#society if I had been in an ace community that wasn’t full of Not Like The Other Kids

[citizen-zero]

Also I wish my early years of being asexual were not spent on tumblr because like

so much of the focus was specifically on people who have no interest in sex or sexual activity at all that it was very alienating being someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction but does have a fairly active libido and does now enjoy sex. I don’t begrudge sex-indifferent and sex-negative people whatever validation they might’ve gotten but I just wish there’d been more community for people who were still horny on main. Or that I’d been around that community more, if it did exist

like a big reason I internalized so much aphobia back then was bc, for all the talk about how asexuality is a spectrum with lots of different experiences, I felt like I never saw my experience reflected in the discussion. I felt like the discussion was dominated by the people who (in my view at the time) were infantilizing themselves as an over-corrective reaction to the societal narratives around sex. Or people who were just straight up slut shaming. I felt like people like me were just kind of an afterthought, like, “oh yeah I guess you still count.”

Also I thought a lot of like “ace culture” stuff was kinda silly. Like all the jokes about preferring cake or whatever just grated on my nerves and just added to my feeling that people were infantilizing themselves. It’s not that everything had to be deeply serious I just thought the jokes were annoying and unfunny. I think probably the combination of feeling alienated and being in a community of other annoying unfunny teenagers was probably what opened the gates to a lot of the aphobic shit I internalized later

I didn’t relate at all to the “I feel broken” stuff or the “I’m not interested in it at all” angle because I was!!!! I am!!!! I’d been masturbating and reading smut since I was like, 13. I didn’t have any trouble at all understanding the appeal of sex and relationships. The thing that tipped me off to the idea that maybe I was asexual was the fact that my friends would be lusting over hot strangers and I just didn’t find them anything but aesthetically pleasing. I was horny but like, I wasn’t desperate to get laid with another person. I was perfectly fine taking care of my own self.

It’s to the point where I still can’t engage with ace stuff on tumblr too much because I just feel a knee jerk annoyance about it. Like I see someone on this site talk about something as innocuous as “here’s a book with asexual representation” and I feel instant knee jerk disdain for it even without any other information. I don’t even actually mean it, I’m just still so primed for Tumblr + asexuality = fucking annoying and alienating

Maybe if my early experience had been on a forum that skewed older (like AVEN maybe?) or just wasn’t dominated by teenagers and college students it would be different. Maybe I would’ve had more of that community of people who shared my experiences who were older and if not wiser then at least not a fellow dumbass teenager

[daxwritesstories]

Excerpts: Why do you think I keep you around?

“Peter called,” Ace said, seemingly out of nowhere. “He wanted to talk to you.”

Cyra stopped what she was doing and set her makeup brush down. She turned to look at the femme. “What did he want to talk about?”

“He didn’t say.”

Well that wasn’t helpful. Peter, and everyone else in that organization, were very secretive even between members. If there was a message for you and only you, they would deliver it to you and only you. No middle men.

Cyra had informed Peter that she told Ace everything anyway, but the communications master said that wasn’t his problem. He was just doing his job as instructed.

“Where’s the burner phone?” Cyra asked.

Ace reached into his purse and pulled out the plain-looking cell phone. He held it out and Cyra grabbed it from him.

She went to the contacts screen and found Peter’s contact. She dialed the number and waited for it to ring. Peter picked up quickly.

“Hello, Ace,” he said.

“It’s Cyra, actually.”

“Cyra! Excellent, I have a message for you,” Peter said, sounding pleased.

“So I’ve been told,” Cyra replied. She was nervous and she could only hope it wasn’t showing in her voice.

“One of our esteemed leaders, Orobas, wants to meet with you,” Peter announced.

That was a surprise. Cyra had never actually met one of their leaders before. She’d spoken to one of the lesser leaders over the phone once, but that was the extent of it. This was a huge step up. She had heard a lot about Orobas from the other members the few times she met with them. He was regarded as a prince and most members had never seen his face or even been in the same room with him. Cyra understood this to be a huge honor.

“Oh wow! I would love to meet with him,” she answered.

“Good, good,” Peter replied. “He was overjoyed to hear that you joined us. He’s had an eye on your family for years.”

“Really? My family?”

“Yes. Your family’s status is very appealing to him. Well, it’s appealing to all of us, really. We have quite a few members of similar status to your own and we intend to keep that number steadily growing. But more importantly than that, Orobas thinks you have the potential to become a very important member of our society.”

Cyra’s heart leapt when she heard that. The idea of being a valued member was beyond exciting. It could be her ticket to securing an even better position in the afterlife.

“Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?” Peter asked.

“Yes, of course! I mean, I would be honored,” Cyra replied, trying to keep her cool.

“Perfect. Then you will attend our party this Saturday. Orobas will be there so you can join him for a private meeting,” Peter instructed. “Oh, and it will be a sex party. Is that alright with you? You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, of course.”

“Um.. one second,” Cyra responded. She covered the mic on the phone and looked over at Ace. “Can I go to a Satanic sex party?”

“Knock yourself out,” Ace said nonchalantly.

With his permission, Cyra removed her hand from the mic to answer. “I’ll be there.”

“Excellent. I’ll send the information you’ll need to this number. Do not write it down anywhere else electronically. I understand that you and Ace share this burner phone so if you must write the info elsewhere you can write it on a small piece of paper that must be burned after the event,” Peter instructed. “And there’s no need to worry about confidentiality. Some of the biggest names in our organization will be there so no one will be speaking a word of this outside the event. I will be attending the party so we will see each other then. Goodbye now.”

“Goodbye,” Cyra said. She waited for Peter to hang up and then passed the phone back to Ace.

“A sex party, huh?” he said.

“They want me to meet with Orobas there,” Cyra explained, knowing full well she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.

Ace raised an eyebrow and looked at her for the first time in the last hour. “Interesting.”

“Are.. you okay with that?” Cyra asked. Of course she wanted to climb the hierarchy but it all would mean nothing if it made Ace unhappy. 

“Sit,” Ace instructed, pointing at the space next to him.

Cyra picked up the stool she was using before, about to bring it closer to Ace. The femme stopped her though.

“Not there. On the floor,” he said.

Without question, Cyra sat down on the hard tile floor next to Ace’s chair. She stared up at him, waiting.

“Who’s the most important person in your world?” he asked.

“You.”

“You don’t deserve me.”

“I know.”

Ace glared down at her. “Why do you think I keep you around?”

“I don’t know,” Cyra answered with a shrug. “I’m useful?”

That made Ace laugh. It was a cruel, demeaning laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Hardly.”

Cyra didn’t respond. She didn’t know where he was going with this and she was a little scared.

Ace grabbed his purse and stood up, looking down at Cyra again. Without warning he kicked her hard in the arm, causing her to fall onto her side.

“Ow..”

“Stay there,” Ace ordered. He swung his foot back and kicked forward, right into Cyra’s stomach, making her wince in pain. He laughed at her reaction and kicked her again, this time with more force.

Cyra cried out and instinctively curled up in defense. She tried to cover her abdomen with her arms but Ace’s foot flew at her again before she had the chance to. 

Ace just kept on laughing as if this was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen. Maniacal and terrifying. Cyra began to tremble with fear, hoping this wouldn’t escalate. In theory she could stop him, she had the strength and skill to. But something in her mind blocked her from taking any action. Instead she just laid there and let him have his fun.

After a few more kicks, just when Cyra was certain it would bruise, Ace stopped. She looked up at him, not sure if she wanted mercy or more.

“That is why I keep you around, idiot,” Ace said with a smile. “Endless entertainment for me.” He turned around and walked towards the door. “I’m going out. Have fun at the party this weekend.”

[remnantoforario]

Remnant’s Top Ten Anime of 2020

2020 Was certainly a ride wasn’t it? To those that managed to make to make it through in one piece, or any piece, good job. Hopefully 2021 is better to us all. 

Despite the world mostly being on fire, I’d hazard to say that a lot of good shows came out in 2020 (despite a number of them being delayed to either later in the year or this year altogether). I meant to release this list much earlier, but I kept changing it around. 

Anyway, here are the ones I thought were the best. 

Honorable Mentions:

Dorohedoro

Synopsis: The plot centers on a man named Caiman and his search for his real identity after a transformation by a sorcerer left him with a reptile's head and no memory of his former life. 

Along with his friend Nikaido, he violently assaults sorcerers in the Hole, with the aim of taking their heads into his mouth, where a strange face will appear and confirm whether the sorcerer he has bitten onto was the one responsible for his transformation or not.

As the residents of the Hole, the En family and the Cross-Eyes gang, along with many others, collide with one another, the mystery of Caiman's identity begins to unravel, reigniting ancient grudges and threatening to forever change both the Hole and the sorcerers' world.

Thoughts: This is the only Netflix anime I watched this year (I missed out on Great Pretender before the year ended), and I can honestly say I had fun with this one. It’s animation was good, the story was engaging enough, and the characters were all unique (Noi best girl). The one problem I would say with the show is that it can come off as unfocused at times, meandering from one plaot point to another with no real connective tissue. 

Still a fun series though. 

ID: Invaded

Synopsis: The anime follows the investigations of Narihisago, a renowned detective now in prison, who is tasked with diving into the id wells of various serial killers. 

Two years prior to the current events, Narihisago's daughter Muku was brutally murdered by a serial killer, leading Narihisago's wife to commit suicide. These deaths prompted him to hunt down and murder the killer, earning him his prison sentence. He is still depressed and haunted by his wife and daughter's deaths, but also uses this as motivation to take his work seriously and help stop serial killers. 

Thoughts: One of a handful of original series that came out this year. This show gave me heavy Inception/Minority Report vibes from both its premise and presentation. It wobbles under the weight of its own concepts towards the end, but it still a fun ride nonetheless. 

Gleipnir 

Synopsis: The story centers on Shuichi Kagaya, a high school student with an unusual secret. He has the ability to transform into a monster resembling a giant dog mascot costume with a zipper down his back and a large cartoonish smile. After rescuing a strange girl, Claire Aoki, from a warehouse fire, they join each other to search for Claire's older sister, who is assumed to be responsible for the death of their parents.

Thoughts: When the initial rollout for this show began I admit I wasn’t really a fan. I thought it was just going to be a hyper violent, fanservice show. Now in some ways it is that, but if you really look Gleipnir tells a very interesting tale of identity and what it truly means to have a wish granted. The music was pretty good as well, and that’s really something from me as a person who doesn’t pay attention to soundtracks. 

Hope this show gets a season 2, but if not I’ll more than likely start the manga. 

Wandering Witch: The Journey of Elaina

Synopsis:  Fascinated by the stories of Niké, a witch who traveled around the world, Elaina aspires to take the same course. Her determination of studying books and magic leads to her becoming the youngest apprentice witch to pass the sorcery exam. 

However, when Elaina attempts to receive training in order to become a full-fledged witch, she is rejected due to her extraordinary talents until she finds Fran, the "Stardust Witch," whom accepts her. After earning her title, the "Ashen Witch," Elaina begins her exploration around the world, visiting and facing all kinds of people and places.

Thoughts: As a fan of the Light Novels, I was pretty excited when it was announced it was getting an anime. For the most part it didn’t disappoint. Though it skipped most of the stories in the novels, the show still told a few good stories that made for some amazingly animated tv. 

Talentless Nana

Synposis: In the near future, mysterious monsters known as the "Enemies of Humanity" begin to appear, and with it so do children with supernatural powers called the "Talented". To prepare them for the upcoming battle against these Enemies, all the Talented are sent to a school located on a deserted island, where they have all their daily needs provided for until they graduate and communication with the outside world is forbidden. 

One day, a new student named Nana Hiiragi arrives at the school. Her friendly and cheerful personality lets her quickly make friends with the class. However, with Nana comes a whole litany of mysterious occurrences on the island. 

Thoughts: I can’t say too much about Nana without spoiling it’s first episode twist, but I will say that its a pretty interesting show with a fairly compelling game of cat and mouse being played. 

Now on the the actual list:

10. The Misfit of Demon King Academy 

Synopsis: After 2,000 years of countless wars and strife, the demon king Anos Voldigoad made a deal with the human hero, Kanon, to sacrifice his own life to ensure peace could flourish. Reincarnating 2,000 years later, Anos finds that royal demons now harshly rule over lower class hybrid demons in a society that values Anos's pureblood descendants over the demons who interbred with other species, such as humans and spirits. 

Finding that magic as a whole has begun to decline and his descendants weaker as a result of the peace he created, Anos, now technically a hybrid himself, decides to reclaim his former title of Demon King, but first, he must graduate from the Demon King Academy where he is labeled a total misfit.

Thoughts: Originally I was going to put Nana in this spot, but its lack of a real ending pushed it out of the list. If only slightly. Misft at Demon Academy is just a fun ride from start to finish. There’s always something about shows with ridiculous OP protagonists (Overlord, One Punch Man, etc.) that gets the blood pumping. 

It’s like junk food. Great for the right moment, but not needed all the time. 

9. Ikebukuro West Gate Park

Synopsis:  A charismatic troubleshooter tries to keep the peace between warring factions while protecting his loved ones in Ikebukuro West Gate Park.

Thoughts: I honestly had no idea what to make of this show when I first saw the synopsis, but I gave it a try on a whim. I’m glad I did because this was easily the dark horse of the Fall season. I really liked the mostly self contained story format the series had, and there were a few very good episodes here. Check it out. 

8.  My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

Synopsis: Catarina Claes, the young daughter of a noble family, one day bumps her head and regains memories of her past life as an otaku. It is then that she realizes she has been reborn into the world of the otome game Fortune Lover, reincarnated as the game's villainess who, regardless of what route the player took in the original game, is doomed to be either killed or exiled. 

In order to avoid these routes that lead to doom, Catarina begins taking countermeasures to try and avoid things going the same way as the game. This, however, ends up having unexpected consequences on her relations with the other characters of the game's world.

Thoughts: Normally I’m not a fan of Reverse/Otome harem series, but somehow Bakarina managed to pull me in, to a good result. This show was easily one of the best comedies I watched this year with a good cast and a likable protagonist. 

7.  Deca-Dence 

Synopsis: In the fortress city of Deca-dence, the lowly Tanker girl, Natsume, dreams of becoming a Gear warrior following her father's death during a Gadoll attack. She is assigned to a maintenance team led by Kaburagi whom she discovers is more than he appears. Kaburagi has a secret role in eliminating "bugs", humans who threaten Solid Quake's operations. 

When Kaburagi discovers that Natsume is listed as dead in the company database, he decides to keep her under observation and offers to train her to fight.

Thoughts: Giant monsters and giant robots. What more do you need? Watch it. 

6. A Certain Scientific Railgun T

Synposis: The Daihasei Festival has begun, and that of course means that Tokiwadai Middle School—a prestigious all-girls' middle school—is competing too. Despite the participation of the "Ace of Tokiwadai," Mikoto Misaka, the other students who are participating are still putting their utmost effort into winning, no matter how impossible the feat may seem against her might. However, not all is fun and games. Due to the the festival, Academy City opens to the outside world, and various factions have begun plotting ways to infiltrate the city. Misaka appears to be on their radar, and as the festival proceeds, people lurking from the shadows begin to emerge...

Thoughts: Not really much to say here. It’s the third season of Railgun, but good thing here is that each season of Railgun is better than the last. Truly the best of the To Aru universe. 

5. BOFURI: I Don't Want to Get Hurt, so I'll Max Out My Defense.

Synposis: Urged on by her friend, Kaede Honjō begins playing the VRMMORPG NewWorld Online under the name Maple. Not wanting to get hurt, Maple opts to be a shield user with maxed out defense stats, and continues putting every status point she earns in the game into increasing only her defense level. 

As a result, she is left with slow foot speed and no magic, but her high defense allows her to endure most hits without taking any damage. This, along with her basic-level creative thinking, allows for her to make unexpected accomplishments in the game, its quests and events. By doing this, she ends up earning all kinds of equally unexpected skills and becomes one of the strongest players in the game. Thoughts: Bofuri is another OP power fantasy like Demon King Academy, but with the twist of being fused with CGDCT. The cast is extremely likable (especially Maple) and when Silver Link wants to they can make the battles REALLY dynamic. A nice comfortable watch, which was sorely needed in 2020. 

4. Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle

Synposis: The story follows Princess Syalis, a young princess who was kidnapped by the demon king, and her quest to sleep well while imprisoned.

Thoughts: A simple premise for a not so simple story. Sleepy Princess for me was easily the best comedy of the year, with plenty of heart and action thrown in as well. I was wary of the series at first, thinking that the premise wouldnt be entertaining for more than a few episodes, but boy was I wrong. Each episode was funnier than the last and Doga Kobo pulled out all the stops to make it look as gorgeous as possible.  

3. Jujutsu Kaisen

Synopsis: Idly indulging in baseless paranormal activities with the Occult Club, high schooler Yuuji Itadori spends his days at either the clubroom or the hospital, where he visits his bedridden grandfather. However, this leisurely lifestyle soon takes a turn for the strange when he unknowingly encounters a cursed item. Triggering a chain of supernatural occurrences, Yuuji finds himself suddenly thrust into the world of Curses—dreadful beings formed from human malice and negativity—after swallowing the said item, revealed to be a finger belonging to the demon Sukuna Ryoumen, the "King of Curses." Yuuji experiences first-hand the threat these Curses pose to society as he discovers his own newfound powers. Introduced to the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School, he begins to walk down a path from which he cannot return—the path of a Jujutsu sorcerer.

Thoughts: Originally I wasn’t going to put this on the list, because the season doesnt conclude this year, but I decided to make an exception since the show started so strong. Many people were hyping this up as the next big shonen, and they were right. Mappa really went balls to the wall with this show and I’m pretty hype for what happens this cour. 

2. Akudama Drive

Synopsis: The bustling metropolis of Kansai, where cybernetic screens litter the neon landscape, may seem like a technological utopia at first glance. But in the dark alleys around the brightly-lit buildings, an unforgiving criminal underbelly still exists in the form of fugitives known as "Akudama." No stranger to these individuals, Kansai police begin the countdown to the public execution of an infamous Akudama "Cutthroat," guilty of killing 999 people. However, a mysterious message is sent to several elite Akudama, enlisting them to free Cutthroat for a substantial amount of money. An invisible hand seeks to gather these dangerous personas in one place, ensuring that the execution is well underway to becoming a full-blown bloodbath.  

Thoughts: Want to know what it would be like if Quentin Tarantino made an anime? Well here you go. An adrenaline filled rollercoaster ride from start to finish with a crazy cast of characters and even crazier visuals. There’s even a bit of social commentary in there if you squint. 

1. Oregairu Climax

Synopsis: Resolved to become a more independent person, Yukino Yukinoshita decides to smoothen things out with her parents, and the first step toward achieving that goal is to prove herself. As graduation draws closer for the third-year students, Iroha Isshiki—the president of the student council—requests a graduation prom in collaboration with the Volunteer Service Club. Yukino accepts this request of her own volition, hoping to use it as a chance to demonstrate her self-reliance, but what lies ahead of her may prove to be a hard hurdle to cross.

At the same time, a chance for the Volunteer Service Club members to better understand each other presents itself. And thus, Hachiman Hikigaya's hectic and bittersweet high school life begins to draw to a close.

Thoughts: The gif says it all really. I could just leave that there and end this list on a somewhat high note, but I’ll explain it. 

Now objectively, there were better shows than this one (off the top of my head JJK comes to mind) but when you combine all three seasons there is no contest in my mind that Oregairu had one of the most perfect endings to a series I have ever seen. 

It was an ending 7 years in the making. The first season in 2013 was good, the second season two years later was even better, but Climax was Oregairu at is absolute best and that goes beyond the story and characters. A lot of praise also has to go to Studio feel., who took over animation duties from Brain’s Base in season 2. While BB’s animation was much more accurate to the LN, feel’s more realistic designs fit the more mature direction the story was starting to go, giving the anime some of its best moments. 

Watching Hachiman, Yukino, and Yui grow and change from naive teenagers to somewhat understood young adults was amazing and sometimes heartbreaking to watch. Hachiman’s search to find something “genuine”, Yukino’s desire to be independent, and Yui struggling with her feelings of love and friendship all clash and compliment in very interesting ways that makes these three characters even more relatable than they were before. 

Lots of long running series don’t stick to landing, but in my eyes Oregairu stuck it perfectly. That’s why its my favorite anime of 2020.

Here’s to 2021. 

[ask-asexual-crystal-gems]

Let me tell you a little story. Back in the day, we used to have threads on the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network forums (A.V.E.N.) where we asked each other the question, “Do you consider yourself queer?”

About half of the answers were No. And this wasn’t just because we were at times shunned from queer spaces. We just didn’t consider ourselves queer, full stop. Even if you had given us a golden ticket pass directly into acceptance by the LGBT community.

Some felt no desire to even enter said spaces, or shrugged when they got there.

Some felt specifically uncomfortable because there was such a focus on sex/sexuality.

Now, people who were gnc or homoromantic obviously often said Yes. But that was usually separate from their identity as an ace spec or aro spec.

I’m similar. I have dithered for long periods of time over whether to identify as queer. I don’t view my ace identity as queer. I can construct an argument for it to be considered queer, based on the history of “queering,” which means deviation from norm. This of course, is how the term QueerPlatonic Relationship, qpr, is derived. And in that context, yes aro is explicitly queer. I will vehemently defend those who want to use aro or ace that way. But I will equally as vehemently defend those who want to self-determine, (as in, not allo people enforcing it) view ace and/or aro as a separate issue altogether, who don’t feel totally fitting with allo people, queer or not.

I’m non-binary like that.

Language is a construct.

Language can be ambiguous, have different associations in different subcultures, mean one thing to one person and another to another person.

Language itself is inherently non-binary, non-black-and-white.

I identified as totally agender for a long time (enby identities are common among aces). Now I understand myself as “most of the time agender/enby but leaning transmasc” kind of genderfluidity. I find that even though transmasc is the word that the culture has settled on that got nearest to describing me, so I am sort of obligated to have it because of usefulness, I do not quite vibe with “trans,” neither as this- nor as an umbrella term, but prefer “gnc” as the collective name for non-sexuality queerness.

LGBG, as it were.

Now, GSRM or MOGAI are obviously better, let’s note. Less awkward, less hierarchical/seniority-centered, more bases covered.

But this still causes problems for me in particular. I believe that most people would be agender or bigender or non-binary, absent heavily gendered social conditioning. So that “M” in GSRM suddenly isn’t numerically accurate for norms in a post-gender society of the future. I think binary homo (mono-sexuality) as in gay, lesbian, will always the sexuality minority, but have strong suspicions that bi (or multi- or whatever else you prefer) would be the majority (or mathematical norm, if you will) if heteronormativity were absent as well.

Especially if you included other types of attraction other than romo- or amato- attraction, as well you should.

Been thinking about “oriented aro/ace” and its implications to allocishets as of late:

In a post allohet society, I think most people would recognize and more deeply venerate the fact they had strong platonic (and possibly, even more subtle demi) attraction to the same-sex or same-gender alongside their more flashy het attractions.

(Ironically, similar sentiments lead to things like people objecting that demi “is normal” and shouldn’t be considered an identity in itself, for those who don’t experience primary attraction. Said people sometimes fit the description of demi themselves, just won’t accept the label. Demi could be quite common, and it’s not lesser, it doesn’t lose uniqueness points or something, for being a larger presence)

In this post society, relationships, including QPRs and PLPs and/or marriages on that basis- more than already happen- would form. People like those who have realized, oh yeah, I’m still falling in love with xyz people, but this friend is the one or ‘also-someone’ I want to commit to.

But even for romo, humans are extremely good at deflecting and repressing.

(Romance is in itself a construct. You especially tend to see this come into focus in aro discussion groups, trying to figure out what it even is and what parts comprise it.)

The way I think, as it’s typically used, “queer” is not a minority at all, but a label that emerged to designate itself as a reality beyond cis-het normative societal structures.

Had we never developed the allo-cis-het-patriarchal conditioning nexus, queer would not exist.

In other words, “queer” is born out of this presence, in reactionary fashion.

Now, for the present? That isn’t a problem. It’s useful, it’s linguistically sound, probably necessary, depending on how you define “necessity.”

But I look forward to a day when the word “queer” loses all its current cultural meaning and power, because it’s just ... entirely ordinary. No different from saying you have brown eyes. Even if minorities stayed at levels they are.

Once that has eroded, the “queering” of norms is complete, and with the norms gone, ironically “queer” ceases to be.

Now if we defined “queer” as what appear to be true minorities? That’s an entirely different question. One that I’m not gonna do any more of a deep dive on atm.

I don’t personally believe those parts make me an outlier. Aro? Aplatonic? Most definitely. The aspects of me, as in my gender, that are “queer” as it’s used in ace-exclusionary meaning? Nah. If I were binary trans? Yeah, probably. But all the rest, masc and femme and everything in between, I think those are the normal human experience. To quote someone somewhere on the topic, “Most human beings aren’t Barbie or G.I. Joe.”

Those gender spectrums are just ...... not queer, to my mind.

Regardless of chosen definition, I don’t and have never centralized “queer” in my identity even though it’s a nice shorthand, especially in- ahem- queer spaces.

Some textbook-definition lgbtq choose not to use the word for non-slur-related reasons. Just because they don’t vibe with it.

To be perfectly honest, I have passions and hyperfixations that are worlds more important to my identity than my gender or my sexuality. Is that because agender inherently means (to me personally!) that I’m not hung up on gender, and being gray ace (to me) means I’m not hung up on sexuality? Maybe! Idk. Either way, it’s how I think.

It is not very important to me that people of any walk of life see me as queer.

I’m just me, doing my thing, any word you apply to me is incidental.

So am I queer? Depending on context, yes or no. I’m non-binary like that.

[mum-hen]

Asexual Book Recs

I know that ace week is technically over, but I still wanted to put something out there even if it’s a little late. It’s still pretty rare for books to have confirmed ace-spectrum characters, but it’s always a delight when I do find them. For all my fellow asexuals and other ace-spectrum folks, I hope you enjoy this list of some of my favorite books with ace representation!

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman. This was the first book I ever read that had some sort of asexual representation. One of the main characters, Aled, is homoromantic demisexual. Throughout the book, he slowly comes to terms with his demisexuality and his feelings for his friend Daniel. At the time I was reading this, I thought I might be demisexual, so having this representation was really important to me.

Loveless by Alice Oseman. This came out just a few months ago, and it’s probably one of my favorite books! It’s another one by Alice Oseman, who is aro-ace just like the main character Georgia. Georgia is a college freshman who has never been in love or had a crush, but desperately wants a fanfic-level romance. Just for the hell of it, she joins the Pride Society at her university and is sort of mentored by the society president, who is bi-ace. Eventually she comes to terms with her sexuality and realizes that platonic love can be just as wonderful and all-encompassing as romantic and sexual love. I feel like with ace representation in books, not many of them actually focus on the actual coming out/realization phase. Not that there’s a problem with that (your sexuality doesn’t define you), but it is nice to have that token coming out story like so many other parts of the LGBTQ+ community have. 

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland. I read this recently and really enjoyed it! In the beginning of the story, I was definitely getting queer vibes from one of the main characters, Katherine, and she turned out to be ace! I have not read the sequel, so I don’t know how much it’s talked about there, but it’s still nice to have that rep. The point of view character for the book, Jane, is also bisexual.

Vicious and Vengeful by Victoria Schwab. Romance is a minimal part of these books, and it turns out that it’s because the main character, Victor Vale, is asexual. When mentioning a girl he knew in college, he says something along the lines of wanting her attention, and even her love, but not her sex. So definitely asexual, probably heteroromantic or biromantic. These are two of my favorite books of all time, just because of how amazing the plot and the characters are, and knowing that Victor is ace just makes me love them even more.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. I read this at the beginning of quarantine and immediately fell in love with it. It is a pretty big book, so just make sure you’re fully committed before you decide to read this one! The author has confirmed not one, but two of the main characters to be on the ace spectrum: Tane and Loth. She says that Loth is probably greysexual, but she isn’t 100% sure yet. This book in general is just full of queer characters and was a delight to read, so if you’re looking for queer fantasy characters I would totally recommend it.

The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon. This is the only book/series on this list that I have not read. I tried to get into it after reading Priory, but just wasn’t feeling it. The main character, Paige, is confirmed to be demisexual, and I think the author said this would be explored more in the following books. Another character, Jaxon, is also asexual.

Defy the Stars by Claudia Gray. Another one of my favorite books of all time! Abel, one of the main characters, is on the ace spectrum. In the first book, he alludes to being somewhere on the ace spectrum. He falls in love with the other main character, Noemi, but since he is a robot his programming only allows him to experience sexual desire after his feelings are reciprocated. In the third book, he is confirmed to be demipanromantic. 

While I was making this list, I realized that a lot of my favorite books coincidentally have characters on the ace spectrum. Looking back, I can’t believe it took me so long to realize I was ace. I think that’s why it’s so important to have ace rep in books - so people can educate themselves about this and potentially come to terms with their own sexuality. 

To all my fellow ace-spectrum folks out there: you are not broken. You are allowed to be proud of who you are. You deserve loving relationships, no matter the forms those relationships may take. Happy ace week to all, and to all a good night!

[actias-android]

So, okay, I don't usually like the gender to nonhumanity comparison but let's go with it for a second.

I have always felt...something. I've settled, eventually, as an ace, queer trans man with some additional nonbinary-ness. The road I took to get here was not short or simple, nor is it over, either; as long as I'm alive I could change and settle on another label, or even a whole different identity if that suits me better.

I know I have not really been entirely cis- or heterosexual, but what I have been has changed over the course of my life. I've been female and bisexual, but a tomboy; I've been female and not feminine but definitely a lesbian; I've been genderfluid, and attracted to only women; I've been nonbinary but statically so, and attracted to other nonbinary people; I've been a trans man and back to bisexual or pansexual again as far as attraction, though really mostly asexual insofar as sex being important to me or not.

I bring this up because it's become very common, especially in otherkin circles, to justify being otherkin as something like gender and orientation: it happens to you once and you have a One True You somewhere in there for your entire life, and the only direction you can go is towards this Real You. Anything else is a mistake.

This is nothing I've ever experienced with my own identity, which has wandered around in circles and occasionally gone sideways a bit, in any sense. Cool if that describes someone else out there, but it would be the height of ridiculousness to say that I wasn't really a lesbian when I identified as female and was solely attracted to females. Of course I was, because that's the term for someone like that, and that's the label I was proud to carry for that time. The person I was then with the understanding and feelings that I had then was a lesbian. That I later changed doesn't negate what was.

My understanding of myself is still evolving and will be until I stop breathing. So then, if being really, truly, for-real nonhuman is exactly like orientation and gender...well, then, that would mean that, at least for me, it would also evolve over time, and that each new step doesn't mean the ones that came before were somehow false, mistaken, or inauthentic. (What a horrible, high-stress thought...I couldn't deal with that.)

The other point is that my understanding of myself is, partly, not at all innate. I was not born with concepts or words for anything I've experienced. I didn't even realize that having attraction for more than one gender was anything unusual for my entire life up through college, and discovering the word 'bisexual' was a trip. I had never heard of trans people until later in college. I literally couldn't have identified myself as bisexual, trans, or even queer because those were not concepts I had. Being these things with these labels, as they're defined by others, is something that came to me through culture and society, and I decided eventually that they suit me as an expression.

This doesn't make my feelings more or less real. It's a lens through which I can process them. I could have had the same feelings, been the same person, and said, "I don't like these words. I think this isn't quite right." And really, even as I use them now, the nuance is close enough for rock and roll, but not entirely, 100% identical, but it's enough to be understood by others so it works.

Here's the part where I finally get around to what this has to do with otherkin. I don't see why any other aspect of identity has to be held to such a ridiculously high standard. Otherkinity itself is a community label, just like any other. If anything, it's most like gold-star gay (which is pretty outdated as a concept); you have to have always been this one thing and any deviation from the standard is grounds for losing your label.

I could, tomorrow, suddenly feel a very different way about my gender. Happened before, could happen again! I was still a trans man when I was one. Tomorrow I could wake up and not be fae anymore. I was still fae when I was fae. I wasn't mistaken, unless I choose to interpret it that way, but that's a choice I'm making. I've chosen to look at the evolution of my identity and give my past self the grace and understanding that I was not wrong when I decided who I was in the moment, and that life is defined by changes, and to give my future self the peace of mind and space to adjust course without fear of abandoning my own history.

I can't even imagine doing anything else, especially as so much of identity is informed by the culture around you. The discourse in the otherkin community regarding choice and its role in identity never seems to give the first thought to the fact that interpretation and labels are something external. Nobody is inherently otherkin, because otherkin is just a series of sounds; people may inherently feel that they're something other than human, but exactly what that is and what that means to them is a result of choosing to interact with others and accepting or rejecting various labels and defining concepts.

For my part, I can't breathe under the label of otherkin. I tried, but in the end, it was stifling, and had much more interest in telling me what I was not, by the standards of a bunch of people I've never met and don't think I would like much if I did. I'm happier being a faery without anyone else's rules telling me how I'm supposed to believe about past lives (all physically human as far as I know), or nonhuman memories (none whatsoever, thanks for asking), or whether or not I can choose to be this (I don't think I did, but I could un-choose it if I really wished to, and that's actually innate to my being fae).

And really, of course a faery is going to be happier without someone else's rules. If anything, deciding to not be otherkin is the more faery thing to do here.

Anyway this has been another vague, rambling post about why I don't like the label or the discourse and think they're both kind of full of shit, and also why I don't like the gender comparison that much. Gender is experienced just a little, if not a lot, differently by every person in the world, and for plenty of us, it's very malleable over time and probably better viewed as an ongoing process. Using it as a point of reference for something that's purportedly immutable by the most common definition is pretty damn silly in my opinion.

[moodyblues93]

Dear LGBTQ Community

I am so incredibly sorry is the only right way to start. This post comes from a lifelong conservative, homeschooled Christian. I never stood on a street corner with a sign that said ugly things about you, and whenever I met someone who was gay (or I suspected they were), I tried very hard to treat them the same as anyone else and not hold them at arm’s length; nevertheless, I made some disparaging remarks within my circle of likeminded people, and I most definitely saw you as being in the wrong. I didn’t hate you- I felt sorry for you, and found myself wistfully thinking how nice it would be if being gay wasn’t a sin, and we could all just get along then…but ultimately I had to shake my head and say, “well, the Bible says it’s a sin, so that’s the end of the debate.”

Having now been out of my (incredibly controlling and right-wing extremist) parents’ house for seven years now, I’ve made a lot of progress in finding what I believe is a proper middle ground for my beliefs and overall worldview. Every New Year’s Day, rather than make a resolution, I have a long talk with the Lord and ask Him to please make me more like Him in the coming year and draw me closer to His heart; I can honestly say that every year this prayer is answered, and I continue to become a more loving and understanding person (though I am far, far from perfect). This year I have become increasingly aware of how ugly a lot of my conservative, supposedly Christian friends behave at their cores, and how so many of the things they claim they’re saying in love sound a lot more akin to hate, pride, and bigotry. By May, I was so disgusted by their words and actions, I came back for a Part 2 to my prayer. I asked God to reveal to me the things in my beliefs that I had accepted as truths that are in fact lies- whether in part or in whole -and vice versa; I asked that He help me be willing to reconsider my stance on any and all issues where I was wrong, and to give me the courage to take the steps necessary to change.

I kid you not: within two weeks of praying that, I was struck out of the blue by a thought I had never dared even entertain in jest in my entire life. Why is being gay a sin? I froze in my tracks and my heart stopped. Having thought this forbidden sentence, my mind raced ahead before I could catch it.

Why should it be a sin?

I understand that the very first couple was a man and a woman, but they HAD to be in order to continue the human race.

If there’s one thing I’ve known from an early age, it’s that God is a God of logic. He has a reason for every commandment/rule, and usually that reason is very self-evident. Adultery is breaking a promise and brings devastating hurt to others and yourself. Stealing is taking something that you have no right to take, and again, you’re harming someone else one way or another. I already know AIDS isn’t the exclusively “gay cancer” televangelists claimed it was in the ‘80s, so I can’t even use that as the reason behind why gay relationships are forbidden.

I stood there in the kitchen, stumped. I could not think of a single actual reason why being gay could be considered a sin, aside from citing “because God said so,” which is not an actual argument; God never lays down arbitrary rules like that, and even the passages about “it is an abomination” suddenly didn’t make sense to me. Okay, but WHY is it an abomination? Circular reasoning didn’t sound like the God I’ve come to know so well over the years. The notion gnawed at me all day, and I could hardly focus on anything else. I prayed almost continually for the next two days on the matter: I asked that if my heart was deceiving me and I was being sucked into the “liberal Christian” mindset after too long away from the influence of a super strict church, that God would save me from my error and show me the why behind this commandment so I wouldn't stray. I also asked in no uncertain terms that if the church is in fact wrong and being gay is NOT a sin that God would give me peace about the whole matter and help me to find good, thorough resources that could dismantle the arguments I’d been supportive of all these years.

None of this stemmed from a guilty conscience needing to find justification for a beloved family member’s lifestyle, or even my own: as far as I know, everyone in my immediate family is hetero, and I myself am ace. Nor did this come from the desire to be as opposite of my strict parents as possible, to rebel and go nuts now that they no longer control my life. I am a person who always wants to know the why and how behind every rule and process, to understand as much about my surroundings as a human can, and to champion the truth in all things- even when that truth makes me uncomfortable.

I spent copious amount of time over several months researching this subject from multiple viewpoints, devouring articles and lectures, and praying for guidance with every new piece of information I uncovered. By the time I’d finished, I was left with a deep conviction that we have been wrong all this time; the arguments the church has used are based on a mix of mistranslations and cultural practices that are irrelevant to our society today (for anyone who wants to know more on this, I cannot recommend enough Walking The Bridgeless Canyon by Kathy Baldock, and God and the Gay Christian by Matthew Vines, because there isn’t room in this post to explain it all. You need to read both books for the full picture).

I’m sorry for how long this post is, but since you don’t know me, I’m trying to convey to you just how significant it is for someone like me to have come to this conclusion. I’ve been a dyed-in-the-wool conservative Christian my entire life; I literally don’t even remember my conversion because of how young I was when I came to faith. For those who are skeptics concerning if homosexuality and the like is a sin, I hope this has prodded at your conscience and will push you to start looking into this for yourself.

But my main purpose of this post is to address you, the LGBTQ community. One person’s apologies, no matter how sincere, cannot begin to make up for or repair the damage done to you. As I was studying all this, the more horrified I became as it hit me that there are countless souls the church turned away because they were told Jesus wasn’t interested in a relationship with them, and consequently, most of those people likely then didn’t want to have anything to do with a Jesus like that. The thought completely broke my heart for you, and all I want to tell you now is that regardless if someone has said to you that you cannot enter the kingdom of Heaven as long as you are a practicing homosexual/bisexual/etc. or anything else along those lines…PLEASE listen to me instead.

I love you. I accept you as you are and I am not going to ask you to change this aspect of your life. Far more importantly, Jesus loves you as you are and He wants to have a relationship with you. If the only thing that’s ever held you back from looking into Christianity is believing your sexuality won’t be accepted, know that there are churches out there who will gladly welcome you (Google ‘open and affirming church near me’).

I’m making an iron promise to you that I’m going to attend my local rally every June from now on; I’m going to hug you and remind you that it’s okay to be who you are without having to fear eternal damnation for it. I can’t say enough how sorry I am for everything that has been said and done to you, all supposedly in the name of love- a love that has been hideously misunderstood and twisted to fit a human agenda of our own making. Please give God another chance. Let Him show you just what love really and truly is, and I guarantee you will find it’s nothing like what you’ve been told.

I know you don’t know me, and you have no reason to believe me, but please take this as a hopeful sign for the future. If I can come to this conclusion, then surely the rest of the world can’t be far behind me. We will make this a safe and accepting place for you, where contemptuous glances and ugly words are no longer slung across the dividing line, because there will no longer be a line- it will no longer be an Us vs. Them, because there will only be Us. Thank you for your persistence through the decades to not deny who you are, because your endurance will help keep the door open for this and future generations to come to a true understanding.

I hope a lot of people see this. I don't know much about how Tumblr works, I'm hardly ever on here, but I sincerely wish for many people to see this and smile by the time they're finished.

Red and orange, yellow and green, blue and purple, black and white, we are precious in His sight.

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans Five: The Order Of The Shenanigans

Hey! Guess who has returned? 

Me!

Just the March doing her prompt writing thing, as seen on previous episodes :)

Parts one, two, three, and four here!

Prompt #5

Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience

Warnings for kidnapping mention and gifted kid “potential” mention

Okay. Not going to lie, I kind of tweaked the concept, but I like how it turned out. The idea of the sides having sides in human AUs has been in my brain, and now it’s in yours!

World Building

At first, the symptoms of having a soulmate was seen as symptoms of witchcraft

It was a reasonable assumption to make, as seeing into someone’s head and emotions wasn’t really a thing that humans did. 

However, as the population grew and communication across the globe became a thing, the instances of people finding their soulmates grew as well, and not everyone could be a witch (or, if they were, being a witch was simply being human).

It took a while for the culture around soulmates to shift, but shift it did, and people eventually figured out “Oh, that person is my soulmate, not my eternal enemy that I need to destroy via my demonic powers, which I totally have”

But people’s minds are kind of a lot, and it’s hard to process it all.

So, in modern day, people have learned to separate the pieces of their soulmate’s personality that they get bombarded with into different pieces, or sides

The sides are Logic, Morality/Emotions, Creativity (with there sometimes being a divide between dark and light), Self-Preservation, and Anxiety.

Characters

Roman: Roman is looking forward to meeting his soulmate so much!

Just...later.

When he’s a famous writer and people know about him and he’s evened out his insecurities and he deserves them!

Being perfect for them is going to take work, but most people meet their soulmates over 30, so he’s got at least fifteen years to prepare.

Until then, he was working on his fantasy story and dreaming of the day he’d get published or get the lead in a school play.

The writing club had been his idea, so you could say that everything that happens in the story was his fault. He’d just wanted to be around people who liked the same things he liked!

Roman’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Note: Names are hard. Aaaagh.

Magnus, his creativity, romance, passion, etcetera. Magnus is really the one who calls the shots around here. He’s just as goofy of a fifteen year old (if not more) as Roman, but he has the unenviable position of running a mind palace and being the ego of someone who hates himself.

This guy just wants to listen to Hamilton, but noooo, he had to have an evil reflection of himself and self-worth issues.

The Count, his self-preservation and pretty much Roman’s inner Roxie Hart/Velma Kelly. Randomly suggests poisoning their mortal enemies a lot (note: they don’t have mortal enemies). 

The most like canon Janus out of any of the self preservations, except instead of “we live in a society” it’s more “fuck it, we’re going to be *famous*!”

The other sides will pay him to stop saying, “that’s showbiz”

The Medic, his morality and emotions. Sort of has a medieval healer thing going on (which means herbs in a satchel, not plague doctor mask).

A lovely person on his own, but when he and The Guard team up, it’s ✨Guilt time!✨

He has the question of “Am I a terrible person?” on his hands, so...good luck to him. He’s trying to hold the five of them into a cohesive unit, but it’s hard!

The Guard, his fears and anxious thoughts. He has a shield and a spear, and is kind of dressed like a (dark and stormy) knight.

No one particularly likes him, but it’s his job to recognize The Shadow, so they all need him.

He hangs around on the outskirts of the mindscape, ever vigilant.

The Alchemist, his logic. No one listens to the voice of reason in this house. Al isn’t really a fan of this, and being Roman’s logic, he thinks that if he can find a way to prove himself it’ll turn out okay.

The Shadow, everything Magnus discarded. You could call him dark creativity, but he’s a lot more. 

They used to call him Rex, when they were kids.

Patton: Patton isn’t thrilled with having to move to a new school, but he’s keeping a positive attitude

The new town is creepy and making friends is harder than he thought, and he just wants to right a sappy love story about ghosts without feeling sad.

But if he keeps his chin up, he knows it’ll all be fine!

And hey, maybe he’ll find people who like him in this writing club thing!

Patton’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have: 

Patrick, his morality and emotions. Patrick feels all of the loneliness and desperation that Patton feels daily, but pretends he doesn’t feel it, since he has to be there for them!

Them meaning his family, meaning the rest of Patton’s mind, as well as Patton, since he’s kind of an older brother/role model to the guy.

Covering the full scope of human emotions isn’t great when the other half of your job is enforcing the sense of right and wrong (and the general consensus in Patton’s head is showing negative emotions = burden = wrong).

None of them can cook, but that won’t stop him from trying!

The Canary, his fears and anxious thoughts. Constantly popping up to remind everyone that they’re failing. It’s kind of his job.

Stress plays the piano when things get to be too much.

The Gardener, his creativity, romance, and passion. Conjures flowers a lot. Projects wishes for a soulmate into the sappy ghost love story, which he’s mostly in charge of writing.

Hasn’t split yet, but that’s mostly because nearly all of Patton’s negative impulses that would be considered “dark creativity” already come from The Miser.

Dr. Picani, his logical side. Knows everything about cartoons, and tries to be professional, but a complete sweetheart.

Secretly knows his name is Emile, but is waiting for the best moment to tell everyone.

The Miser, his self-preservation and deceitful side. No one’s a fan of him. Patrick is kind of his mortal nemesis (in the sense that Patrick claimed the title and he just kind of went along with it?)

Everyone else in the Pattonsphere refuses to curse, but he says many a “fuck” with ease

Trying to protect The Gardener from splitting by taking responsibility for most of the things a dark creativity would do.

Virgil: Virgil just didn’t want to join the yearbook committee. 

It was irrational, maybe, to have a deep rooted hatred of the yearbook committee. 

They were just trying to categorize things, design pages-it wasn’t malicious! 

And yet, being in that classroom and seeing Amelia’s dead eyes and smile near rang every alarm bell in his system, so he needed a way out this year.

His parents weren’t going to let him not choose an activity, so he flipped a coin and ended up in some writing club.

He came into the club determined to fake some pretentious poetry about death. Just because they say the club’s about expression or whatever doesn’t mean that they can know anything about his comics.

Virgil’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have: 

Dante, his fears and anxious thoughts. Dante has too many eyes. Dante is lowkey a cryptid, but he’s sadly a cryptid in charge of life decisions.

There’s no way to dance around it. Dante’s a spider-human hybrid.

Dante would prefer they never be perceived by anyone for anything. He does not want to be seen, he does not want to be heard, he does not want to be perceived. Period. 

But he’s a very conspicuous spider-human hybrid. 

The Competent One, The One Who Can Actually Do Math, Steve, whatever you want to call him, he’s Virgil’s logical side.

His theories are just....

See that image? That kind of sums up his characterization.

Parker, his creativity, romance, and heroic side. He’s the one who got them obsessed with comic books, and is trying to write his own. If people don’t like the comics, he’ll probably just start screaming and never stop

He gets the purple eyeshadow!

Remy,��his self-preservation. He mainly just wants Virgil to just...rest

Nap. Sleep. Take a self-care day. This is Remy’s goal.

Also to continue to have the most style out of anyone in the Virgilsphere

Remy has a talent for never being anywhere at the right time, and then popping up at the worst moments, caffeine in hand.

Tam, his morality and emotions. The most into the emo phase out of any of them, since he feels all angst!

Sometimes just hovers and screams. Everyone’s pretty used to this.

Logan: Logan was trying to ignore the things he’d seen

Logan was a scientific guy. He knew that magic wasn’t real, that the fae were just stories.

So, clearly, the nightmarish things he’d seen that night were just that: nightmares. Just nightmares caused by stress over his academic struggles.

That was the immediate problem at hand: academic struggles. Logan was always the top of his class his whole life, and words like “gifted” were thrown around. Lately, however, things have been harder to keep up with and pay attention to, and it’s a bit of a mess.

Logan joined the writing club because he thought it might help him with English class, and he did like speculative fiction.

But, more importantly, he joined it because he thought it would be a simple task he could easily ace, so he wouldn’t have to keep being told that he wasn’t trying.

Logan’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Mimir, his logical side. Mimir is pushing himself to take care of all academic matters and keep Logan afloat.

Mimir is over his head, but doesn’t really have anyone to talk to (or so he thinks), so he’s just putting Warby Parkers over his panic and faking cold distance to make everyone think he’s doing okay.

Alastor, his moral side. Half of his job is repressing Logan’s emotions, which isn’t a great thing to be doing, but he think he’s doing it for a good reason.

Kinda strict and blaming Mimir for everything going wrong. He does care about the others, he’s just bad at showing it.

Cassandros, his fears and anxious thoughts. 

This dude-

He’s basically just [puts feet on coffee table] “Hey, did you know everyone hates us?? I made a PowerPoint that proves it!”

He’ll get character development, though.

The Chessmaster, his overdramatic self-preservation.

Tries to be clever, walks into walls.

The Detective, his creative and fanciful side. He wants to swashbuckle, but instead he’s restrained to geometry. 

But now he has a project in the writing club! He has something to do!

And The Mad Scientist is trying to ruin it!

The Mad Scientist, Logan’s dark creativity.

They never used to care about the creative side one way or another. There was no need to make a dark side when it was already looked down upon.

Now, however, there are things in Logan’s mind that he’s trying not to think about, and so the Mad Scientist has joined the fray.

The Actual Plot

This is going to be an actual fic that I write. So, I’m not going to fill out the entire plot here.

I can, however say a few of the plot lines

Plot One: Everyone’s sides are in a state of constant screaming and must learn to communicate.

They also need to let their main guys figure out they have soulmates, because they’re all repressing that information for their own reasons.

Plot Two: LAMP in a writing club, falling in love and being disturbed by first drafts!

Plot Three: The fae are kidnapping people.

And everyone needs to get them to Stop.

I guess you could call this a trailer??

I JUST REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA

[tranquil-space-ninja]

So, I had a Thought. This is a My Hero Academia thought, so if you're not into it or you don't watch it or are planning to watch it and don't want spoilers, ignore this. This also includes my OC, Remus Aizawa, who's the child of Eraserhead and Present Mic. Those two are married in this, so it's Erasermic, too. I guess people who don't like reading about other people's OCs or Erasermic should ignore this, then. But, there's some wholesome stuff amidst my usual incoherent ramblings, so if you want wholesome LGBTQ+ content, just keep reading.

So, after the dorms are instituted, but before the 1A kids take the provisional license exam, the teachers decide to have a parent-teacher conference thing where the parents come and visit their kids and stuff. This event lasts a week, and there are no classes during that week. Now, All Might's space is Friday at 6 PM, and he decides to have a group meeting where the entire class's parents come in and everybody hangs out together so the kids can show their parents what they're learning and how they interact with each other and All Might can answer any questions.

All Might has everybody sit in a circle together. Everybody sits with their parent(s). Remus sits next to Present Mic, and Mic's there holding Mr. Aizawa's hand. Because they're married. Most of the other parents are all :0 at it, but the kids are like, "This is Old News." All Might starts the meeting, and it goes smoothly for a while until Endeavor, being Endeavor, and this being before his 'I'm going to be a Good Person and New Symbol of Peace and hide the fact that I abused and neglected my wife and kids for years and expect them to be okay with that' bullshit starts, says something homophobic and enbyphobic about Aizawa, Mic, and Remus.

Remus is non-binary lesbian and uses she/he/they pronouns for projection reasons. She's only out to a few of her classmates. Those classmates are Yuga Aoyama, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Minoru Mineta, Katsuki Bakugou, Tenya Iida, and Rikido Sato, 5/7 of them only because Denki was a dumbass and forgot how to knock, then opened their bedroom door while they were stuck trying to put their binder back on after a shower (Denki is also trans in this AU, and helped them get unstuck, and they've been friends ever since). As for the rest of the class, all the girls think he's a boy, and all the boys think she's a girl. (But 🎵he's not a boy, she's not a girl, can I make it any more obvious?🎵-- any Thomas Sanders fans here?)

So, when they hear this, the seven are like, "Oh, shit, Remus just got outed," and everyone else is like :0. Remus is in this weird limbo between, "Oh my god, I just got outed, what's everyone going to say?" and, "I don't care if he's the number 1 hero now, Imma punch this bitch for outing me and saying shit about my dads." She ultimately picks to punch the bitch and stands up, but Present Mic takes her wrist and makes her sit back down. After their initial shock, the other 1A kids start standing and yelling, and the parents are looking at each other like, "What do we do here?" And then, All Might yells for everyone to be quiet and tells the kids to go out in the hall while the grown ups have a Talk. They do so, mutering discontentedly.

While Mic and Aizawa are giving Endeavor the, I-don't-care-what-you-say-to-my-husband-and-I-but-if-you-come-after-my-kid-again-we're-gonna-have-a-problem talk, the kids are out in the hall talking to each other. The general consensus is that some of them are gay or trans, and it doesn't matter that they're the minority, this simply Will Not Do. They're brainstorming what to do, when Remus says, "I have Pride Flag stickers in my bag," and produces a huge-ass book of Pride stickers. By huge-ass, I mean there are 8 pages, 2 of each sticker shape, for every pride flag, with the exception of those created by TERFS and other exclusionists, in rectangle, heart, square, and circle shapes. The Ally Flag is there, too. So, after making sure if everyone who wasn't out yet was okay with it, the students start flipping through the huge-ass sticker book and grabbing their flag or flags. They each put a heart on each cheek and a big rectangle on their chest.

Denki wears the trans flag and the bi flag. Remus wears the nonbinary, ace, and lesbian flags. Mina wears the lesbian flag. Deku, Jirou, and Tsu wear the bi flag. Shoto Todoroki, Kirishima, and Bakugou wear the rainbow pride flag. Everyone else wears the Ally Flag. (This was my way of telling you how I headcanon each of the characters for the purpose of this story).

When All Might calls the students back in, they all hold hands or put their arms around each other and walk in together. The parents all stare at their kids wearing these brightly colored stickers, and All Might asks, "Um... What are you kids doing?" which is what everybody was thinking.

Mina yells, "This is a protest," and the students all cheer.

Bakugou follows that with, "That bitch--" pointing at Endeavor, "--was saying some homophobic and transphobic shit, and we're not going to fucking tolerate it! And you can't do anything about it because we all have quirks and together we can easily beat your ass, even stupid Deku over there." More cheering. Most of the parents joined in, because they're proud of their kids. Some are just shocked because holy shit their kid just came out to a whole room in protest their baby is so brave and strong and grown up now.

Then Tenya says, "As class representative, I'd also like to say something," to chants of "Speech, speech, speech!" Once that dies down, he continues, "After we moved into Heights Alliance, Remus Aizawa told me that the reason the League of Villains had kidnapped herself and Bakugou was to recruit them to their side. They tried to do so by telling her that society had no place for her, that if he ever came out to his friends, they'd alienate him, and brought up the fact that most of the world constantly misgenders and deadnames him. She declined their offer to join them, but I honestly wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't. With all due respect, Endeavor, your actions tonight were shameful. The level of intolerance you displayed has no place in Hero Society. I want all of you here tonight to know that the League of Villains was wrong. I may not be part of the LGBTQ+ community, but I think I speak for all of my cishet friends when I say we fully support our classmates who are, and when we're Pros, we plan to make sure this world is a place where everyone can be safe to be themselves, no matter their gender or sexuality. That is all. Thank you for your time."

The entire room was silent for a moment, then everyone but Endeavor started clapping. A few of the parents even asked for some of the Ally stickers, which Momo and Remus happily passed out.

Then there was Saturday, which had a few more parent-teacher conferences, and on Sunday, Class 1A threw a gender reveal/coming out party for Remus, Denki, Todoroki, Tsu, Bakugou, Jirou, Deku, and Kirishima. There were three cakes. One was frosted rainbow, with the cake the colors of the lesbian flag, and was full of M&Ms in the bi flag colors, and two were frosted white, one cake the color of the trans flag full of blue M&Ms and one full of yellow, white, black, and purple M&Ms, with cake the colors of the ace flag. There were also balloons that said, "It's a boy," and some with "boy" crossed out and replaced with "enby" everywhere. There also chips, soda, and fruits and vegetables (at Mr. Aizawa's request).

Were they trying too hard? Yes.

Was it a sweet gesture? Yes.

Did everybody have fun and enjoy the party? Hell yeah!

Anyway, that's the thing. That's the Thought. I hope you liked it!

[yoolee]

Hey, so I’m thinking I may be ace but not entirely sure? I have zero desire nor interest to have sex nor do I see people in a sexual light (not very often anyways). I keep doubting myself that since I haven’t been in a relationship that perhaps I just “have to wait for the one” but I really couldn’t care less about who I get with (man or woman, I don’t really have a preference)or when. I think that I *am* ace but then again I keep doubting myself. Any advice on how to figure out such things?

OH MY GOD APPARENTLY I HAD A LOT OF THOUGHTS ON THIS SORRY.

TL;DR - BRAINS ARE WEIRD. BODIES ARE WEIRD. BOTH ARE INVOLVED IN SEXUAL ATTRACTION and both are dynamic - so try not to worry about fitting a single definition for all time, and go easy on yourself - your body feels what it feels and what’s right for you.

In this LITERAL SIX PAGE ESSAY I will ramble more:

CAN I CONDENSE THIS into bullet points let’s try:

It’s okay not to define yourself. We all learn things about ourselves as we grow and experience things, and (as a whole) sexual attraction isn’t a one-time-done-deal (though aspects may be)

It’s typically easier to know what we DON’T WANT than it is to know what we DO, so don’t feel weird about not knowing for sure

The media has NO IDEA how often or how little people think about sex and trust me the answer to that question varies WILDLY.

Check out AVEN to read about experiences and see if any of them feel like yours.

Know that level of sexual interest fluctuates over time based on all kinds of inputs (age, medication, other people, stress), so don’t worry too much about changes from your baseline limited/no interest - it’s a bucket, not a pre-measured dose.

If you DO decide to try a relationship or try physical intimacy, do it for YOU not because you feel like you should, and be upfront with your partner about your baseline interest levels before you make it to a bed (or wherever else you choose to instigate)

If you decide it’s not something you want to explore, but you still want an intimate or romantic relationship with someone - know that it’s absolutely possible, more common than you might think, and definitely doable. It may take a few tries, and a few awkward conversations, but those get easier. 

OKAY NOW THE LONG ASS VERSION SORRY

It’s okay not to define yourself. We all learn things about ourselves as we grow and experience things, and (as a whole) sexual attraction isn’t a one-time-done-deal (though aspects may be)

I don’t think how you feel about sex is something you figure out once and are done with, so I’d encourage you to be open to the idea that your definition for yourself may flex a little or change with factors like age or medication that you’re on or the people you’re with, and that’s okay! And it may not, that’s also okay! Bodies and brains are weird and also dynamic, sometimes things are hard coded (whether or not cilantro tastes like soap!) Some things vary over predictable pattern (generally, kiddo taste buds are wired to prefer sweet and this, generally along a predictable sort of timeline, decreases as they age) and sometimes WHO THE FUCK KNOWS (why does person A prefer A dark roast coffee and person B a medium roast and person C thinks both taste like mud and would like to stick to their peppermint tea, please, which person D - Lee - can’t even stand the barest, faintest, tiniest sip of it?) and sometimes the right circumstances make the difference (Person F may hate brussel sprouts - unless grandma makes them with her magic balsamic vinegar, but it’s not the same when Aunt E tries) point being - give yourself some grace if you don’t feel like you perfectly fit one single bucket at all points in your life.

 Consider, to go back to food - Sally KNOWS she’s allergic to peanuts and that cilantro tastes like soap. These are hard coded. So even without trying a Thai stiryfry with peanut sauce, she knows it’s not for her. Less clearly life or death, she’s not a fan of catfish, just because the texture is kind of rubbery, even though her sister loves it. How does she feel about seabass? Dunno, she hasn’t had it. If she has a general idea that seafood’s not her thing, cool - plenty of other things to eat (in this metaphor, plenty of other kinds of relationships to have with people! Physical intimacy is only one) if, one day, she decides to try it, she may learn she likes it, and she also may learn she likes seabass EVEN LESS than catfish. But she can also live her whole life not knowing for sure, and--who cares what her seafood preference is? Why does she have to tell anyone - unless she’s going over to someone’s house and they ask what she likes so they can serve it, and she can tell them, definitely no peanuts or cilantro, not a huge fan of seafood (or, not a huge fan of seafood but if you have a recipe you really like, I may be willing to try it? Both are okay). It may also turn out that the first time she had it, she kinda liked it, but then she had it prepared by someone else and, nope, gross and weird. There’s all sorts of reasons why what tasted one way today will taste different tomorrow. Not everything changes like that (see, peanuts - or, in this metaphor, your kind of baseline) but it may fluctuate a bit in a number of directions, based on a number of factors, internal and external (who prepares the seabass! Is it fresh?) 

 The internet is often one of the few safe spaces for people to openly, proudly define themselves from a sexual identity perspective, so you see a lot of folk doing so - and that’s GREAT. But I PROMISE YOU there’s a HUGE POPULATION who is right there with you going...am I this? Or that? Why don’t I know? 

It’s typically easier to know what we DON’T WANT than it is to know what we DO

Seriously. It is. Maybe you aren’t sure if you want to kiss someone or not. I bet you DO know that you DON’T want to kiss rusty chainsaw blade dripping mysterious green goo. While there are personalities that are very good at clear decisions and classifications (I want to eat at Restaurant A because I want tacos and Restaurant A is the first restaurant I know of that serves tacos) there is also an equally common personality that is wired towards possibilities. (I could eat tacos. But pasta also sounds good, and so does baingan ka bharta.) For the latter, it’s usually easier to focus in on, I don’t know what I want but I know I do NOT want a sandwich. And that’s okay

(related - sometimes our bodies don’t even know we’re hungry. Are we? Or are we thirsty? WHO KNOWS) 

Hopping back to Sally and her seabass. Sally knows for sure she’s not into catfish. She’s never eaten catfish, but they freak her out and her stomach flips over just thinking about it. Cool. But seabass? She doesn’t feel that immediate stomach flip aversion. But her mouth doesn’t water either. She KNOWS her sister tried it and love it. But you know what? Her sister also likes reality TV so her judgement? Different than Sally’s. 

Whether she wants to try it one day or not doesn’t change anything except what tense she can use when talking about it. If she tries it, maybe she’ll learn she LOVES seabass. Maybe she’ll learn she only likes it when a particular chef makes it, and only if it’s seasoned with chili flakes first. And, also, honestly, maybe she will try it, and it will make her sick and lead to a miserable 24 hours in the bathroom and a wish she’d never tried it. That’s a risk. It’s up to Sally if she wants to take it, and whether she does or not, NOBODY ELSE’S BUSINESS except hers and the potential chef making it.

Society is weird about this SO WEIRD and puts SO MUCH PRESSURE - ignore it. There is no ‘normal’ when it comes, specifically, interest level in engaging with sexual activities

If you find yourself pressured to ‘try’ - ask yourself how much of it is YOU and how much of it is SOCIETY. It’s okay to try if you want to, or you’re curious. BUT if you’re trying because you think you ‘should’ I’m gonna tell you flat out and point blank that you are probably going to be in for a very uncomfortable experience, literally and figuratively. And y’all listen. Media does NOT align with reality. It does a lot of people a hug disservice with its prevalent narratives about sex drives. Some of the horniest people I know are cis women in their forties, and I knew teenage cis guys embarrassed and worried that all they wanted was to cuddle when movies were shoving down their throats that they should be thinking sex 24/7. Don’t assume anything about your potential partners.

You don’t have to try something if your gut says, not for you. 

Personal experience? I’ve had to break off relationships with some good people (and some shitty ones) because I was hoping for something to click into place and it never did. Those were harder to end than the ones where the other person did something bad or dumb or stupid, because there wasn’t any one thing I could point to. But as much as it sucked to dump people I liked but didn’t connect with on levels I had hoped, I think we both learned stuff, and it wasn’t time wasted. Others, I was better prepared to say up front, and we explored other options together that we both got something out of, and they ended for other reasons (....usually me being like, ugh, other people and their emotions, no thanks, but, I’m also kind of a self-centered bitch, full disclosure, which you could probably guess from the fact I am STILL TALKING)

Communication is key

To that point, if you ever find yourself in a relationship that seems to be drifting from casual to serious, COMMUNICATE. Tell your partner up front that hey, you’re not sure sex is for you, you’re not into intimate touch, are they okay with that. If NO, you’ve saved both of you some future heartache, if YES, then it’s on the table to talk about later and explore--or not--together. And you don’t have to worry about how or when to bring it up for the first time. The earlier you do it, the less stressful it will be, promise, because you can lay that casual tidbit, and it’s out there. Communication is key. 

You don’t owe society sex, and you don’t owe your partner sex, not even to see if it’s for you or not. But you do owe them communication and honesty. If physical intimacy is something your partner needs to feel fulfilled in a relationship, and it’s not for you - then a romantic relationship may not be right for you both. It’s okay not to know that up front as long as you communicate it may be a possibility and get their buy-in, and communicate when you ARE sure. As much as that sucks, it’s a thing just like any other (like, person A wants kids and person B doesn’t - there are some things were there isn’t exactly a compromise, and everyone ends up miserable - baseline expectations around sexual needs can be one of them).

It’s easier than it sounds - Hey, not gonna lie, you’re cute and this is fun but kissing is as far as it goes for now. Hands there don’t really do it for me. Before this goes further, I just want to be upfront that I consider myself ace, so I don’t really see sex happening. Before this goes further, I’m pretty new at the whole sex thing and honestly not sure it’s really for me, so I need you to go slow. Etc etc etc. Most of the time you get an ‘okay’ and life goes on. Sometimes they ask questions in which case, shiny! Communication! Answer honestly, and ask in return. 

You’re not drawing up a legally binding contract about you will or won’t do - you’re just aligning expectations, and check in with them when they change. 

 Check out stories!

Check out AVEN. Even within asexuality, there’s a lot of variability in how people define themselves - read some of the experiences and see if any of them feel close enough to yours that the definition feels ‘right’ for you. If not, don’t sweat it! Just means you’re still exploring. Some people find they can masturbate but once another person is involved, it’s a no-go. Others find that it takes a long time to ramp them up but it’s possible with a patient partner they trust. Others never feel anything. Others are okay with it in the moment, but don’t spontaneously feel their own desire to instigate it. Asexuality is a pretty welcoming variety!

 Sex drive is impacted by a lotta things

Know that lots of things impact sex drive in particular. Like. Again, for cis women, the data suggests the more you have sex the more you want it - it can ramp up like that. Also, some people get going with visuals (pictoral imagination, porn, naked people in front of them) but a LOT of people need WORDS (legit, why do you think romance novels are such a booming business?) this can come in things partner says or, you know, written erotica (Just like with porn though you have to be careful - recommend Smart bitches, trashy lit) 

It doesn’t necessarily remain static over time. For example, medication and age are both two big inputs to this (ask any nursing home staff - I’m deadly serious. It’s honestly a little concerning because of dementia and consent issues, but like, it’s a thing for sex drives to WILDLY SPIKE in 80 somethings) you could be in a lull, or impacted by meds (for example, hormonal BC is pretty well known to suppress sex drive, and yet, being pregnant--which hormonal BC supposedly mimics to an extent--tends to make some folk absolutely and unexpectedly nutters for physical sensation)

It can be kinda shocking to go, like, years without any interest in sex as an activity or people as sexual partners, and then all of a sudden hormones whallop you upside the head and scream at you do something about them - that doesn’t mean WHO YOU ARE has changed. It just means your biology is responding to something. ANd listen 

L I S T E N

If we knew HOW, consistently, to turn attraction on and off? That would be a thing.

We don’t.

Like. One of the weird ass symptoms of SLEEP PARALYSIS of all things, which is basically, a nightmare you have where you think you’re awake but you aren’t (you ARE semi conscious) and you can’t move, is the idea of an incubus hanging out in the room, because people feel like spontaneously aroused. And we have NO IDEA WHY. And it’s NOT ALL THE TIME. ANd yet it’s documented across CULTURES across TIME, it’s a THING. 

So. 

If your body is not doing something other bodies are doing - well, it’s doing what it needs to to be your body. If your body suddenly stops or starts doing something, and it concerns you (sudden appearance of sex drive! Sudden vanishing of it!) talk to a doc. 

Otherwise - your hair gets longer, sometimes you get freckles where you never had them before, your tastebuds change. This is just one more thing on the list of shrug.

[professorspork]

Frozen 2: first impressions

Hello friends! As you know, Frozen was a HUGE part of my fandom life ~back in the day.~ So of course I saw the sequel opening night and of course I have thoughts after ruminating on it for 24 hours. I’m sure there will be many things I forget or don’t cover--after all, I’ve only seen it the once. And I make no guarantees that my thoughts are coherent or consistent. (If I contradict myself, I contradict myself-- I am large, I contain multitudes.) I’m also sure my opinions will evolve upon rewatch. Lord knows they did last time.

Is that enough disclaimer yet? OKAY. Some of my thoughts are negative! Some are positive! It’s a grab bag! Here we go!

Spoilers under the cut, pals.

IN SHORT: As an expansion on the world and the characters I adore, I pretty much loved it! As an extension of uh Big Capitalism and what it means in terms of real world ramifications... I have questions/comments/concerns!

IN LONG: I think I’ll start with what didn’t work for me and work my way around to fangirling at the end.

the meh

I feel like... part of it is that Disney has just gotten worse and power-grabbier in way more blatant ways in the last few years, and part of it is that I’m ever-more cognizant of these things. And the fine line they want to walk of “We can tell stories about progressive concepts! Princesses are woke now, actually!” without taking a single financial risk when it comes to alienating foreign markets, homophobes abroad or Nazis domestically is just a fundamentally untenable position to be in. You don’t get to retcon Elsa and Anna as being somehow less white than they clearly are and then try to tell a story about reparations in which no one actually gets reparations. You don’t get to get points for that. It’s in some ways admirable to want to try, but all you do when you’re coming at it from the position of being Disney when you tell this story is show the cracks in it.

I can see how, on a purely storytelling level, having Papa King Arendelle Agnarr be of Arendelle and Iduna be of the Northuldra and having their daughters be the bridge between the two communities is a really tempting, tidy, tie-a-bow-on-it narrative. And I also see how creating the backstory of the war and the mist neatly explains the absence of indigenous faces in the first film. But like... come on. Introducing an indigenous group like the Northuldra and then declaring that Elsa and Anna are a part of it is insulting. There’s no other way to say it. It just feels gross. I’m glad that Disney consulted with the Sámi on the movie, and I acknowledge that both real-life Sámi folks and the onscreen Northuldra come in a broad variety of skin tones and phenotypes. But even with the most generous possible reading of the choice-- that it’s well-intentioned, albeit misguided-- falls flat for me. It feels like Disney trying to have their cake and eat it too. And I don’t really see any way around that. It just... gives me tremendous pause, and it’s so core to so many of the things the movie chooses to be that it’s really disquieting and disappointing.

But then again, Disney being racist isn’t exactly news, and there’s still plenty of flaws to tackle even when we put this (massive) issue aside.

This movie is... weirdly allergic to stakes? It’s not like I wanted Elsa to stay dead, or that I expected Olaf to (more on that in a minute). But Anna’s decision to go full Thor Ragnarok and, as @theseerasures​ jokingly put it to me last night, “throw the first brick at Stonewall” and destroy Arendelle felt right. It felt appropriate to the story they were telling, and it would have had the film put its money where its mouth is re: how atoning for the sins of our forebears requires massive systemic change. So having Elsa charge to the rescue on her water-type Rapidash extremely queer steed daemon Gay Horse and save the city felt cheap. (Also, side note: is Arendelle really just... that one seaside port town and nothing else? Are there only like fifty people in Arendelle?) The citizens had already been taken to safety. The society would live on; they’d all get to rebuild. What was the point of saving the castle, just for saving the castle’s sake? To what end? I don’t see how that’s more inspiring or reassuring or worth it than watching the sisters lead their people from the ground up and starting anew. I don’t understand what they thought was worth protecting, when, again, all of the people were safe. Stories need stakes in order to have meaning! HTTYD has impact because Hiccup loses his leg in his attempt to save his dragon and his people. You know? You don’t get to just... keep everything the way it is and call that restorative justice, and the film clearly wants us to. And I don’t understand why. The only reason that makes any sense at all to me is that they thought it would scare little kids, but like. THIS COMPANY HAS PORTRAYED WAY MORE TRAUMATIZING THINGS THAN THAT. MANY TIMES.

Point in fact: Olaf’s death! Genuinely disturbing! Sad! For the most part I really liked the way it was handled, but it also felt very. Y’know. “Mister Stark, I don’t feel so good.” This is perhaps my most uncharitable nitpick, so I’ll keep it brief, but having Olaf drift away Snap-style just felt like an extremely synergistic, Disney+ nod at Infinity War instead of an organic decision. Which maybe isn’t fair, because it makes more sense for Olaf to become a flurry than for the Snap to make people dust! But nevertheless, the weird wink-and-a-nudge feeling of it totally pulled me out of what should have been an extremely poignant moment. Elsa’s revelation during “Show Yourself” felt similar--like. Not to take away from your moment, Elsa, but the call isn’t out there at all, it’s inside me was already covered by this larger canon, and in a more elegant and eloquent manner.

Which--tbh, the music overall was a bit of a letdown (though “Into the Unknown” slaps and a boyband of five joshes “Lost in the Woods” was perhaps the best sequence in the whole movie). I respect that they clearly wanted to give everyone a solo this time around in a deliberate way, but the songs felt perfunctory for the most part--describing moments instead of advancing them. This film was such a departure from how Disney normally makes sequels (mostly in a good way, actually) and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have looked like to make a version of this movie where no one sang at all. It didn’t feel cohesive.

And, though it would kill me to get rid of “Lost in the Woods” because it’s perfect... I kinda wish Anna and Kristoff had gotten engaged at the end of act 1, as I think they pretty clearly did in the first draft of this script. Their relationship drama felt like a hat on top of a hat, and they could still have addressed their codependency/insecurities while being engaged. Leaving the proposal for the end just made it an anticlimax after everyone’s been brought back from the literal dead. And it maybe would have left them with more options than having Kristoff just vanish from the narrative for the entire back half of the second act.

Also Honeymaren should have had at least two more scenes. I can’t justify this on a narrative level; the movie didn’t actually need more of her. But like. If you’re going to go out of your way to keep Elsa carefully single, and even give KRISTOFF a new boyfriend, I feel like the least you can do is let us get to know the obvious throw-us-a-bone offering a little bit better. Like. Literally. the actual least you can do.

anyway. all of that said.

the yay!

I can’t tell you how gratifying it was to me, personally to open with a flashback of the girls that demonstrates as clear as day that Elsa is an ace lesbian and Anna is bi and polyamorous. Thank you, snow action figures.

And like. Overall the way the movie tackled the sisters and their relationship was pure *chef’s kiss.* (And I think for me, the strength in this particular bullet point probably outweighs all of my complaints and concerns from above, in the end. At least from an “I still derive enjoyment from this flawed thing” standpoint, though perhaps not from an “I’d recommend this to anyone without caveats” standpoint.) THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH. THEY WERE SO THEMSELVES. I do think part of the fear of any sequel where there’s been a significant amount of time since the last one and you were so emotionally invested in it the first go-around is like... what if everyone feels OOC? What if what I saw wasn’t what was really in them after all? What if they feel like strangers? What if they let me down? And there was none of that, even for a second, with this movie. Their parallel journeys were character-appropriate and impactful. Elsa finally gets the freedom she’s always been looking for. Anna finally gets the responsibility she’s always been ready for. Anna, the caretaker, is positioned to take care of everyone. Elsa, the lesbian, runs away to the forest to hang out with beautiful powerful women. Elsa, the force of nature, is finally allowed to commune with it. The scene at their parents’ ship truly anchors the whole movie in the best possible way. And also, like... this movie showed how fucking weird Elsa is, and I feel so vindicated. SHE’S SUCH A DORK. I can’t believe I never realized that Elsa would totally choose Charmander as her starter, and the way she talked to the fire salamander was literally the most charming thing I have ever seen. “They’re staring at us, aren’t they?” GOSH. [IMDb says the salamander’s name is Bruni, and I’m very sad they never spoke it aloud.] [Someone do a rotoscope of the Tangled short where Pascal and Max almost ruin Rapunzel and Eugene’s wedding by losing the rings but it’s Bruni and Sven at Kristoff and Anna’s wedding, thank]

Anyway. All of that goes double for Olaf, because I really wasn’t sure they could pull off the miracle of him not being annoying twice. And they did! Olaf’s grappling with his burgeoning maturity was adorable and profound in equal measure, and his plot reenactments were sublime. And when he realized to Anna for the first time that he was feeling angry, that he was capable of feeling angry... what a tremendous moment. (Actually, I’ll extend what I said about the boat scene to include the Earth Giants river sequence in total, because. Again. Wow.)

And I have to say... as much as I am given real pause by their execution of the concept, “you just do the next right thing” is such beautiful (*cough* Jewish *cough*) praxis. I love that. In the broader Disney Revival canon of Tiana’s work ethic and Rapunzel’s abuse narrative and how Wreck-It Ralph talked about PTSD and all of the myriad things the first Frozen did, I might love “the next right thing” most of all. What a simple, powerful, evocative message. It’s so lovely. A perfect gem.

Also worth acknowledging that the animation was straight-up stunning. Which I expected, generally, but the water droplets in the ship? The way Elsa just loses it sobbing when she sees her mother’s face in the ice? The tender, shattered way Anna pulls Olaf in closer to her as he fades? W.O.W. And, y’know, while I stand by what I said above about stakes, I will say that the moment we first see that Elsa is experiencing cold, that Elsa is freezing? Genuinely--and please forgive the pun--genuinely chilling.

I love Gail the Gale. I love Mattias and Yelana and Ryder and Honeymaren. But mostly I just... loved the dialogue and these characters and that I got to spend a little more time with them. And I’m sure I’ll do so at least two more times before it leaves theaters.

... apparently this is over 2k words now so that seems as good a place to leave it as any. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[rabbitindisguise]

Okay but for real all the alloaros in the new alloaro centered aro separatist community blatantly and obviously are participating in specific strains of Tumblr activism and it shows in every community building act they try to do

(this is very disconnected and rambling but I'm unhappy to the nth degree so)

I've seen trusc/um, I've seen endlessly trashing aces, I've seen debating allo privilege and saying "but we're different!" and I've seen dismissals of acroaces. I've seen slut shaming. I've seen purity culture. Hostility against new language.

Yet there's memes. And color coded posts. A website that blatantly rips of AVEN that struggled. And that's . . . it. I'm not one to be an elitist about activism, but there's a point you gotta ask yourself if what you're trying to do isn't better accomplished in a larger group. That's why aces wanted to join the alphabet soup.

Like, for real. None of this is typical queer community behavior. We're supposed to be sex positive, we're supposed to support people that society deems unacceptable, we're supposed to care about people in our communities that have other marginalizations. We're supposed to welcome change and the challenges that come with it. We're not fucking bootlickers.

The new community isn't a community. Have they don't anything of material impact aside from validate alloaros at the expense of others? Did they try to build language and culture and connections? No. They toss out aroaces and aces and feel proud of themselves. Their little microcosm built of mutual hatred rather than literally anything else. It's a transparent "let's be like everyone else and have things that everyone else does." No one had cake before aces adopted the symbol organically from AVEN's emoji dex, no one said "we need a cultural symbol" and forced it. No one just decided to be "be a community" and became one. David Jay started out talking about himself, and got solidarity. Affiliation is not something you can force because you feel slighted. This is something that grows out of emotional connections that take years to develop, there's no fast forward button. It's appalling that a community that prides itself on valuing non-romantic bonds failed to understand this vital concept.

Feeling owed a community is not the same as having one.

And not to play the comparison game with this history, but while aces are historically not the best they could be, they never treated me like an invader, or assumed malicious intentions. They certainly never used language from amatonormativity against me. They've never said "for aces (except if you're aro)." I can't say the same for aros. And that's so damn shameful. This should not even be the in the realm of possibility nevermind commonplace.

If a single one if them had talked to alloaros off Tumblr, maybe things would have been different. Because I know trusc/um and slut shamey aces exist on Tumblr. Ace is no longer restricted to "you need to know a guy." It's a free for all. But the ace community has not changed very much in its base ethics. The aro community? Never even started on good footing. This isn't a romanticization of the good old days either, this is literally "this website is not a place where criticism can be dispensed effectively."

I never thought I'd see a day where I'd feel ashamed to call myself aro in polite company. Now I don't even know how I can continue to to contribute to a community I don't even believe in. Aros have really dropped the ball on this one. I don't know what my personal responsibility is here. I've never been a part of a group that's wielded campaigns like drop the T, or drop the L, or drop the A, or whatever. It's disconcerting to have a history associated with identity that's full of malice. I'm not proud of this. And I never will be, even though my subversion of allosexism still is a part of my identity and pride. The LGBTQ+ community was made first and foremost on the profound acceptance of the people within the community. It wasn't about oppression. It was about affection. There's no affection to be had in the alloaro community, and it's not because they're alloaros. It's because the base of the community was built on toxicity and anger.

I hope coming out of this people begin to consider community building as actual work from everyone involved. Because it is. And we need it. But we can't be doing this stuff anymore. It's not sustainable.

[klaineharmony]

300x3, Year 2, Week 1:01

All right, all. I’m trying to pick up my 300x3 for the new year, and get back into “We’ll Be There to Defend One Another.” I’m posting a fairly large chunk here, but I only wrote 302 new words of it today. But 302 words is 302 words! I won’t sneeze at it. @whatstheproblembaby, @katherineisthebestpulitzer, @queenofbrooklyn, @canadiantheatrenerd, @elozable, @wordshakerofgallifrey, @captainlordauditor, @writemetohell, @thelittleredheadedmusician, @rudeflower (are you a fan of this ‘verse? I honestly don’t remember).

Katherine woke early the next morning, much to her chagrin. She had honestly wanted to get some sleep after the past few days. She was normally an early riser, but it became chronic when her brain was too full, her mind too busy, and there had been much to think about during the past week. She wasn’t sure that even David knew about this particular quirk of hers, though he already worried that she didn’t sleep enough. (He was one to talk, with his full work days and union meetings afterward.)

She crept out of bed and once again availed herself of Sarah’s wrapper before sitting next to the window. I really should bring a set of nightclothes from home, she thought. Goodness knows I’m here enough, and they would be easy to smuggle out of the house. I’ll do that, the next time I have a convenient excuse to leave with a bag.

Of course, if David had his way (and Jack, too, from the sound of it) this would be her home permanently about a month from now. The thought filled her with joy, but there was trepidation mixed in.

Last night had been hard. She had known - or thought she had known - the complications of existing in a mixed religious marriage; her parents had certainly had their share of detractors and mockery, and even hatred. But, to a certain extent, her father’s money and position had insulated them. Elite New York was a money club, after all. Joseph Pulitzer could create scandal around anyone, make or break political careers, with just a story or two. And her father had done everything he could to divorce himself from the Jewish community, Katherine recalled bitterly. He had given up his heritage when he married her mother, become persona non grata to to the community that should have been his home, failed to teach his children about the religion he had been raised in. Katherine had never asked him whether his motives were personal or purely social, but either way, she wasn’t sure she could forgive him for it.

Still. To think that she had understood the extent to which people in mixed marriages could be ostracized and threatened, based purely on her own family’s experience, seemed like the height of arrogance now. 

She wanted to build a home, and a family, with David. She hadn’t fully realized that she could also deprive him of those things, simply by being who she was. The community that was instrumental to the Jacobs’ support and well-being could close ranks and leave them utterly alone, if it was collectively decided that she and Jack were too great a threat. People in her parents’ stratum of society did the same, of course, to anyone who violated their social rules, but it wasn’t quite the same. Money could be gained or lost, earned or inherited, and while longstanding wealthy families always carried a certain social influence around with them, it wasn’t a given that they would always belong to the club. Money wasn’t religion or heritage or identity, as much as some people in her parents’ circles liked to believe it was. It didn’t create a community or a home. Her parents’ cold mansion was proof enough of that. It didn’t hold people together when there was nothing else left.

Katherine sighed softly, rubbing her forehead. She was thinking in circles, and the headache that was developing as a result did not bode well. All she really knew was that she wanted David to be as safe as he could be, given the constant prejudice that was a part of daily life for him - and therefore, now, for her. She didn’t want to make that worse - but how could she make it better?  

A shadowy figure appeared abruptly outside the window, on the fire escape landing, and Kath pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. It took her a moment to recognize Jack’s shape in the vague gray outline, but then her alarm gave way to concern.

She raised the window sash slowly, careful not to disturb Sarah. “Jack,” she breathed. “What are you doing here? It’s so early, and you have work today. I thought you were staying at the lodging house.”

Jack had turned toward her at the sound of the window, and Kath could just barely make out his features in the dark. “I did,” Jack confirmed, “but I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so.” He shrugged. “It happens more often than I’d like.”

“For me, too,” Katherine admitted softly. 

She just caught sight of Jack’s grin. “What keeps a wealthy girl like you up at night, Ace?” 

Katherine chuckled, still trying to keep her voice down. “A lot, these days.” She climbed carefully out the window and shut it behind her, joining Jack on the first escape and sitting next to him.

“Scandalous,” Jack teased. “Katherine Plumber out on a fire escape with a disreputable union leader.” 

“I think the papers would find the fact that I’m out here in my night clothes more scandalous than the company I’m keeping. Every paper in New York and anyone who reads them knows that I’m hopelessly corrupted - a union worker, a socialist. A champion of the working class, heaven forbid,” Katherine responded dryly, but she was still smiling.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Kath,” Jack said softly. “I was worried about you yesterday.”

“Awwww, Kelly,” she teased. “I’m so touched. I didn’t know you cared.” 

(She was touched, actually; his reaction to her story had been expected, but still shocking for its intensity. She had also learned long ago that it was easier for him if she teased, before delving into anything serious.)

Jack leaned over and shoved her shoulder with his own. “Shut up, Plumber. Just because you’re Miss Independent, you think no one in this family worries about you?”

Katherine smiled, but she was reminded abruptly of the conversation at dinner the night before. “I know you do. I’m grateful for it,” she said soberly. 

“How was it?” Jack asked, and though his voice was steady, Katherine could feel the trepidation underneath.

“It was . . . better. I think,” Katherine said. “Warden Collins seems to be a good man, and he’s made a lot of changes to try and make the children healthier and happier, and less afraid. I think he truly is trying to do his best for them. But it’s still awful.” 

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sounds about right. But I’m glad, if it’s any better at all.”

“Speaking of which,” Katherine said, “I’m supposed to tell you that Eugenia says thank you, and that things really are better now, at least for her.”

Jack looked over at her in surprise, and a smile crept onto his face. “You saw Eugenia?”

“I did,” Katherine confirmed. “She’s lovely. One of the best students, she said. She’s thinking about going to high school.” 

Jack’s smile broke out in full, then. “She’s a good kid. That’s . . . that’s amazing, Ace. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. She asked me to,” Katherine said gently. “Of course I would. And - and I’m going to be able to get Smalls home, Jack. Collins said that as long as Skittery can come get him, as long as he can release Smalls to family, he’ll be glad to let him go home. I want to try and talk to Skittery today.”

Jack blew out a long breath, and pulled Katherine into a hug against his torso. “You are somethin’ else, Katherine Plumber,” he said. “Skittery’ll be - he’s never been the same since they took Smalls away. He’ll be so happy.”

“That was the point,” Katherine said.

“I thought the point was makin’ yourself a world-class reporter,” Jack needled her, but she could tell from his tone that he was joking.

“The story’s just a bonus,” Katherine said, smiling and shrugging her shoulders, and Jack chuckled. 

“Jack,” Katherine asked slowly, “before you escaped the last time - and I was on the ferry, by the way, and worked out how you escaped on Roosevelt’s carriage, clever boy - but before the last time, did you ever try to swim, to get back to Manhattan?”

“Sure,” Jack shrugged. “It’s not that far, Ace - maybe half a mile? Maybe a little longer, to get to a dock. The hard part is the currents, and avoiding the river traffic, but still.”

Katherine hugged herself, crossing her arms over her chest. “But you would have been so little. How did you even know how to swim?”

“My ma taught me,” Jack said, his voice low. “We used to go out to Coney Island - it’s one of the only memories I have of her when she was even partly healthy. I don’t even know how we went, or why - maybe the doctor thought it would help, bein’ farther out of the city. But I remember bein’ in the water with her, and my pa too, and her showin’ me how to move my arms and keep myself up. I guess I never forgot.” He paused. “It’s funny, the more I talk about her, the more I seem to remember.”

“I’ve never heard you mention her before,” Katherine said softly. 

“Mama Jacobs asked me about her, and no one had asked in so long that I wasn’t even sure I was rememberin’ right,” Jack said ruefully. “But now that I’ve thought about her, things keep comin’ up to the surface, almost.”

“Maybe you’re just ready to remember again,” Katherine said, her voice still soft. She had the feeling that if she pressed on that memory at all, Jack would close up like a clam, and so she refrained from saying anything else. She stood up, straightening her nightgown and borrowed wrapper as she did. “Stand up.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at her. “What for?”

“Just stand up, would you?” Katherine said, rolling her eyes. 

Jack did so, and Katherine tugged him into a proper hug, resting her chin over his shoulder, looping her arms around his waist, and holding tight.

He carefully put his arms around her shoulders. “What’s this for?”

“This is just for you,” Katherine whispered. “For being brave enough to stay alive and stay yourself in that awful place. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it must have been like for you.”

Jack hugged her harder. “Best not to think about it, Ace.”

“You’re an annoying idiot, Kelly,” Katherine murmured, “but I wanted to burn The Refuge to the ground yesterday because of what Snyder had done to my brother. And cry my eyes out. Preferably in that order.” 

“Hey,” Jack said softly, rubbing her back. “I’m okay, Kath. I’m okay.”

“I’m not really sure you are,” Kath retorted, “but if you’re not, you tell Sarah or you tell Davey or you tell me, and you let us help you. I know you talked to David a little bit, the other day, and I’m glad you did. If you need to, you keep talking, and any one of us will be there to listen. Understood? That’s what families do - or what this one does, anyway.”

“Understood,” Jack promised, and Katherine nodded and gave him a final squeeze before letting him go.

“Good,” she said, trying to smile as she swiped at her eyes. “So, I understand that our fiancé brought up the idea of getting married in a little over a month?”  

Jack gaped at her, and Katherine winced. “Too much too soon?”

“Way too much,” Jack murmured. “You do realize that Davey and I haven’t even had a chance to talk about this yet?”

“I’m sorry,” Katherine apologized, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “You know I say things before I think, sometimes, and it’s usually not good when I do. I didn’t mean to be intrusive. I know you haven’t had a chance to talk to each other, and we’ve all been trying to have these conversations where we can, this week, because we’ve all been so busy. Let’s table that, then. But just so you know, Jack - I’m happy to talk about it, once you and David have had a chance to get your heads around it.”

Jack gave her a little smile. “I know, Kath. Just - give me some time with this, okay?”

“Absolutely,” Katherine promised. “And, in the interest of doing that, and also filling you in, you really should know about dinner last night, and what happened to Sarah yesterday.” 

Jack tensed visibly, and sat down again, bracing his elbows on his knees. “What happened?”

Katherine launched into telling him all that had been said at supper the night before, including Sarah’s unpleasant encounters with Bilah Schecter and Mr. Johnson, and the family conversation about potential threats against the Jacobs. She took her time with the story, both to give Jack some breathing room and to make sure she remembered the details, and Jack’s face was sombre by the time she finished.

“Damn them,” he said angrily, and he suddenly sounded exhausted. “Damn all of them for their hatred. And if Johnson lays a single finger on Sarah, I swear by all that is holy, I will kill him myself.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You knew he had been threatening her,” Katherine said carefully.

“I suspected,” Jack nodded. “Sarah would never say it outright; she wouldn’t want me to worry about it, when there’s not a lot I can do. She’s been workin’ in that kind of environment since she was fifteen, Kath; she knows what it takes to keep herself away from the foreman’s attention. It sounds like yesterday was just unlucky. Sarah told me, once, when I asked her how she knew how to punch Morris, that her father taught her some defensive moves to keep her safe - how to throw someone off balance, how to punch them, how to hit them in vulnerable places - enough to get herself away, if she ever needed to. He gave her lessons right before she started working.”

“Mr. Jacobs taught Sarah those things?” Katherine repeated, amazed. 

Jack nodded again. “He knew the dangers, and she always has, too. He wasn’t about to let her work without some basic ways to defend herself, and I’m glad she knows as much as she does. But sometimes - sometimes it isn’t enough.”

“I - I just never thought about it, I suppose,” Katherine said, still shocked. “I can’t imagine my father deciding to teach me those things. Men in my father’s circles get away with - liberties, shall we say,” she grimaced, “and occasionally worse, but for most of them it’s just words. They know the social cost of hurting an unmarried woman of their own class - not that they should get away with it with any woman,” she added angrily. “Some of the men hurt their wives, too - I saw enough of the women wearing long gloves or long sleeves out of season, and heard enough talk, to know what they were trying to hide. And the law can’t touch the husbands for it. I suppose the difference is, married men do the damage at home, and foremen go after their women workers. But it’s still the same brutality. Some of the men in the newsroom are bold with me - words again - but I can’t imagine any of them ever trying to -” she broke off and shook her head. “But maybe they would.” 

Kath paused. It made her ill to think about these things - and it should, for heaven’s sake; it should make everyone ill, and furious - but her own privileged existence sometimes still blindsided her, and she hated that. She knew men who abused their wives. She knew girls who had been caught in compromising, scary situations, thanks to some suitor’s sense of ownership and entitlement. Girls of her class were chaperoned so heavily that it was relatively rare, but it did happen. But fathers never thought about teaching their girls self-defense - nor mothers, for that matter. The fact that Mr. Jacobs had found it necessary to teach Sarah those skills, however basic, before sending her into a factory workplace, made it so clear how little protection women workers were given. 

“Well, and there are two big differences, Kath,” Jack pointed out quietly. “One is, you have Denton. He’s your friend and your mentor, and he’s got authority over a lot of the junior reporters. I know it probably hurts a little to think that he acts as a shield for you - but he knows that he does, and he’s happy to do it. And two is, there isn’t a reporter in that newsroom who doesn’t know that you’re Pulitzer’s daughter, no matter how messy your relationship with him is.”

“Class and power rear their ugly heads,” Katherine murmured. “And I did know, about Denton - I took him with me to Hell’s Kitchen for a reason, and I know that just by existing, he acts as a protector, a buffer. I’m not a complete fool, and I’m grateful that he does so much for me. But Sarah - until last night, I never thought about what those women must go through, working together and having their immediate boss or some of their male coworkers threatening them. And there are no laws against it, nothing to stop them.”

“No,” Jack sighed. “Nothin’ but what the women themselves can manage to do. And sometimes they can’t do anything.”

“How did you know?” Katherine asked, still carefully. “I can see how you would be able to tell about Sarah, even if she didn’t say anything directly - but how did you know what happens, more generally?”

Jack smiled grimly. “I spent a lot of time in Medda’s theater when I wasn’t in The Refuge, Ace. Medda has really strict ground rules for her customers, and it’s been better since she became the owner, but she wasn’t always. Under the earlier owners, a lot of the women who worked there got threatened. Or grabbed. Or hit. I used to sit in the dressing rooms and draw, and I’d see them patch each other up, cover up the marks with stage makeup.”

“And the newsies talked,” he added. “The ones who had mothers and sisters who worked in the factories, they would come to get their papes some mornings and want to punch somethin’, ‘cause some factory boss had left bruises. Not that their pas didn’t do the same, sometimes, but when it was the bosses, they couldn’t even try to help.” 

“Of course,” Katherine said wearily. “Of course they couldn’t.” It made her ache with sadness, in a bone-deep way, to think not only of Sarah and Jack, but of so many of the newsies, enduring abuse or watching their family members endure it, and having no legal recourse to stop it.

She was silent for a few minutes, and she and Jack both watched as the light crept over the sky and gradually drove away the darkness. And in the pale light before sunrise, Kath asked the real question that had been weighing on her mind.

“Jack, would you - have you ever thought about converting? Becoming Jewish?” Kath asked, and Jack’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

“Have you?”

“Yes,” Kath confessed. “I’ve been thinking about it even more lately, and especially after last night. I want to keep David as safe as I can, Jack, and if that means formally becoming Jewish, then - I think I’m willing to do that.”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed, and Katherine could see him considering what he was about to say. “Kath - that’s a huge thing to want to do for David, but - you know that it’s not going to make things easier, right? I mean,” he amended, “it might make things easier for you and Dave within the Jewish community, but it’s only going to make it harder for you with your parents, and anyone else from that part of your life. They’ll see it as a betrayal. And after everything your father’s tried to do to keep people from knowin’ he’s Jewish, he’s not going to appreciate the news articles your conversion will create.”

“All the more reason to do it, then,” Kath said, giving Jack a bitter smile.

Jack frowned. “Kath. I’m bein’ serious here. Is this about David, or about you, and somehow gettin’ revenge on your father? 

Katherine sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not really about my father at all, Jack. Or if it is, that’s only a small part of it. I want David to be safe. I want the Jacobs to know that they are safe, at least in terms of having their own community standing behind them. And,” she said shyly, looking down at her hands, “I never really felt at home in the church where I was brought up. It was just something we did. It didn’t mean anything. I think maybe it held meaning for my mother, but - it always felt empty to me. That’s not true here. When we’re all at shabbos, when you and I get to share in those holidays and rituals - that’s beautiful to me. That means something. I don’t know the rules for this, but I hope that wanting to marry David, and declaring that I want to be a part of his faith, will be convincing enough to allow me to go through whatever process is required.”

She smiled at Jack again, and it felt more sincere this time. “So you see, I’m not really giving up that much. Not when it comes to my parents, at least. Goodness knows I never was the daughter they wanted me to be. And I don’t think I can say that I’m giving up a faith that never felt real to me in the first place. But I think - if I do this, I think it might feel like I’m reclaiming something I lost. Reclaiming the faith that my father gave up. I’m not technically Jewish, because my mother wasn’t, but this way - I will be.” Her lips twitched, and she gave Jack an impish look. “And then, after all that, there is the added bonus of making my father even more angry.”

Jack chuckled, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Those are all good reasons, Ace. Just be sure before you jump in. I wish I could feel the way you do about it.” 

“Don’t you have - some kind of faith, Jack?” Kath asked hesitantly. It pained her to think that he didn’t have that comfort.

Jack tensed, just a little, but Katherine noticed. This wasn’t an easy topic for him. “I believe in - somethin’,” he acknowledged. “A higher power, a guidin’ force in the universe, if you want to think of it like that. Call it God if you want. I’d be an ungrateful heel if I didn’t. I was an orphaned street kid who should have been dead several times over, Kath. And yet somehow, I didn’t get sick when my mother did. I had Medda, I had the newsies, then I had you all. I had people who cared enough to keep me safe, people who actually loved me. There’s no way to tell you how much that means,” he said, giving her a little smile. “But at the same time, I’ve seen religion do so many awful things. Snyder thought he was doin’ ‘God’s work’ when he beat kids. My father thought the same. They didn’t even belong to the same church, but they both used religion to satisfy their own cruelty. And people who call me a mick, who hate Sarah and Davey and call them kikes in the street, they’re cut from the same cloth. I can’t subscribe to that. Not any form of it. I’m glad that Sarah and Davey and their parents find comfort in their faith - I’m glad if you decide you can, too,” he added, “but I just can’t swallow it.” 

Katherine absorbed that for a minute. She thought about what it might have meant if her own experience with religion had not just been empty, but tied to discipline, to beatings, to hatred. In a way it was astonishing that Jack could still believe in something higher - it would be so easy for him to think that the universe was purely chance, and fortune or misfortune completely arbitrary. It would be so easy for him to hate, as so many people around him had hated him, and hated those loved - and yet he loved, Sarah and Davey and the newsies, and Medda, and even her, with a capacity that continued to surprise her.

“I think that’s understandable, and completely fair,” she said to Jack. “I might have spent the rest of my life just going to church as a matter of form. I didn’t expect to find so much meaning in Judaism - and if I hadn’t cared so much about Davey, and even Sarah, in the first place, I’m not sure I would have been so open to it. If I’d had experiences like yours, I think I might discard the idea of a god altogether. So you won’t find me trying to argue with you about how you feel.”

Jack smiled again, and she could see the relief as his muscles uncoiled and his limbs relaxed. “Thanks, Ace.”

“We should get going,” Kath suggested, smiling. “I need to hunt up Skittery, and get a full draft of my story to Denton, and you have to get to the yards. What if you go rouse Davey, and I’ll get Sarah,” she suggested, and she valiantly tried to suppress the smirk that was trying to creep onto her face.

Jack shook his head at her, and she could see him blushing even in the dim light. “You’re impossible, Plumber,” he muttered, and Kath laughed before climbing back through the window. 

[allisondraste]

hi there! i noticed in a post a while back, you mentioned you were asexual. i think i might also be ace, but i’m not sure. my biggest fear right now is relationships. i’m worried about people not understanding me and not wanting to date me bc of it or it complicating relationships. i’m also worried that i might not be ace and just demi and then it’ll feel like i’ve lied to my partner or something. i know this probably seems stupid, but i’m pretty young and was hoping you might have some advice?

Hey there, anon!  This is in no way stupid at all, and I’m so glad you reached out because I have absolutely been in your shoes.  It wasn’t even that long ago.  I’ve been ace for as long as I can remember, but I did not even learn it was an identity thing until my early 20s.  I was always really scared of dating because in my mind, there are expectations that tend to come along with dating.  I was afraid that my partners would find out I was ace and then dump me.  I also spent a brief period of time identifying as demisexual because it was easier to “justify” to my partners (which demisexuality is categorized as part of the ace spectrum, so if you’re demi, you can still say you’re ace.)   It’s all really hard to figure out, and I was fortunate to meet some really cool ace people on the internet that helped me work through it.  So, now I’m gonna share the stuff that helped me the most with you, and with anyone else who may need to see it. 

1. Asexuality is a spectrum, which means there are a lot of different ways people who identify as ace experience sexuality and the lack thereof.  You don’t have to meet some special criteria to identify as ace.  If you feel like you’re ace, then you probably are. 

2. It’s normal to question it though.  We live in a society that places a lot of emphasis on sex and on sexuality, and so a lot of ace people go through the process of wondering if there is something hormonally or medically wrong with them, wondering if it’s because they’ve not had a lot of experience, wondering if they’re just “broken”

3. You’re not broken, and there is nothing wrong with you that needs to be fixed.  Don’t let anyone - friends, partners, family, doctors, anyone - make you think that you are.  If you’re ace, anything they would do to “fix it” is not going to work anyway. 

4. You are deserving of a happy, healthy, romantic relationship if you desire one, and anyone who tells you otherwise is mean and full of crap. 

5. Dating IS scary, and it may be that it’s easier to date other ace spec folks and that’s okay. Lots of ace people date allo people too, and have happy, healthy romantic relationships.  There are so many other ways of creating intimacy, so the important piece is having clear communication, establishing trust, and respecting boundaries (which is really no different than any other relationship!). 

6. With that being said, it’s important to have clear boundaries, and to never let someone guilt, coerce, or manipulate you into believing those boundaries are “bad.” Anyone who cares about you will not pressure you into anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.  

7. Not everyone who is ace is sex-repulsed (and even sex-repulsed ace people don’t feel that way all the time).  Some ace people are indifferent. Others *like* sex.  Oh, and it can fluxuate over time!

8. It’s okay to not know for sure.  It’s okay to think you’re ace now, and later decide that demi suits you better, or to decide that you’re not ace spec at all.  It’s okay to explore this aspect of yourself, experiment and learn.  You don’t have to know right away. 

9. YOU BELONG IN THE LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY.  Asexual people have always been in LGBTQ+ safe spaces and exclusionary rhetoric is a new thing made up by gatekeepers who have entirely too much time on their hands. 

I really hope this helps.  If you or anyone else wants to chat about it, my DMs and inbox are always open, and anon is always on. 

[galadrieljones]

The Lily Farm - Chapter 42

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and as they embark on their desperate search for meaning together, they endure many trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another, and to their future.

Chapter 42: Hello, Friends and Enemies.

1.

That night, Arthur had been summoned to a big, fancy room full of heavy furniture and mahogany bookshelves up on the river boat’s second floor. He had been asked to leave his table by a man named Jean Marc Mercier, who looked and seemed like a squirrel. Initially, he thought that it was because he had swept, suspiciously so—$11,000 in total winnings—but he was allowed to cash in his chips with little question. Despite some grumbling amongst the patrons as the games went on, he was frisked for aces up his sleeve only once, by a huge pit boss with one prominent gold tooth. Everybody believed that he had won fair and square, and by the laws of nature, he had. Was it truly cheating to outsmart the rich? He reckoned that, for this skill, he was thankful. It was about the only thing his piece of shit father had given him that he would not trade.

After a couple minutes of waiting and thinking he was perhaps being tested, Arthur finally learned who this boat belonged to, and whose party it was. Mayor Lemieux of St. Denis came in through another door, behind the long desk at the top of the room. The door had been hidden and just looked like part of the wall, and this did not unnerve Arthur but it did surprise him.

“Mr. Mayor?” he said.

“Mr. Kilgore,” said Lemieux. “Thank you for meeting me. And for attending the festivities tonight. It is...dare I say...an honor."

“What—I mean, how you keeping, sir?”

“I am well,” said Lemieux, his hands clasped judiciously. “I heard you made out quite impressively at the tables tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Arthur patted his left lapel. "Quite impressively."

“Very good. It is about time somebody won around here who was not raised by the silver spoon.”

He had got the expression nearly right, thought Arthur. He nodded and went along. “So what’s this about?”

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Kilgore,” said Lemieux. He was short and he wore a schlubby French-cut suit the color of sea water. He poured them each a little whiskey into a crystal high ball glass. “I hear you’ve got a child on the way. I thought you might be in the market for some…security.”

Arthur gave him a look. “Where the hell’d you hear that?”

“Evelyn Miller,” said Lemieux, his thick accent. “We had lunch the other day. He let it slip.”

“I see,” said Arthur. He felt weird. He looked around. The little squirrel man Jean Marc was gone, and they were alone. “What sort of proposition you looking to make?”

“I’d like you to take care of something for me,” said Lemieux, leaning against the desk, crossing one leg over the other. “Or, someone, rather.”

“You want me to kill somebody?”

“I prefer the term redistribute, but of course, I am French.”

“That, you are.” Arthur sipped his whiskey. It was Kentucky bourbon, but an expensive label. It was like warm weather, soaking his insides. “I ain’t a hitman, Mr. Mayor. You ought to know that before we begin the proceedings.”

“Yes, I figured you would say as much. Though I thought perhaps I could convince you otherwise.”

“How so.”

“I am close associates with Leviticus Cornwall," said Lemieux. "Though I despise him. He is a filthy fucker, but he is good to know.”

“Leviticus Cornwall," mused Arthur. "The oil guy?”

Lemieux gave him a wise look. “The oil guy, yes.”

“I hope you ain’t asking me to kill Leviticus Cornwall, Mr. Mayor.” Arthur chuckled. “Because even if I was a hit-for-hire, that sort of job is too big for me.”

“I would never ask after such crassness.”

“Well, good.”

“I am asking for you to kill Angelo Bronte.”

Arthur almost choked on his whiskey. “Angelo Bronte?”

“You heard me,” said Lemieux. He changed his tone then, but he did not change his posture. He was sharp. He did not show his hand, nor did he communicate any hint of it in his face. He was a nightmare sort, a politician. “I owe that guappo piece of shit far more than I care to repay, and I want him dead.”

“I ain’t sure that’s how debts work, Mr. Mayor. At least not in polite society. Then again, I sure ain't speaking from experience.”

“He has made a mockery of me and of my city,” continued Lemieux. “I am through entertaining mafiosi thugs in St. Denis. I want him out. Of course, I cannot ask him to leave. He must be…removed.”

Arthur swigged his whiskey. He felt warm around his collar. He wanted to get the fuck out of there and was getting annoyed. “That is quite the sob story, Mr. Mayor. I'm sorry to hear it."

“I thought, perhaps, you’d consider, given that you have now stolen from me, and from Mr. Cornwall. Two powerful men of powerful means. Given the trajectory of Cornwall’s Pinkerton attack dogs, and your...what is it called...outlaw gang? It is possible you wish to remain free, no? I can give this to you, if you are willing to reciprocate.”

"How the hell do you know I stole from Cornwall?”

“The men at the Heartlands run-off saw you,” said Lemieux, smiling. “And the Pinkertons, they know who you are, what you look like. You're a recognizable man. Plus, upon some questioning, Mr. Miller confirmed this for me. He is easily persuaded these days. All it took was for me to threaten further withholdings from his dear natives to the north.”

"Withholdings?"

"Vaccines. Surely, you've heard of them."

Arthur shook his head, disbelieving. "You ain't got that sort of power," he said. "You're a goddam mayor. Ain't no senator, no army general. I may be me but I wasn't born yesterday. You can't deny vaccines to a native tribe in Ambarino territory."

“Power by association is just as effective as power itself,” said Lemieux, adjusting his spectacles. “In any case, all that matters is what Miller was willing to believe. He sold you out. Granted, he felt badly about it.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Arthur. “Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not, Mr. Arthur,” he said, sipping his whiskey.

“Then what the hell is this about?"

“I just thought that, since there are Pinkerton detectives currently on this river boat, you might wish to slip away, in secret of course, with your pregnant wife, safely back to shore. Now, if you wish to be difficult, then that is another story.”

“Why the hell would there be Pinkertons here on this river boat.”

“Because they received a tip, from me.”

“What sort of tip?”

“That Dutch van der Linde was in St. Denis," said Lemieux, removing his hat, "and that one of his associates would be here, gambling, tonight.”    

Arthur stared at him, hard, trying to see if he was bluffing. “You got to be kidding me.”  

“All I need is for your word,” said Lemieux, still unmoved by the conversation, cold as a stone.

“My word.”

“That you will redistribute Bronte to a higher—or lower—plane. I have no interest in your religious or other affiliations per the aftermath of death, Mr. Arthur. Kill him. As soon as possible. And I’ll change my story with the Pinkertons. Off you'll go.”

Arthur set down the heavy-bottomed glass on the desk. He set it down so hard, the whole desk shook. He looked at his boots and where they stood upon the heavy wood of the floor. It had been a long time since he’d felt this sort of anger. He was sick with it, sick of people like this, threatening those and all he held dear. “I ain’t gonna do that,” said Arthur. “I kill Bronte, you got me on the hook for life. The answer is no.”

Lemieux sighed, blinked, almost startled, like he was waiting for Arthur to change his mind. “That is too bad.”

"Maybe. But if I’m the sort of outlaw who would kill Bronte, what makes you think I won’t kill you? Right here, right now. For threatening me, for threatening my wife. This is a very bad choice you're making, Mr. Mayor.”

“Because,” said Lemieux. “You’re not the sort of outlaw who would kill Bronte. I know this about you. I just thought, perhaps, with a child on the way, you’d be more desperate.”

“You don’t know nothing about me.”

“Clearly. You know, I meant for this to be Dutch,” he said. He straightened up off the desk, began walking toward the door. “I gave Bronte’s thugs that false tip about the trolley station. I thought Dutch would rob the place, and upon realizing the set-up…react. Poorly. Kill Bronte of his own accord, out of some ill-advised revenge. Of course, I underestimated him, and you, for that matter. I did not know outlaws conducted reconnaissance.”

“All due respect, Mr. Mayor, but fuck you.”

Lemieux shrugged. “How it goes, sometimes. I'll have to find another means."

When the gunshots broke out below then, both men looked at one another. Surprised. Arthur didn't know what the hell was going on, but it was nothing good. It was not happening this way. He took advantage of the uncertainty and put Lemieux's lights out with one single blast from his fist. It was satisfying. He swore, shook out his knuckles, left the mayor heavily unconscious on the hard wood.

Doing his best to evade the chaos, Arthur ran into LaBoeuf in the stairwell on his way down to the boiler room, and he nearly lost his shit with fear.

"Where the hell is Mary Beth?" he said, his voice echoing through the stairwell, collar loosened.

"She's safe with Woodrow," said LaBoeuf. "One riot, one ranger. They're getting off the boat as we speak."

"What's going on?" He was undoing his cufflinks, tossing them to the floor. "Did you see Pinkertons?"

"We did," said LaBoeuf, reloading his piece. "Though it's unclear who started the shoot-out in the ballroom. Either way, when them bullets started flying, Mary Beth would not leave you behind. A good woman, she is. In any case, we got to go, Mr. Morgan. There will be time for mystery-solving later. If you would be so kind as to stay behind me now. I am armed and ready to roll."

2.

Mary Beth felt her stomach dissolve into pieces as she followed Call over the rail on the far end of the deck where he and LaBoeuf had yoked their vessel in the dark water below. LaBoeuf had gone back for Arthur, had promised to do his finest to get him back safe. We will see you at the rendezvous point, he said. Keane's Saloon of Valentine, triangulated per their emergency protocol. As she and Call jumped ship now, some people called after them, wondering who they were. A man in a tall hat approached them aggressively. Call tossed him to his ass and threatened him with his pistol. After they were in that boat, he cut the rope with his knife and wasted no time. He proceeded to paddle, headed west.

Call’s efficiency as a Ranger was brute and akin to Arthur's. He spoke little as they went. He and Mary Beth were a ways off from St. Denis by now, tossing in the calm waters of the Flat Iron Lake. Call paddled them to their destination in about thirty minutes. The whole time he paddled in utter silence, Mary Beth perched with her back to him, glancing occasionally, but facing the river boat most of the time and watching it get smaller and smaller on the horizon. She kept waiting for it to explode, or for a meteor to come and drop them all from existence. Nothing happened like that, but she did take notice of how far that boat had got from the nearest shore. It must have been a couple miles. She didn’t think Arthur or anybody could swim that far, but she tried not to worry. She tried to remember what Arthur was, what he could do, all these qualities that once had enchanted her so, even just months before, when she seemed, in her own mind, to be younger and dumber to the dull edges of life. She prayed to god for his life.

They tied up the boat in a dusty little fishing complex south of Blackwater, called Quaker’s Cove. It was empty, though the jetty was stocked with barrels and nets and looked like it entertained serious fishermen on occasion. Up above the stars were obscured by a hazy overcast, and she imagined that soon it would give way to some light rain. As Call helped her to her feet on the pier, she looked around and wondered what was going to happen next.

“What do we do now?” said Mary Beth, realizing now how uncomfortable she was. Her dress was tight. She was tired and hungry and cold.

“We’ll wait out the night,” said Call. He lit a cigarette, smoked it, looking exhausted. He took off his hat, smoothed the thinning hair on his head, and then put his hat back on. “Get some sleep, maybe in one of these structures here. I’m sure we can make it work. Then first thing in the morning, we’ll paddle up to Blackwater, maybe get you some new clothes, something more comfortable.”

“Blackwater?”

“I am led to believe that you have no name for yourself there,” he said. “That it’s just Dutch and his lieutenants caught the ire of the law.”

“That’s true,” said Mary Beth, trying to smooth her hair in the back. “What are we gonna do tomorrow then?”

“We’ll then travel to the rendezvous point.”

“And how are we gonna get there?”

“We’ll take a train, Mrs. Morgan.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “I suppose that’s sensible.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Mary Beth sighed. She hiked up her skirt and looked around. There were some huts and things. It didn’t look in total disrepair. She then glanced to Call who seemed very stressed out all of a sudden. The bags under his eyes were so defined, they seemed carved from stone. She had not known him that long, but still, she could tell there was something going on. "Thank you," she said.

"For what, Mrs. Morgan."

"For listening to me on the boat. For LaBoeuf going back for Arthur. I know that wasn't the plan."

"Plans change. You were right."

“Are you worried?” she said, staring at him.

Call glanced at her curiously. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” she said, bracing herself. “I been living my whole life in uncertain circumstances, Mr. Call. Please. Don’t lie to me. I ain’t a child.”

He smoked his cigarette, looking at her with one hand on his pistol. “I am mighty worried, Mrs. Morgan. Yes.”    

“Why.”

“Because I do not like Pinkertons,” said Call, wiping his head with a handkerchief from his pocket. “I do not like Pinkertons, and I do not like bullets flying. Now I trust that LaBoeuf will be able to find your husband and that the two of them will bust out of there. They are specialists and experts in the art of escape, but I do not know where escaping will find them. If they are able to commandeer a boat somehow, that is the desired outcome, but we have to assume that will not happen. We are mighty close to Blackwater, and I know your husband’s situation here. If they swim, Mrs. Morgan, any guns they got will flood and break, and god forbid one of them get injured in an exchange on the river boat—this is a precarious situation. We accounted for the possibility of a fast escape, but we are further from the harbor of St. Denis than I thought we’d get, and there’s weather up there in the atmosphere, and we still have no idea why the hell there was gunfire on that goddam river boat in the first place. Could be it was Pinkertons. Could be it was something else. Now, you are safe, and that means my mission has been accomplished, but my partner is back there amidst all that crass uncertainty, and so is your husband, and you are with child, and that, Mrs. Morgan, is why I am worried. Mighty worried.” He finished his cigarette, taking one last determined drag, and then he tossed it to the weeds.

She just stared at him. She remembered briefly how Arthur had told her once of his nightmares about waking up real old and alone inside the hollowed out carcass of a polar bear. At the time it had sounded strange and kind of ridiculous. Of course she didn’t tell him that, but either way now, she understood. "I appreciate you not lying," she said.

“Let’s find somewhere to sleep, Mrs. Morgan,” said Call, looking around. “It’s a big morning in the morning.”

They found a couple cots for sleeping in one of the huts right on the water. Mary Beth stripped to her underclothes while Call lit a fire in the stove and then sat outside, keeping watch and smoking cigarettes and cleaning his volcanic. She had a view of the full moon from her window. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, listening for werewolves, staring up at the moon and how it glowed like a lazy lantern up there in the mist. Where were the werewolves? Were they coming? She did not have her books or her journal or anything to distract her. There was nothing to read in there but old cans of carrots and peas. She tried absorbing into her maladaptive daydreams. Knights in armor. But then she was just thinking about Arthur. The place reeked of freshwater fish and burlap. When she could no longer hold her head up she curled to a ball beneath the simple canvas covers and tried to sleep. Call still had not come inside. She understand why he didn’t come inside, but still, she wished he would.

All said and done, Arthur and LaBoeuf dragged to their salvation. They had jumped ship after escaping through the gunfire and swum east for a while till they hit a little island off the coast of Braithwaite Manor. There, they stumbled upon an abandoned paddle boat and got the rest of the way back to shore. Neither of them had any idea of what had gone down on that river boat. They didn't know who the shooters were. They knew there had been Pinkertons, but they didn't know when or how the fight had broke out, and there had been no time to talk about anything—the mayor, Bronte, it was just a blur.

Now, when they paddled up to the shore, they were wrecked, exhausted, soaked. It was the dead of night, and they lie on their backs, heaving. When LaBoeuf sat up and made a long, groaning sound, Arthur rolled over to see. LaBoeuf peeled his jacket off, and they both gazed then what had become of him—shot in the side. The wound was dark and must have happened all the way back on the river boat, and either he had just now noticed or he was just now saying something. He was clutching himself and breathing with his eyes closed, and he was whispering over and over again, Sweet Jesus. Sweet Jesus. Sweet Jesus.

“Shit,” said Arthur. “You’re bleeding, LaBoeuf.”

“I know.”

“Let me see.”

Arthur helped wrestle him out of his shirt so he could get a look at what was going on. It was just a graze on the flesh, but deep enough. The bullet had come and gone elsewhere.

“How bad is it,” said LaBoeuf.

“You’ll live,” said Arthur, assessing the damage, “but we need to close this up, lest it fester.”

“How shall we do that.”

“I got my methods, but you ain’t gonna like it.”

“I been in the field fifteen years, Mr. Morgan,” he said, breathing heavy. “I believe I can hack most anything.”

“I need matches and gunpowder. The gunpowder can be got from your volcanic there, but everything I’m packing is soaked through, matches included.”

“We ain’t far from Rhodes,” said LaBoeuf.

“That is true,” said Arthur. He got to his feet, looked around with his hands on his hips. “But they pretty much hate me in Rhodes. Plus, if I leave you here, you’re dead meat. There’s panthers in these parts.”

“What about the manor,” said LaBoeuf. “The Braithwaites—they’ll have matches.”

Arthur chuckled to himself. “They don’t much like me neither, Mr. LaBoeuf.”

“I thought you mentioned you had helped one of them once, not long back. When we was up in the Roanoke Ridge. A woman.”

Arthur thought on it. He had forgotten about Penelope. “Can you walk?”

“I reckon,” said LaBoeuf.

Arthur took his hand, hauled him up and dusted him off. LaBoeuf leaned on him heavily. The bleeding wasn’t life threatening, but LaBoeuf was beat up, and the wound needed help closing or he was gonna lose too much blood. Arthur removed his coat, used the knife he kept at his side to rip the seams, then he split the back panel in two and tied the pieces together to make a strip long enough to wrap around LaBoeuf’s ribs. The graze was just along the bottom two, on the left side. “This’ll stay the bleeding,” said Arthur. “You been shot before?”

“Only once, in the leg,” said LaBoeuf. “A long time back. Call’s old lady, she dug out the bullet for me, stitched me up good.”

"His old lady, huh,” said Arthur. “Would that be the one who died?”

“Yes, sir,” grunted LaBoeuf. “She had been a prostitute, but they was on track to get married. They had a baby out of wedlock, sixteen years ago.”

“I think I remember him mentioning that.”

Arthur took many deep breaths as they got to trudging. He had no idea where Mary Beth might be. He tried not to think of it. The night was pretty, not too cold, but the stars were covered like it might rain. The moon was muffled, too, and so the land was dark.

3.

Along the gleaming shoreline, Arthur and LaBoeuf soon began to close in on the Braithwaite property line.

“I should say,” said LaBoeuf as he limped along and looked up at the sky. “I would like to get married some day, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur found this amusing. “You got a woman?” he said, steadying LaBoeuf. “Anybody in mind? That would be a good start."

“No, sir,” he said. “Never thought much for it. Until now.”

Arthur smiled at this. “You scared of dying? You ain’t gonna die, LaBoeuf.”

“I know,” he said. “Or, I mean, I do hope so. And it ain’t so much I’m scared of dying, it’s just that now I think I’d prefer not to die alone.”

“Nobody has to die alone,” said Arthur. He wished badly for a cigarette, stopped to reach down and pluck a willow from the earth, which he proceeded to chew. “That is something I have learned very recently.”

“I get that,” said LaBoeuf. He was earnest. He moved slowly, but he was doing okay. “Mary Beth is—I’d be lucky to do half so good as that. She sure is something.”

"Yes, sir. She is,” said Arthur. His boots were wet. His feet were sloshing around inside them, and as they walked, their feet made squishing noises. He was not used to being the envy of men. He wasn't used to that at all. “Goddammit," he said.

“She’s okay,” said LaBoeuf, nodding. “I told you. They got off okay. This was her idea, and Call don’t make mistakes.”

“I know,” said Arthur, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His head was pounding from all the gunfire. “I know.”

Some egrets took off up ahead of them then, which put Arthur on his guard. But it was only a stray coyote.

When they finally got to the back end of the Braithwaite property, Arthur stopped them both. He still had all his money, the winnings, half stuffed down the front of his pants, half in his right boot, since he had torn his coat to shreds. He was not letting this fucked up night go to waste, no sir.

“This is it,” said Arthur, sensing the gazebo up ahead. They took a knee. LaBoeuf was winded, and they were both dirty and covered in mud. He glanced back to the moon. It was almost eleven. Still too many hours to sunrise, considering. He wondered if it was too late. He wondered if maybe she was out there. “She likes to hang out in the gazebo,” he said, scrubbing at his chin, still chewing that willow.

“Who does?”

“Penelope Braithwaite,” said Arthur. "Otherwise known as our only hope."

“Oh, right. Penelope."

“She reads out here, all day sometimes she said once.”

“You think she’s out there now?”

“Maybe,” said Arthur. He took a deep breath. If she wasn’t there, he was not yet sure what he was going to do. Raid some of the fishing cottages down on the water. Kill one of the guards, or maybe just knock him out, but killing would be safer. “You stay here.” Arthur got on his tip-toes. He couldn’t see the inside of the gazebo from here. It had high walls. He’d have to get up close. “I’ll be back.”

"Sounds good."

Arthur nodded and made his move. He had to wade back into the water up to his waist, and once he got out again, he could see some of the Braithwaite guards idling in the distance with their lanterns, way back by the manor, which was half-burned to the ground. There were wagons of timber everywhere and it looked like work was already being done on restorations. He snuck up alongside the gazebo and went around and climbed up and entered over the side. When his feet dropped, he heard her gasp. She was there. He heard a man’s voice, too, and then he saw both of them, locked up in an embrace: Penelope and Beau, stealing time together. Arthur sighed with relief, shook out his hair and his shirt and was dripping wet. But they didn't recognize him at first. Beau was on his feet in an instant. He didn’t have a weapon or anything so he just sort of stood there in a funny kind of stance with his fists up, ready to fight.

"Stand back!" he said. It was almost comical.

Arthur eyeballed him and put his hands up to surrender. “You got me,” he said.

“Arthur?” said Penelope.

Beau looked at her, and then he looked back at Arthur. “Arthur?”

“Yes.”

“What the heck are you doing here?” Penelope seemed ecstatic. She was happily surprised. She got up from the bench and rushed him, but she paused when she saw how wet he was. “Good heavens,” she said. “Do you know how soaked you are?"

“Believe it or not, I do."

“What happened to you?” said Beau. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” said Arthur, clasping his hands in front of him. “I’m afraid it is not. I was on a river boat, playing cards, and it got raided by the law. My friend and I had to jump ship. We swam to shore, and he is shot in the side. Needless to say, I came here, looking for assistance.”

“Oh my god,” said Penelope. “That’s terrible. Where is your friend?”  

“He’s back on the shore,” said Arthur. “I might need some help getting him here. You got anywhere safe we could bunk up for the night?”

“Yes,” said Penelope. “Ever since you all burnt the place to the studs, everybody but the guards and the farmhands’ been staying in our second home in St. Denis.”

“Your second home?”

“It’s dreadful,” she said, dramatically. “I'll tell you where it is, maybe you can burn it down, too." She looked at Beau then and batted her eyelashes. “I sneak out every night to meet Beau. We are still so grateful for that time you helped us.”

"Well, you're welcome."

“The fishing cottages are all vacated," said Beau. "A little rundown, but you’ll be safe till morning.”

"That will do fine. Thank you.”

“How are you, Arthur,” said Penelope. She put her little bird hand on his arm. “Are you doing all right?”

Arthur smiled. “I’m real good, Miss Braithwaite. Current circumstances aside. Thank you for asking.”

She noticed then, the ring on his finger. “Mr. Morgan. Is that a wedding ring?”

“It is,” said Arthur. He kind of fit it to his finger, a reassuring touch. “And I will tell you the whole story, I promise, once we get my buddy to safety.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, like she had forgotten. “Beau, go with Arthur and help him bring up his friend. I’ll prepare the cottage—go to the red one, just over thataway. It’s by far the nicest. I used to play jacks out there with my cousin Lucinda. Before they shipped her up the river to Minnesota of course. For gallivanting with a woman.”

Arthur gave her a funny look. "Minnesota?”

“She preferred the company of girls.”

“No, I got that part. But why did they ship her to Minnesota?”

“Weren’t acceptable, I suppose," said Penelope, fluffing her dress and proceeding to lead Arthur down the stairs to the foggy lawn. "Of course we marry our cousins by the Braithwaite family way, but girls kissing other girls, that’s where the good lord draws the line.” She spoke angrily. But she dropped her anger as quickly as it had come and smoothed her smoky gray dress with her hands. “Oh well. You know my family, Arthur. Animals. Every last one of them. And hypocrites to boot.”

"I got no argument there," said Arthur, thinking back to Lemieux. "Now just lead the way, Miss Braithwaite."

"I owe you my life," she said. "I mean that. Anything you need, you just ask. You're a good man, Mr. Morgan."

He looked away. "I try."

That night in the fishing cottage on the Flat Iron Lake, Arthur fixed up LaBoeuf, not dissimilar from how he had fixed up himself while incarcerated by Colm O’Driscoll. The pain was bad, but it was over fast, and LaBoeuf was stoic. Plus, there was an abundance of moonshine out here. Beau had brought them some dry clothes stolen from the guard barracks, and he and Penelope hung out for a little while, catching up, until the hour got too late. Once they were alone, and cleaned up and dry, LaBoeuf had drunk himself to a right stupor, leaning against a table leg by the fire and slurring his words poetically by the orange light of the flames.

“We gonna get you back to Mary Beth real soon, Mr. Morgan,” he said, his head lulling, his body bandaged and his eyelids heavy like lead. He was swigging off the moonshine from a glass flask, sounding heroic and Arthur was thankful for him and for all he had done and sacrificed that night. “Miss Mary Beth, and your unborn baby. The two of you will be…will be just fine. Where you gonna get to, by the way? When this is all over? By the—by the way.” He smiled, real lazy like. "Where you gonna get to?"

Arthur smiled. He was poking the fire on the stove, loosening the embers. The little red cottage made him think of Deer Cottage. “Wisconsin,” he said. “That’s where we’re aiming.”

“Wisconsin?” said LaBoeuf.

“Yes, sir. You ever been?”

LaBoeuf did not clearly answer. He did not seem to know. He just continued to smile and sway. He said, “Mighty pretty country up there, Mr. Morgan.” He was dropping into sleep as he said it, the flask tipping from his hand. "Mighty pretty."

"Thank you," said Arthur. He meant for everything. He did not know what else to say or to do, but without LaBoeuf, he would probably be dead now. In any case, LaBoeuf was sleeping. He had not heard. Arthur could not sleep. He stayed awake, too keyed up and hardened to his resolve, tossing things in the fire, smoking cigarettes gifted to him from Penelope.

***

Side note:

My take on Mayor Lemieux is based on his real-life historical influences. Quoted from the fandom wiki:

Henri Lemieux likely takes inspiration from the real-life mayor of New Orleans at the time of the game’s events (1899), Walter C. Flower. Flower himself had been a member of the 1891 lynch mob that executed eleven Italian-Americans accused of killing the city's police chief (an event alluded to in the Saint Denis Times), whose murder was long-rumored but never proven to be a Mafia-directed assassination.

Though it's not overtly addressed in-game, Bronte is clearly meant to communicate as a high-ranking member of the Sicilian Mafia, which, along with Lemieux's period-typical anti-Italian sentiment and king pin levels of diabolical corruption, is something I wanted to explore. Personally, I always believed that Bronte was harmless at best, a red herring, and Lemieux was behind it all.

Thanks for reading ^_^

-gala

[hollowcrovvn]

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (part 1) | Connor x f!reader

Pairing: Connor x female!reader Rating: G for Gross Cute Crap Summary: Set two months after the ending of Detroit: Become Human, androids are living in their own pop-up communities while efforts are being made to integrate them into society. You are a grad-student volunteer with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit (DCRU), working to help with relief efforts… or at least, keep those who are doing so in coffee. On your caffeine runs, you bump into a young man whose matter of fact way of speaking and seemingly deadpan humor catches your interest.

Note: I should point out, as of yet, the idea is that you don’t know Connor is an android. You think he’s just Like That™. There should be a lot of fluff and prompts stolen straight from a list for aro/ace scenes if I keep this up.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (ao3)

The revolution had come and gone, but it’s aftermath thrummed through the streets of Detroit, setting a new pulse in the heartlands. For one intoxicating moment on November 12th, 2038, the androids felt their cause heard, their existence validated and their lives their own. It had been a hard battle up that hill and now came the slow, dangerous descent down the other side. When you’re fighting in a revolution, “What comes next?” isn’t always the foremost thought because you are not even certain if there exists a next.

As a grad-student intern of the newly reformed Detroit Crisis Response Unit, you were part of the answer to that question. The DCRU existed to act as a relief effort in times of flood, famine and fire, but now it was called to a new purpose, one that existed in no procedural manual. Some Androids found the reference of their liberation as a “crisis” offensive, but you knew that the sudden displacement of thousands upon thousands of newly made people, with specific physical needs, was a social crisis, if not a natural one.

But you kept the opinions to yourself because honestly, you weren’t a soldier, or a cop-- hell, you were just someone who signed up for the group back in college to pad your resume with some bullshit extracurricular. Now you had a damn vest and a badge and you were walking in and out of the quick pop up facilities, meeting with leaders of the revolution themselves and acting as liaison with them and Cyberlife or the government or anyone else contracted to provide aid.

Well, not specifically you, but you did once meet North who was very professional and very brief and caught a glimpse of Markus speaking to superiors regarding new shipments of thirium. 

Parts and blood. You hated being a pessimist, but it still seemed to you that the Androids were quite shackled to humanity without their own means of production yet available. The Androids knew it too. This freedom still had a question mark hanging in the air and that added a certain level of tension. 

You knew it was not the typical reaction of people within your group, but you were kinda scared of them. The Androids looked at you with either barely veiled contempt or outright suspicion. It was expected, you were briefed on it, but still the instability coupled with unpredictability and superior strength made you wary. Yes, they experienced emotions, but they did so so intensely and so suddenly-- like a teenager or a child. Developmentally speaking, maybe that is where their emotions were-- or maybe it was a byproduct of being oppressed? You didn’t know and it was off putting for someone who’d grown up with only docile domestic androids. You set that aside though, knowing there were more important things happening than your comfort level.

For one thing, Cyberlife stock was in freefall. The question was soon becoming whether the company could even remain afloat long enough to be apart of negotiations into creating Android operated facilities.

But that wasn’t your job, your job, as of today, was to get coffee.

That was pretty much your job everyday.

It was late January, the snow outside had let up and the sun had even come out, giving the whole of Detroit a blinding wash. Colors stood out on the stark canvas, the blue pelts of salt crunching beneath your boots as bright as thirium. Your breath crystallized, something you noted absent among the Androids at the relief site. Still, they needed warmth as much as humans to keep their systems from failing.

Your cheeks stung with cold as soon as you walked into the warm coffee shop, filing into line. You tugged your beanie back slightly, feeling flush and iced at the same time. The line had stopped moving along as the woman at the head began arguing with increasing annoyance with the barista.

“This is a raspberry mocha, it should be a raspberry white mocha. And I said extra hot, and no whip! Not extra whip!”

The coffeeshop was staffed by all humans, a rare sight merely a few months ago, but now one that was required. But this meant the return of human error-- something that people were still getting used to again.

“Sounds like she could have done with the extra whip as a child…” you muttered, and the man in front of you chuckled. He was bundled like the rest of the people in here, with a beanie and gloves, but his jacket was considerably less bulky and more of the sleek kind you were used to seeing fashion conscious people picking.

“If only it were enough to also correct her terrible tastes.” the man said, casting a glance over his shoulder at you. He had warm brown eyes, “I have been told the addition of sugar to coffee is an affront. Specifically the fruit imitation kind.”

“Only if your fifty and grouchy.” you replied, “Or in your case, more like a hipster.”

A scoff. He’d turned now, addressing you fully and you could see the crisp white shirt and tie at the V where his jacket was unzipped.

 “”Hipster”, defined as a person who follows the latest trends and fashions outside of the cultural mainstream.” he said, his eyes doing a quick trip up and down you, “Your jacket is a vintage remake, circa 2003. Very obscure label.”

You felt yourself grin, “Is it? You tell me, hippy. Seems you’re the expert.”

“I just did.” he said and you couldn’t help but wonder how long he practiced the “innocent confusion” tone.

You’d reached the front at last and sure enough the man ordered one black coffee to go.

“You’re killing me. I’m getting second hand heartburn just looking at that pitiful thing.”

He smiled, but did not drink, watching you with leveled interest. It was your turn to order. You sighed and fished out your notepad, quickly running off the drink orders on it. Caramel macchiato, Cinnamon dolce with an extra shot, unicorn frappe, London fog.... 

“The usual then?” the barista said with a smile and you nodded.

When you were finished, the Hipster was still there, “Ma’am, I do not know how to tell you this, but I think you may have a caffeine based addiction.”

“They aren’t all for me!” you laughed, shaking your head, “And it’s --- , “Ma’am” is my mother.”

“Her parents had an interesting choice of name.”

That got another laugh from you, this guy was turning out to be the highlight of your morning. He tilted his head as if not certain where the joke was and it only made you laugh more. 

“Your comedic timing is really something.” you muttered, picking up the full drink cart and realizing with a little disappointment it was time to part ways. He smiled politely, stepping out of your way.

He held the door for you on the way out and headed for a car waiting on the curb. There was an older guy at the wheel, who leaned half into the passenger seat to give him a critical look.

“Well, have a good morning, hippy.” you said, flashing him the brightest smile, “Certainly improved mine.”

“You are welcome. May I ask though, which drink was yours?”

“Why?”

“I am curious and wish to form a value judgement based on the choice.”

Man, he was so good at that deadpan humor. The man in the car honked his horn at him, voice muffled as he yelled through the glass something about “freezing his balls off in here”.

With Hipster distracted you took the time to hurry off, calling out a quick, “You’ll just have to guess!” before heading briskly down the sidewalk.

--

Another day, another coffee run, but this time it was just for you. The sky was blotted grey, fluffy clusters of snow falling slowly through the air as if they too couldn't be bothered to rush in the morning. You would have done anything to have stayed in bed, wrapped in a heated blanket and nested in a sea of pillows.

Instead, you stood in line, bleary eyed and tired, because you were out of ground coffee again.

It was that very sleepiness that made you not notice immediately the face of the person ahead who was raising a hand at you in greeting.

It was the guy, the handsome hipster guy from a few weeks ago with his one black coffee, his sleek jacket and red beanie. Your heart pattered and you resisted an urge to punch yourself in your own stupid chest as a silent demand to cut that out.

“Good morning!” he said, with far too much pep. 

You smiled faintly, mumbling a vague, “Is it…” beneath your breath as you approached the counter.

“It is currently overcast, but the cloud coverage has raised temperatures ten degrees. My partner informed me that, “sounds like a good morning”.”

“Your partner sounds old.” you said with a snort.

“He is middle aged.”

When had this guy gotten so close? He was practically standing next to you now like you’d come in together, eyes flicking occasionally between you and the menu.

Cute, but weird. You decided, turning back to the barista. You opened your mouth to order and then clicked it shut, fixing the Hipster with a knowing glare.

“Eavesdropping?”

“Excuse me?”

“Value judgement.” you said, voice assured. You turned to the barista and grinned, “One black coffee please.”

You shot him a triumphant look, but the man just continued smiling politely.

“Have your concerns of pyrosis been elevated, ---?” he said, forgetting almost that you’d told him your name.

“I’ll suffer if it means I win.” you replied, taking the cup and moving to fill it with black coffee with a look of disdain.

He gave a peculiar look at that, as if registering some kind of understanding.

“Your mission to prevent me from learning your drink preference takes priority.”

“Damn straight.” you said, sipping the bitter liquid and trying to tell yourself it tasted like VICTORY and not like your stomach was about to be wrecked.

Before you could speak, the door rattled as someone forced it open, waltzing into the shop with determination.

“CONNOR-- how long does it fuckin’ take to get one coffee?”

Connor looked unfazed, turning his attention to the man you recognized as the guy who waited in the car last time.

“Lieutenant Anderson, I have acquired the coffee and was just on my way to join you. However, I stopped to engage in social intercourse, as you’ve encouraged.”

“Social WHAT--” the Lieutenant’s eyes settled on you and he humphed, “Oh. You were talkin’ to a girl. Jesus fuck, how’d that work for ya?”

His question seemed directed at Connor, but he looked at you the entire time, mystified. Or at least what you gathered was mystified beneath the permanent scowl.

“It is going very well!” Connor said, allowing the man to take his coffee.

“Ah ha!” you suddenly exclaimed, jabbing a finger towards the lieutenant and turning to Connor for validation, “Fifty and grouchy! Yeah?”

The look Anderson gave you was as annoyed and baffled now as he gave Connor.

“Okay, if you’re done with your social fuckin’, can we please get to the office? Before I start collecting social security?”

You choked, snorting a bit of coffee. 

“In a moment, lieutenant.” Connor said cooly.

With a few grumbled protests, the lieutenant left the shop and headed back outside, leaning against the side of the car and shooting glares at Connor through the glass.

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson is my partner. I apologize, he can be abrasive.”

“Uh huh. So if the black coffee is for him, then please tell me you have a super secret love of pumpkin spice. C’mon, it’ll make my morning.”

“Like the last time we spoke?” Connor inquired, inclining his head.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Then certainly.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.” you laughed, all feelings of sleepiness gone as you beamed up at this Connor. There was something so curious yet so gentle in the way he looked back at you, as if you were a puzzle, but a pleasingly difficult puzzle.

It made you feel a bit awkward now that you noted it, clearing your throat as you swapped the coffee between your mittened hands.

“Here.” you finally said, handing him the cup. His eyes widened.

“C’mon, take it. Save me from myself.”

Connor looked like he was about to say something, but confusion turned to understanding. He took the coffee cup.

“... thank you.” he said, with a level of reverence that made her sure he must be kidding.

“Eh, just consider it me pouring one out for “our boys in blue”.”

His eyes flicked to yours, as if trying to pry some answer to an unspoken question.

“Ya know-- cause you’re both cops, right?”

“Y..yes. Right.” Connor slowly smiled, “Yes we are. Thank you.”

“It’s just a dollar coffee, hippy.” you said, but still smiled. What the hell had gotten into you? Your damn face hurt from all the smiles you were giving this guy.

“Have a safe patrol.” you said finally, hurrying away before you did something else clearly awkward and embarrassing.

“---?” the sound of your name halted you.

“Yeah?”

“I ...enjoy talking with you. Perhaps we can converse more.”

Fuck. Fuck, oh shit. Oh god, handsome funny hippy boy wanted to talk to you? You?? More???  When was the last time something like this happened to you? Oh right, NEVER.

You stammered, mixing between trying to seem aloof and actually being flustered and managing to just be alooflustered. Which looked ridiculous.

“Um.. okay. Okay! Just uh--” you took a pen from the nearby drink pick-up counter and popped the cap off with your teeth. You gestured for his cup, which he handed over, and wrote your number across the white surface along with your name.

“There.”

He turned the cup, saw what you’d written and grinned, a bright all consuming thing that seemed both foreign and so fucking adorable on his lips.

“Lieutenant Anderson will be thrilled.” he said and you barked a laugh.

“Yeah well, better hurry and go show him before he leaves you.”

Connor nodded gravely, as if this were a truly high possibility he was just reminded of.

“Talk to you later, Connor.”

“Yes. “Talk to you later”.”

He left, hurrying to the car. You watched Hank’s rested-annoyed-face twist with confusion, pointing to the cup in Connor’s hand, to which Connor proudly displayed what must have been your number. The man’s jaw nearly hit the snow covered ground, quickly ushering Connor into the car with his mouth moving rapidly.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, “God. What a dork…”

You were so engrossed you barely heard when the barista, eyes nearly rolling out of their head said,

“Hey lady, are you gonna get anything!?”