.

“But even so, my point still stands.” Her eyes narrow as she smiles. “Before, you seemed very distant, but now it is more obvious that you are of flesh and blood.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. That was what he was afraid of, becoming more human, more like those around him. His glasses had been a part of him for as long as he could remember, even before there was a real need for him to wear them; they made him look older, Pennyworth had told him, and more mature. Less like a boy, more like a proper heir. Less like his mother, and more like a Togami.

He notices the pale, spindly shape of Celeste’s hand reaching for his face just in time, jerking backwards and out of her reach. If she’s surprised, she gives no sign, and simply retreats slowly. “I apologize. It seems I’ve said something insensitive once more.”

“...You said nothing of the sort.” He lies. Has he become that easy to read? He presses his lips into a thin line. “Even if I still had them, there’s no point in wearing them anymore. Not when everyone knows they’re pointless.”

“I see…if it is any consolation, I do find your appearance appealing now.” She says this hesitantly, shyly, hiding her face demurely behind her cup. But either she had layered on enough makeup to completely conceal her face, or she was an exceptionally skilled liar, or most likely both, because not the barest hint of a blush is visible on her at all. “You were uncomfortably perfect before, more like a little porcelain doll than anything. I rather enjoy this new, human side to you. Even the…imperfections, if you will forgive the term, are quite endearing.”

He can feel her gaze, bright red eyes, roaming his face. “Save your flattery.” He mutters. The burn on the roof of his mouth was making itself known again, and as he glances down at his plate at the remains of his earlier pastry, all he sees is an unappealing, sand-coloured blur. “Asides from the change in supposed ‘leadership’, what else happened when I wasn’t around?”

Thankfully, Celeste doesn’t push the topic, and instead launches into a detailed recount. Monokuma opened up the third floor as a reward for a successful trial, which included new amenities: an art room with just about everything needed for any medium, from sculpting to calligraphy; a very robust physics lab with a very large and elaborate air purifier; an equipment room without anything particularly noticeable; and a recreation room with a pool table, darts, board games, and a weekly magazine rack.

Byakuya raises his eyebrows at this last mention. “Weekly magazines?”

“Yes, but unfortunately, Monokuma has no intention of providing us with any new issues.” She sighs. “I asked him myself.”

He clicks his tongue, disappointed again but unsurprised, and leans back in his chair, taking a biscuit. Everything that Yamada had brought out was too sweet for his tastes, and tasted cheap, with the chemical-ly staleness of preservatives. It was killing his appetite, and he was ready to retreat back to his room.

“It seems that our school life has gained more opportunities to become enjoyable, however.” Celeste continues, ignoring his apparent sourness. “Won’t you join me for a game of Othello, sometime? I’m sure someone of your caliber is familiar with the rules.”

“I’ll pass. I have no need for a partner.” He doubts that she would be a better opponent than Alter Ego, in any case. Especially if he couldn’t see the board.

“A shame. But it was worth asking.” She doesn’t sound surprised by his blunt rejection. “I’m sure I could not compare to the games you have witnessed among the aristocracy?”

He hesitates for a moment. Her intentions were clear, full of the subtle eagerness of a child trying to wheedle out a prize for good behavior. “Witnessed, and participated. But I have to disappoint you, they’re more or less just like the gambling games that the commoners play, blackjack and roulette and such. The only difference is the wagers.”

“Very high wagers, I presume?”

“Yes, but not in money. Most of the time, all the participants have enough money to their name that mere cash becomes meaningless. So they place their stakes in other things- properties, businesses, liquid assets and even people. A family castle, their favored butler. Things that have more value to them than just monetary.” She leans forward on her elbows, listening intently, and after another moment’s pause, he continues. “I’ve only played once, and wagered a genuine second-generation [Delafoy] portrait bust. I won the original copy of the opponent’s family records.”

“A rather underwhelming prize.”

“Not at all. There’s nothing more valuable than information - especially when it’s limited.” He replies, smugly. That book of records was the only copy to exist, and the stupid, sheltered boy who had wagered it had gone nearly catatonic when he lost. He was outright disowned when his family discovered what he’d done, and the family head offered a fortune for the return of it - but Byakuya had kept it, both out of spite and necessity. That book ended up being a precious bargaining token later, when the game of inheritance found him and he needed a place to lie low.

Celeste is captivated, leaning as far as she can over the table with her chin tucked on her laced hands, eyes so wide that the red of her irises - contact lenses, surely - are twin, bloody suns on her milk-white face. Like a vampire bite, he notes distantly, with a hint of snide amusement. “It has always been a dream of mine to sit among those tables.” She says, and her voice is hushed and passionate, eager, expectant; a demand hidden in plain sight.

“It would never happen. Someone of your status would never be afforded the chance.” He scoffs immediately, matter-of-factly.

“Do the wealthy not recognize the value of skill? I’m sure I can provide a stimulating enough game for them.”

“And I don’t doubt that you could. But that wouldn’t matter.” She was certainly clever, but if she was still dreaming such foolish things, then he suspected that she would not last much longer in the mastermind’s game. He leans forward, fixing her with a stare. “The only reason why I could participate at all is because of my lineage; the Togami name is the only reason that family offered to buy back their precious records, rather than simply assassinate me and pick it off my corpse. Someone like you wouldn’t even be allowed to leave that table alive.” Those esteemed elderly with nothing to do and those spoiled brats with lofty ideals would let her join their table, for the novelty of having a member of the peasantry try her luck, but the moment she humiliated them would have marked her end.

That answer seems to discourage her, and she sits back, plucking another cookie from the tray and turning it in her hands. “Such a violent reaction…it seems that the nobility are much less civilized than given credit.”

“Do you think yourself uncivilized for shooing away an insect? Like I said before, do not flatter yourself into thinking that we are on the same level.”

They’re quiet for a moment, sipping their tea and nibbling at the deserts. Hagakure was trying to coax Owada into eating a bowl of rice porridge, pressing a spoon into his listless hand. Byakuya watches with a strange, uncomfortable feeling growing over him, and suddenly wants nothing more than to leave.

“Ah, speaking of being human,” Celeste says suddenly, as if remembering something. “Makoto found a particularly interesting photo in the third-floor maintenance closet. And a very odd one, at that.” She pauses to take a delicate bite of a pastry, making him wait as she chews. “One of Mondo, Leon, and Chihiro laughing together in a classroom setting.”

“What?” He frowns. Were the three of them that close? He hadn’t noted them having any particular interactions between them to suggest such a thing. “When was the photo taken?”

“That, I cannot say. Monokuma seized the photo, so the only one who saw it was Makoto.” She shrugs, an elegant lift and fall of one shoulder. “But from what he said, they couldn’t have been much younger than they were when we first arrived.”

Perhaps they knew each other before enrolling here. It would be the most logical explanation, and it wouldn’t be impossible based on what he knew of them. He says as much aloud, and Celeste simply shrugs again.

“Perhaps.” She agrees, and takes another bite. “But if they did, they gave no indication of it, and certainly did not act like they knew each other at all. Though, I am inclined to believe it was nothing more than one of Monokuma’s pranks, intended to shake us.”

That wasn’t an unlikely possibility either. Byakuya certainly didn’t doubt that the bear might do such a thing. But for some reason it bothers him, sitting stubbornly in the back of his mind and refusing to be brushed away. Like a conspicuously empty patch of dust in an old room, marking the place where something unnamed once occupied and was now gone. Was it really just a prank, and nothing more?

From the kitchen, Yamada was humming, accompanied by the sound of pans and sizzling oil, hissing steam. Hagakure was still coaxing Owada into eating, while regaling him with another long-winded, far-fetched story. Despite everything, everyone was still going about their lives, domestic and carefree.

He thinks about Kirigiri, who never seemed to stop moving. Always thinking, always searching, always leagues ahead of him. She was similar to the girl in front of him now, clever and scheming and concealing everything behind an unreadable face. But different as well; Celeste speaks in an elegant, lilting cadence that reminded Byakuya of the children of the nobility that he had bumped elbows with before, and he can’t imagine himself having tea and small talk with Kirigiri in a similar setting.

“What will you do now,” He finds himself asking. “In regards to the killing game?”

Celeste tilts her head as if this were an obvious question. “I have no interest in dying. Nor do I have the stomach in me to imagine taking another person’s life.” She shudders slightly, as if the very thought of it was horrifying. “But all our amenities have been accounted for here, and I imagine we have all the provisions to live very comfortable lives. I can be content with this, so long as it ends the pointless tragedies.”

As he thought. Despite all her secretive, careful ways, the way she took to lying like a second skin; she was nothing like Kirigiri. Kirigiri had spine, at least.

He stands up suddenly with a screech of his chair, and she makes a noise of surprise. “You are leaving?”

“I have exhausted your company,” He says bluntly. “So there is no reason for me to stay.”

“Is that so…” There’s a sharp click as she raps her fingers against the patina. “In that case, thank you for the conversation. It was very insightful.”

He has no doubts about that. This was not a simple excuse to have a leisurely chat, but an exchange of information. She gave him what he wanted to know about the third floor, and he gave her a story to stave off boredom. Something to daydream about while they waited to escape.

He doesn’t bother deigning her with a proper goodbye as he turns to go. On his way out, he catches sight of Owada, sitting across from Hagakure, spoon still unmoving, watching him. Faceless and blank.

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#thpff #byakuya togami #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #happy birthday to you...happy birthday to youu........#hbd byakuya!! enjoy your birthday meal of. overflavored black tea and storebought cookies. on an empty stomach #dude stop stomping away dramaticallly when u get mad. you need to eat like an actual meal you're gonna get scurvy #celeste hitting him with sticks in her head every time he says something stupid but just smiling and saying nothing #makoto in his kicked wet dog era #hiro taking care of his homies. hiro trying to take responsibility for everyone else. if u dont think hes the coolest ever u r wrong

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