#that's some cheap cowardly bullshit.

[rjalker]

you know, at least when the Raksura fully heal from grevious injuries, it's because they have literal healing magic and it always takes forever.

apparently the next book is going to involve Murderbot not functioning properly.

So maybe we'll finally get some physical consequences/continuity for all the physical trauma it's taken. That'd be nice.

[hahanabi]

deep dive character sheet

stolen from: ree my friend ree :D tagging: anyone who wants to do it ^^

NAME: Sparkle, Hanabi

BODY

height: 144cm / around 4'7 (based on qingque's height, who sparkle shares a model with)

strength ★★★☆☆ — her showiness makes her seem stronger than she actually is

dexterity ★★★★★ — she can do backflips!

health ★★★☆☆ — well she's alive, isn't she?

energy ★★★★★ — it feels almost endless

beauty ★★☆☆☆ — i can imagine some people find her pleasing to look at. but more people likely don't.

style  ★★★★★ — has a distinct style that she has carefully curated. of course, the mask of Sparkle must be a pretty one.

hygiene ★★★☆☆ — she'll be a slob to unnerve people. she'll litter next to a trashcan.

SKILLS

perception ★★★★★ — has the horrifying ability to know how to make someone tick

communication ★☆☆☆☆ — can say what she needs to but it's nestled between layers of deceit and bullshit

persuasion ★★★☆☆ — through threats and lies

mediation ★☆☆☆☆— believes it's more worthwhile to let people fight, most of the time

literacy ★★☆☆☆ — knows a great deal about theater and classical dramas but that's really it

creativity ★★★★★ — could a simpleton come up with half the shit she comes up with?

cooking ★★☆☆☆ — decent at it but no one ever seems to want to eat what she makes… i wonder why?

tech savvy ★★★★☆

combat ★★★★☆ — knows how to scrap

survival ★★★☆☆ — not to say that she has much self-preservation but we can give her credit for pissing off as many people as she has and somehow not getting killed

stealth ★★☆☆☆ — she can do it but prefers a less subtle approach most times

street smarts ★★★★☆ 

seduction ★★★☆☆ — maybe in disguise, certainly not as herself (god help whoever's getting seduced by sparkle)

luck ★★★★★ — she's lucky to not have been killed by her own bullshit

handling animals ★☆☆☆☆ — don't bring her near animals

pacifying children ☆☆☆☆☆ — DEFINITELY don't bring her near kids

MIND

intelligence ★★★★☆ — sharp, cunning, witty.

happiness ★★★★★ — what kind of Fool isn't?

spirituality ★★★★★ — sticks to her Path and her Aeon very closely, though spirituality for Elation Pathstriders doesn't look particularly devout

confidence ★★★★★ 

humor ★★★★★  — no one else is laughing, though

anxiety ★☆☆☆☆ — …nah. not really.

patience ★★☆☆☆ — enough to see her plans through but not enough to stop getting pissed off at some people

passion ★★★★★ — oh she LOVES what she's doing. even though she really shouldn't.

nice        ☆☆☆★☆ mean — her moments of kindness feel very mean

brave       ★☆☆☆☆ cowardly — Foolishly brave

pacifist     ☆☆☆★☆ violent — good ol' rubberhose violence

thoughtful ☆☆☆★☆ impulsive — meticulously plans out certain things but even those come from her impulse to feel amused

agreeable ☆☆☆★☆ contrary — being contrary makes for more fun, most of the time

idealistic   ★☆☆☆☆ pragmatic — nothing realistic about how she sees the world

frugal ☆☆☆☆★ big spender — what, you think those props come cheap?

extrovert   ★☆☆☆☆ introvert 

collected   ☆☆☆☆★ wild — feral like a hog

ambitious / possessive / stubborn / jealous / decisive / perfectionist

SOCIAL

charisma ★★★☆☆ — perhaps at first, you find yourself drawn in, before quickly realizing that it's not good to mess with her.

empathy ★☆☆☆☆ — 

generosity ★★★★☆ — she thinks she's generous

wealth ★★★★☆ — who even knows at this point. i assume she must have some pool of wealth to draw from.

honest  ☆☆☆☆★ deceptive  — even when telling the truth it can't be direct

leader   ☆☆☆☆★ follower — always playing the ensemble role

polite   ☆☆☆★☆  rude

political ☆☆☆☆★ indifferent — doesn't care about the universe at large

BELIEFS

higher power ★★★★★ — Aha is her buddy!

fate/destiny ★★★☆☆ — there's a script for the universe but she can adlib some of her scenes

magic ★★★★★

soulmates ☆☆☆☆☆ — she laughs at the thought

good and evil ☆☆☆☆☆ — they're both cut from the same cloth, two sides of the same coin; it's hilarious to think they're both so different

luck ★★★★☆ — she loves rng!

PRIORITIES

family ☆☆☆☆☆ — what's that?

friends ☆☆☆☆☆ — maybe sometimes…? eh… probably not.

love ☆☆☆☆☆ — nope

home ☆☆☆☆☆ — is the Tavern a home?

health ★★★☆☆ — well she needs to live, right?

praise ★☆☆☆☆ — 

justice ☆☆☆☆☆ — for who? for what?

truth ☆☆☆☆☆ — it's useless to think there is one truth we can pursue

power ★★★☆☆ — could be fun

fame ★★★☆☆

wealth ★★★☆☆ — she'll take on gigs if she thinks there's a good price attached; it doesn't necessarily have to be money

others' opinions ☆☆☆☆☆ — LMFAOOOOO

[jesterlaughingstock]

Okay so i watched Devour and really. It is not as bad as people say, okay? You know when you enjoy a movie thoroughly and then you log on into the conversation and people are like "this sucks" and you're like ???what did i miss?

And while, yes, i enjoy thinking about it waaay more than I did watching it, it's still got potential, yknow?

Anyway it was definitely interesting. The incest twist at the end was pretty weird but you know what? she is the devil from the bible okay? Ofc she's gross and she'll do gross stuff like hook up with her son, what did u expect?

The one thing I really didn't like was the voiceover at the end. That was a cowardly move. Wdym "This could all be a delusion in my head"??? MULTIPLE people are in on this supernatural bullshit. I know that this "open ending whether or not the movie events were even real" thing was trending in the 2000s, but it was still a cheap move. It takes the tragedy away from Jake's story, you know? He's this kid who was violated, his friends and family all killed, his entire life ruined, and on top of that he's going to jail for a crime he did not commit... that's a good place to end. That was a complete story. Also, its kind of insulting our intelligence; both the audience and Jake's. We all know that shit happened, okay?

Also, I dont know, it kind of felt like there should be a sequel? Like, it was meant to be multiple parts, its just that it didnt do well in the box office so people had to cut their losses and keep the one movie.

Listen, it could totally be my overactive imagination at work.. but Jake being force fed his parents blood by Marisol felt meaningful. Ofc, she couldve done it just as yet another gross violation, but i don't know. Maybe its the spn parasites in my head talking, but I feel like Jake drinking the blood was meant to trigger something; some change in him. Bcz remember, she offered him the blood first as a means of joining her, right?

So.. what if the meant-to-be sequel was documenting Jake's change to a demonic monster not dissimilar to his own mother; Marisol's last fuck you to him before she left for good? His last choice as he fought her off; his choice to be human, taken away from him, too?

[phos-phorus]

Another angsty Launt ficlet with an open (not so happy) ending

Longer than the previous snippets but filled with angst to the brim. Maybe I’ll expand it a bit and give them a happy end since I’m really not that satisfied with this version so far.

Anyways I’d love to know what you guys think of it and I hope you enjoy!

“Niki!” James’s voice was a whip crack through the pits, causing multiple heads to turn. Niki looked up, his expression hardening as he met James’s furious gaze.

“What is it, James?” Niki asked, his voice cool and detached.

James’s fists were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. “You know damn well what this is about. Your team’s pathetic act of getting me disqualified. You couldn’t beat me on the track, so you had to get rid of me some other ratty way? That’s a fucking coward’s move.”

Niki’s eyes narrowed. “Cowardly? Your car didn’t meet the regulations. We followed the rules, and the officials agreed. If anyone’s to blame, it’s your own team for not building a legal car. But it's easier to blame others than admit you fucked up, huh?.”

James took a step closer, his voice rising with every word. “Don’t give me that technicality bullshit, Lauda. Just because you drive a Ferrari, you think you know everything! You and Ferrari couldn’t handle losing, so you took the cheap way out. You’ve always been obsessed with winning, but this? This is a new low. Even for you”

Niki stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “We played by the book, James. Racing isn’t just about driving fast; it’s about discipline, precision, strategy. Qualities you clearly lack.”

James laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Discipline? Strategy? You’re so wrapped up in your calculations that you’ve forgotten what it means to really race. To feel the car, to embrace the danger. I should’ve listened to the others. You’re a machine, Niki. A cold, unfeeling machine.” He looked down at the German with a mocking scoff “I don’t even know why I called a backstabbing, ugly little Rat like you my friend.”

The words hit Niki like a slap, but he kept his composure. “And you’re a reckless fool. You risk your life and everyone else’s for the sake of your ego. You don’t respect the car, the track, or the people who depend on you. You’re so busy being the charming playboy that you don’t care who you hurt along the way.”

James’s eyes blazed with fury as he stepped closer to Lauda. “At least I’m living, Niki. At least I’m not hiding behind a wall of fear and rules. You’re scared. Scared of losing, scared of taking risks, scared of really living. Face it, rat. You’re nothing but a coward.”

Niki’s vision blurred, his emotions a mess of hurt and and anger, and he's pushing James away from him before he's actually even realized his arms were moving. “You think I don’t know fear?” he said, his voice shaking and his eyes not daring to meet the Brit’s. “I live with it every day. But I don’t let it control me. I use it to make me better, to make me smarter. That’s what keeps me alive.”

"Coward." James repeats, trying to slap Niki’a arms away. "You can't even look me in the eye." Niki shoves him back with a force that surprised them both and there's a glint in James’ eyes. "You gonna hit me? Is this how you sort out your fights? Punch them in the face and walk away, Rat, Mr Robot and no fucking emotion at all? No. You’re weak. You’re a pathetic excuse of a man and a driver-"

"Shut up!" Niki screams. He's shaking, on one hand he wants to cry, on the other actually plant his fist in the smug grin of the Brit but he knew he wouldn’t stand a real chance in a physical fight with Hunt. He's stepping back from James, his voice trembling as he tries to speak, "If you hate me so much then just leave me alone! I don't need you, just fuck off for all I care." The tears that welled up in his eyes finally spilling.

"Are you crying?" James laughs incredulously. “Oh, poor Niki,” he mocked. “Always the victim, always playing the martyr. You’re pathetic.”

Niki couldn’t take it anymore. The pain, the fury, the shame—all of it boiled over in an instant. With a choked sound, he pulled away, turning and walking swiftly out of the garage, ignoring the startled looks of the mechanics and team members.

[dovahnap]

Once in a small city with a relatively low (through by no means utopic) crime rate there lived a cranky, slightly crusty misanthropist to whom the world had been cruel. When he was a boy, he had gotten sick with chicken pox twice; during adolescence, his late-onset puberty made him a target of his more typically-developed peers; and after graduating from college he had been fired from several jobs due to others’ mistakes and broken up with by both women he dated for what were in his opinion bullshit reasons. To make matters worse, his apartment had been broken into, and his fathers’ heirloom pocketwatch stolen along with some possibly valuable collectible spoons he had inherited from his now-dead aunt. The world was not a safe place, he had learned. People betrayed you. The cops weren’t there to help, but to flatter their own egos. ‘Good’ and ‘evil’ were stories made up by those in charge to preserve their own power. The Misanthropist could not quite say he was grateful for his misfortune, but sometimes he felt that it had initiated him into real maturity, felled the scales from his eyes, shown him harsh truths that quote-normal, quote-happy, quote-well-adjusted people were too cowardly to confront.

If you are an outlier, it means that you are either far above or far below average. You are either the among the best winning or the worst losing. The misanthropist, seeing his unique story and suffering as his most exceptional trait (yes, he tested well, yes, he had many skills at which he was proficient, but he was far from exceptional in those categories) therefore felt that his suffering must somehow mark him as superior, because otherwise it would mean he was the opposite.

If his suffering had been good for him, it stood to reason it would be good for others.

There was this one smiling man who lived in his apartment block. He was the kind of naive striver for whom things had always worked out—the Misanthropist could tell this was the case, because otherwise he would not walk around with that stupid look of contentment upon his face; he would walk a little heavier, slouch more, maybe, or stand up straighter, more intentionally, as though in defiance of the weight of life. Either way, the Misanthropist could tell he had never suffered, and would be utterly unprepared for real suffering, that he wouldn’t crumble the moment he faced any real adversity.

So it would be good for him to be punched in the face. The Misanthropist had no ill-will towards the smiling man. Surely it was better to learn about the unfair randomness of life by being punched in the face by an ultimately benign neighbor than a real aggressor who perhaps intended real harm? If suffering was good, then inflicting suffering but no harm was good. And even though good was fake, the Misanthropist knew he was superior, and that therefore removing the scales from the smiling man’s eyes was good because it would make the smiling man more like the Misanthropist, who was, let us emphasize, was superior.

So one rainy day, as the smiling man waited at the bus stop (hands in jacket pockets, listening to something on his walkman, gazing beyond the traffic at something far away toward the horizon) the Misanthropist approached him, casually as he could, water squelching in his old cheap sneakers. For about thirty seconds he stood there, hood pulled up, fists unclenched, passing as just another commuter waiting for his ride. His heartbeat quickened. He had imagined it so many times: pulling his arm back, slugging it into the smiling man’s soft pale cheek, easy as punching a pillow.

The bus was incoming, headlights shining like a predators’ eyes in the dark through the rain. Its brakes screeched. The smiling man snapped out of his reverie, and the Misanthropist acted.

As he fled the scene, his hand ached. He scurried back to his apartment, feeling briefly powerful. But as the morning wore on, he felt like a fool.

The e smiling man never knew it was him, and he did not appear to be much worse. He still had that stupid, peaceful look upon his face when the Misanthropist saw him. He still brought his pretty girlfriend over.

Some people were not capable of understanding how miserable they ought to be. The Misanthropist pitied them, because otherwise he would collapse under the weight of all that malice.

[amethystroselily]

Again, reply at your convenience.

If canon Dazai goes BEAST AU mode and that's how the manga ends, i'll find it a very depressing ending. Since many say that BSD is about hope and improvement, so stuff like that would feel really sensationalist, cheap and cowardly to me. I prefer a hopeful story so much more; hope is what betters the world and keeps us going after all. And BEAST is all about Dazai terminally succumbing to his narrow worldview and depression, losing all hope for other paths to happiness and belonging, traumatizing others along the way 😔

If Dazai does go BEAST mode, I want some suicidal / depressed / troubled characters to obtain a happy ending solely by getting life - changing epiphanies and growing into wiser, smarter, more skilful people. Sure, let some characters break completely and get bad endings, but show how they had actual paths to a better life if they could've avoided giving in to negativity and rigidity ( Many of them will have to break free of this Dazai's influence / legacy to achieve this) :

Kyouka and Atsushi taking charge of their life and happiness instead of unwillingly risking severe PTSD, depression and death due to their sense of worthlessness and due to being bound to the ADA. Akutagawa realizing his worth and the value of his life, becoming independent and happy. Kenji being free from his trauma. Sigma becoming competent and street smart enough so nobody can use him like a pawn, and finding a peaceful safe home. Kunikida realizing how shitty it was to be initially uncaring of Atsushi and Kyouka, learning to live for himself too instead of only living to be good, and learning to prioritize living breathing people over his ideals.

Now that will be an actual meaningful and inspiring story, not some trauma - porn tragedy bullshit. If I wanted BSD to be meaningless torture porn, I would've watched Saw instead.

I suppose I can’t really answer this to the best of my abilities until I actually read Beast.

But, like, as far as I can tell, isn’t beast supposed to at least semi-hopeful for everybody but Dazai. And even then it’s implied he sacrificed himself so everybody else could have a better life. Yeah it’s sad, but in canon there are other characters who have already done similar things who were also doing bad mentally. Like Oda. Kind of. And he gets his happy ending in beast. And Akutagawa gets the chance to be a better person. And I could be very wrong here, but aren’t Atsushi and Kyouka still implied to possibly be on their way to joining the ada in beast? Like it feels entirely possible that everyone can still change in that universe. Can still improve their lives. Just not.. Dazai…I guess. In a way Beast itself could be said to be about hope, if you’re looking at the right characters.

Anyways what I’m trying to say is I think it’s a matter of perspective. Beast is better for some characters, worse for others. Which feels… realistic? I guess? It might even be the only universe where Fukuchi doesn’t win. Probably Not. But we don’t know that yet.

Also I’m not actually sure how I personally think it’s going to end. That’s the really fun thing about bsd, despite it being inherently derivative due to every character being based on exsisting people, characters, and works, it’s actually one of the most unique things I’ve ever read. You never really know where it’s going.

Alas, one day I will actually read the beast light novel instead of going off of all of the spoilers I’ve heard and the few chapters I read of the beast manga like last year, and then I will have a fully formed opinion on this.

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Party

That was your first Federal Christmas Party since you joined the administration department of the Bureau.

You felt like high school all over again, too cowardly to ask your crush to dance or even interact with him. Of course your crush being Agent Stuck-up Alexander Mahone didn’t help, but that didn’t lessen your shame as you sipped on some cheap Champagne. Alone, standing near the window.

You didn’t know he felt the same, at the opposite side of the room, with Felicia trying to push him into trying to speak to you.

————————

That year the Bureau really invested in some good decorations, Alex noticed, and in the catering.

Alex also noticed how the music was not the usual, pompous Orchestral version of every single Christmas song in existence. Oh no, it was bubbly and rhythmical, with a little drum under the violins and trumpets, sending the hall and the people in it back to the classical fifties.

It gave him a reason to slightly sway on his feet, gently tapping on the side of the glass in his hand.

"Are you listening to me or you're ignoring me in hope I'll drop the subject?"

Alex also noticed the hint of annoyance in Felicia's voice, but it wasn't worthy of his attention, focusing instead on a very important wrinkle in one of the napkins.

Alex noticed a lot of things, it came with the job he was so good at, and stubbornly he took in every single detail of the sparkly hall...beside one, single spot, near one of the big windows overlooking the gardens.

His brain couldn't fathom to even dare watch in that direction.

Felicia sighed beside him, in her champagne satin dress. "You can't continue like this, Alex. You're acting like a preschooler!" She whispered slightly, leaning towards him.

The woman gave him a nudge with her elbow, using her chin to point something at the man.

"C'mon, she's not even looking this way!" "And…? I don't care if she looks here or not…!" came the hissed reply.

Felicia gave out a snort, hiding her face behind her hand, shaking her head. "You can't stand there and gaze at the glasses–" "forty seven on this table, thirty-two on the next over." He was almost ashamed how quick he gave the answer to that. "You counted the glasses, Alex…?" she groaned. "You counted the glasses, probably the tiles and repainted the walls with your mind…but you most likely don't even know what she looks like, today!" Alex rolled his eyes, turning his head away to try and hide the blush on his face from the keen eyes of his friend. "That's bullshit, it's not...o-of course I know, like I know Richard has one of those horrible Christmas sweaters…" his voice lowered in a growl, as Sullins laughed half-drunk near one of the tables.

To prove her point more, Felicia made a gesture towards the other side of the ball room. "Well, what dress does she have, then?" She asked with a slight smirk on her lips, knowing the answer wouldn't come.

Alex tried with all his might to find another way out of that situation. He could slink away, lose Felicia in the crowd and go moping on the terrace in peace.

Or he could just melt into the floor and disappear from the face of the Earth.

But the more he thought of an exit from that torture, the more a little, dark spot in his brain whispered.

"Just a looksy, Alex. She's right there by the window and you know...just a glance and Felicia will be out of your hair for good…! Be a man!"

The voice was half-right, Alex knew she was there, (otherwise he wouldn't have avoided the spot like the plague) but knowing and knowing were two different things.

With a swing from the champagne glass, Alex gulped down a good sip of liquid courage and finally careened his eyes on the mysterious spot.

The glass stilled against his lips, as if he froze in time when his gaze finally landed her form: her hair braided in a soft up-do, with some locks contouring her sweet face. She had this dreamy stance, while looking out of the window, with the phantasm of a smile on her plush, rose-tinted lips.

Alex managed to forget how to swallow when his eyes roamed down, past the thin golden chain caressing her collarbones and finally noticing her dress: a beautiful, form-fitting halter dress, the velvet making the shade of red change from blood to a more typical Christmas red.

She looked straight out of a fifties' movie, with her hand holding the champagne glass up to her chest and her hips moving just slightly with the rhythm of the song.

The glass in her hand then went up to her lips and Alex felt a needle prick in the middle of his chest, the sudden wish to be that glass and feel her warm lips on his own.

Then something changed and the man could see every little sign that anticipated it, but didn't have the mental presence to do something about it. She turned her head away from the window, her back and shoulders twisting gently in the motion, and her big, shiny doe eyes went straight to their target, pinning Alex in place.

She looked back at him.

Like the good soldier he was, Alex opted for a quick retreat and his clear blue eyes yanked themselves off her form, finally remembering to lower the glass from his own mouth.

Felicia was smirking even more. "Now that the ice is broken, why don't you go say hello?" She spoke calmly, but to Alex she could've been the Devil tempting him to kill everyone in sight.

The slight panic made him tense up and his knuckles paled a little around the champagne glass. "I'm fine right here…" he tried to reply, but Felicia was having none of it.

The woman took the glass directly from Alex's fingers and wedged her body behind him with the excuse to put it on the table, effectively pushing him forward.

"C'mon! Stop dawdling and go!"

"Ok ok stop pushing..!"

Felicia chuckled as her friend's voice came in a strangled, panicked, higher note.

––––✨––––

"But the prettiest sight to see~

Is the holly that would be~

On your own front door~"

She had mouthed the song here and there, while looking outside the window.

She hoped for some snow, just the ultimate touch for the most beautiful evening in her life.

She managed to organize everything down to the smallest detail, from music to what food to serve and how to serve it.

Then he arrived as she was fixing the last plates on the tables with the rest of the staff, his presence rending her a heap of fumbling mess.

In a flurry of 'sorry' and 'excuse me' she tried to stop her fingers from trembling, but the damage was done the second her eyes landed on a wooly dark trench coat, when the man waltzed through the main entrance.

Using all her strength, she yanked her attention from the man and hid herself among other staff until she knew everything was in place.

It took her one hour to get prepared then, dressing in her favorite dress and putting on a sliver of gold makeup, and finally she went to enjoy the party...or at least drink something and stare outside, not very keen on socializing.

Her brain was rewinding over and over again the elegant form of Mahone still impressed in the back of her eyes: the long coat waving slightly behind him as he walked up the carpeted stairs. A thin, dark-gray scarf hanging limp around his neck, not useful once inside.

His face had been turned to talk with someone behind him, giving her the sharpest edge of his cheekbones and his greek profile.

Suddenly a little tickle itched at the back of her neck, disturbing her from her daydreaming. Someone was watching, probably asking themselves what she was doing there at the window, when refreshments and the dancing floor were the other way around.

The woman slowly took the glass to her lips, a common way to give herself courage to look, and her eyes quickly scanned the direction where she felt those eyes coming from.

It was him.

He was looking at her.

Her heart leaped out of her chest when her own eyes sank deep in the clear blue of his, cheeks burning off her skull in the process.

Oh God why was he looking at her?

Her hair was messy? A smudge of food on her face?

As soon as the questions popped up, his glaciers waved away, landing somewhere towards the dancing crowd. That gave her the seconds necessary to take in the absolute landscape that was the man: not only his entrance had been stylish, but underneath the coat he had hidden the best.

One would say that Alex Mahone in a suit was old news, being a Federal and requiring a dress code in the office… oh she would utter otherwise, as her eyes met thick burgundy wool.

Alex went casual-smart, wearing a luxurious turtleneck together with a warm gray suit, the jacket closed on the front to form a nice red V on his chest.

She barely had the mental presence to move her gaze away when a movement caught her attention.

Felicia was there, in a light satin dress flowing down her curves with the elegance of a noble woman.

Of course Felicia was Alex's plus one... what was she thinking? The rumors in the office were clear, there was something between the two that went over the sterile professional relationship with coworkers.

The way she waved around him, taking the glass out of his grasp, was way more than camadery…

She sighed, going back to watch outside the clear window, a heavy sadness tampering with her usual bubbliness for the Christmas season. What did she even hope for? That Alex Mahone, hardcore federal agent and newly divorced bacelor would find her attractive? He went for the brain, he looked and acted like a man wanting their women at their same level...and she wasn't as sharp as Felicia was.

"Oh well" she sadly said to herself "way to spoil the evening! Good job me!"

Another sip was taken to soften the burn in the chest with the burn in the throat, but didn't help much. The sting of tears threatened her makeup, for a couple of seconds, and the view outside the window grew foggier.

"Stop being stupid, you knew fully well that it was a hopeless–".

Her brain's mutterings shut up the instant a voice cleared behind her back. "Nice evening, isn't it?" A smooth, whispery voice followed, one she knew by heart after months of listening to it.

The window reflected Alex's figure, his sharp shoulders contoured by the golden lights behind them. "Finally some decent music this year." He added, hands well sunken inside the pockets of his dress pants.

She turned around, looking up to him as she clutched the glass in both her hands, trying to stop them from trembling.

He never stood that close before and now, being in the radius of his marvelous cologne, sent her into a deep frenzy.

Alex was waiting for her reply, his head slightly leaning towards his shoulder, and she knew she had to say something...say something! "Y-yeah, it was either change or no music at all...admin got so much flak last year the higher-ups gave us free reign..!"

She inwardly facepalmed, when she noticed how she had literally blabbered at him about the disorganized inner workings of government administration…

While she was furiously trying to find something else to say, something smart and charming, Alex softly laughed, turning his head sideways for a moment, as if hiding his own smile. "So we had a level up in entertainment because of complaints, that's the gov alright," he replied. "So, who pitched in the good ol' fifties?".

Her cheeks caught fire almost immediately and her head sank between her shoulders, turning away her gaze. "I...since no one was having good ideas I...took charge, so to speak. It was my idea…"

"Yeah that's the spirit! Gloat like a fool, that will surely grab his attention!" Her inner voice was dripping with sarcasm, the usual 'put-down' now in full force.

But instead of raising one brow as Mahone would do when in front of a bullshitting suspect… he chuckled. "Well, if it was your doing, you certainly know how to dance to this music, mh?"

Her heart lost track of its own beats for a good, long moment. "...Dance?" She whispered between panic and bafflement.

Alex slid a hand out of his pockets and presented his palm to her, a silent request hanging in the air.

She watched the hand as if it could bite, cheeks now redder than Rudolph's nose. "I... I'm not a very good dancer," her voice squeaked, fingers gripping harder on the glass.

One moment of silence, surely a psychological tactic on Alex's part, and she sighed a little, leaving the champagne on the window sill.

Unsure, her hand reached for his and he gently wrapped his fingers around her small palm. His skin was so warm, soft with calluses only where a gun would find its place in his grip.

Like a fire, his warmth spread down her arm and up to her heart, setting alight her entire core. "I'm not a good dancer either, but I'm sure we'll do alright." Alex replied with a tender voice, his smile the brightest light in the room.

She didn't even know he was following him until she found herself surrounded by other people, right in the middle of the dance floor. Panic set for a moment, images of her stumbling mess hitting other guests or crushing Alex's feet flashing in her mind, but Mahone saved her from sinking deeper in his very own way.

Stopping in front of her, he slowly changed the position of their interlocking hands and snaked his other arm around her waist without embracing her. His fingers hovered right where the deep plunge of her dress formed a V on her back, their warmth prickling at her skin. "I know the basis, at least." Alex smiled timidly.

And like that they danced, their bodies finding the rhythm of the playing song.

They both moved around on the dance floor together with the other dancers, like a flock of multicolored birds bending and turning in the dawning sky.

She found herself gliding across the floor with Alex, her feet almost scraping his ones from time to time, but never stomping them.

Was it his agility that saved him from a heel in the toes or was she really a decent dancer? She couldn't even compute an answer to that mystery, with how close Alex was to her.

At first, in their waving and turning, his frame was detached from hers, chest a span away from breast. But the more they danced, the more Alex neared.

His hand on her back was not hovering anymore, but now laid its warm palm on her exposed skin, right against the dip of her spine.

In contrast, her own hand snaked from the outer edge of his shoulder to its most inner side, sliding down until her palm was above his heart.

Her nerves slowly receded, the freed space now filling with an unknown sense of familiar.

A slow euphoria that blurred everything around them, leaving only patches of colors: gold shimmered against the burgundy, blues and whites and greens whirled around in a synchronized carousel.

Everything came to a fading halt when the music changed and Mahone stopped both of them on the other side of the dance floor, where big red drapes were installed between the gold-white columns holding up the second floor balcony.

His breath was slightly heavier, but his eyes were looking at her with the softest of smiles and his arms holding her snaked tighter around her.

She too was lightly panting, emotions engulfing in her chest the more she took in his elated expression. "So much for not being a good dancer…" he whispered with his husky, low voice, making her cheeks flush all over with a new gradation of reds.

He then lost his smile, his face contorting doubt and almost embarrassment. "Y/N…" he called out, the hand holding hers leaving her fingers alone to grasp at the air.

She could see his lips moving to open and then close again, slitting tight as his eyes flickered down and then up to her eyes again.

Panic started to buzz at the back of her mind, asking herself what she had done to wipe that rare happiness from his face. "Uhm…y-...yes Alex..?" She whispered back.

"See? You ruined everything again. Look at him, look what you've done you disgusting idiot..! He was so happy and you ruined–"

Suddenly the sharp, angry voice in her mind evaporated, as Alex's warm hand landed softly on her face, fingers following the shape of her jaw as his thumb caressed her cheek.

He didn't speak, words stuck in his throat like a big nervous lump, but his actions screamed more clearly than any word he could come up with. He leaned down, the fingers on her back slightly curling, and as his eyes closed so did hers, completely drowning in the moment.

His lips brushed hers, light and soft and warm, in a kiss lasting centuries.

Her heart jumped in her neck and thumped so hard she could feel the strain of her rips.

He was kissing her.

Not a simple peck, but a long, heartfelt kiss, with a hint of fear in his trembling hands.

Her hands moved to sink in the hair of his nape and kissed him back, grateful for the most precious Christmas gift she could receive.

[novaninja]

⚠️TW: sensitive topics, beware

honestly, it’s so fucking sick what they did to max’s character.

or frankly to anyone that’s been treated unjustly in the show.

to take someone that has been broken since she was a kid and show her love, lower her defenses only to then break her over and over again is a new fucking low.

this entire season the duffer brothers have set a very clear precedent that i’m sure you’ve noticed.

- if you are different in any way, suffering from any past trauma or go to a therapist for whatever reason, you are unworthy.

- if you do not belong, you are unworthy.

- if you decide to save the world, because you are the only one willing to do so, you are unworthy.

to take s*icidal characters just to make them run for their lives like pigs running for carrots on sticks only to brutally snap their bones is such a bullshit thing to do.

it’s like they’re presenting us with this hope that all of these characters that we relate to in some way can actually make it out alive and happy only to crush all of our dreams with an iron fist.

look, i get it, they couldn’t get away with it forever.

but they were also the only ones that ever really fought for it.

eddie always saw himself as a cowardly guy. that’s the only reason he gave himself up. because he thought that if he was ever gonna be brave, it was gonna be saving others. he knew that everybody outside of their little group hated him, so he also lost a little will to live. he thought that he was better off as sacrifice than as living.

max had been continuously pushed to her limits emotionally, barely finding time to find the courage to talk about it when she couldn’t even catch her breath before the next big thing. it was just her luck that it was always after her blood.

to set such a character as the ultimate sacrifice is so emotionally brutal, and to just ignore her and all the other’s death with a cheap cutscene is lazy.

fuck you duffer brothers 🖕🖕

[all-or-nothing-baby]

Would love to see you do U with Destiel

Mini-fic prompt-fill. The letter U is "Coming Home".

@avidbkwrm For you, Spencer... here you go, my friend <3

_____________________________

The Last Time

Tags: Dean POV, Modern AU, Drug and Alcohol Misuse, Prostitution, Hurt With Comfort, Angst With A Happy Ending.

_____________________________

Getting back to his shitty apartment afterwards was always the worst part.

It wasn't the peeling wallpaper that bothered Dean. He didn't care that there were only bare floorboards splashed with spilled paint in the bathroom. Couldn’t even give a shit that the wet rot, in the corner above the sofa, was probably the cause of his perpetual cough. And yeah, okay, so he knew the fuck-ton of weed he smoked, on top of the booze, didn’t exactly help. And no, it didn’t exactly make him forget, either. But it did help him to give less of a shit about how shitty he felt.

...until the next time.

Cas was a drug. Dean had known it from the start, had known he shouldn’t get involved. Known he’d end up losing people too, if he did. And he had. But fuck, after that first time? He was hooked. A junkie. Now, he was so far fucking gone it was scary because being with Cas was better than anything Dean had ever had. And whenever Dean wasn’t tangled up in sheets and smiles, all sticky, with him? He was in hell. Especially right afterwards… the instant craving was unbearable. Still tasting his sharp citrusy taste; smelling of bubble gum and baby wipes, just like him; running his rough fingertips over the pink and tender places he'd been claimed. Yeah, Cas was the drug Dean didn’t know how to quit. And Jesus, he didn’t want to, which was worse.

Yet still, at first, he'd swear every visit was the last.

…until the next time.

Dean had lived all over, growing up. Cheap hotels and motels, trailer parks. And worse. Never knew what it was to settle and lay roots. Cas told him he'd been raised the polar opposite: huge family, a single home his whole life. Until his folks had found out he liked dicks not chicks and tried to bible-bash it outta him, quite literally. Cas had left and never contacted them again. And it turned out, being where he was now was better than being on the streets.

Really don't know why I'm telling you all this, he'd said to Dean after only the second time. Maybe it's just those kind eyes? he'd smiled. But I'm sorry, you're not paying to hear about my screwed-up life in a sob-story… want me to fuck you now, baby?

Dean had never gone with a sex worker before. Hated the idea—not for him, exactly, but for them. The idea that some people thought they were worth so little that they'd sell themselves? It horrified him. But walking out that bar that night and seeing that dark, unruly hair and those blue, blue eyes heading straight for him, coming for him...

Hey, beautiful, wanna spend the night with an angel?

No such thing, Dean had tried. But it had come out as a question, a challenge. An almost prove me wrong, please—and with a smile he couldn't have helped if he'd tried.

The man—dressed in a long coat, black boots and tight jeans; the crispest of white shirts with a low slung tie; and an eight o'clock shadow Dean instantly craved to leave a tingle on his inside thighs—had smiled back and said, that's your problem, beautiful. You have no faith.

By the time Dean had left the No-Tell room later that night—left Jimmy, as he'd called himself back then—Dean was born again. His belief suddenly so strong, he'd gone back to his apartment and goddammit he'd prayed.

But for the days that followed, the guilt was overwhelming. Dean had hoped beyond hope he'd be strong enough to stay away from the stranger he now wanted to help; to take away from this dangerous life, this mess Jimmy had gotten himself into... No. Dean told himself he wouldn't go back. It was wrong, on so many levels. Shit, he didn't even know the guy from Adam and yet, what, he wanted to save him?

Dean actually did actually managed to keep his distance, for a time. For a little while, he thought sense had won out.

...until the next time.

After that, Dean became fucking devout. Being with Jimmy—with Cas—very quickly became more than a one-sided thing… it became about not just fucking, but enjoying each other. Them tasting and devouring each other. Holding out for one another. Worshipping each other. Had the tables now turned? Was Cas really the angel he'd said he was and Dean, the sinner who needed saving? For the two hours a week that Dean could barely afford, Dean was happy. They'd often spend time just talking, tracing patterns on the others skin. As contradictory and ironic as it was, being with Cas? It honest to God felt holy. Dean was a better man when with him. Wanted to do better because of him. Felt more himself than he ever had before. And soon, inevitably, every time he'd leave Cas, it was ten times harder than the last.

...until the next time.

The night Dean saw the bruises was the night he'd started thinking seriously about it.

Doesn't usually happen, Cas had promised. Like it was nothing. Dean called bullshit, his voice tinged with anger. But he was mostly completely fucking heartbroken. He felt helpless. Dean had kissed each purpling mark with gentle lips and stroked that untamable hair for over his allotted time slot. Paid the extra. Told Cas dumb jokes that Cas laughed at regardless. They watched some TV together on Dean's phone, tied up like a pretzel.

Turned out Cas had... refused to fulfill some specific act and the disgruntled john had complained to Cas' twisted pimp, Naomi, who'd then set her muscle on him. They were supposed to just scare me a little—well, a lot, Cas had smiled sadly. Maybe swirlie me or choke me out, you know? They weren't supposed to beat him. To mark him. He'd admitted, the clients don't like that—well, most of them, anyways. Some were sicker fucks than others. After ten months, Dean knew that by now.

Soon after, Dean had started working longer shifts at the restaurant, always asking for overtime. It meant they sometimes couldn't meet, or maybe only had an hour together instead of two, what with Cas' workload being not exactly flexible. It was tough. And maybe not just on Dean? Cas almost seemed disappointed whenever Dean told him he wouldn't be seeing him as usual. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Dean's part. He'd thought they'd had a connection but... Dean didn't have the words to ask. So he'd just hoped Cas understood. He seemed to, mostly. But sometimes, he'd get that look in those baby-blues. The one that said, you've lost faith in me Dean. And, at one point, Dean worried this just couldn't work. That maybe he'd lost what little faith he had in himself. That Cas probably had no faith in Dean to begin with.

...until the next time.

Dean wasn't sure if it had been a slip. An accidental admission. He'd been so close, so many times, to uttering the words himself. But he'd never imagined Cas letting his guard down in that way. And honestly? Dean had stopped allowing himself to think about the possibility of it being a reality at all.

I love you Dean, Cas had whispered in a breath. And then Dean found that he couldn't breathe at all, the air in his lungs leaving in a rush. Time stopped and for a moment everything was the way it should be. Just them and this…. and then Dean realised, Cas probably just needed the money. Wanted Dean to start coming back more regularly because he always paid well. Dean treated Cas well, too. And what if the other clients were rougher, meaner? Yeah, these things. Dean knew they were the real reason Cas had said what he'd said. Not some accidental slip.

But it didn't really matter, not to Dean. He'd already made up his mind. So, he'd said nothing. Pretended he hadn't heard.

...until the next time.

Dean packed up the few things he owned. Left all the crappy furniture he'd accumulated in the equally crappy apartment he hated, got in his car and didn't look back.

They made love, because he knew it would probably be the last time. Dean savoured every second with Cas. Hoped his long licks and trembling bites, soft moans and desperate squeezes told Cas everything Dean knew he still had to say, so he wouldn't have to… but, as astute as his angel in a trench coat was, Cas couldn't read minds.

So, Dean dressed. Then, chewing at his bottom lip, emptied the bag he'd brought with him onto the bed. Cas' eyes blew wide at the sight of all the bills that spilled from Dean's largest duffle.

I can't do this, Cas, he blurted. Can't let my decisions be controlled by some high and mighty less-than-human asshole anymore. So I'm... leaving. And I ain't comin' back... and he only stopped to take a breath, steal his courage, because there was more to the speech he'd planned—but Cas cut him off there.

It's okay, I was waiting for this. Knew it was probably coming, Cas said flatly. Then he spat, but, Dean, do you really think I want your fucking money? God, I was so foolish to think that maybe you... Just, please leave, Dean. Leave and let me keep the ounce of dignity I'm managing to hang on to. Cas turned away from Dean now. Wouldn't let him see those pretty blue eyes.

Then Dean said it. Cas, I want you to come with me. Don't know where, but I wanna get you outta this.

Dean knew he had to do more. Say more. Cas needed the words neither had really spoken; had rarely been said to either of them. Hell, Dean needed to say them just as much.

Not able to look directly at the man who meant everything to him—too scared, too cowardly—Dean said, I love you, Cas. Like nothing else. And I know you only said it to me 'cause you thought you had to... but it's okay. I don't mind that you don't. I just wanna… I gotta help you be safe, man. Away from here. Please let me. Then you can go wherever you like, do whatever you wanna and I'll—

A small sob cut Dean's speech short. He looked up at Cas as, terrified his words had maybe had the opposite effect. But Cas flew at Dean, threw arms around Dean's neck and held onto him, speaking quiet yes, yes, yeses, into the shoulder of Dean's leather jacket.

They left via the fire escape.

...it was the last time.

Dean drove them into and through the night, Cas gripping his free hand tightly, not letting go. Not even once.

After two more days on the road, when they were about to leave the state, Dean asked Cas, where to?

Cas said, take me home.

Unsure of what it meant but sure about this—about them—Dean asked, where is home, sweetheart? because he knew he'd do whatever it took to be with this man.

Cas looked out of the window for a moment and smiled. Then, laughing gently, he looked back at Dean and told him, anywhere you take me, baby.

[imaginetheending]

Vacant Chapter 1 Preview

Here is a preview of Vacant chapter 1. To read the rest go to: https://www.wattpad.com/story/254655449-vacant-the-devil%27s-son

Chapter 1

It's hot outside.

Blood and dead bodies occupy the only decent shade. A trail of blood leads to the forest. It's created by Scouts dragging soldiers away by the straps of their boots. Grains of sand are crushed under Rapture's feet as they shift in the sand. He's been acting off since that morning, thinking of something else.

"Where did the furniture come from?" I ask.

In front of us, under the second floor of a three hundred year old building, sits worn down, used dressers, cabinets, and beds against broken and crumbled down walls.

"Probably from one of the traders" he responds.

One of the traders…

I'm impressed. All I own is a rusty mattress and a romance novel I kept when I was captured. These people managed to sneak in an entire dining room set with a working kitchen and chairs. Whoever did this has to work for Imports.

"I want you to come with me," Rapture says suddenly, dragging his fingers over the sides of his mouth.

Rapture is quite scary when you first meet him. His head is shaped like a human skull with hard features extruding from the back. His eyeballs are black just like mine, but he has golden lizard-like irises. After you get to know him, tough, he has a charm. A very sarcastic charm.

Without another word, he starts walking off. Adjusting my gun, I follow him. Angel does, too. The gear makes it hard to tell the difference between us. The only way to identify a Scout is by our bodies. Each species has a different body structure. Especially the legs. Since Angel is the same species as me, we have very similar forms. We both have thick female legs with no feet and big Canals. Compared to humans, our torsos are quite masculine.

Apparently, my big identifier is hips. I have thick thighs. It's true. I can crush a man's head between them, but the observation still feels somewhat perverse. Soldiers make similar comments towards Angel.

Lieutenant Bade, Angel, and I are Rapture's bodyguards. We follow the General around while he does his duties. It's not the most exciting job in the world, but Rapture is the best swordsman on the planet. No one messes with him. It is a safe, cushion position compared to the conditions other soldiers lived in.

"Angel, could you leave us? I want to talk to Siren alone," Rapture says.

We both look at each other. Angel steps back, not sure what to do. It takes a second for him to join the other Scouts.

I follow Rapture into the forest. After a while, it becomes grey. The pale, thin trees cover the bright sky. We walk for hours back to a part of camp I have never seen before. This is dangerous, I thought, for the two of us to be out here alone. However, whatever part of the forest this is, no one visited.

In the distance I see a small wooden cabin between an assortment of tree trunks. It has to belong to a General. No one else is allowed housing. The lights are off for the dusty building, though. We keep walking for another ten minutes, and arrive at an even bigger house -- a small, one bedroom home. Just like the rest of the planet, the exterior looks like old, American human architecture. On RubenDies, you can probably find a house like this for super cheap in a bad part of town, but here -- well, I have never seen anything like it.

Rapture grabs the door handle and yanks it open. The door stutters releasing dust and plant pores into the air. I am careful to breathe it in. He enters.

Dark inside, I can barely see the living room from the front door. Cautiously, I step inside. A thick smell overwhelms me. It's not a bad smell, but it's potent. Like someone lived here for a long time.

Both the living room and kitchen are small. Sun seeps through the closed blinds onto a rusty, old pale, orange refrigerator. The cabinets are dirty -- crusted. A small wooden dining table sits in front of it. There are more than one chair. Multiple people live here. Lived here -- I should say.

"Where are we?" I ask.

Rapture doesn't respond. He just walks between the dining room and living room towards a bedroom in the back. It's the only thing that lit up the hallway. My footsteps are unbelievably heavy on the wooden floors. I don't think Scouts are intended to be in here. The bedroom itself feels frozen in time. Nothing has been touched in years. There are still dirty clothes laying on a white bed sitting in the center of the room. Dust has collected on all of the wooden furniture. There's a couple nightstands and a dresser.

I'm scared to touch anything.

This doesn't bother Rapture at all. He grabs one of the drawers and opens it. After rummaging around, Rapture pulls out a stack of thick, white, plastic paper. He gives them to me, and I realize they're photos. Very small, rectangle photos. Each one is stained with dirt and muck. It's hard to tell what they consist of. The helmet makes it even harder. Rapture talks to me as I look through them, my eyes trying to make out vague shapes and sizes.

Each one shows a very attractive, young man that's the same species as me.

Most of the species outside of the Milky Way don't have names. We found no reason. It wasn't until the Human Reformation that it changed. Humans got confused by our lack of categorization, and decided to introduce a naming system. So, for clarity sake, I'll call our species BSBE.

The young man sits on a hotel bed, arched forward. A gaudy, geometric tattoo covers his sickly, gray, toned back. There are dog tags hanging from his neck. In each photo he is wearing different tank tops. In this one, it's white.

"Zerethus had a son. He escaped ten years ago," Rapture explains.

Oh, I see. I know who Zerethus's son is. Who didn't? The female camp whispered daily about him after his escape. By the time I made it to the male camp, the rumors had died down, however. All I know is that Cain isn't liked very much, and that he is permanent with most of the female camp.

In the second photo, he sits in a swimming pool, shirtless. It's at a wealthy establishment. The orange walls of the fancy hotel reflect off the blue, crystal water. It gave some color to Cain's dull skin.

"Zerethus has been looking for him ever since," Raptures continues as I shift to the next photo.

Cain is smoking a cigarette. He is maybe twelve or thirteen years old. A train of smoke trails to the sky. His expression is calm. Happy.

"I want you to find him before Zerethus does," he says.

My hand freezes. I heard his words clearly, but stammer.

"You want me to find Cain," I ask confused.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

When the soldiers brought me to Edeon, they asked me for my gender. Stupidly, I said female, and was thrown into the female camp. From that day on, my life was shit until I got kicked out. Edeon doesn't like women. They never did, and my presence in female housing left a mark. Everyone knows I lived there. Everyone remembers.

I want to object. Ask him questions.

"No, sir," I respond instead, cowardly.

I would send anyone on this mission but me. The Generals are some of the best fighters in the galaxy. They're trained to search and find targets. As a Scout, I am also trained to do this as well, but I am nowhere near as talented. Finding Cain would be a high profile mission. Only the best of the best would be put on it. I am not the best.

Send Dante. Or Felix. Or Moon. Angel. Reaper. Hades. Pain. Cerberus. Vnux. Serpen. Dalen. Gabriel. Michael. Archer. Rion. Tarli Nobi. Th'Aman. Brani. Xani. Kreniea. A'Zule. Feri/ Q'Urlid. Achan. Meni.

Literally anyone but me.

"Who is my lieutenant?" I ask.

Every soldier gets a lieutenant when sent off the planet. They watch over the group. Make sure everything goes according to plan. If he picked anyone to go with me, he would pick Bade. Bade is pretty good. He'd make up for my lack of skill.

"You are," he obviously lies.

My mouth falls open, "What?"

No, I wasn't. This is the biggest bullshit I have ever heard. First of all, there hasn't been a new lieutenant in over ten years. Second, the only women of power on Edeon are Lieutenant Reaper and General Mourning. No one even knows how they got promoted. Third, if I was promoted, I would be promoted by Zerethus himself. So, something is very fishy.

Rapture cups his hands, and smiles.

"The mission is simple. Give Cain a message. The Devil is looking for his son. He wants to cut off his wings. He'll know what that means."

"Where is he?" I ask.

I remember that I still have the photos dangling in my hands. While he continues, I look at the next one. Now, Cain has his arm draped over Angel's opal, white shoulders. Huh. That's weird. In our species' culture we don't touch each other, but they seem chummy. Either Cain is straight as fuck or they were in a relationship. Bold for him to have this photo as a part of his collection. All homosexuals get killed on this planet. There isn't a warning. It happens suddenly, and mercilessly.

"The Luminary. He works for an agency called The Eye. Goes by Hayze Redborn. Was put on a mission recently to find an Alex Hall. Code name Aex. He's a super hacker."

Cain is butt naked in the next photo. It's in the same room as we are standing in now. He's maybe eighteen. Every detail of his muscles subtly defined, his body is gorgeous. Due to the pose, and moody lighting, this is definitely a selfie. Luckily, the photo cuts off at his penis, but you can still see the top of the shaft. I laugh. Why would you take a photo like this on Edeon? We don't have Be-book. There are no dating profiles or blog posts.

"If you catch Aex, Hayze may follow," Rapture says.

The last photo is the worst. It's just his dick.

This guy took a dick pic.

I roll my eyes. How many women did he try to show this to? Knowing his reputation, he probably sent this to multiple. It's girthy. Long. Blood rushes under his skin creating purple. His skin is smooth. There are only a few faint veins. The top is round and soft. There is no color difference between the tip of his penis and the base, outside of some discoloration. He has a pretty penis. I have to give him that.

"Siren," Rapture scolds venomously and grabs the photo from my hand. He rips it in pieces and then slams it into the dresser.

Oh, shit.

I don't think he knew that was in there.

My hand hangs loosely from where the photo once was. Scared, eyes fixating on him, he's mad. After a moment, he brings his hand to his face and makes a loud sigh. He takes out another sheet of paper from his pocket. This one looked like it was printed off an old printer. It's very faded. It is a much more recent picture of Cain. Cain is much older, and worn down. In the old photos, he is vibrant and active. Here he is dead inside.

His skin is a very healthy baby blue. The black that consumed his eyeballs is clear, and not glossy. A couple other things are off about his appearance, but otherwise Hayze and Cain are identical. Over his shoulders he wore a deep, aqua blue coat. It had a very nice, faintly, shiny, textured material. Under it, he wore a black shirt similar to the ones he wore when he was younger. His dog tags could be seen through his fabric.

Behind him, a short, gray-ish brown overweight being stands at a podium wearing a nice, trim suit. His species is a cousin of Rapture's. They look very similar, but this species has more than two eyes. The overweight being has the appearance of a government official. A banner hangs behind him. It's a symbol I feel like I should recognize.

"What happens after I tell him the message?" I ask.

"Protect Cain with your life," he remarks. To continue reading go to: https://www.wattpad.com/story/254655449-vacant-the-devil%27s-son

[early-sxnsets]

Stew

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/44928196

Chapter 5/13 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 2384

Chapter Summary: Nostalgic meals, red wine, and hand holding.

Chilly, late fall nights have always been a favorite of mine.

I’ve always found myself inexplicably drawn to the harsh crunching of leaves and soft, wispy scent of their decay.

I get to wear those nice jumpers the Wellbeloves bought me for Christmas, and cooking doesn't feel as much of a chore rather than a comforting task. It’s feel warm all fuzzy--like the recipes were made for me to indulge in, rather than scarf down.

My favorite of all was always stew. Whenever there was stew nights at care home, I was always begging for seconds. It's hard to really mess up stew to the point beyond any recognition, and even with canned vegetables, it somehow managed to hold a home-cooked feeling.

It's so deeply ingrained into me that it's now one of the only recipes I know by heart. Probably only because I'd made it about 40 times over the course of one fall/winter. Made it so often that Aggie got sick of it while I was off memorized every little bit.

There isn't much in life I pride myself on, and stew is one of my top things. While I'd taken the recipe from a classics cookbook, I call it my own now. I've added some flair here and there to the point where it feels like it should be mine. Aromatic and thick--I feel like it could entice anybody with it.

Hell, it somehow even got Basilton in a shock.

I hadn't heard the door open, but I hear it fall shut, taking notice of the tall man standing at the door with his eyes fallen shut.

I turn down my music respectfully, raising both brows at him as I wipe my hands on the drying cloth. “Office hours over?” I ask, half expecting no answer (per usual). He treats me to one anyway.

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes still not open as he visually inhales. “Are… you actually cooking? In that shitty little kitchen?”

“Yeah. Of course I am.”

He finally takes a look at me, back straightening as his hands hover over his jacket buttons. “Oh. My apologies for intruding. You're probably expecting someone. I can leave--”

“Bullshit I’ll make you leave your own flat,” I shrug. “I don't have anyone coming over. I've got who in my life, Penny? That's about it. You're fine, come in.”

He stays put, not seeming convinced.

I exhale. “They're not serving dinner. Unless you plan on paying someone else or starving, I'd expect you to stay here. Take a seat, I'm nearly done.”

He runs his eyes over me and hesitantly slides out the top, thick black button of his coat. I stand at the small kitchen's entrance (it really is ridiculously tiny), hands on the towel as I watch him slip out of the jacket and his shoes.

He approaches slowly, one foot falling in front of the other almost like a skittish animal’s would.

I let him step closer on his own, heading back into the kitchen and eyeing my leftover wine. Enough for us to split a good bit.

Wordlessly, I settle a glass in front of him at the table and pour it up about halfway before settling the bottle in the middle. His gaze follows my hands, lips pursed hesitantly as I step back from him. I feel like a hovering parent, watching him somewhat nervously as he lifts the glass and brings it up for a taste.

He cringes slightly, frowning. “Tastes like cooking wine,” he mumbles, still going for another sip.

It makes me smile. “Wine is wine,” I shrug, walking back over into the kitchen. I can't see him, but I hear his tiny scoff. Still, there's the short scrape of glass behind me, roughing up against wood as he picks it back up. Soon enough, I'm sure he’s emptied it because I peek at him pouring another.

As I’m cooking, the creeping familiarity of the sense of being watched falls onto me. Like I’m his prey now, and his eyes are closely locked and not letting me go. And, as unnerving as it is, it’s harshly too regular now. It seems like every time we’re in a room, he’s watching me when I can’t see.

I pop the cast iron pot into the oven and silently go to fill my own glass. For now, I’m trying to stay focused on my own tasks, rather than Basilton’s concentration on them. Well, somewhat. I'm thinking about him thinking about and watching me, but that's completely different than thinking about him just watching me (isn't it?)

We're silent, but much closer than we usually are. As I lean against the table, he sits and blinks up, sipping at his own wine. Our eyes catch briefly, staring back at one another as the timer in the room over clicks rhythmically. I feel myself hold my breath, shoulders squaring out as I take an extended drink.

His head drops, index slowly tracing the rim of his glass as I struggle to find anything of use to say.

“How have your classes been going so far?”

He seems a bit shocked by the sudden interaction, snapping back into reality and staring up at me. “They've been manageable. The class average for my highest class was exemplary, but the papers of my fourth period class make me want to strike them from the gradebook, given how horrendous they turned out. It's like they learned absolutely nothing.”

I nod slowly, glass settling against my lips as I chat. “How's the students? Your schedule?” Easy enough talk, especially since he seems loosened up in the slightest from his drink. He's even got a small drop in his shoulders.

“Students themselves are fine. There's one student who wishes to be called ‘The Behemoth’, since that's what his rugby mates call him, and he might be the most obnoxious arse I've ever met.”

“Behemoth?”

“I'm assuming it's all in irony, given how short he is. He's not scrawny, but definitely not the biggest kid you've ever met.”

I feel myself chuckle, watching the downturn of his lips as he speaks. It makes me fight the impulse to simply reach out and rub my thumbs over the corners, smoothing them out to a more tolerable expression. “Well then, why is The Behemoth a nightmare?”

His head lazily tips back, eyes falling shut. “I can't begin--it's everything. Incessantly rude, impulsive and disruptive, no sense of respect for the classroom. I caught him trying to carve another dick into the table, and when I sent him off for it, he said ‘Thought you liked those’. It's a wonder I can't get him expelled.”

“Students can just… say that you?” I ask in a bit of a shock. He seems a bit amused by my surprise, raising a brow at me.

“With the amount their parents pay, they can call me a fag if they want to.” He simply stares up at me, glass reflecting spots of light down his wrists as we keep a shaky eye contact. I don't know what to say, if there's even anything left to he said.

“Fucking hell.” That's all I can manage from that. “Bloody fucking--have any students said that to you?”

He shrugs, soothing my anxious gaze by glancing out the window across the room. I listen to the settling of his glass against the table, making note of his uncharacteristic response. Does this mean I should comfort him? How the hell do you react to the person you like the least feeling like shit?

He finally speaks after what must be at least a full minute of silence. “Once. I gave the class a history on the word, and made it so tedious that nobody ever wanted to say it again, since they'd have to sit through another lecture.”

That's funny to me. I don't know why, but I'm laughing. And, suddenly, as if by a miracle, he's chuckling along. A quiet, hand-covering-face chuckle. One that, if he had his usual composure, would've never slipped out. It's stunning--soft and melodic. So much of him, yet so foreign and new to his usual reactions that it's making me smile openly.

We stop ourselves short to the beeping timer, signaling me to grab the pot.

We're calmed by the time I carry two bowls over. We sit adjacent to one another, hands only at reaching distance. The tiniest, cowardly part of me wonders what it'd feel like to push his skin against mine. To know what his hand feels like is to empathize, and to empathize is to bring that compassion we lack.

I don't know if I really like our fighting. I've never been a fan of pointless bickering or condescending arguments. If he was more like how he is now, a few glasses in, he'd be a lot more tolerable.

He polishes off that second glass and goes for a third, eyes blinking heavily as he stares down into the cheap drink. “How has your first quarter gone?” His voice is near-silent; a quiet chirp over the clinking of our bowls and spoons. I nearly could've missed it.

“Can't particularly complain. Boring, frankly, but it's temporary.”

“Temporary?” I suppose that's the best of a conversation spark as I'll get from him.

I shrug mindlessly, watching my carrots push around in the bowl. “Only a few years, then I wanna move back to the city. I miss the people being around me. It's far too quiet here.”

He raises his brows briefly before they drop back down. “Back to London then?”

“Back to London.”

The look on his face makes it seem like he has something to say, but nothing comes out. I let the moment between us pass in a safe silence, finishing my first bowl and going back for seconds.

As I sit, I allow myself to break the space again. “Thank you, Basilton,” I say, letting him meet my eyes quizzically before continuing. “I'd never properly thanked you for letting me come to your meeting a few weeks ago. It was really nice, and I never really go a chance to say that.”

He takes a moment between us, eyes traveling over my face and focusing on every little detail before he silently relents. He nods, eyes soft and a very faint blush spread over his cheeks. The light rosiness, of course, he can't really hide.

No matter how much I may want for it to be progress between us, I'm really sure it's entirely from the wine.

I find myself nodding back to him, a smile creasing my cheeks as we hold an equal gaze. One second, two seconds, then it's done. He drops his face, focusing on finishing up his dinner.

I start to do so too, barely able to enjoy it from the distraction of his closeness. Part of me says to not get too close--a dog may not have rabies, but that does mean it won't leave a nasty bite.

Although, the smallest part of me wonders whether or not his bark is far worse than his bite.

He finishes his food as I do, and I make the quick move to clean up after finishing my second glass. He doesn't make to stand, watching me go take them to the sink. There's an odd comfort in the feeling of him studying me now. In it gives an equal peace of mind to where he is (so he can't really sneak up on me). And yet still, there's an equal concern to where his mind is. Plotting a rude snap, trying to get me to move out faster. Something. Anything evil.

I quickly look at him while I'm wrapping the leftover container, and he immediately turns away, finishing what must be his third glass. Innocence doesn't fit him well--it's like a cheap suit. Stressed.

He stands once I'm done, following me nearly side-by-side as we step off to our bedrooms. He halts right as I'm reaching for the door, and I feel the flashing grip of his hand closing around mine, holding my skin to his. My breath catches, mind melting into a confusing puddle as he simply gawks at me.

He stays silent for a full moment, jaw hanging as he searches for something clear to say. Hesitantly, I turn my palm around, comforting him with a soft squeeze back. It does nothing but stun him further. It's a long minute before he speaks, chin tipping up as he finally manages out, “You're welcome to come to meetings anytime.” It's barely choked, and comes out in a quiet rushing flow of words. He exhales slowly, looking down upon me as I stare. “And… don't call me Basilton. Makes me sound sixty. Baz is just fine.”

I relax a bit, nodding a bit as we keep our eye contact, and I keep hold of the soft hand of his. It's warm at the palm, and cool at his fingers, making me worried briefly for the state of his health. Still, it's a mindless comfort of knowing right where he is, looking back at me.

Seconds pass, and then minutes. It starts dragging onto a staring competition--one where I feel set to win as I'm now stuck on the sight of his strong grey eyes. They're less harsh now, softened by the night and the alcohol in his blood. They're nearly human. Like I could do this forever.

I contemplate doing so briefly, but the touch of his hand and gravity of his gaze keeps me longing for such an odd moment.

It finally breaks when I yawn, noticing how flushed his cheeks are now. I bet they'd be warm to the touch. “Tired,” I mumble, eyes finally falling shut. I feel his hand loosen. “I think I'm gonna get ready for bed.”

His hand drops mine fully, and as I'm opening my eyes, he's already retreating to his room. I can't help but feel empty, watching the door of his swing shut and closing him away. As if there was a missing touch there, or a final word, before we let this night rest.

I'm too tired to fight it, and just slightly buzzed enough to respect it. So, I take my leave to my own room, letting our moment pass us by.

[echodrops]

I just found your opinions about BNHA`s league of villain redemption possibilities and I agree 100%. I was wondering if you could do the same with the 8PoD? I know they will probably never appear again in the manga but idk, hypothetically speaking. You can make it general if you don't wanna go analysing one by one. Just ignore this if you don't feel like it or hate their guts. Bye! - @lovehatinganime

Let’s see if I remember them all. XDDD

Setsuno, Hojo, Tabe: For one-off villains who are not likely to appear again, they got a surprising amount of their backstories/motivations revealed, and they’re all suitably tragic–Tabe’s quirk resulted in him being ostracized, Setsuno’s suicide was prevented against his will, and Hojo was kept essentially as a slave until whoever had control of his realized he couldn’t profit off Hojo. Furthermore, they fought honorably with no tricks and even told their enemies that they shouldn’t leave Tamaki alone to fight three-on-one. They showed good team work, didn’t resort to any dirty tricks, and accepted their loss fairly. Their loyalty to each other and Chisaki is emphasized. A little respect from heroes and help getting back on their feet and these guys could probably make it back into everyday society. 9/10 redemption potential.

Rappa: If you can get past the fact that he wants to battle everyone he meets to the literal death, Rappa’s not so bad a guy. He doesn’t stand by Tengai’s cheap trick of shielding their team with the barrier, and he respects both Fat Gum and Kirishima as opponents. He fights fair and square and has a clearly defined set of morals, even if his morality is a little more blue and orange than black and white. All Rappa wants to do is fight to the greatest extent possible, and he’ll treat everyone who comes at him equally. He’s honest and helpful to Fat Gum, and helps get Kirishima patched up after their battle. Get this man an indestructible hero soulmate and he’ll be set for life. 7/10 redemption potential, 10/10 token evil teammate potential. Jesus Christ keep him away from Gigantomachia though.

Tengai: Yo forget this guy. Putting up a shield when your opponents don’t have one? Lammmeee. Trying to keep Rappa from spilling the beans about Chisaki? Lame. Being a yakuza when you’re clearly level-headed and responsible enough to get a real job? LAME. That said, he is loyal to his boss and practical in battle, which is a rare trait in the BNHA world. Would be useful to have on the heroes side–alas, probably too useful for the plot to ever let him get a redemption arc. I’d be careful sending this guy to prison–he’s a smart one; I feel like I’d trust him to coordinate my next prison break. Too bad his idea of teamwork boils down to “Obey my orders.” Most likely to end up bought off by another evil team somewhere down the road. 5/10 redemption potential.

Irinaka: Cute! The little angry plague doctor doll is cute! I want the League to get a mascot character… Too bad the little doll isn’t Irinaka’s real body, because his creepy disembodied face peeping on people from the ceiling is a big turn off. Too eager to help Overhaul and with too hasty of a temper, he’s a yappy little dog that bites your ankles and the owner just stands by acting like it’s your fault this whole thing is happening. He’s too cowardly to come out and fight himself, and resorting to drugs to make up for not being strong on his own is no good for any possibility of a future in heroics. 3/10 redemption potential, but if someone’s quirk got this guy permanently struck in the plague doctor doll, I’d pay money for one of the heroes to get saddled with an angry, shit-talking muppet for the rest of the series.

Deidoro: I… like… have no memory of this guy. He was in what… a grand total of five panels? But I just Googled him and good god, those soulless, bulging eyeballs, like someone slapped evil googly eyes on the abyss as it stares back at me… That’s gonna have to a hardddd pass from me! Don’t become alcoholics, kids, you’ll end up in the Japanese mafia! 4/10 redemption potential.

Rikiya: Tried to touch Nejire, the queen. Calls women bitches. Wears a codpiece. Absolutely no chance of redemption. 0/10.

Nemoto: You know who’s not getting a redemption arc? This guy! Why? ‘Cause he’s a dick! Forcing people to speak against their will? Dick move. Describing yourself as “special” and treating everyone else in the Precepts like they’re beneath you? Dick. Exploiting Mirio’s guilt over being unable to save Eri? Dickkkk. Taking away Mirio’s quirk? I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF, SIR. How did this guy avoid being killed off in the actual series by laser-guided karma? I’m calling bullshit. There’s being loyal, and then there’s just being obsessed, and this guy has definitely crossed the line twice. Do you think Chisaki knows that half the people in his organization follow him just ‘cause they want to jump his bones? This guy was a con artist before he joined the Yazuka, and since there are multiple people on the heroes’ side who can tell when someone is lying, I don’t buy into this “I became disenchanted by all the liars of the world” backstory. Not tragic enough–do not pass go, do not get collected by Chisaki. 0/10 redemption potential.

Chrono Trigger: You know how there are some villain characters who just look like they have “redemption arc” stamped on their forehead, by virtue of somehow being more lovingly drawn and given unnecessary personal touches like calling the other baddy by first name? Yeah, Chrono is That Guy™. Like, he’s a cold-hearted jerk, but he’s not THAT much of a cold-hearted jerk. Like, he’s the childhood friend, but he didn’t stop his friend from literally plotting to end the world. He’s more down to earth and realistic than Chisaki, thinking the dream of restoring the Underworld with the Yakuza is unrealistic, but he goes along with it anyway because fuck if he has anything better to do. He’s got the obsessive loyalty of the others but in a saner manner, and since he never does anything particularly evil directly–he’s stopped before he can permanently damage Aizawa–he comes across as relatively redeemable. Could probably be convinced to work with the heroes, if given sufficient motivation. 8/10 redemption potential, regardless of the fact that he hasn’t shown much of anything to deserve it.

Chisaki: Okay guys. LOOK. Imma be real honest here. Chisaki is a whole ass mood. Plague Doctor aesthetic? Mobster lingo? Old school Godfather vibes? Literally the coolest quirk in the series? No morality to speak of, zero Friendship Power, an utterly unsympathetic background for a villain? The most emotionally trying and best written battle in the series to date? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP. It’s rare for me to cheer whole-heartedly for the heroes, but DAMN if Chisaki’s fight and defeat wasn’t a hell of a satisfying ride. As a villain, everything about Chisaki was done so goddamn well that I just ate it up like a kid in a candy store. Using his underlings like tools instead of fellow human beings? How evil! Mentally and physically torturing a beautiful sunshine child? HOW EVIL! Killing Nighteye? HoW eViL!! Overhaul was frightening and threatening from start to finish and hit every note exactly as a early-to-mid-series climax boss. A++ villain and A+++ arc. 99/10 villain of the year potential Tomura is the only 100 in this house.

…But you’re kidding yourself if you think this guy’s got even one ounce of good guy potential in him. Redemption actively RUNS from this man. For the pain he brought to Eri, Mirio, Deku, and everyone involved in the Yakuza raid, there’s no way in hell Kai Chisaki will ever be able to morally redeem himself, even if his hatred of Tomura leads him to give useful info to the heroes. -1,000,000/10 redemption potential.

[cryptovalid]

Fascism: The Basics

Fascism is an anti-intellectual, militaristic, anti-democratic ideology. It does not structure or present itself like a political theory usually does. The writings of famous fascist leaders are usually about specific issues and opinions. They often contradict each other and themselves. Fascists are obsessed with tradition and national culture and will vary wildly from country to country. Trying to define fascism and understand it is not as easy as citing a source, and is not a neutral act. On top of that, modern fascism knows it has to hide itself to be accepted, so it is even harder to pin down.

What I'm going to describe here are some important features of fascism.

-Fascism is nationalistic. The survival of the nation is the most important thing for a fascist. Everything else must be sacrificed to maintain it. It's important to understand that the fascist has no respect for the nation as it is, but instead has an ideal nation in mind. Usually that ideal nation is a historical fantasy about a time when the nation was pure and strong. Recreating that ideal nation requires violence.

-Fascism is violent. A fascist pacifist is an oxymoron. Fascism glorifies weapons and people who use them against their enemies, which include most of the world. For a fascist, peace breeds weakness and only conflict breeds virtue. Avoiding violence is seen as inherently cowardly. If a fascist avoids violence, it is a temporary tactical decision, and fascists believe the same is true for everyone else. Violence is seen as authentic, domination as natural.

-Fascism is anti-intellectual, anti-democratic and amoral. For a fascist, talk is cheap. If knowledge does not help the nation dominate others, it is useless or even dangerous. This is why fascists famously burn books. It does not mean they are unintelligent, but that they see knowledge as a tool rather than a goal. Fascists also believe in a clear hierarchy where the strong rule the weak. Democracy is seen as vain, idle and inefficient. In the mind of a fascist, all nations are in a constant struggle for dominance and their nation should be run like an army that will go to any lengths to win. Empathy and ethics are an obstacle to loyalty and victory.

-Fascism is based on a fixed hierarchy. Everyone is judged by a fascists by their loyalty and their utility to their (view of the) nation . Foreigners and the disabled are considered the lowest of the low. Women are usually judged based on their ability to reproduce and support the nation. LGBT people are usually seen as a revolt against the gender roles that reproduce the nation. All of these groups will be persecuted and murdered if necessary.

-Fascism requires anti-semitism or something like it. Fascism is based on two ideas that should contradict each other: on the one hand, the nation is superior in every way. On the other hand, the nation is under constant, serious threat from other nations. How can those inferior nations even pose a threat? Because there is at least one insidious, conniving nation that is conspiring to manipulate events. That is the role that anti-semitism plays: a conspiracy theory that allows the nation to feel superior and victimized at the same time.

-Fascism is hypocritical and untrustworthy. This is a consequence of its amorality. Since they are fighting an existential war for dominance, and everyone is conspiring to destroy the nation, no one can be trusted and they feel there should be no moral restraint. Language becomes a weapon fascists use to confuse and demoralize their enemies and reinforce their ideas. Fascists will contradict themselves. They will make stuff up. They will say things that don't make any sense to anyone who cares about human decency, rational discourse or even grammar and syntax.

-Fascism is not trying to convince you with good arguments. They are trying to win a war. They don't need you to agree or join them. They need you to give up. If they can make you lose faith in debate, in society or humanity, they can win. Your apathy is useful to them. This is why debating them is useless: fascism can make its point simply by debating in bad faith. Even if they only speak nonsense and you disprove everything they say, they will continue to speak. They will simply not acknowledge that they've 'lost'. It will not stop them from conspiring to commit genocide or recruit others to their side. In their view, that is winning. By debating them, you are only taking them seriously and giving them a platform.

-Some fascists are true believers: they really believe that they are under attack and that fascism is the only way to survive. Others know it's bullshit and are just manipulating the true believers for power's sake. But there is also a group that doesn't really care either way (and to be honest, I think that most fascists think this way). For them, fascism just affirms their feelings and desires, and they have a subconscious attraction to it and will defend it from rational thought. This is why there are some fascists you will never convince.

[supacutiepie]

I have headcanons... Head Cannons if you will

I thoroughly believe Bakugou is the type to bullshit his way around every little truth so honestly this shit might as well be canon bc he is Absolutely That Extra

- The new reveals told that: The reason we didn’t see his room is because it’s got shelves of romance manga.

-Therefor : Bakugou is a MAJOR BOOK NERD NESTER

-He has cookbooks, his trashy literature, his classics, his mangas, every school book he ever owned has been kept. 

-This includes shit he wrote himself

-Cookbook notebooks, its a full wall to wall scenario. He has books in every language and they make a librarian weep.

-The books he can’t read?? He has notebooks filled with translations he’s jot down after hours of scouring the internet and his OTHER books.

-TBFH his self written notebook collection puts “shitty nerdy fanboy deku” to shame

-Not only does he have this many books, they have consumed him. His room is wall to wall with them and they are so neatly organized to his mind that he just AUTOMATICALLY knows EXACTLY where every little page is. 

-However

-You may think, “Bakugou is the neatest of the students”

-Bullshit

-He understands his methods. You could never. I’m not shitting you, we have only ever seen his bed because its the only clean spot. He has piles of books, his closet is filled with his novelty t-shirts--

-Oh, he swaps out his wardrobe every season. Not because he cares per say but rather if he didn’t he’d drown in the clothes. His parents own a fashion line, every. single. month. he gets something new.

-Clothes mean jack shit to him. Sure, he gets it. He understands that clothes are “Expressions”... but to him its just bullshit extra merchandise that he gets in  packages once a month since he born. He long since left behind any attachment to anything that wasn’t some doofy bs novelty shit. His skull shirt collection is hideous and he loves it. 

-Bc he gets clothes so often, he just as often donates them.

-Everyone in 1-A has received a mysterious package of clothing. Everyone. And it’s always customized because like hell he’d just throw clothes at people puh-lease his father DESIGNS FASHION FROM SCRATCH

-It’s also ‘secretly’ his way of trying to put some kind of fashion sense in the heathens he lives with. 

-So his closet is full, his walls are lined with shelves and stacks and notes.

-But the rest of the “clear space” is filled with art.

- Drawings, Sketches, Designs. Little thing stacked up or tapped together. Prototypes over a desk thats STUFFED with pencils and erasers and extra paper and books. 

-Photographs of the places he’s been. So many different shots of Paris, mountains, rivers, lakes. He has a series of photo albums for the best and one is entirely dedicated to sunrises- another to sunsets.

-He has a map above his bedside. It’s the only spot big enough because it doesn’t have a big ass bookshelf on the wall.

-The map is big and delicately detailed. But it’s still just a map.

-The cool shit is that it is COVERED in tack-markers. Well, most of it is. 

-Europe is washed out by tacks. France has so many different colored tacks its an eyesore. Paris has a big ass push pin bc he’s been there so many times. Enough that when Aoyama starts mumbling obscenities at their classmates he has to stop himself from cackling along.

-He has a trail of pushpins along the Alps and Pyrenees. 

-The different colors mean things. But only he gets its.

* Black is Done. Been there, done it, no point going back.

*Green is Good. It’s a place he kinda liked, but its not somewhere he needs to go back to. Paris is a big ass green push pin.

*Red is for a place he wants to go back to. The mountains are a trail of red that grows inch by inch longer.

*Blue is for Potential. He marks his next trips in blue, but not his dream trips.

*Those would be his nice, doofy, silver tipped push pins. the classic “string on a crime board” kind. He has major cities plotted out with these. Theres a large mishmash over america filled with silver and blue. He has books and books and BOOKS on american mountain ranges and cuisine and he not-so-secretly plotted out a course all-might themed rest stops.

*Yellow is for his favorites. The first mountain he ever hiked, the onsen he found while his parents dragged him out to a business trip up north, the island they went on once for a family vacation. (He fell in love with the sunset. It was clear and bright and there were so many colors at once that its his ‘happy place’. He sat on top of a fucking volcano and it was AWESOME.)

-The map is obsessively picked over, the pins are carefully arranged, and the map itself its surrounded by his favorite snapshots of the places marked.

-His room is a mess. But he does know the exact inch everything belongs in.

-He may not seem it, but he is sentimental. He just doesn’t keep all the sentimental shit in the dorms. Those things are at home. On shelves and wall caddies and tucked between his even BIGGER collection of books and cd cases.

-He does have All Might merch, but again, at home. The few things he has at the dorm are hand drawn posters, so much cooler than the cheap shit you get in the store.

-He doesn’t have time for movies and shows, but when he does its either “cheesy romance serial” or “blood, guts, and glory”

-TBFH his FAVORITE movie is a bastard child of a romcom, an action, and a suspense thriller. It’s horrible, its audacious, its cheesy and the vgi is awful but its one of those Things he loves. (On really bad days, when his arms ache for hours and he didn’t sleep well the night before he lets the movie go on repeat just for the cheese. It’s a soothing ‘nothing really matters’ kinda Thing)

-Oh, lets not forget his arms.

-His quirk is DEMANDING. Its a needy little princess. He gets sick of it acting like a bitch. His arms will ache if he over does it, so he has a giant fucking box of tiger balms and compression wraps and weird fucking icy-hot concoctions.

-He DOESN’T have skin car shit. Surprise surprise, he doesn’t need it. He is soft. He is also, incredibly fucking annoyed.

-He has those super obnoxious spray colognes, some super expensive shit, and inbetweeners. Because otherwise he smells like he just rolled out a vat of butterscotch and step into a shower of caramel. But BURNT.

-Seriously, his room would be noxious from the nitroglycerin smell alone. He constantly has a fan going and the window open. And while the room is cluttered he CANNOT let it go uncleaned or he risks a build up of explosives. He has to change his sheets daily, he has a routine for covers and pillow cases, and he is damn near religious in clothes washing because otherwise he’s destined to explode Something he Doesn’t Want Exploded. (The books. The very flammable sometimes RARE books.)

-Oh, and he has MANY a blanket and throw. He swaps them out so he isn’t doing huge loads of laundry for the big shit. It’s mostly thin blankets anyways, but they’re super soft and cozy and he nestles up to read his books like a demented caterpillar. The blanket he sleeps with ALWAYS ends up on the floor. 

-He doesn’t like to think himself overly conceited. But he is cocksure and arrogant and he has an image to keep. So of course he has routines to make himself look good.

-This is just a Bakugou thing TBQH.

-More of a personal headcanon, but he’s definitely gay. Not in the super obvious way, but he’s definitely confident in it. He isn’t about to go plastering his walls with flags (as if they’d fit), and he isn’t jotting down crushes in a journal (he does have journals, they’re just... incredibly volatile and profane)

-He’s just, confident.  He has a single little rainbow picture, its a picture he took and its super cool and shit. A rainbow in the mountains, right after a shower. He keeps in in a frame in one of the bookshelves near his manga. It’s tasteful, and it’s subtle. He knows what its for, and the littleness of it feels nice and secure.

-He doesn’t shy away if asked. But no one asks. He’d be honest, if anyone did. It’s not something he will hide- that’d be cowardly...

-But deep down, it does give him pause. It’s something he wrestled into submission since he figured it out. He had this big dream of being N.1 and then one day he realized that, had society not advanced the way it did, he could have nothing. He’d never tell a soul but it scared him, to know that despite all his ‘perfections’  he had this one thing that would turn heads in a way he didn’t want.

-He realized though that it as just one more thing he’d own. So he noosed it, that fear, and he throttled it into submission. He’d be N.1, he’d be open, He’d pioneer that shit if he had too- but he didn’t have too. It ended up being something that added character if nothing else, and he was determined to make it a trait and not a flaw and to build his pride with it.

-That all being said, much like any self respecting gay- he does has a string of lights tastefully weaving over the wood of his bookshelves.

-Extras:

* He doesn’t get sick often. Just, doesn’t. He keeps a close watch on his health, is always good on hygiene, and in general doesn’t jeopardize his well-being.

* When he gets sick. It hits him like a FREIGHT TRAIN.

* He only gets fevers once in a blue moon and he’ll fight the damn moon itself to keep it this way because when he DOEs get a fever its like a putting a handful of firecrackers into a cooking pot.

* He pops when sweaty. He just DOES, It’s INCREDIBLY annoying but thankfully localized to the hands. But when the fever strikes, his whole body pops. He spends the majority of his fever curled up in something flame-proof to wait it out.

*If he’s sweating, and by some MIRACLe he blushes, he CRACKLES.

* He’ll kill you if you witness it.

* I said he’s confident, not that he can’t be flustered.

* On that note, he’ll take it to the grave, but he definitely made Kaminari discharge in front of the dorms that first day by kissing him. It was on the cheek though! And it fucking hurt. Touching Kaminari is like playing roulette and his finger tips smell funny afterwards so he tries to avoid it.

* Honestly, the same can be said for anyone with a quirk that can react to his.

*Fucking half-and-half actually worries him. For the sanctity of his clothing.

* That fight with Deku in ground-beta set off every nerve ending he had and for a solid 24 hrs afterwards he actually had trouble keeping his quirk under his skin. He can still vividly recall the arc of electricity over his face and it never fails to leave a lasting echo in his mind.

* Kirishima is good for this though. Ironically, he’s grounding. He’s the one person Bakugou has never worried about hurting or leaving damage behind. Likewise, he knows that Kirishima high-key needs the confidence boost that Bakugou drags with him everywhere, so he amps up his attitude when the red-head seems down.

* He has no earthly idea how to describe his relationship with Kirishima and it shows. He would never dare say it allowed, but he knows that the boy is his best friend and he’d honestly kill for him. But more so, he’d be willing to live and fight beside him.

* Kirishima is one of the VERY FEW who has a picture in Bakugou’s room. It’s from a hiking trip, and its really backlit so you honestly wouldn’t know at first glance, but its beautiful. A sunrise, right at the summit. A figure standing on a rock with a hand excitedly outstretched towards the horizon.

* The other people with photos, are his parents- and the Midoriya’s.

* It’s not as obvious this one. But he keeps a family photo on his bookself of the three Bakugous, and then theres an old photograph tucked away between some of his older school book collections.

* It’s a beach photo. He couldn’t be more than, maybe three? 

* It’s a whole other life. A time before his quirk. Before he knew he was destined.

*He’s sitting on a rock with a backsplash of salt and foam. He’s got an arm wrapped around a tiny Izuku. It was the only thing keeping the other boy from tumbling off into the waves. Their moms are sitting on either side, big happy faces all around.

*The boys were burnt, both heavily freckled, and smiling like the world was endless.

* The photo...makes him sad. He can’t explain it, not even sure what words could do so. It’s nostalgic sure, but something between the pixels of ink has him at a lost. It was such a different time, and the little boy in the photo is a stranger.

*Sometimes, rarely and in the dead of night when a nightmare finally gets him awake, he thinks about life. About how different it could have been, about the paths he chose and the ones he burnt. He wonders, he regrets, and he moves on before morning.

*Bakugou Katsuki refuses to dwell. He bottles and compartmentalizes and he tucks it away like a pamphlet in a library. Notes and subscripts to be lost in translation. 

( He’s vocal, he’s vivid. He writes. He loves his book collection and he writes his own short stories. His imagination is as vivid as the rest of the class, and he jots down half finished ideas all the time. He has a memory that makes an elephant cry, so his school notebooks are tiny and his idea notebooks are scattered. The words he can’t get out into the air are sometimes trapped in ink. )

[amethystina]

Amethystina and Anon Hate

So. The end of 2018 became pretty turbulent for me and I figured I’d say a couple of words about it. 

To make a long story short, I received my first anon hate! Yay me! A milestone has been reached!

Amusingly, the biggest issue wasn’t the anon hate in itself. I brushed that off pretty easily with a couple of laughs because it was clearly written by someone who don’t know me very well and was only throwing cheap shots to make me upset. I’m not even going to respond to it, nor show it here.

No, what did get to me was what happened afterwards.

See, this was a milestone, so I figured I’d share it with my friends over at the Winteriron server. They’re such a lovely bunch — and protective as hell — so I figured it would be a nice counterweight to the anon message, as well as offer me confirmation that the anon was just talking bullshit.

I did get that — thank you, everyone who was online and offered me support — but then, about half an hour later, I noticed this comment in my email, left on one of my older Winteriron fics (note: the comment itself has been deleted)

Understandably, this upset me more than the original anon hate ever could. Because this, right here, is personal. Not only is this clearly written by someone who was there, but someone I trusted and thought wanted to support me. 

(Sidenote: I’m not going to comment on “the funniest thing I ever read” because that’s subjective and, well, it might be true for this person. It’s simply not my place to judge, nor will I say anything about whether or not this person has to like me or not — that’s their prerogative. What I will address, however, is the clear and targeted attempt to hurt my feelings.)

I don’t know who they are. They could be lying about being one of those who talked to me (there are a lot of lurkers) and I don’t intend to start a witch hunt in an attempt to find them, either. You know why?

Because I’m thirty years old and have been writing fanfics for six years. I’ve gone through enough ups and downs in my life to know who I am and, while it hasn’t been easy to figure out, I know my worth. Had this been a couple of years ago, I might have been crushed, because my confidence was nowhere what it is now. Today, I’m not worried about a couple of hateful anons.

Do the messages hurt? Of course they do — for hours afterwards — and I’m not even ashamed to admit that I started crying when I got this second one and immediately sought support from my friends. But, the thing is, I never doubted my own worth. I was sad that someone had been mean to me, but that’s it. I’m mature and rational enough to know that what was said about me in those comments is a subjective opinion and, when it comes down to it, says more about them than it does about me.

I’m not angry or upset. If anything, I pity whoever wrote that comment.

Because, let’s face it — they went through some real effort to send me that comment. They went to my AO3, clicked on my Winteriron works, scrolled along the list, picked one of my older fics, and then commented. That’s a lot of effort for a hate comment you won’t even sign your name on.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Whoever you are, who sent me that comment, you know that you did wrong. You didn’t comment on the fic the whole drama was about, but instead went to the back of my works to comment on one where no one but me would notice it. You were trying so hard to make me aware of what you were doing, but, at the same time, didn’t want to do it in a place where anyone else — like actually decent people — might see it. And that’s honestly hilarious, not to mention tragic.

And that’s why I feel sorry for you.

Not only because you went through so much effort and, in the end, it won’t do much to me, but also because you are so aware of how poorly you behaved — and you still did it. There were so many other ways you could have handled this. You could have asked me how I feel about popularity and praise, instead you laughed behind my back and told me about it in the most cowardly fashion known to the Internet.

Of course, if you happen to be reading this, I doubt that you’ll care, but do know that I pity you and I truly hope that, at some point in your life, you will grow up and take responsibility for your actions. Because, deep down, you clearly know that you shouldn’t have done this. Deep down, you know that you have to hide who you are unless you want to face the consequences of being that rude to someone. In some ways, I guess that means there might be hope for you yet, and, with some luck, you’ll embrace that.

Naturally, I know that this post might also be ridiculed and laughed at. This is, after all, the complete opposite of what we’re adviced to do when running into trolls or mean people on the Internet. Ignore them, people say. Don’t let them get to you.

The thing is, I’m not. You didn’t get to me as much as you probably hoped. I’m still going to post fics, I’m still going to be on the Winteriron server, and I’m still going to be me. It hurt, yes, and I think we all know the importance of acknowledging that, but, more than anything, I feel sorry for you.

Because the people who actually matter to me — the people who are actually worth knowing — won’t find this funny. They won’t agree with what you did or the way you did it. They’re the ones who matter to me.

You, on the other hand, my anon friend, don’t matter at all :)

And, to the rest of you — the ones I care about and who are now itching to defend my honour — I’m fine. I was sad, but I’m not anymore. Because I know who I am and what I can accomplish. I’ve battled worse things than this and, at this point, this whole situation is almost as funny as the first anon hate. 

That might sound like I’m lying, but I’m not. Because, while the second anon was more personal than the first and, probably, sent by someone I will have contact with on the Winteriron server at some point, it’s still just anon hate. And, as a rule, I don’t give a shit about people who are selfish, rude, and hateful enough to send those kinds of messages to people. They’re not worth it.

So I’m perfectly fine, my darlings. In fact, I’m stronger than ever <3

- Amethystina

[preserving-ferretbrain]

What The Fucking Fucking Fuck JK Rowling?

by Dan H

Monday, 17 March 2008

Dan Learns That He Should Just Stop Listening To That Damned Woman

This isn't an article, this is a rant. Hopefully that should be obvious from the title.

That title again.

What the Fucking Fucking Fuck JK Rowling. I mean really what the Fucking Fucking Fuck.

Unless you've been distracted by little trivial details like the disintegration of Afghanistan and the US Presidential election, you're probably aware that JK Rowling announced some months ago that Dumbledore Is Gay.

Okay, fine, whatever you say you stupid, sanctimonious hack. Dumbledore's gay, I'll file that with "Harry is a Hero" and "It's all about choices" under "Shit I've been told about Harry Potter which is totally unsupported by the text".

Her latest statement on the subject goes like this:

"I had always seen Dumbledore as gay, but in a sense that's not a big deal. The book wasn't about Dumbledore being gay. It was just that from the outset obviously I knew he had this big, hidden secret, and that he flirted with the idea of exactly what Voldemort goes on to do, he flirted with the idea of racial domination, that he was going to subjugate the Muggles. So that was Dumbledore's big secret. Why did he flirt with that?" she asks. "He's an innately good man, what would make him do that. I didn't even think it through that way, it just seemed to come to me, I thought 'I know why he did it, he fell in love.' And whether they physically consummated this infatuation or not is not the issue. The issue is love. It's not about sex. So that's what I knew about Dumbledore. And it's relevant only in so much as he fell in love and was made an utter fool of by love. He lost his moral compass completely when he fell in love and I think subsequently became very mistrusting of his own judgment in those matters so became quite asexual. He led a celibate and bookish life." Clearly some people didn't see it that way. How does she react to those who disagree with a homosexual character in a children's novel? "So what?" she retorts immediately "It is a very interesting question because I think homophobia is a fear of people loving, more than it is of the sexual act. There seems to be an innate distaste for the love involved, which I find absolutely extraordinary. There were people who thought, well why haven't we seen Dumbledore's angst about being gay?" Rowling is clearly amused by this and rightly so. "Where was that going to come in? And then the other thing was-and I had letters saying this-that, as a gay man, he would never be safe to teach in a school."

Where to begin. I mean seriously, where to begin.

Okay, let's start from the beginning.

In fact, let's go through the execrable bullshit line by fucking line.

"I had always seen Dumbledore as gay, but in a sense that's not a big deal."

By "always seen Dumbledore as gay" she presumably means "had always seen Dumbledore as fundamentally asexual, and like all middle class fucktards I assume that anybody who isn't married by the age of thirty is a woofter."

Seriously. Look at the quote again. Notice how she says that she had "always seen Dumbledore as gay" but then makes it clear that she had never intended for him to actually be involved in any variety of homosexual relationship. More than that, until she pulled Gridelwald out of her arse in order to explain how Dumbledore could possibly have made a mistake, she clearly had no intention of his ever having been in a homosexual relationship.

So what can she possibly mean by "I had always seen Dumbledore as gay"? It's simple really. She means she'd seen him as having no sexual life whatsoever, as being without sexual desire or motivation. As not fancying women. Of course she'd also seen him as rather funny, rather quirky, somewhat outrageous in a non-threatening kind of way. An eccentric old duffer with a funny line in velvet suits. The fact that JK Rowling characterises all of these personality traits as "gay" is profoundly, profoundly offensive. You are a hack, JK Rowling, a small-minded, bigoted hack.

A couple of people, after the announcement came out, suggested that they "should have guessed after they saw him in that purple velvet suit". It's a joke, of course, but it's a joke based on an offensive homophobic stereotype. An offensive homophobic stereotype which appeared to be at the heart of JKR's conception of Dumbledore as a gay man.

Right. On to the next line then.

"The book wasn't about Dumbledore being gay. It was just that from the outset obviously I knew he had this big, hidden secret, and that he flirted with the idea of exactly what Voldemort goes on to do, he flirted with the idea of racial domination, that he was going to subjugate the Muggles. So that was Dumbledore's big secret."

Okay, where to begin with this little section. "He had this big, hidden secret, and he flirted with the idea of exactly what Voldemort goes on to do". So he's got a big secret and he wanted to take over the world. So Wizard society is institutionally homophobic then? Hence his keeping his sexual orientation a secret? In that case, you'd think his enemies would have found out and used it against him. Except of course that he never actually had any variety of homosexual experience, so maybe that would have been quite difficult for them.

Or maybe Wizarding society is totally okay with homosexuality, maybe it's completely acceptable for Wizarding men to bang each other. In that case why did he keep it secret? Either way, isn't "he's gay" significantly less important than "he tried to take over the world". Why mention them in the same breath? It's not like the two are directly causally related.

After all, a woman whose works are a protracted plea for tolerance wouldn't deliberately set out to establish a causal link between homosexuality and acts of evil and violence.

Oh wait.

"Why did he flirt with that?" she asks. "He's an innately good man, what would make him do that. I didn't even think it through that way, it just seemed to come to me, I thought 'I know why he did it, he fell in love.'

I'm going to take the cheap shot now and highlight the fact that she just blithely says that having introduced this really quite significant element into a character's personal history (he seriously considered the idea of subjugating humanity) she then blithely states that she "didn't even think it through."

Excuse me while I rant again. For fuck's sake JK Rowling it's the entire fucking plot of the seventh fucking book, what do you mean you didn't think it through you fucking talentless moron. I mean seriously, what does this woman get paid for. You're fucking well supposed to think things through particularly if they're, y'know, important.

There is just so much, so very very much, about this line that reveals JK Rowling's weakness as a writer. Dumbledore, apparently, is an "innately good man". I've

already talked about how JK Rowling's personal morality seems weirdly Calvinist

(or rather, weirdly similar to the way a complete outsider who doesn't really understand the doctrine of the elect would characterise Calvinism). Again we see the pathetic simplicity of Rowling's moral world. Dumbledore is "innately good" it is therefore completely inconceivable that he could ever do anything wrong ever unless he was being actively influenced by an evil external force.

And what force could be more evil than homosexual desire?

Okay, I know, it's another cheap shot. But - and yes I'm going to say it again - for fuck's sake. For fucking fucking fucking fuck's sake. For fuck's sake. Not only is she too pathetic and cowardly to let her precious, precious heroes show any signs of complexity or make any mistakes that aren't attributed to supernatural compulsion (any scene where Harry acts irrationally is the fragment of Voldemort's soul. The scenes in DH where Ron acts completely rationally are the influence of the Horcrux). Not only that, but Rowling then chooses to declare that the external compulsion which stops Dumbledore from following his otherwise infallible moral compass is homosexual love.

She elaborates, of course.

"And whether they physically consummated this infatuation or not is not the issue. The issue is love. It's not about sex. So that's what I knew about Dumbledore. And it's relevant only in so much as he fell in love and was made an utter fool of by love. He lost his moral compass completely when he fell in love and I think subsequently became very mistrusting of his own judgment in those matters so became quite asexual. He led a celibate and bookish life."

Again, she begins by reiterating the fact that as far as she is concerned "being gay" is in no way contingent upon having any kind of actual physical homosexual encounter. Again it seems that in Rowling's world "gay man" doesn't mean "a man who is sexually attracted to other men" but rather "a man who wears outrageous purple velvet suits."

Then she goes on to make it very, very clear that Dumbledore was in love with Wizard Hitler. The word "love" appears four times in the above paragraph. JK Rowling is totally obsessed with the concept of love. Lily's love for Harry, Harry's love for his friends, Snape's love for Lily. Voldemort seems to be doomed to be evil pretty much from his conception, because he wasn't born of a loving union.

Crucially, though, "love" in Harry Potter is an unambiguous force for good. All this stuff about how Dumbledore was "made an utter fool of by love" and "lost his moral compass completely" is at odds with the way that the great, redeeming power of love is shown to work at every other point in the Potter books. That, indeed, is the whole damned point of the books. Harry so loves Hogwarts that he sacrifices his only begotten ... sorry, I mean "himself" to save them, thereby protecting them all from Voldemort's curses with his Big Love Mojo.

In this context, Dumbledore/Grindelwald becomes quite horribly offensive (up there with HP Lovecraft presenting the Evils of Miscegenation as a supernatural threat in Innsmouth, or Enid Blyton casting the Gollywogs as the villains of the Noddy books). We are now presented with a great wizard, a truly good man (innately good in fact), who is debased and corrupted because he falls in love with another man. Love, which between a man and a woman, or between friends, or between a parent and child, brings out nothing but goodness and the finest qualities in all parties, between Dumbledore and Grindelwald however was baleful and destructive. In fact, you could almost say that JK Rowling presents homosexual love as an inversion of beautiful, uplifting, heterosexual love.

I'm quite sure this isn't deliberate. Prejudice never is. Nobody wakes up in the morning and thinks to themselves "hey, I think I'll be homophobic today!" Contrary to Rowling's simplistic portrayal of the issue, prejudice is not simply a matter of people being deliberately horrible to minorities. The most dangerous and pernicious forms of prejudice are, in fact, the things which people don't even think about. Things like perpetuating outdated, destructive stereotypes of a particular group and then trying to pass it off as empowering. The idea that an elderly gay man has to be a quirky, faintly outrageous basically asexual eccentric is hugely, hugely insulting.

Look. It really is this simple. You can't be both "gay" and "asexual" any more than you can be simultaneously "Catholic" and "Atheist". The moment you become an atheist, you stop being a Catholic, the moment you become a Catholic, you stop being an atheist. A man who has a single homosexual infatuation at the age of eighteen which might not even be consummated or requited and then lives an utterly sexless existence is not "gay" no matter how many brightly coloured suits he wears.

I've had about as much of this shit as I can take, but there's still more to deal with.

What's next, ah yes. Our sycophantic interviewer points out that some people were hostile to the idea of a gay character in a children's book. Rowling has this fabulous insight:

"It is a very interesting question because I think homophobia is a fear of people loving, more than it is of the sexual act. There seems to be an innate distaste for the love involved, which I find absolutely extraordinary. There were people who thought, well why haven't we seen Dumbledore's angst about being gay?"

Again, she is keen to stress that it is the love that homophobes object to, not the sex. First and foremost, this is bullshit. When the Christian Right has a go at homosexuality it's not "love" they complain about it's sodomy. You know, sodomy, from Sodom and Gomorrah, the bit of the bible which tends to be used to explain why some people think it's wrong, not for men to feel strong bonds of affection towards one another, but to actually fuck each other up the arse.

Sorry, that was crude, but Rowling seems to want to completely divorce the idea of "being gay" from the actual, physical act of homosexual sex. She wants the kudos of having a "gay character" in the book (because they're all about tolerance remember) without having to think about any of that dirty, nasty bumsex.

Indeed I might even suggest that maybe, just maybe, the reason JK Rowling is so keen to declare that homophobes are afraid of the love not the sex is because she, herself, is actually kind of afraid of the sex. Why else would she be so adamant that Dumbledore never, never, never, never had any kind of actual homosexual impulse or encounter other than his "infatuation" with Grindelwald.

Are you honestly telling me that if Dumbledore had been straight (that is to say, had dressed more conservatively and not kept saying things like "that flighty temptress, adventure!") and he had fallen in love with a woman that (a) it would have led him down the path of evil when all other heterosexual relationships in the series have been nothing but redemptive and that (b) he would have become completely asexual afterwards?

Now okay, I admit, that part of what makes this so creepy is JK Rowling's totally fucked up attitude to love, which stipulates that you meet the One Person Who Is Truly Meant For You In All The World at roughly the age of eleven, and then you are never allowed to feel anything for anybody ever again. Presumably once Dumbledore had pursued his disastrous infatuation with Grindelwald, the Monster in his Chest died a horrible lonely death, and Dumbledore never looked at anybody sexually ever again. Ever. For a hundred and twenty years after his eighteenth birthday.

And in fact, I think that's the basic problem with the whole "Dumbledore is gay" thing. Homosexuality (and - much like my

last Fb article

- this is going to sound really obvious) is contingent upon sexuality, a factor which is notably absent from the Harry Potter books. Oh sure, there's "snogging" (which appears to be the only verb fictional teenagers are allowed to use to describe kissing) but nobody in Harry Potter has any real sexual impulses. There's no sex in Potter, only "love". That's why when the mermaids take "the thing that is most important to you in the whole world" in GoF, they take the person the contestant is dating. No doubt if the tournament had taken place a year later, Ginny would have been in Ron's position under the lake. The idea that Krum might have been dating Hermione, not because he thought she was Wonderful and Special and Amazing, but because he fancied some tight muggleborn pussy ("You know vot zey say about muggleborn girls, Victor?") simply didn't enter into it.

In a world completely void of any sexuality whatsoever - homo or hetero - where children seem to be produced magically out of thin air after two people have avowed their devotion and married (hell, maybe that's how Wizards do it, they seem to use magic for everything else, it wouldn't entirely surprise me if they had an inferior magical substitute for sex to go along with their inferior magical substitutes for everything else us muggles have invented to make our lives better) it simply makes no sense to say "Dumbledore was gay and was in love with Grindelwald".

What, precisely, about Grindelwald was Dumbledore attracted to? Was it - as it is presented in the actual novel - a meeting of the minds? The thrill of meeting another young wizard who was his equal in ability and ambition? In that case how is it functionally different from a heterosexual friendship (one of the things that really annoys me about fiction in general, actually, is the way that friendship is portrayed as utterly meaningless compared to romantic love - it's why I love the Denny Crane/Alan Shaw relationship in Boston Legal)? If Dumbledore "fell in love" with Grindelwald for purely intellectual reasons, then how does that explain why he was attracted to Grindelwald in the first place? Surely if Dumbledore's attraction to Grindelwald was based on an intellectual simpatico he must have been open to the whole idea of subjugating the muggle race already. On the other hand, maybe he was just attracted to Grindelwald's long blonde hair and boyish good looks. In that case the relationship was overtly sexual, and Dumbledore shouldn't have just been able to switch off those sexual impulses because he "didn't trust his judgement". Just because you get burned once at the age of eighteen, that doesn't mean that you then stop fancying people. But Dumbledore (like most of the adults in Harry Potter) is portrayed as an utterly sexless being (which isn't inappropriate, adults in children's stories are normally played as asexual). It is simply meaningless to say "Dumbledore is gay" just as it is meaningless to say "Professor McGonagall is heterosexual". People who don't have sexual appetites don't have sexual orientation, it really is that simple. Yes, we live in a society which happens to assume that a person of nonspecified sexual orientation is straight, but that's simply incorrect. Sexuality isn't like race, you don't just get one automatically. If a character in a work of fiction is not presented as having any kind of sexual or romantic impulses, that character cannot be considered "straight" or "gay" or anything else.

In this sense, in fact, sexuality is very much the opposite of race (as I discussed in my previous article - I'm afraid I'm turning into a bit of a Joss Whedon wannabe with all this standing up for minorities I know nothing about). Race affects everything about a person's physical appearance, and if a character's race isn't specified, they'll wind up being white by default. You have to imagine a character looking like something, after all, and odds are what elements of description the author does give will wind up implying a white person rather than a black person.

Sexuality works rather differently. If a character's sexuality is not defined in the text, then it really is entirely up to the reader to decide. While it doesn't really make sense to imagine Professor McGonnagall as black (it just doesn't fit the description of the character, and besides, Rowling tends to mention when her characters have black skin) it's perfectly reasonable to imagine her being straight or gay or bi or whatever as you choose. There is simply no evidence in the text to support most of the characters having any sexuality whatsoever (at least the unmarried ones). Starting to declare that any given character is straight or gay makes no sense at all. (This is exactly why the girly posters on Sirius' wall were so annoying).

Rowling expresses her amazement that people wonder why we "haven't seen Dumbledore's angst about being gay." No Jo, that's not what they're wondering. They're wondering why we haven't seen Dumbledore's "angst" about the fact that the only person he ever loved was an evil mass murderer who he was eventually forced to face down and lock in his own prison. Particularly when - during Harry's Second year - he hires a teacher who looks exactly like the his lost love, only to have the guy turn out to be evil, and get driven mad. All it would take was one sentence in which Dumbledore admits that Lockhart reminds him of somebody he used to know. As it is the idea of Dumbledore having any kind of past at all comes kind of out of left field. The idea of him having a tragic past is even more surprising and the idea of him having a tragic past of thwarted homosexual love is utterly unsupported by the text.

Rowling's final word on the subject is this:

"And then the other thing was-and I had letters saying this-that, as a gay man, he would never be safe to teach in a school."

Again, she expresses surprise at this, but again, her surprise rings hollow. Clearly the only way she herself was comfortable with portraying a gay man was to make him completely celibate. Obviously Dumbledore was safe to teach in a school, he had no sexual drives whatsoever. Certainly there is nothing about Rowling's portrayal of homosexual love that could lead us to believe that she felt it was harmless in general. It was a destructive force in Dumbledore's life, it caused him to lose his otherwise infallible moral compass and flirt with the idea of racial domination.

To be - well perhaps fair is too strong a word - but to at least admit that there exists doubt of which miss Rowling could theoretically be given the benefit, I am sure that she did not deliberately create a situation in which her only canonical homosexual relationship was primarily sexless and ultimately destructive. I am sure she did not mean, by "outing" Dumbledore, to perpetuate the idea that homosexuality is only acceptable so long as it is not acted upon. That doesn't change the fact that this is exactly what she did, and by repeatedly asserting that Dumbledore's flirtation with genocide was not attributable to a flaw in his character, but only to his "infatuation" with Gellert Grindelwald, she makes matters worse.

Ultimately, this article concludes much the same way my last article began. It is all very well for Rowling to say that Dumbledore's sexuality "shouldn't matter" just as it is all very well for the Sci Fi channel to say that it "shouldn't matter" whether Ged is played by a white actor. But the fact is that it does matter and it matters deeply, and the fact that Rowling cannot tell why it matters, why maybe the fact that her books - albeit accidentally - send the message that homosexual love is perverse and unnatural might cause problems, is only further evidence of her failure as an author.

A plea for tolerance indeed.Themes:

J.K. Rowling

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Books

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Minority Warrior

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Arthur B

at 11:31 on 2008-03-17A pet theory: Rowling only decided that Dumbledore was gay after she finished writing the series. She was giving a question-and-answer, someone asked about Dumbledore's love life, she was vaguely aware that a lot of internet people would be made very happy if it turned out that one of the HP characters were gay, so she blurted out that Dumbledore was gay and reeled out the Grindlewald connection as spurious evidence. Pretty much everything she says in that quote strikes me as someone rationalising, improvising, and retconning, retconning, retconning into the future, essentially making shit up on the spot to try to explain why a) we never saw any sign that Dumbledore was gay in the actual books and b) why Dumbledore being gay is at all important or worth mentioning.

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Rami

at 11:49 on 2008-03-17The more I read from you, Dan, the less I want to ever read Harry Potter.

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empink

at 13:21 on 2008-03-17@Rami

At this point, I'm right there with you. This is one of the worst things about being a fan of anything written by hacks-- if you wait long enough, they'll rip apart everything that was marginally good about it and scribble all over it with fuckwit pens. I'm not sure when I decided to stop listening to JKR's stupid public announcements, but I'm firmly set on doing that as much as possible now.

I don't know if you're familiar with how anal fanfic writers can be about what does and doesn't belong in canon? Well, the movies don't count for me (on account of them mostly being SHITE), and no word that JKR says after the fact counts, ESPECIALLY everything she's said after the last book came out. I half wish I could strike books 7, 6 and maybe 5 (and what the hell, how about 4) from the list as well, because though they're spread-your-hands-and-sigh okay, just about every plot point introduced in those books is rushed and unedited and stinky.

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Arthur B

at 18:28 on 2008-03-17I think cutting the series off at book 3 is a reasonable stance. Rowling was always at her best when she was straining against the bounds of the 300-page large type children's novel format; book 3, in particular, is my favourite in the series. Once she became big enough that her editors either didn't dare say "no" to her or realised that the books would sell like crazy whether or not they actually bothered to edit them, the downhill slide began. Book 4 is good and fun, but I still feel that it's a step down from the first three; aside from the tri-wizard tournament and the little glimpses we had of the wizarding world beyond the UK, I can't think of any cool elements in it which weren't introduced (and handled more effectively) in the earlier books.

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empink

at 20:34 on 2008-03-17Book 3 was my fave one as well. Man, I just wish some editor had just hung in there, you know? I still love the HP world (well, more like I love it as it was in the first three books) of yore. It was flawed and there were some gaping holes in it if you knew where to look, but it was also a really fun read way back when. Now, with chest monsters and Undying Love and rampant intolerance all over the place...eeurgh.

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Dan H

at 22:22 on 2008-03-17

A pet theory: Rowling only decided that Dumbledore was gay after she finished writing the series.

Weirdly, "it was completely pulled out of her arse" is - to my mind at least - the

generous

interpretation. I'd rather believe that she made up "Dumbledore was gay" on the spot than believe that she intended him to be gay from the start, and decided to express this by making him wear outrageous purple suits and

never never mention being sexually attracted to another man

.

Certainly there's evidence that she sent a "Dumbledore is gay" note to one of the film producers, when he was going to have Dumbledore reminiscing about an old girlfriend.

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Arthur B

at 22:46 on 2008-03-17

Certainly there's evidence that she sent a "Dumbledore is gay" note to one of the film producers, when he was going to have Dumbledore reminiscing about an old girlfriend.

Yeah, I think this has been confirmed by the director in question, now that I think about it.

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Sister Magpie

at 14:05 on 2008-03-18Somebody mentioned recently how there's no interest in sex or romance but a lot of interest in playing house. I remember being struck by JKR using similar phrasing to describe Charlie and Sirius and whether Charlie was gay or Sirius had a girlfriend. It was something like "He's not gay. He's more interested in dragons than girls/He's too busy being a rebel to have a girlfriend."

Setting up again a situation where either you're one of the characters who are meeting their true love and marrying for life, or else there's a lack of interest in girls, iow you're asexual. (They're interested in girls enough not to be gay, but not interested enough for a relationship. Teen!Sirius has pictures of girls on the wall, but in the one scene where we meet him attention is specifically drawn to him being disinterested.) Since she's giving out everybody's future you start to notice there's no such thing as divorce or living with somebody without being married, or dating people without ever getting married or being in a committed gay relationship. It's who they married, or else how they're not interested in something else instead of that.

Characters are supposed to date others in a superficial way (snog them, at least) before settling down with the true love, but that's about it.

Of course some would say it's a kids book (when they're not saying it's a book that dares to be gritty and realistic and the way life really is!) and it's not about the soap opera lives of the characters. And that's true of the books. But the interviews have become about that in large part and it's consistent with what little is in the books.

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Arthur B

at 17:15 on 2008-03-18

Somebody mentioned recently how there's no interest in sex or romance but a lot of interest in playing house.

To be fair to Rowling, she's not exactly free to frankly explore the sex lives of the Harry Potter character. If she'd been able to stick to her original plan - of writing books which would grow for the readers, pitched at kids around the same age (or perhaps 1 or 2 years younger) than Harry is in the book in question, it'd have been different: publishers are much more comfortable about discussions about people's sex lives in books for older teenagers than they are in books for 11-year-olds.

As it is, Potter unexpectedly became a publishing phenomenon, and it took more than 1 year to write each book, and Rowling realised that each book would have to cater not only to people who'd been in the original target audience and were reading from the beginning, but anyone aged 5 to 85 who had jumped on the bandwagon since. It's no surprise that boyfriends and girlfriends don't do much more than kiss and hug, and it's kind of unreasonable to suggest that Rowling should have made the characters interested in more than that.

Where Rowling horribly fails, as you point out, is in the romance angle. It's entirely possible to write romantic subplots which are kid-safe and yet nuanced enough to engage with a teenage and adult audience. (At their creative peak, the guys at Disney were able to do so, repeatedly, for movie after movie.) Rowling doesn't even

try

.

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Arthur B

at 17:17 on 2008-03-18(I tell a lie: she

does

try, once, in

Goblet of Fire

, with the big dance and Harry and Ron's hilarious failure to be gentlemen leaving their dates weeping by the end of the night: I think that part was really nicely observed. It's one of the few genuinely interesting parts of the fourth book. Of course, it was funnier in the movie than in the novel.)

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Sister Magpie

at 18:31 on 2008-03-18

It's no surprise that boyfriends and girlfriends don't do much more than kiss and hug, and it's kind of unreasonable to suggest that Rowling should have made the characters interested in more than that.

Absolutely--no point in criticizing an author for what she's not doing in the first place. I would say another place where "romance" is done well is with Harry and Cho's date in OotP--another place where everything just falls flat for both parties. And one reason it does is that you've got two specific, different people actually trying to have a conversation and connect.

With the "real" romances they're more just magically zapped onto the characters like a love potion. It's not really about these two people having stuff in common and getting to know each other, it's just picking out, as a reader, who their intended is going to be.

The romance plots are more like the mystery plots that way--for instance, you don't see Harry growing to like Ginny as a character, you figure out the clues like Harry randomly watching her, or feeling annoyed when she leaves him, or she responds correctly when he's almost killed someone, or has a chest monster, or her smell is in the love potion. Along with telegraphed stuff like "Ginny was the most awesome person on the team" etc.

I actually doubt she ever planned on dealing frankly with sex or this kind of romance since it doesn't really seem to interest her, at least in this series. I don't get the feeling she's really holding back.

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Wardog

at 10:55 on 2008-03-19I guess I'll just throw a couple of pennies into the discussion fountain. I think what annoys me most is the media song and dance routine that accompanies each book (you can say that this isn't Rowling's doing but she interacts massively and voluntarily with her fanbase), the disparity between what the books actually *are* and *do* with what Rowling seems determined to *insist* they are and do. You see, I don't care a damn about Dumbledore's sexuality and if Rowling had just said in passing "well, I guess, I always thought he was gay" that would be fine: what drives me up the wall is the fact that we're meant to take this as yet further evidence that the Harry Potter series isn't just a bunch of kid's books about a boy wizard but Serious Literature addressing Meaningful Issues. It's basically just cheating. It's like she wants the kudos of being open minded about gay people without actually having to face the fact that being so noticeably in fiction - especially children's books - is likely to make her unpopular in a few circles. Have some fucking courage.

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Dan H

at 11:01 on 2008-03-19

Absolutely--no point in criticizing an author for what she's not doing in the first place

As Kyra points out, while I don't think there's any point in criticizing somebody for not doing something they were never trying to do, I think it's totally okay to criticize somebody for not doing something that they were not trying to do but which they never the less claimed they were doing.

I'm not going to complain that somebody doesn't cook me dinner if they haven't offered to, but if somebody offers to cook me dinner, and then does an enormous poo on a plate and serves it to me, I think I have the right to be peeved, and I don't think "but I wasn't trying to cook a meal, I was trying to take an enormous poo" isn't really a defence.

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Sister Magpie

at 16:14 on 2008-03-19

I don't think "but I wasn't trying to cook a meal, I was trying to take an enormous poo" isn't really a defence.

LOL! Words to live by. But yeah, that's why I don't think it's a problem when she doesn't write detailed romance or get too deeply into sex, or the sex lives of adults, since she doesn't really claim to be doing more than matching people up for plot reasons anyway.

But the plea for tolerance, the "right versus easy," the choices stuff--all that is set out as what the books are supposed to be admired for or at least what they're saying. So you can't help but question places where they don't actually do that. Or since DH, whenever she talks about Dumbledore it's like it sounds like she's talking about her choice to do something realistic or daring with a gay character that strikes a blow against homophobia in children's lit, when she didn't even write the gay character to begin with. She could talk about hypothetically what she'd think about a writer who actually did put a gay teacher in a YA book (and there are plenty), but what she did was after-the-fact say a character was gay and then kind of add, "Sure he was gay. That's why he went evil. Wasn't that clear?"

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http://baihehua.livejournal.com/

at 05:37 on 2010-01-01Here's another item to be added to the "shit I've been told about Harry Potter which is totally unsupported by the text" list:

"The world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters."

It's stated once by Sirius, and never backed up by anything else.

(I've been showing my brother the world of HP sporks, where I found this item.)

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http://fintinobrien.livejournal.com/

at 06:23 on 2010-01-01

"The world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters."

Let's give Rowling some credit here. The world is divided into good people, Death Eaters, and incompetent Ministry heads. :-)

(And since I can't post in the Playpen, I'll say this here - Happy New Year! Maybe one of my resolutions should be to get an account here. :-P)

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https://me.yahoo.com/a/gNLVidA.xeLuPiOU_2B_USM.HYNFjA--#b0b6b

at 04:28 on 2010-02-13Hi there! I discovered this site fairly recently, and I'll be sure to hang around when I can. Being a disillusioned Harry Potter ex-fan, I'm enjoying your opinions and insights tremendously. I hope it's not too late to add a couple of words to the discussion?

This article's raised some points I find very interesting. At first I brushed off Dumbledore's coming out as a ploy to keep Harry Potter in the media spotlight, but I have to agree with you that there is, on closer sight, so much to take offense about.

There's one thing I'll quibble about, and that's your point that "people who don't have sexual appetites don't have sexual orientation." I don't fully agree that being gay is contingent on physical consummation/requitement of a homosexual relationship, because of how I've heard asexuals relate their experiences. According to the

Asexual Visibility and Education Network

, many asexuals do feel attraction to members of a specific gender (see the paragraph on 'Attraction'), even though they don't characterise this as something sexual. Consequently, there are people out there calling themselves 'gay-asexual' or 'straight-asexual' without any sense of contradiction.

I don't know if this concept of 'romantic orientation' has been deeply or widely studied - this information comes more or less entirely from personal anecdotes. But it seems to be pretty widely accepted in the asexual community. So, I'm wondering whether you knew about this and don't buy it, or just hadn't heard about it before?

Personally, I'd always thought of Dumbledore as plainly asexual. In any case it still stands that making him gay in any sense, only to have his one gay relationship founded on something dangerous and irrational and leading to destruction, is no real validation of homosexuality.

Could it be said that Dumbledore is another Snape in this sense? Snape, too, had that one tragic love affair, the outcome of which left him celibate for the rest of his life. I'm inclined to take this as evidence that neither Dumbledore nor Snape were really ever capable of forming healthy long-term relationships with other people.

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Arthur B

at 17:03 on 2010-02-13

I don't know if this concept of 'romantic orientation' has been deeply or widely studied - this information comes more or less entirely from personal anecdotes. But it seems to be pretty widely accepted in the asexual community.

I think the crucial thing there is that, as the AVEN site makes clear, asexuals don't feel any need to take the attractions they feel into a sexual dimension. You can't really call it a "sexual" orientation if there is, in fact, no sexual component to it - it would be like calling atheism a religion (as certain maddening fundamentalists are wont to do) because you "have to have faith in something, even if you have faith in nothing". "Romantic orientation" is probably a much better term for what AVEN are describing there.

Either way, it seems a moot point because Dumbledore doesn't show that sort of attraction to anyone in the series either.

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Melissa G.

at 17:48 on 2010-02-13I think that the problem with what JKR was saying was that she was asserting that asexual Dumbledore was, in fact, a homosexual not a homosexual-asexual. It goes into that whole "safe gay" stereotype that happens in the media a lot. You'll see gay characters but they'll never be given relationships and love interests portrayed with equal action to the straight ones. It's like, "We have no problem with you being gay; we just don't want to hear about any of that nasty buttsex!" It comes off like JKR basically wanted to get all the praise for having a gay character without having to *actually* portray a true gay character.

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https://me.yahoo.com/a/gNLVidA.xeLuPiOU_2B_USM.HYNFjA--#b0b6b

at 07:44 on 2010-02-14Yeah. I was just picking at Dan's point that a functionally celibate character can't be called 'gay' in any sense, since perhaps they can, if you look at them a certain way.

As you've said, the problem is that Rowling was out to create a homosexual, not an asexual of any colour, and went about this by effectively neutering him and sweeping any signs of sexuality under the carpet. But then, Dumbledore isn't a great example of your everyday asexual, either. (They're not

all

geeks, freaks and/or figures of towering genius isolated from the common crowd ...)

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Melissa G.

at 15:57 on 2010-02-14It was definitely an interesting point/idea! Thanks for sharing it! :-)

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Sister Magpie

at 15:17 on 2010-02-19Had to link you to this:

http://www.snitchseeker.com/harry-potter-news/j-k-rowling-explains-grindelwald-dumbledores-relationship-dracos-wand-transfer-71142/

She's explaining the DD/GG relationship more clearly--iow, making it even more clear there was no sex ever. Also, she claims the big wand transfer moment with Harry yanking the wand out of Draco's hand was supposed to show that Dumbledore's plans came to nothing because it came down to two teenaged boys tussling, but I still think it's because by doing it that way Harry doesn't even have to notice anybody else to acheive victory. The alternative would have probably required somebody taking spotlight off of Harry in his big moment.

And also, Dumbledore's ridiculous chess game *does* work via author machinations far too much for it to come down to chance. If she wanted to show it coming down to chance she should have used the events of HBP where Draco completely overturns Voldemort's and Dumbledore's plans for him and have everything be a crap shoot from there. Imo.

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Arthur B

at 15:36 on 2010-02-19I think the best way to respond to Rowling's pronouncements these days is to scratch your head and say "Harry Potter? I think I remember that. Wasn't it inspired by Twilight?"

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Frank

at 16:04 on 2010-02-19Wow. I remember a time when a JKR interview would be dissected and discussed. Now, hardly anyone even knows she's talking. I wonder if it's because of the end result that's book seven or if it's fans finding other things to squee about.

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Dan H

at 16:28 on 2010-02-19Sorry, haven't checked comments here for ages:

@Person Using OpenID: I'll freely admit that asexuality is one of those things I know very little about. I'm totally okay with people self-defining as "straight-asexual" or "gay-asexual" or even as "bi-asexual polyamorous" but there's a difference between real people and fictional characters. If I thought JKR had researched Asexuality as an orientation, and had deliberately constructed Dumbledore as a canonically gay-asexual character, that would be great, but there's a big difference between that and her saying "Dumbledore is Gay" and then following it up with "but he certainly never had any of that dirty bumsex".

To use an analogy, it's like when male comic artists insist that the hyper-sexualised outfits of their female characters are actually signs that they are strong women who are comfortable with their sexuality who have chosen to dress that way, and that it would be sexist to deny them their choices. Fictional characters don't make decisions, and they don't really have sexual orientations. Dumbledore, and a great many other canonically "gay" fictional characters doesn't shy away from homosexual activity because he's "gay-asexual", he does it because Rowling, like a great many other writers, is squicked out by homosexuality.

@Sister Magpie: No no no no no no no. I think the "aha, that is the final irony" thing was around a long time ago. It was stupid back then and it's stupid now. The sad thing is that it would almost be cool if there was *any* textual recognition of the fact that Harry won by dumb luck, but there wasn't. We are instead supposed to accept the mutually contradictory ideas that Harry *at one and the same time* won because of an ironic fluke *and also* because of his personal virtues.

Again, it's alarmingly Calvinist - good luck in and of itself is evidence of moral superiority.

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http://lunabell14.myopenid.com/

at 23:20 on 2010-07-27I don't know if being a lesbian helps to validate your opinion at all, but regardless, I can agree that making Dumbledore gay is offensive at worst and silly at best.

Now, I don't have problems with the idea of Dumbledore being swayed to do bad things due to his attraction to someone or being in love with them. It's something that really happens, and would actually be a kind of cool layer, to show that love doesn't always create good things. The fact that Dumbledore's gay, which isn't even supported as being gay in the books (btw, he could have shown "angst" it at King's Cross when he was re-telling this story. Why not add that if you're going to throw in the whole stupid backstory anyway? Probably because there was a fear of controversy. But hey, she still wanted credit for being tolerant.) is ridiculous. Why did this horrible evil have to come from a gay crush? A woman could also have been the motivation to be all Nazi-like (and he could've been straight). Or even just a friendship (as it's presented in the fucking books)!

Although honestly, the whole muggle-ruling dream of Dumbledore's was a waste of space. He's evil enough by being a manipulator who knew about Harry being a horcrux and not telling him about it. We don't need the backstory to do any of that.

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Ashimbabbar

at 14:05 on 2014-04-12"HP Lovecraft presenting the Evils of Miscegenation as a supernatural threat in Innsmouth"

considering the protagonist finds out he is one of the Deep Ones actually, and that it pretty much rocks to be one ( " we shall dwell amidst wonder and glory for ever" i.e. as close to Heaven as possible for an avowed atheist like HPL ), you could make a pretty good case for the opposite.

Otherwise, I wondered whether Dumbledore's gayness would not "explain" in Rowling's worldview ( such as it is… ) his covert manipulative strategies ?

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Arthur B

at 15:04 on 2014-04-12Given how hostile the Deep Ones are shown as being to humanity in

Shadow

, and given that in general having the otherwise calm and rational narrator who's been telling the story abruptly start talking like a dyed-in-the-wool cultist feels deeply creepy, I think you would have to work very hard to say that

Shadow Over Innsmouth

is a pro-miscegnation story.

I mean, you could give it a pro- reading if you were really wanted to, but it'd require you to ignore a hell of a lot of stylistic and narrative choices before that reading was remotely supported by the text.

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Ashimbabbar

at 12:26 on 2014-04-13Not exactly hostile - they claim they'd rather not wipe out mankind… and they appear to use it as a source for sacrifices and a breeding-ground. It's more an utilitarian approach.

But I understand your point that it is a deeply racist story, that is, that people's actions are basically defined by their genes. As long as the upstanding New England genes predominate the narrator is all for exterminating the eldritch fishmen, and when the long-recessive Deep One genes take over his mind changes correspondingly…

( and it WOULD be a pretty disgusting story, I agree, if it was about white and black instead of human and deep one ).

Still what in my opinion makes it worthwhile as a story ( besides HPL's style if one likes it ) is the tension that is, I think, in the narrator's and was HPL's own - the need for a community that would accept him, and his problems with the actual communities he had to deal with*. Here, although I agree in a very twisted way, the narrator finds his family and his place…

* which overlaps here with the other tension in his works, between attraction and repulsion for the eldritch

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 16:09 on 2014-04-17Coming to this discussion very, very late, because I wanted to comment on it back in the day and somehow never did. Three points (I think):

1. Being celibate in no way negates a person's basic sexuality. I feel strongly about this as a practicing Catholic. Sexuality is a continuum, and it is something ALL human beings have, celibate or otherwise.

2. That said, I was always completely puzzled by how gay readers of Harry Potter embraced Rowling's statements as promoting tolerance. They absolutely don't, for two reasons (these are things two and three-)

A. Dumbledore, as depicted in the later books, is NOT a good person. He is arguably a sociopathic narcissist. He is certainly self-absorbed, secretive, cruel, and manipulative, and he also makes errors of judgement. The "epitome of goodness" he is not!

B. Also, and all too obviously, his homosexual love leads him into evil. He only becomes "good" (for those who think he's ever good - I don't) when he renounces his love. In what way does this promote tolerance?

I think 2B is Dan's main point, and it's dead on the money. A livejournaller called Raisingal has a whole analysis of love in the books and her conclusion, if I'm remembering correctly, is that they are completely anti-gay. But 2A has been my main point from the time the last book was published. I can't see how Dumbledore is a good example of anything.

My two cents!

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Daniel F

at 03:38 on 2014-04-18A few more thoughts in response. ;)

Being celibate in no way negates a person's basic sexuality. I feel strongly about this as a practicing Catholic. Sexuality is a continuum, and it is something ALL human beings have, celibate or otherwise.

Two things there, I think.

The first is that the word 'sexuality' is somewhat ambiguous in its definition, and can be used to refer either to a behaviour or to an orientation. In one sense your sexuality is your sexual life; in another sense your sexuality is a set of instincts and internal psychological markers you have. It can easily be true that Dumbledore's sexual life is one of celibacy while whatever internal sexual instinct he has is directed towards other men.

The second and probably more important is that it works a little differently for fictional characters. Real people have immense depth, and a nigh-infinite number of psychological layers that we can never truly come to grips with. I daresay most of us don't even understand our own thoughts and desires, much less those of others.

But a fictional person is not a real person. While we understand that a real person has countless character traits we will never experience, a fictional person is only those traits which are depicted. Dumbledore the literary construct is not depicted as having a sexuality. It's pointless to speculate about Dumbledore the real person, because he is not a real person. He only has reality as this construct.

He only becomes "good" (for those who think he's ever good - I don't) when he renounces his love. In what way does this promote tolerance?

It promotes tolerance in a very milquetoast, lazy way that doesn't care to actually engage with people who are different. Whatever you think about homosexuality, bland platitudes aren't tolerance. It seems to me that a social conservative who thinks homosexual behaviour is morally wrong but who sighs and lets people get on with it is showing more genuine tolerance than such a marketer of platitudes.

But yeah, the dominant picture of romance in the Potter series is "You meet your One True Love at age sixteen, court them through school, get married shortly after graduating, have children, and spend the rest of your life in faithful marriage." There's not much to argue there; Rowling isn't exactly subtle. I suspect the idea might be that that's the only sort of romance appropriate to show children.

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 17:00 on 2014-04-18Oh, Dan, I don't think there is anything milquetoast about it. I don't think Dumbledore's having been led to evil by his gay love promotes tolerance at all! And I don't think you do, either.

You're absolutely right about the extremely conservative picture of love in the Potterverse. And I understand you now - you're also right in saying that Dumbledore, as depicted throughout the series, is asexual, not gay.

BTW, for a really good SF/Fantasy with a genuinely asexual heroine, may I recommend R.J. Anderson's "Quicksilver"?

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Daniel F

at 21:00 on 2014-04-18Um, before we go any further: I am Daniel, not Dan. Entirely different people. Sorry if there was any confusion! I just wanted to throw my hat in as well.

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 04:38 on 2014-04-19Sorry, Daniel! I should have noticed. And I'm glad you chimed in. It's true that the sort of lukewarm "tolerance" these books exemplify isn't awfully praiseworthy.

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Daniel F

at 10:20 on 2014-04-19No problem. I noticed the potential confusion shortly after posting. Just the risk of sharing a name, I guess.

Still, the whole area of sexuality is difficult. It seems to me that there are a lot of contradictory impulses guiding this sort of text, and they’re all locked into a particular idea of what sexuality is. Rowling does give us a very middle-class-romanticised picture of the sexual life, but I do think she probably honestly wants to be tolerant. When she said that the Potter series was a protracted plea for tolerance, while I don’t think that’s a true statement about the series, as a statement about what Rowling wishes the series, or about the sort of person Rowling wants to be, it’s got more meat to it.

I’m in an odd position here, because I’m a bit of a horrible old social conservative myself, and while I think Rowling’s version of tolerance is pretty worthless, neither do I particularly agree with the opposite line. Honestly, I think the very behaviour/orientation distinction I just made is flawed. Sexuality is a set of internal psychological markers and it is behaviour out in the world, but it’s also a social construct. A person’s sexuality is always expressed in and mediated through shared social ideals. And I’d better leave it there before we get too deep!

In any case, I really don’t think that having a gay lover will turn you evil, and I agree with how problematic it is to imply that in the context of a series where heterosexual love is almost always ennobling and redemptive (cf. Snape). I suppose I’d also jump on Rowling’s constant link between love and sexuality. Dan touched on this point in the article, and it might be worth further exploring. The idea that sexual interest might not be accompanied with love seems alien to the series. In a sense, the Potter series doesn’t include any sexuality at all: it only has

love

. Or ‘heteroromantic attraction’, if you prefer, but I think the word ‘love’ gets to the bottom of it.

The climax of

Deathly Hallows

is the exposition of Dumbledore’s theology of love, if you’ll pardon the term, where living ‘without love’ defines Hell. As demonstrated by Voldemort, it’s a sort of self-maiming of the soul. So much, so watered-down-secular-Christianity, but what's annoying is that Rowling’s exemplars of what love is are… rather messed up. Even if we leave aside the identification of love with heterosexual family romance, the way love is expressed in the series is incredibly passive or invisible. Harry going to his death, Snape pining over Lily, Ron doing absolutely nothing to pursue Hermione, and so on. Hermione even asserts ‘Dumbledore loved Harry’ a few chapters from the end. What’s important is that you love, not that you ever express that love.

Hence also, I imagine, why it can be significant that Dumbledore ‘loved’ Grindelwald despite never doing anything to express that love, sexually or otherwise. In the Potter series, loving someone is something that you do quietly inside you which doesn’t have to be expressed.

(And then if you’re good you’ll get a happy middle class nuclear family somewhere down the line. That's what happy endings look like, right?)

Whereas… I don’t know, I’d like to believe that love is a little more

dynamic

than that.

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Tamara

at 11:35 on 2014-04-20The odd thing is, I think that while I largely agree that HP is a bit mincing when it comes to Grindlewald/Dumbledore, it's also kind of interesting in a way the rest of the series often isn't. The whole lovers-enemies, subtexts and contradictions, blurring of moral and personal lines and assumptions in the D/G dynamic is just much more complex and compelling than most of the tepid, somewhat fiat-y relationships in the books. (This with the caveat that I haven't actually read since I was the 'right' age to be reading it and may have emphasized aspects I now find more interesting as an adult. That said, I did spot and find them interesting as a kid/teen too.)

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Robinson L

at 18:30 on 2015-02-19Coming in waaaaay late, but I thought I might as well point out that author Seanan McGuire also believes that Rowling doesn't deserve any points for gay representation with Dumbledore, for

broadly the same reasons cited in this article

.