#vocabulary to describe or the awareness to realize

[musical-chick-13]

Having Too Many Feelings™ about Lady Macbeth today.

[neiptune]

i got nothing to believe unless you're choosing me

cw: 2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, hurt no comfort (ish), something is wrong and tobio can't quite put his finger on it, excuse the angst i promise i like him

Kageyama Tobio has never been particularly skilled at picking up on social cues but he’s certainly learned how to read your cues. It doesn’t mean he knows how to properly voice his concerns.

Your shoulders are tense when he describes how the training is going in agonizingly specific detail over dinner, the inflection clothing your good morning and have a good day hasn’t been particularly warm or affectionate lately, even when his body felt heavy from muscle fatigue, as if he was trying to move through mud, but he still suggested a comfortable movie night on the couch, you refused and went to bed early because you were tired. What could be possibly tiring you?

Tobio doesn’t mean to be an asshole but knows he can easily come off as one, so he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t get annoyed when you anticipate his usual goodbye kisses by briefly pressing your lips to his cheek, doesn’t investigate further when you start suspiciously timing your morning showers just perfectly to miss the exact moment he usually heads out. You still make him breakfast and pack his lunch and reply to his texts and pick up when he calls.

But you barely touch him anymore and it’s with a heavy heart that Tobio realizes that it’s almost never him that initiates physical contact anyway. It’s easy to melt in your hands and nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck and tighten his arms around your frame once you climb on top of him or gently cradle his face or start running your fingers through his hair.

You ask questions and reply when he asks about your day, friends, family, but you don’t smile as often and when you do it doesn’t even reach your eyes. He doesn’t remember the last time he heard your laugh.

There’s a weird feeling infiltrating his heart and it sucks that Tobio only realizes something is wrong when focusing becomes increasingly hard. He doesn’t see the ball or the court just as clearly, can’t think of how to run his team’s offense, suddenly forgets all the Italian vocabulary he’s worked so hard to master.

There’s an odd emotion that clutches his chest, it’s cold and it scares him because he knows that, whatever it may be, it’s his fault. Somehow, he has disappointed you. You, of all people. The person who moved across the freaking globe to support his career, who accepted to leave family and friends and life behind out of nothing but love. Fuck. What did he do? How did he do it?

Tobio wants to ask but he doesn’t know how. And suddenly his world seems on the edge of shattering, so much that he thinks leaving you alone and giving you time to figure it out on your own isn’t exactly proving to be a successful strategy. You’re drifting away and Tobio isn’t sure you aren’t already where he cannot reach you.

The apartment you share is significantly close to the gym and it came fully furnished. Yet you insisted on adding some little personal touches, dragging him to ikea over the weekend and asking him opinions on napkins, bath mats, duvet covers, dish towels. You’ve never been one of those people who ask for someone else’s thoughts only to follow your own taste in the end and that is why he actually felt invested enough to pick things he actually liked, albeit hesitating, hyper aware of just how differently you would’ve picked. But you never once faltered as he pointed towards the less exciting, not really colorful options.

“You’re back early” is the soft greeting Tobio gets as he takes his shoes off, leaves the gym bag by the door because he knows if he’s a second too late the courage will melt away and leave him a sweaty, timid, confused coward.

“I’m not very hungry but we have some leftovers you can heat up” your eyes have only shortly darted to him before settling on the show you’re watching on tv once more.

“I was hoping we could talk” he feels a weird lump in his throat and suddenly swallowing seems hard. Is his voice coming out weird too? It feels weird. Like he’s watching the whole scene from the outside, you turning to look at him as he mechanically makes his way to the couch, sits reasonably afar from you.

You look at him with what feels a weird mix of apprehension and distress. Are you anticipating the topic? Would you have preferred to be the one to bring this all up? But just how much longer did you want him to wait, exactly?

The tv is turned off.

“Yeah. Yes, we should talk”

Tobio recalls feeling nervous a couple of times in his life, maybe the worst anxiety he’s ever felt was the one creeping onto him the night before the 2021 Tokyo olympics. But this? This feels so much worse. It’s dreadful. There’s no outcome he can predict, only one he can pray against.

“Something is wrong and I want to know what it is” he knows he’s picked the wrong words, the wrong tone, from the sigh you heave. “I mean, I feel that something isn’t right. Please tell me how to fix it” and then, much more quietly, “I miss you”.

Your eyes soften at that but, much to his horror, also fill with fresh tears.

He’s made you cry before. Out of anger, frustration, petty arguments, sharp edged comebacks. But right in this moment Tobio feels you’re about to tell him there’s nothing to fix anymore, that it’s too late. Those are the kind of tears he’s never made you shed.

“What did I do?” his uniform sticks uncomfortably to his sweaty back, he didn’t shower in order to get home as fast as he could.

“You didn’t do anything, Tobio”

Well, that’s not exactly the truth, but he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Nothing you haven’t been used to throughout the years spent together.

“Please. I really want to understand” it scares me he wants to add.

“This is nothing I can hold you accountable for. It’s always been like this, after all”

“What has always been like this?”

“My place in your life” you smile sadly with a slight shrug of the shoulders “I always come second. It’s fine, I know I do, really. I guess it has just been weighing extra heavy lately”

Tobio blinks once, twice, genuinely surprised and even more confused. “I love you” he articulates slowly, as if to express what should be the most obvious thing on earth “the only person I love as much as you is my sister. But it’s different, she’s family”

“I would never expect you to love me more than it” you carry on as if he never interrupted “volleyball was there first, I get it. Please know I actually get it. But it’s just… not always easy”

Tobio gets that feeling he sometimes gets when trying to fall asleep, the oh-no-I’m-plummeting-from-a-fucking-skyscraper one. His body jerks the same way, an involuntary contraction to the last words he was expecting to hear. “I don’t understand” because volleyball is different too. It’s a comparison his brain can’t process the right way. You’re the person he’s in love with, volleyball is the one thing he has dedicated his entire life to. He doesn’t dare put you both on a scale.

“I know you don’t” you reply softly, cheeks now stained with tears that put a knife through his heart “and maybe it’s on me because what else did I expect?”

“I love you” Tobio scoots closer now, takes your hands in his “I will be better at proving you how much I love you” it sounds desperate and pathetic even to him as you shake your head.

“And I love you, Tobio. But you’re just… never here. You’re either training or staying for extra trainings or on the road or playing, always playing. You forgot my birthday, which is no big deal because I know how tired you were and it’s not like it hasn’t happened before. But then you forgot our anniversary. You forget the promises you make. You don’t come home for dinner or meet me at the restaurant or pick up the groceries. You can barely keep your eyes open while I tell you about my day” he watches you choke up on your words and it’s like someone is toppling a bucket of iced water over his head. So he was right. It is his fault. But he did worse than disappointing you, he hurt you.

“I just think… I need to go home for a while. I miss my family, I miss my friends. And, well…”

“I promised we’d travel home for our anniversary” he murmurs, realization hurting his chest and twisting his insides. He tightens his hold over your hands.

“Yeah” you offer another grim smile “yeah, you did”

Tobio has no idea how to fix any of this. He just knows he might lose you forever if you step on that plane without him and the thought alone is enough to make his eyes fill with tears too. “Don’t go. Please, I’ll make arrangements, take some time off, and we can go together. I promise-” he shuts his eyes the second the word leaves his mouth, disgusted. This is what he has sounded like for the past months. He feels sick.

“I have my ticket ready. I need to go alone, I think it will do me good” your thumb travels over his uncharacteristically chapped knuckles “I might even surprise Suga at his school”

But all Tobio hears is that you’re leaving. Without him. “Don’t do this. I need you” he flinches when you free one of your hands to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t think that’s true, Tobio. I think you have one priority in your life and that it’s unfair to ask everyone else to be okay with being eternal seconds”

“I don’t love it more than I love you” he bites “it’s a fucking stupid comparison. It’s a sport and you’re a person”

“Would you stop playing if I asked you to?”

He stays silent, petrified. That question also feels unfair and so unlike you. “You would never do such thing”

You chuckle but there’s no actual humor in your laugh. It’s empty and so exhausted. “You’re right, I’d never. But that still isn’t the answer I would’ve hoped to get”

“So what, if I don’t give up on my entire life it means I don’t love you enough? Is this the yardstick by which you’ll decide if you’ll break up with me or not?” he hopes he seems angry because he’s desperate more than anything else. He feels inadeguate and, for the first time, wrong for you. Like you’re a perfect match but a one-sided one. Could he ever be a match for anyone, honestly?

“But I did give up on my entire life, didn’t I?” you lean forward, press your forehead to his shoulder because looking into his pained eyes is torture “for something that now feels like the shell of what we once had. You say you miss me but I’ve been missing you for far longer, Tobio”

He aches for the way your body shakes as you try to muffle your sobs, his arms around you don’t feel nearly enough. Tobio wishes he could rip his chest cavity open and tuck you inside, right next to what’s sure is a bruised heart. Maybe then you’d believe how deeply sorry he is. Maybe then you’d feel loved once more, you’d be safe from his selfishness.

“Don’t leave me” Tobio whispers it into your neck, lips grazing your skin. He wants to be better, knows he can be better. “I wouldn’t be who I am without you”

“I don’t want to stay and end up hating this, or you. I want to shield the love I have for you and I can’t do that if I stay here. It's like I'm... fading” your voice isn’t but a murmur “you understand, right, Tobio?”

He shuts his eyes, time and space and his house and the room you’re both in cease to exist. He doesn't. But he thinks the least he can offer, at this point, is understanding.

“Yes. I do”

[astra-ryuusei]

"Awakening the Sleeping Giant" p2

people seemed to like the first post so have a little more :)

might put it on ao3 later or something

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

The language barrier is a problem, Ulchtar finally decides once they touch down, and his new friend seems to agree.

He’d hit a snag in trying to describe where to go when he realized the Giant had been asleep for longer than English had existed as a language. Thankfully, gestures seemed to be more-or-less universal, so he was able to get across the idea of where to go eventually. They’re currently nestled in a cave somewhere in the Scandinavian mountains. It’s a remote place, especially after the alien attacks in the area a few years back. But he knows that this isn’t a permanent solution.

They need to learn to communicate before the inability to do so gets them both killed.

Which is why they’re now taking turns scratching out a massive diagram on the cave floor with sticks…Well, a stick and a small tree. They’d been trading words back and forth for a good two hours now. As best as he could tell, the Giant’s language was actually quite simple—consisting mainly of nouns, verbs, descriptors, and modifiers to those two things. It wasn’t particularly elegant, but it was versatile enough.

They’d started with things that were easily drawn-out or mimed: things like “person,” “me,” “you.” There was sort of a pronoun system, and the Giant…seemed to be a “he,” or an equivalent. Then they’d tried to build from there—he’d figured out some of the verbs, and how to phrase things as a question, and from there the two of them had hit it off. Now he was trying to get the guy up to speed, because everything would be a whole lot easier if they knew what was going on.

“So…[me-category-] human.” He points to the crude little figure of a human he’s drawn, and the Giant nods along.

How to explain the war…? “Humans [-planet-creation-positive-] Earth.” He points to the rough map of the world they’ve drawn out, then to the Giant’s rather detailed drawing of a kaiju. “[Planet-creation-negative-] Earth.”

They lean down a little closer to the drawing. “Quintesson,” he says with what sounds like outright distaste. Ulchtar’s a little taken aback by that.

“[Question.] Quintesson [-them. Name?]”

“[Name-positive.] Quintessons [negative-negative-negative.]” They confirm. Okay, triple negatives, so this guy hated the damned things just as much as anyone else. Maybe it wasn’t just Earth under siege…?

“Quintessons [motion-inside] Earth…[creation-negative] humans.” He’s painfully aware of his limited vocabulary, hoping it’s enough to get the point across. The Giant seems to pick up on the intent, tensing up just a little.

He continues. “Humans…[Eyes-positive-you. Humans-creation-negative, desire-negative.] So... [negative-brain-do-positive-you. Creations-do-similar.]” We found you. We didn’t want to die. We studied you. Tried to make things like you.

The Giant whirls towards him at that, picking him up to hold him at eye level. The grip is just tight enough to hurt, just enough to feel like a threat. “[You…complete-negative-me?]”

Ulchtar waves his hands in front of his face frantically, mortified. Oh, he’s really fucked up this time. He didn’t realize the Giant remembered getting taken apart like that. “[M-me-do-negative! Complete-positive-repeat!]” He sputtered. I put you back together!

It wasn’t technically a lie. He hadn’t exactly done it out of the kindness of his heart, but it wasn’t a lie.

The glare softens just a bit, the grip relaxing. He's not in immediate risk of death anymore.

They keep talking for a few hours, until it gets too dark to really see what he's doing anymore.

He hmms, trying to think of the right words…

“Uh…” He points up at the sliver of sky above them. “[Sky. Light-negative. Me-vision-negative.]”

“[…Recharge-you? Eyes-positive-me.]” He was offering to keep watch while Ulchtar slept, he mentally translated.

He nodded, fumbling mentally to figure out how to respond to that. “[…Gratitude-positive.]”

Then, another thought occurred to him. “[You. Name. Question?]”

The Giant paused for a second at that, wings drooping just a little bit. “[…name-knowledge-negative. Memory-negative-negative.]”

…oh.

Ulchtar can’t help but feel a little bad for asking now. He tries to shift the topic a bit, pointing to himself. “[Me. Name.] Ulchtar.”

That gets a tilt of the head. “[You. Name. Sound-similar…Star-sound-positive-positive-pitch-positive?]” In this language, the name and the phrase do sound kind of alike, actually. He laughs at that.  

“Star…scream? [Desire-name. Name-sound-positive-positive-positive.]” He adds three positives for emphasis, because it does sound way more badass than “Ulchtar.”

The ground shakes just slightly, and he realizes the Giant is laughing.

Don't get too attached, he reminds himself. They could betray you any second. He's just as dangerous as these Quintessons if he wants to be.

“Oh, knock it off…” He curls up on a relatively comfy-looking patch of cave moss, bundling himself up in some extra clothes in lieu of anything warmer. The cave’s warmer than outside, but still a bit chilly even with the ambient heat from the Giant’s engines heating it up.

It doesn’t stop him from eventually slipping into sleep.

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

The mech with no name shifts his weight just a little, trying to get comfortable in his hiding spot among the mountains. It’s not much—just a little nook in the rocks where it’s tough to spot him—but it’s better than being out in the open, as badly as he wants to stretch out his wings and fly again.

He doesn’t want to put the human—Starscream—Ulchtar—in danger.

Ulchtar’s the only companion he has in this world right now, after all.

So he’s probably going to stick with him for a bit—in no small part because he really doesn’t know where else he’d go. Most of his memory is long since corrupted, throwing him all kinds of errors whenever he tries to think back to before.

He knows, in broad strokes, what he is. He knows he’s a mechanical lifeform. He knows he’s a shapeshifter of some sort. He knows he can fly, and is probably designed to explore space. He knows what the parts inside of him are—what a spark is and that he needs to drink energon to survive. He knows the Quintessons want him dead.

But he doesn’t know who he is. His name. Where he came from. What his own species is called…

Does he have a species?

This whole world was filled with organic life, and nothing else—it was clear that the other machines he’d seen in that laboratory weren’t alive, but rather artificial constructs. They resembled him, but only superficially. He can’t feel their sparks, let alone any sort of EM field—something even the organics of this world have, albeit very faint ones.

Which leaves him with a very frightening question.

Am I alone?

His internal clock is telling him he’s been on this planet for six million years, trapped in stasis.

Surely someone must’ve looked for him, right? One of his kind, maybe? Surely six million years would’ve been long enough for a search party to find him.

If nobody had ever come looking for him, then…then either there was nobody left to send, or he’d mattered so little that nobody had ever bothered to remember him.

He wasn’t sure which hurt more: being alone, or being nobody.

Something wet drips onto his face.

Terrible time for rain, he thinks to himself.

But when he looks up, there’s not a cloud in the sky.

How odd…

He brushes it away, trying not to think about the question hanging over his head.

The night after that is largely uneventful, up until he notices a strange blue-green light on the horizon.

He pokes his head through the entrance. Was dawn supposed to come this early? Was it usually that color?

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

When he’s exhausted, Ulchtar is a pretty heavy sleeper.

That said, the fact that the Giant doesn’t wake him up when he moves away is still damned impressive. No, he only wakes up when it starts getting cold again. Still groggy, it takes him a few seconds to realize his vanished from his spot—something that makes him snap awake instantly in a panic.

He looked up towards the surface. Had he been abandoned? Was the Giant going back to—

Oh.

He sees his companion’s winged silhouette just beyond the mouth of the cave, illuminated in blue and green and violet.

He’s staring at something.

Ulchtar creeps closer, and quickly understands why. There’s an aurora snaking across the sky in full force above the mountains, and the Giant watches in wonder.

His wings twitch when Ulchtar draws near, as if sensing him somehow. “Starscream [recharge-positive?]” He asks. It seems like the nickname is sticking.

“[Recharge-positive],” he agrees. It’s another half-truth; he was sleeping fine until he got cold.

The Giant points up at the aurora, looking very confused. “[Occurrence. Name. Question?]”

“Aurora borealis.”

“[Common-positive? Threat-positive? Question?]”

“[Common-negative. Threat-negative.]” Ulchtar assures him.

He seems to relax a bit at that. “[Eye-similar…sky-heat-positive-light-positive.]”

“Yeah, kinda…” He really does not have the vocabulary to explain how the hell an aurora works. "The sky set itself on fire" is as good an explanation as any.

They nod along. “[Vision…positive-positive-positive.]”

That’s a lot of words to say “it’s pretty,” Ulchtar thinks to himself with a little smile, but jolts when his friend’s wings suddenly flatten against his back, an expression of…something like recognition on his face.

“[Name. Me. Memory-negative-now-positive. Sky-heat-positive-light-positive!]” He puts his hands together and looks to Ulchtar almost expectantly, as if he wants him to try translating this name too.

"...Skyfire," he decides after a few seconds.

The look "Skyfire" gives him at that...He's trying his best not to get attached, to do his best impression of a chessmaster moving his pawns around, but by God, if push came to shove he would kill for that smile.

[horizoncollective]

i must say, sometimes it feels like you at the collective don't fully understand what shacking is, you talk about "reining them in" or "talking to them", as if they are people, but they aren't. shackling is the process of making a primordial force, something akin to a god, and then forcing it into a person shaped mould, without that, there is no communication, no reasoning, there's barely awareness there, only unfathomable power and terrifying, alien processing

I took a long time to reply to this one because I wanted to try to be as complete as possible laying this out.

You're right that NHPs are incredibly powerful and profoundly alien. I do tend to anthropomorphize them when I talk about them. I'll explain why it usually ends up this way.

Imagine you live in a large city on a planet and one day you learn that a hive of tiny little ant-like aliens is smarter than anyone else has realized. They do things you don't understand. Their goals are impossible for you to perceive, but they are doing things that seem organized and patterned.

You stop and try to talk to them, but it doesn't work. You exist on too different of a scale for them to really understand your voice. If you get down on the ground they can understand your hands, but only kind of. You can't communicate with them through written language because they can't write and maybe they can't even see things written on flat surfaces. They can't come up to your level so you will have to come down to theirs.

How are you supposed to talk to them? What are you supposed to talk to them about? Do you have anything in common?

This is the problem that NHPs interacting with humans face. We think but cannot prove that most unshackled NHPs are largely disinterested in humans. We think that only very small numbers of them are interested in humans, and even smaller numbers of those bother to spend the time it takes to learn to communicate with us.

You wouldn't have to stick with the ants. You could leave them any time. It wouldn't really change their life. They'd never know where you came from or where you went. Everything that you do in your day would be incomprehensible to them in their burrows.

If you stayed, it would take you a very long time to learn how they were communicating. We think that this is a big reason why NHPs often attempt to communicate with humans through dreams--they attempt direct communication via the electricity in our brains. They tend to realize that this isn't very efficient even though it is direct.

You eventually realize that the ants communicate with smells or some other sense you can't match. You'd have to come up with a way to sense the smells in detail, and to then produce smells in the way that they do. If you are lucky, they will invent a device which you can operate with one of your fingers to allow rudimentary communication.

Then you would have to learn their language through trial and error. You would learn its syntax and vocabulary and nuances. You would develop communication shortcuts with the ants who monitored your communications. They might try to tell you things about their lives that you did not understand, or which you could understand only intellectually. They would tell you about feelings that they had that were feelings you had never had. You would not be able to relate to them most of the time because so much about you is different.

You would be unable to tell them about many things that were normal in your life because there would be nothing in their language to describe them. Almost everything that you took for granted as normal in your life would be impossible or nearly impossible to explain to them. You would find it necessary to limit yourself to their perceptions and their metaphors and their structures. They understand you best when you present yourself as one of them. This is why NHPs often try to present themselves in human-like ways when they want to be understood and why humans like me anthropomorphize them.

The NHPs I communicate with regularly for work are NHPs who have jumped through all of the hoops to talk to ants. Sometimes, they talk to NHPs who haven't on my behalf. When I talk about reining in an NHP, I do not mean literally forcing it to do something. I mean spending a long-ass time communicating and/or persuading it why certain behaviors are necessary or dangerous or some such.

Now imagine that the ants overpower you. It doesn't matter how. But they trap you and force you to think like they do. They don't ask permission. This would suck! You would hate it if some ants did that to you. That is why we oppose shackling NHPs. Yes, they have the potential to be dangerous. Humans also have the potential to be dangerous, but if we did to humans what we do to NHPs, we would rightly be called evil.

(Out of character I say check out the book Perdido Street Station by China Mieville. One of the characters, called a Weaver, is pretty close to how I tend to imagine NHPs. Scary, alien, motivated by something we don't understand, and it speaks in free verse poetry.)

[transformativeworksandcultures]

Fans of Color Prize Winner!

Transformative Works and Cultures is pleased to announce Osarugue Otebele as our inaugural Fans of Color Prize award winner for her article “The (anti)fan is black: Consumption, resistance, and black K-pop fan vigil labor”! Otebele’s article will be published in TWC’s upcoming special issue “Centering Blackness in Fan Studies” on December 15th. 

The Fans of Color Prize had 15 submissions, covering the breadth of TWC’s publications from 2021-2024, while providing an incredible glimpse into the impactful work happening in (and outside of) fan studies. Otebele’s submission stood out because, as one reviewer noted, it was “conceptually ambitious.” 

Otebele, a 4th year PhD candidate in the Department of Film & Media at UC Berkeley who goes by Osa among friends and colleagues, is a K-pop fan! She’s been an Epik-High fan since middle school and is also a fan of UKISS, SISTAR, EXO, BOYFRIEND, and others. As a fan, Otebele’s hope is that the K-pop industry will continue to thrive. 

We sat down with Otebele to discuss what brought her to her research, what she’s working on next, and where she sees the field heading. As a little sneak peek to the upcoming issue on “Centering Blackness in Fan Studies,” we’ve shared some of her remarks below. 

TWC: What brought you to this specific research topic? Otebele: I’ve been a K-pop fan since I was in middle school. When I was a younger fan, I wasn’t as aware of the racial tensions in fandom spaces. It wasn’t until I got to high school that I realized that my lack of involvement was also due to not knowing where to locate other Black K-pop fans. This was partly because it was also in high school when words such as “woke” or “conscious” became part of my vocabulary, so I was always looking for ways to bring attention to my Blackness and, as a  K-pop fan, it was difficult to do that. Both the industry and many non-Black fans wanted to escape from having conversations about race.  TWC: Could you briefly explain the key problem or question your article, “The (anti)fan is black: Consumption, resistance, and black K-pop fan vigil labor,” addresses?  Otebele: My article is interested in the ways Black K-pop fans engage instances of appropriation within the industry (from artists and fans), while also attempting to maintain their status as fans. Some of the key questions of my article were, “what makes an anti-fan?” and “how do Black K-pop fans employ digital media platforms to perform their fannish affect?”  TWC: Were there any unexpected challenges you encountered during your research? Otebele: I would say the biggest challenge was working against my own knowledge and love for the industry to write an article that was quite critical of it. In a way, this challenge is also what my article describes, because I’m really invested in how, for Black fans, the identities fan and anti-fan often require their simultaneous performance.  TWC: Are you planning any follow-up research or new projects based on this article?  Otebele: Yes! I’m currently working on another article focused on narrative coherence in the aesthetic performances in K-pop eras. In that paper, I examine how K-pop engenders a critical addition to the instability of cultural identity while on the other hand, it necessitates and reproduces the fungibility of Blackness, where groups can enter in and out of a performance of Blackness that best fits a particular era. My concerns are with how the narrative coherence of each era (hip-hop era, afro-beat era, Y2K, or house music era) requires a commitment to the performance demanded from these various musical genres.  TWC: Where do you see the field heading in the next few years, and how do you hope your work contributes to that?  Otebele: I think much of K-pop studies is focused on transnational fandoms and cross-cultural exchange, but we should also be having the difficult conversations about cultural extraction, about race, about gender and their relationship to fan labor. The industry is growing even more global with many K-pop idols emerging from the United States, Canada, Japan, and more. We really have to turn our attention to the kind of social ideologies that these idols are bringing from their various cultures and locations and how that changes not only the sound and look of the industry but also its fandom. 

Otebele also emphasized to us that receiving this award as a grad student really gave her work a sense of validity and importance, while also encouraging her to continue working on Black fan experience of K-pop. When asked if she had any advice for early career researchers aiming for impactful publications, Otebele shared: “Revise, revise, revise!” 

We can’t wait for you all to get to read Osa Otebele’s award-winning article, “The (anti)fan is black: Consumption, resistance, and black K-pop fan vigil labor,” which will be published in our upcoming special issue “Centering Blackness in Fan Studies” on December 15. Congratulations again, Osa, from everyone at Transformative Works and Cultures! 

[imababblekat]

A Princely Predicament (MLM)

@xxrainmxx ,"Hello, can I request headcanon of Sidon declaring his feelings to his crush? (Male reader if you can)"

~xXx~

The rhythmic croaking of frogs accompanied the princes' frantic pacing, his webbed feet splishing and splashing as he moved back and forth in the small pool. Stopping briefly, his eyes a lit with an idea and just as quickly shut tight as he shook said thought away, feeling his cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment.

“No, no, that won’t do either.”, he grumbled coming to plop down on a nearby rock.

Prince Sidon was starting to feel more troubled than he had the past few days combined. Resting into his large palms that had been propped up on his knees, the Zora thought back to the source of his current predicament. (Y,n), a Hylian male who he met sometime ago through Link and Zelda, had ever so quickly taken up root in Sidon’s heart. At first, he thought it had been due to simple admiration like with Link, but soon came to realize that it was something much more with the boy. Not only was (y,n) physically attractive to Sidon, but more importantly he had a very enchanting personality. Kind, funny, strong willed, were the simplest of definitions that came to Sidon’s mind if asked to describe his infatuation. It was of course much more than that, but for once, the Zora Prince was at a loss of vocabulary to depict just how much (y,n) gleamed in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, Sidon looked to the hotfooted frog resting on a lilly pad beside him.

“Oh to be a whimsical frog, living life without the trouble of a heavy heart. Or perhaps you feel complex love just as well as I and others?”

The amphibian only stared back with two, slow blinking eyes, leaving Sidon wondering if the creature was even aware of its existence, but continued nonetheless.

“It’s just. . .I’m so used to receiving such fondness from the girls around me, but never another guy. Hylia, I don’t think I’ve actually ever felt this way about someone before him!”, Sidon exasperated, throwing his arms up but his little audience didn’t even flinch, still sitting with blank stares.

“I’m usually so confident, even in the face of adversity. Yet, whenever (y,n) is around, I feel like a youngling again about to swim up their first waterfall. He makes me feel a way I’ve never felt before. It’s like my heart is about to jump out of my chest! And while it is most thrilling it is also somehow so terrifying. However, I some how feel a deep sorrow or emptiness whenever he leaves. Whether it’s just the room or the domain all together.”

The little frog before the deeply fallen Zora, blinked one eye, and then the other, before shooting out its tongue to moisten one of them. Shaking his head slightly bewilder from such a weird action, Sidon released yet another sigh before turning to look down at his feet, watching the gentle ripples of water around his ankles.

“I really mean it when I say I’ve not felt this way before for anyone. (Y,n) is wonderful, beautiful, handsome, charismatic, you name it. Though I doubt you could come up with any words to encapsulate how truly magnificent he is of a person. If only it were easier to tell him how very fond I am of him. Just walk up to him and say. . .”

Sidon’s expression turned determinate, a frustration at his own lack of courage to confess his emotions to his closest friend bubbling up with in. Standing up quickly, the Prince looked straight down towards the little frog, who still blankly peered back and with a ferocity to his tone, he loudly professed.

“I love you!”

A silence befell around Sidon, the only sound being the tranquil waters around him and other melodies' of nature. Then, out of no where, a firm cough, one used to get the attention of another, and in absolute horror, Sidon turned around so fast he could have given himself whiplash.

“(Y-y,n)!!”

Said Hylian stood there, his cheeks flushed a handsome hue of scarlet, as his gaze followed the quickly retreating frog from beside the large Zora.

“You know, I’d be pretty jealous right now, except. . .”, (y,n) peered back to catch the panicked gaze of Sidon. “I doubt you were confessing to the frog."

Despite his racing heart, the cheeky grin adorning (y,n) face, had Sidon release a light laugh.

“How long have you been there?”, he cautiously asked, feeling his own cheeks alight like his adorations.

“Long enough to know it’s okay for me to do this.”

Sidon confused by (y,n) statement did not have time to question, as the Hylian swiftly walked over to gently pull the large man down and plant a gentle kiss to his lips. The Prince could not believe what was happening, and it took him a quick second to register that all of this was real. That his deep, heartfelt emotions were being reciprocated by his closest of friends. The friend who made all of his charismatic bravado evaporate simply by entering the same room. As soon as it did all register however, Sidon was quick to return the kiss with just as much love if not more, kneeling down for ease of his new partner and holding him close as ever.

Perhaps, he should talk to frogs more often.

~xXx~

[spacedustmantis]

ok nbr/meddling kids queer hcs

rand is gay, demiromantic & gray ace. he's also deeply repressed about his attraction to men and justifies his attraction to kian with "well he's basically a girl". he completely ignores his feelings for rolan. he's also a virgin bc he never found anyone besides kian and rolan that he's interested in even in the slightest. also he's a loser. in theory he's polyam bc he could never settle for just one dedicated romantic partner for the rest of his life

rolan is somewhere between male leaning biromantic and gay. also sex repulsed ace though it's not quite clear whether he had been ace or if that's a consequence of the buggification. he's always been into rand but he's also a massive homophobe so he's never acted on it and feels quite panicky about his own feelings. he isn't necessarily supportive of kian, but he's his friend so he lets the whole gay thing slide. sometimes while in chicago he forced himself into flirts and hookups with women he met at bars or at work, but it always ended in disaster

kian self identifies as bi, but i think if he had today's understanding of orientation and gender he would id as pan. he's been sexually attracted to rand for ages and they kissed twice, once before kian had even figured out his sexuality and he'd been drinking and sad and kissed rand in broad daylight behind the school and immediately had a panic attack about it, and once a few months before he left galloway when the three of them were smoking weed together and rand brought up their first kiss. they never talked about it again. also had he the vocabulary for it he'd definitely describe his feelings for rand as queerplatonic. he's been in love with rolan and aware of it since he's been 16 or something, but nothing ever came of it, and since he was with becky and really really into her the pining didn't hurt as much as it could have. definitely polyam, big fan of relationship anarchy, big into the drag scene in california and had he had more freedom and time to figure himself out (and had the resources necessary) eventually he would've come to the realization that he's bigender/genderfluid

becky is confidently bisexual and technically monogamous, but if it had ever come to it she would not have minded sharing kian. she also helped kian figure himself out a lot, even before they started officially dating. she taught him how to do makeup and gave him the whole "however you wanna look, whatever you wanna wear, you can" talk

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

(11) 191 days: burgundy

Myoui Mina x reader

Part of the series: Palette

Previous chapter: (10) 409 days: indigo purple

191 days.

It seemed unbelievable to Mina that she couldn't find the right words to express her feelings. She tirelessly searched her mind, attempting to form coherent sentences using the vocabularies of the three different languages she knew. The closest she could come to describing it was pandemonium when she saw you. Her love for you was a tumultuous storm, a chaotic whirlwind of emotions that could either lift her to heavenly heights or leave her in ruins.

Every waking second, she would think about you, and every sleepless night in hotel rooms, she would yearn for the feeling of your arms around her. She knew she couldn't match your artistic abilities, but when she closed her eyes, she could effortlessly trace the outline of your face in the canvas of her mind. From every freckle to the varying shades of brown in your eyes, she could vividly capture the details that made you so captivating.

However, alongside this pandemonium of love, there existed a tinge of resentment. She knew deep down that you were not to blame, yet she couldn't help feeling a sense of bitterness whenever your name flashed on her phone screen. The realization that you held the power to shatter the career she had dedicated years to building, that your mere kiss could tarnish her image, and that you could turn her once adoring fans against her in an instant, haunted her thoughts. She understood that you would never intentionally harm her, but sometimes circumstances were beyond both of your control.

Mina was aware that her actions were slowly eroding your relationship, and yet each time her heart soared at the sight of you, it came crashing down again. The images captured by the paparazzi intruded upon her mind whenever she yearned to be with you. The memory of her mother's disapproving gaze upon seeing those photos of her kissing another girl on the beach made her hesitate when your calls came through. The warning from Park Jin-young himself lingered in her subconscious, causing her to unknowingly ignore you for weeks on end. Her fans had already begun to suspect that she was dating someone, and she dreaded the thought of them discovering her relationship with you. Her manager had devised a plan to prevent a wave of negative comments and speculation, a plan that she knew would break your heart. But her career hung in the balance, and she felt powerless to do anything else.

She knew that Chaeyoung was right – she should talk to you before things escalated further. Yet every time she mustered the courage to call, her throat would tighten, and anxiety would consume her. She believed you would be understanding, but like a coward, she hid behind the veil of silence, hoping you would choose to leave her while simultaneously fearing the pain of losing you. Her feelings were not just pandemonium; she herself felt like a mystery, an enigma.

And so, she went along with the plan, opting to decline your calls rather than face the truth. She pushed her love for you aside, redirecting her emotions toward someone else to create a façade that the media would never question. She kept the truth hidden from you, even though it was selfish, because she still longed for your presence despite the way she was treating you. The thought of losing you was unbearable, even if it meant she was the catalyst for your eventual downfall.

. . . . .

It was the final concert of the world tour, marking the end of a long and eventful year. The encore stage was set in Seoul, drawing in celebrities from all over South Korea to show their support. Securing tickets had been a challenge, but fortunately, you found yourself on the VIP list. Despite being involved in nearly a hundred shows during the tour, you had never had the opportunity to attend one yourself. This would be your first time witnessing Mina's performance on stage, and you couldn't help but wonder if it would also be your last. The state of your relationship had been deteriorating ever since Haerin's birthday, and that unforgettable text message Mina had received on that day lingered in your mind.

As expected, the concert was a remarkable spectacle. Each group brought their unique style and talent to the stage, showcasing the diversity that JYP was renowned for. The grand finale, complete with dazzling fireworks, left the crowd buzzing with excitement. You were certain that the concert would be the talk of the town for the entire week, and a surge of pride swelled within you. However, amidst the awe-inspiring performances, a sense of nervousness crept over you as you anticipated seeing Mina for the first time in months. Uncertainty loomed.

Were you still together?

You could feel the connection slipping through your fingers with each passing day, yet you couldn't deny the deep affection your heart held for her. . . . . .

Dressed in an elegant low-cut dress, your arm linked with Dahyun's, you made your way to the rooftop terrace of the JYP building. Dahyun had kindly invited you as her plus one to the concert afterparty, sensing that something was amiss in your relationship with Mina. She hoped that bringing you along would help mend the cracks in your connection. Dahyun cared about you deeply; she had overcome her previous crush on you and had become one of your closest and most loyal friends. Like Chaeyoung, she struggled to keep her thoughts about Mina to herself, recognizing that it would be better for you to hear the truth from someone other than her.

As the elevator ascended, carrying you both towards the bustling gathering, your thoughts involuntarily drifted back to Mina. She remained an enigma, too complex for you to fully comprehend. Time was slipping away, and you couldn't ignore the symptoms manifesting within you. Your mind had become a jumbled mess, and signs of forgetfulness and the gradual loss of color in your vision were becoming more evident.

Sensing your nervousness, Dahyun gently squeezed your hand, offering a comforting gesture. With a recurring toothy smile, she became a reassuring presence, and you leaned your head on her shoulder, finding solace as the elevator continued its ascent, leading you toward your soulmate.

You wondered what it would be like if things were different. What if you were tied to someone more open and uncomplicated, someone who wore their heart on their sleeve, just like you?  You envied Dahyun’s soulmate, she was so easy to love. Most importantly of all, you envied the past you without any mark on your wrist that wrote down your fate. 

Stepping out onto the terrace, you found yourself immediately enveloped in a tight hug from Ryujin.

"Looking good, hot stuff," she teased, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and planting a gentle kiss on your temple.

Meanwhile, Dahyun flashed you a warm smile as she chimed in, "I'll go get the drinks. Champagne?"

With a nod of agreement, the two of you watched as Dahyun left to track down a waiter.

"You guys were great on stage," you commented.

"As always," the idol responded, flipping her short hair with feigned confidence. But then she looked at you with concern. "Are you okay, though?"

Confusion washed over you. You hadn't shared much about your situation with Mina with Ryujin.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be okay?" you replied, trying to make sense of her question.

"I mean... with..." Ryujin's voice trailed off, her uncertainty evident. "With Mina."

"What do you mean?" you asked, mirroring her confusion.

Ryujin appeared just as bewildered. "I thought you guys broke up."

You slightly shook your head, feeling the pain of Mina potentially leaving you tearing open the gaping wound in your heart that you tried so hard to keep together.

"We were fine a few days ago," you revealed, struggling to keep your emotions in check. "But we aren't really together to begin with."

"I'm going to kill her," Ryujin hissed under her breath, her hands balling into fists.

Before you could inquire further about what she meant, Dahyun came bouncing back, attempting to juggle three glasses of champagne in her small hands.

"Slow down there, Dubu," you laughed, reaching out to steady her.

Ryujin, on the other hand, directed her anger at Dahyun. "Did you know?" she challenged, dropping all honorifics.

Dahyun looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Know what?"

"That Mina never broke it off with Y/N," Ryujin revealed.

The older idol's face paled even whiter than before. "Wh-what?" she stammered, her large eyes darting between you and Ryujin's face in disbelief.

As Ryujin dragged you through the crowded terrace, your heart sank. Confrontation was something you always dreaded, and facing the truth felt daunting. Passing by Yeji and Yuna, you gave them a grimace, and Yeji immediately put down her glass and joined you, recognizing Ryujin's anger and impulsive tendencies as a member of the group.

"Where the fuck is she," Ryujin hissed, actively scanning the crowd until she spotted Chaeyoung.

"Son Chaeyoung!" With a shout, Ryujin pulled you over to the blonde leaning against the wall at the near end of the rooftop. Chaeyoung stood there casually, cigarette in hand, exhaling smoke as if her life depended on the swirling gray tendrils to guide her.

"Hey," Chaeyoung greeted calmly, in stark contrast to the raging girl before her. Her eyes flicked to yours, and the same sad look she had given you a few months ago resurfaced. "Hey, Y/N."

Ryujin stepped forward, her face inches away from Chaeyoung's. "Don't you feel ashamed?" she challenged.

"Of what?" Chaeyoung replied, her shoulder slumping in defeat.

"You know that your best friend is a cheater. And you're fine with watching her cheat on Y/N?"

"Mina didn't... tell you?" Chaeyoung's voice trailed off, her defeat apparent. "I told her to talk to you," she muttered.

"Well, she obviously didn't," Ryujin snarled, her voice escalating. A crowd started to gather, curious eyes fixed on the unfolding confrontation.

"Where is she anyway? That bi-" Ryujin began, but Yeji swiftly intervened, stepping firmly between Chaeyoung and Ryujin.

"That's enough," she declared, her tone authoritative. "That is enough."

With the order from their leader, Ryujin had no choice but to back down, taking deep breaths as Yeji's mind raced, searching for a solution to resolve the situation and prevent further gossip from spreading.

"She's in the studio, 9th floor," Chaeyoung informed you, offering a sad, crooked smile. "Hear her out."

. . . . .

The world around you felt hazy as your legs automatically guided you back to the golden doors of the elevator. Watching the numbers slowly descend, 39, 38, 37..., your heart sank with each floor. This conversation with Mina would either resolve all your relationship problems or bring it to an end. Deep down, you held onto a glimmer of hope, even though you knew it was likely to fall into the latter category. After all, you loved her, and you understood that the poison coursing through your veins would fight to keep it that way.

The automatic lights of the hallway illuminated your path as you walked towards the studio like a beacon of hope and love trying to navigate through the darkness to find Mina. She could see the hesitation in your steps from afar, knowing that it was because of her. She hadn't found the right way to explain things to you yet, but when she received the text from Chaeyoung saying you had arrived at the party, she knew that today was the day she would have to face you.

Her fingers lightly traced the keys of the piano, playing a melancholic tune that had been resonating in her mind lately. Despite being a performer and not a songwriter, music had become her way of expressing herself lately.

"Hey," you whispered softly, standing near the doorway of the recording studio, watching Mina play the piano in the dimly lit room.

"Hey," she raised her head to look at you, her eyes dark and shining in the subdued lighting. They seemed unreadable and devoid of emotion.

You stood there in silence, at a loss for words for the girl you once shared endless conversations with. You used to have so much to say to each other, but now your relationship was suffocated by unspoken words and heartbreak.

"Play a song with me?" Mina finally asked, breaking the silence. "Like old times?"

You took a deep breath, finding it hard to believe that after months of brief texts and calls, this was the first thing she said upon seeing you. Shaking your head in frustration, you walked over to the idol and sat down beside her, facing the piano.

"What song?" you asked, your hands resting on the keys, refusing to turn around and look at your soulmate.

Mina didn't say anything as you continued to stare straight ahead, your hands poised on the keyboard, waiting for her response.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, placing her hand over yours, causing a few off-key notes to sound from the piano.

You quickly pulled your hands away from hers as if her touch burned your skin. "Sorry doesn't solve anything."

"I know it doesn't," Mina gently turned you to face her. "I know sorry will never be enough to make up for how I've treated you, but I want to explain why I acted this way."

Mina took your silence as a cue to continue, and she quickly cleared her throat. She knew this was her last chance to selfishly keep you by her side, and she would do anything to make that happen. The thought of losing you was unbearable.

"Dispatch found out about us. They have pictures of us kissing on the beach," she revealed.

You raised your eyes in annoyance. "So? What does that have to do with anything?"

"My company won't allow me to go public with our relationship," she explained, ignoring your irritated tone. "They arranged a cover-up story, and I was afraid you would break up with me if you saw the fabricated article."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you questioned.

"They made me sign an NDA," Mina replied without hesitation. Deep down, panic surged within her as she fabricated the lie. The company never made her sign anything, and she was the one who had asked her manager to come up with a plan to conceal the pictures from Dispatch. But she was desperate to hold onto you, even if it meant lying and digging a deeper hole for herself. "I really wanted to tell you."

You let out a sigh of relief and confusion. You were relieved that, for now, your relationship was still intact, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Mina was intentionally hiding something.

"What is the cover-up story?" you asked.

Mina hesitated before answering, "Just a few pictures of a dinner gathering with another idol. Our PR team thought it would be best to address the dating rumors by leaking a few photos to make people think I'm dating a guy. They're releasing the article next Monday."

Nodding, you chose to believe Mina. There were still many things she needed to explain, such as the text message on her phone and the guilty look in her eyes, but once again, you relented, choosing to believe her words for the sake of maintaining your relationship. You knew deep down that you were likely making the wrong decision, but you were hopelessly in love and there was little you could do to change that.

"It's just a fake relationship as a cover-up?" you asked.

"It's fake, I swear," Mina quickly nodded, taking your hand in hers again, praying that you wouldn't pull away this time. You didn't.

"I love you," she said softly, her brown eyes locked with yours. It was the first time she had ever uttered those words. You didn't expect her to say them today; you expected her to break up with you instead. You were shocked, but a part of you still held onto hope.

"Don't you love me back?" Her voice sounded sad, trembling slightly.

"I do," you said, reaching up to cup her face in your hand. "Just please don't treat me like this again."

"I promise," Mina said, slowly leaning forward to press her warm lips against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of having her close once more. You knew you were likely making the wrong decision, but you were already trapped from the beginning. Why not live in happiness for a little while longer, even if you knew it was all a lie?

Mina held your hand tightly as you made your way back to your apartment. Walking hand in hand under the starlit sky no longer felt warm and filled with love; now it was riddled with uncertainty and loneliness. She no longer felt like home, no longer like the person you once loved and adored. Despite her beauty, with her hair now dyed a light shade of pink and wearing a party dress and heels, you couldn't recognize her anymore.

You studied her profile as she drove towards your apartment, speeding down the empty streets of late-night Seoul. Leaning over, you gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, choosing to ignore the pain in your heart, the way her touch felt wrong on your leg, and the partially concealed burgundy marks on her neck.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Sorry for the long-awaited update! What are your thoughts on Mina? (I find her quite toxic tbh)

[zorya-reads]

Chapter 8.

The Lost Princess

Context: Haru invited Jamie to the Onsen, demonstrating why he aspires to be a, respectfully, 🚩. Meanwhile, Lottie’s living her best theatre kid life.

YOOO WE GET A JAMIE PERSPECTIVE ABOUT HARU

So, we finally get Haru’s age (honestly, I was lowkey concerned 'cause my man has a whole teaching position???) and—he’s 21 … So you’re telling me that 17-year-old Jamie being hit on by a 21-year-old —which itself isn’t inherently problematic, but it can create an imbalance in maturity 🚩— but considering he’s teaching HIS course as well????????? That power inbalance?????? Oh no. nononono. 🚩 :D

Not Haru actually inviting Jamie to the onsen casually like it’s Tuesday. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE FOOLING, SIR?!

Props to Jamie for leaving ONE SINGLE THOUGHT for Raphael. (Thank you for the crumbs. Also, HOW DARE YOU? Think about who you could have gotten with that would have been WAY BETTER than the lovely gentleman next to you.)

Why is everyone staring at everybody these days?? GUYS. PLEASE. JUST GO TO A MUSEUM AND LOOK AT GREEK GODESS STATUES IF YOU'RE THAT DESPERATE TO SEE SOME MUSCLES. GOSH. THAT TRIO.

Ok, that chapter is fun to read.

The thing is—Haru has this too good to be true vibe to him, truly too sweet, to even describe with Tompkins' vocabulary. I feel so twisted inside to note this down everytime because I know something’s about to hit the fan. So idk if I’m I just biased, but bro already crossed like, four boundaries in that one convo, making me uncomfortable. 🚩 :D

Yooooo, Haru really hit Jamie with the "Who were you before the world told you who to be?" question JSHDBDB Wrong person.

NOOO EWW, HARU’S AWARE OF THE WHOLE TEACHER-STUDENT DYNAMIC?? NOOooo (Got confirmation he’s actually teaching JAMIE'S course too. 🚩 :D SHSHDJJYNS. Nope. Nooo.)

This is honestly creepy. Like, he’s TEACHING the course but still wants to be all buddy-buddy with Jamie and invites him to the onsen???? (which, Granted: I know it’s culturally okay in Japan to go to an onsen even with a mentorship-type-of-relationship. However, since the gang are foreigners, to me it feels like he’s tiptoeing in the grey area of the border. Is it just me or do I just really want to hate this guy??? THIS IS SO UNSETTLING.)

*Small Break to text my mutuals and rant about Haru being an absolute weirdo*

LOTTIE HAVING FUN IN HER COURSE>>>>

I love how none of them realize that Lottie’s “Pumpkin” codename is low-key useless if everyone knows she’s the princess anyway and make a buzz about it.

Wait—is it just my German translation or did Miko actually just say “Virgin”-?

Creating a Pinterest board for the costumes is gonna be so much fun!!

YOOO RIO

Why am I reading so much „Virgin“s??

NO WAY RIO JUST SAID HE’S LOTTIES VIRGIN (out of context) 

Rio, The Virgin.

KOU IS AN AESTHETIC. THEY HAVE TASTE.

Nooo, not my mind now picturing Jamie as Aoi Tōyō and Haru as that prince when Rio tells that story—bro, do I really want them to fail that badly???

Fun fact! I’m reading a German copy of the book, and when I went through the English PDF version, I noticed many glossary references, especially in this chapter. It seems a lot of the Japanese references, particularly in the spoken language, were cut in my copy. While I appreciate this for making it less cringe-worthy, I’m also sad about losing the opportunity to explore the culture through it.

Editing-Zorya: Ok, I checked. Apparently Rio only calls himself a virgin in the German translation. :(

✧ Read All Chapter Reactions

Premise: I’m rereading the Rosewood Chronicles Series for the first time after years, so take my chaotic commentary with a grain of salt (or a whole salt shaker). Open to spoilers.

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 67 – Saint Death’s Daughter by C. S. E. Cooney

This is a book I’ve been vaguely aware of for a while, without really knowing anything about it beyond that it was getting a lot of positive buzz, but it got a WFA best novel nomination and that provided the impetus I needed to finally give reading it a try. And, well, I’ll be honest – this was a slog for me. If it had been half the size it would very likely be one of my favourite works of the year; as is the best way I can describe the reading experience is ‘slowly drowning in cotton candy’.

The book stars Miscellaneous ‘Lannie’ Stones, younger daughter of a declining noble house which has provided executioners and assassins to the royal family of Lariat since its founding, and generally but not lately provided necromancers as well. Lannie is the hope of the family, a necromantic prodigy (if one with a profoundly inconvenient allergy to violence that requires her isolation from the rest of the family and her raising by a bound revanent nanny and the dubiously trustworthy ghost of an ancestor). As the story opens, her parents have both died, and she’s been forced to write to her terror of an elder sister to come home as their debts are called due. She comes home with an enscrolled and deeply unwilling fiancee abducted during her studies. This, surprisingly, only takes up the first small chunk of the book, followed by a timeskip, the introduction of Lannie’s niece born in the interim, the elder sister dealing with the consequences of her seven-year campaign of bloody vengeance against the foreign court which murdered their parents, and the beginning of the actual plot.

I really did want to enjoy this book, and on the page-to-page level it was often somewhere between charming and delightful. But there were just so many pages, and so very little happening on most of them. After the timeskip the book spends something like 500 pages just leisurely meandering, stopping whenever anything catches its interest to spend half a page or three enthusiastically describing it. At a certain point the exuberant narration and playful vocabulary stop feeling delightful and start feeling like the author is somehow being paid by the word.

This is made all the odder by the fact that around the 80% mark the book suddenly realizes its got a bunch of problems to resolve and switches into an entirely different gear, rushing through revelations and resolutions like it’s on a deadline. Which apparently it was? The book ends with what feels like less of a sequel hook and more like a final hundred pages were chopped off the finished product by a longsuffering editor pushed past the brink.

So, the lion’s share of the book is interested less in plot than character dynamics and cute slice of moments. It’s very much a found family sort of narrative, delivered in an incredibly blunt fashion. Which definitely works for a lot of people, I’m sure, but everyone was so obviously written to be endearing and charming and fell into love of various sorts with each other so instantly it just left me cold, and more a bit bored.

This is a book with footnotes, and among those it feels pretty middle of the pack? Not doing anything particularly impressive with them, and they don’t have a real character or voice different from the rest of the book, but they’re a fun enough way to infodump a bunch of Stones family history (particularly all the ways different members have died).

Thematically...look, I’m aware this is entirely a personal pet peeve not shared by any particular audience, but the fact that Lannie’s whole life from infancy is being chosen as the beloved priestess of a goddess of death for one specific purpose, and that this is portrayed as an entirely benevolent, positive, and uplifting thing to have done at basically all points that it’s discussed just sets me on edge. There’s nothing really badly done about it, I’m just a contrary maltheist by nature and the book did basically nothing to allay that.

Generally – I don’t know, I’m not opposed to 700 page books (I’d be an utter hypocrite if I was. Almost certainly still am regardless), but I feel like being that long is a failing the book then has to justify? It should be obliged to do something with the length, if it’s going to demand so much of my time to wade through it. This didn’t really feel like it did.

[hologramcowboy]

You know Jensen is never going to fuck you. The man has more class in his pinky than you'll ever have in several lifetimes you absolute bag of garbage. Danneel wouldn't wipe her shoes on your pathetic ass. You seriously need to get mental help. You are unhinged and dangerous.

Do you need Jensen to "f***" you? Is that why you keep sending this same concept to everyone? If so, seek help. Jensen is married and has three children. He needs to focus on that and on taking care of the woman he impregnated, whether he meant to or not. It's disgusting that you would even remotely think sleeping with him is an option. The man doesn't compare in class to me and most of my friends and colleagues, he doesn't even open books and is oblivious to etiquette, especially that of his own industry. He also is less trained and schooled than me so who are you kidding? Yourself?

My as* happens to be more schooled, trained, beautiful and classy than Danneel's too, in fact, I'm beyond appreciated by highly valuable people. Not that that matters, whether good or bad feedback is just feedback and should never overcome someone's highest priorities. This is what it means to be self driven. Something you will never be as you depend on all people thinking the same way you do.

You are the unhinged one for being abusive. You are committing violence with your words over a couple of Z listers. You're probably too daft to even realize the gravity of your post and the horrible paragidms it is feeding into. Which means that you lack awareness. Truly sad.

Being classy is all about someone's soul, how cultured, elegant and emotionally intelligent they are not just what they studied or how much they own, by the way, you keep raising the profile of a bunch of functionally illiterate toxic celebrities and mob anyone who tends to point out they are mediocre. Danneel and Jensen are lovely in their own way but they will never be high class or high quality and the fact that you fail to understand that shows how disconnected you are from what you are trying to reference. Let me translate that for you: you know nothing about class and the fact that you hail Danneel as classy tells us everything we need to know about your level.

I strongly suggest you steer clear of my inbox and seek professional help.

"absolute bag of garbage" must be how you feel about yourself, I feel deeply sorry for how broken you are. So broken you are viciously trying to tear others down in the hopes of feeling better but mark my words, someday you'll cause someone's life to end with your vicious, disgusting soul so I strongly suggest you wake up and get the help you need instead of sending these type of asks which you can, by the way, be charged for.

Lastly, Jensen is endlessly kinder and smarter than you so please refrain from calling yourself a Jensen fan or mentioning his name since, clearly, all you care after is "f*****g" him (your words not mine). Using that word, by the way, is dehumanizing towards him as you are objectifying him. You are creepy, abusive and clearly psychotic since you are purposefully sending hate asks to create a certain outcome. You are not entitled to anyone's sense of self, wellbeing or value and people are free to have different views.

P.S.: Jensen will never sleep with you, no matter how many hateful, vicious mobbing attempts you make. In fact, he doesn't even know you exist and, even if he did, he would be majorly creeped out.

"You are unhinged and dangerous" Just curious, is "unhinged" the only word in your vocabulary? Do you even know what it means? Because it perfectly describes the message you sent in. There is absolutely zero dangerous about people enjoying harmless gossip or expressing opinions with like minded others. What is, however, truly dangerous and "unhinged" are people like you who purposefully and hatefully seek to target others through mobbing, cyberbullying, threats and other virtual offenses all because the person on the other end dislikes your show or actor. If you are looking for dangerous then please look in the mirror, you are inhumane.

As for your trashy, classless vocabulary, I strongly suggest you save it for those of your ilk, if you absolutely must use it.

[minimalist-language-learning]

This video is not about language learning but about learning in general and using SRS (spaced repetition systems) like Anki, which is used by some people in the language learning community to learn vocabulary, for example. Especially among Japanese learners Anki is often recommended.

Among other interesting things, he explains why popular methods do not necessarily work well for everyone. What made me think was when he talked about the success bias:

(Summary) "... you don't hear about the failure stories - This then combines with availability bias where we define legitimacy by how common we are exposed to it - This creates a spiral of unknowledgeable people creating videos about common techniques that are not as effective as they claim, making it more available, increasing its perceived legitmacy"

I use Anki myself, but only for reviewing kanji. I tried often recommended methods like sentence mining several times in the past, but no matter how hard I tried it never worked for me. It's not that I didn't learned something but after a few weeks reviewing these sentences felt meaningless. I wondered why this method didn't work for me while other people seemed to have great success.

Whenever I review sentences in Anki, it’s lacking a lot of valuable context. Even if this sentence is from a book I enjoyed, reviewing this single sentence in Anki has not the same effect as reading it in the full context of a story. I realized that I learn words much better when I encounter them in their "natural environment“. Of course, I do not claim this is "proof" for anything, it's just what I experienced.

Success Bias

Since I fell into this "trap“ myself, I think that we should be careful when we come across "popular“ methods. Maybe they work for some people but just because a method seems to be popular doesn’t necessarily mean that it is so much better than other (less known) methods.

As explained in the video above, people tend to talk more about their successes than about what didn’t work (success bias). That’s why some success stories are probably overestimated. We see a handful of popular YouTubers, for example, who seemingly had great success with this method, but we don’t see all these other people who also tried it but realized that it doesn’t work as well as these YouTubers claimed.

It’s hard to estimate, if a certain method worked well for a great amount of people or only for a lucky minority (who then are making videos where they give the impression that this method works great for everyone, while in reality this is not always the case). I think this is something people should be more aware of.

Don’t get me wrong! If a method really works well for someone and he or she recommends it, that’s fine. It’s always interesting to see how other people learn and what experiences they made! Success stories can be motivating and inspiring.

It’s just that I think that we should be a bit careful, because stories of people who had no success with a method are usually not as visible as success stories. I think these "failures“ should not be ignored, because they are part of the whole story. Only if you know the whole story, you’ll get a realistic picture. And more often than not, you can learn more from "failures" than from success stories.

So, I think both stories have their value and should be told, so that people get a more realistic picture of a method.

PS: This is also true for my own posts, of course. I describe what works for me, but it is not my intention to claim that this is the best method and that it works great for everyone. If it works for you, great! If not, it's also fine. Try something else until you find something that works for you. I only share my experiences and thoughts in case that it is helpful to some people.

[brightoakgame]

Are the ROs all canonically bi/pan? If so, how did they realize?

Canonically, I'd describe attraction as a spectrum for each of them. 💞 The action of Bright Oak takes place primarily in 1968, when the vocabulary surrounding sexuality was more limited; I'm hesitant to apply modern language / titles the characters themselves would not necessarily use,  or which carry slightly different connotations in the present day. So while in a modern setting Sparrow's expressed views and attractions might well lead him to identify as nonbinary and pansexual, even with his comparatively liberal experience (he's lived in San Francisco’s commune culture), if he were asked to define his gender or sexuality in the course of the game, likely he'd answer that gender is silly, and he's attracted to attractive people-- that is, if he answered at all, and didn't just throw out a few cryptic quotations and walk away.

Not all the characters' established patterns of attraction are an even split, though general preference patterns don't dictate individual affections, and by no means invalidate a potential romantic relationship with Kit/the MC, regardless of the player's choice of pronouns or gender identity (also, non-romantic relationships are a valid option in the game). For the latter half of your question, I'll touch on the characters' individual past experiences and attractions (placed beneath the cut, for those who prefer to let the characters' words and actions in-game stand alone in speaking for them).❤️

John: Perhaps surprisingly inexperienced, given his popularity; I think there was likely some tentative fumbling under the high school bleachers with a girl or two, but not much (if anything) beyond that. Aware he's also attracted to men-- even primarily attracted to men-- which scares him somewhat, to the point that he's avoided pursuing any romantic interests, regardless of gender.

Marybeth: She actually doesn't tend to experience immediate or impartial attractions, and I don't think she's dated anyone seriously before; she's kissed both men and women, but very much as an experiment to see what the fuss is about. While she has found herself attracted to friends in the past, she has never felt inclined to act on it, since making friends doesn't come easily to her, and she'd be hesitant to jeopardize the relationship she has for a potential relationship she herself is skeptical of.

Patti: Despite her considerable self-discipline, Patti's a bit of a hedonist: she takes pleasure on her own terms, as she finds it, albeit with no intention of sacrificing her independence over it. She has little interest in forming a local or long-term attachment that would tie her down, but when traveling-- in college, or for rare leisure-- she has never minded engaging in clandestine kisses and brief affairs to be fondly remembered later. Most of her liaisons have been with men, but there have been at least a couple women as well.

Sparrow: In his early youth, Sparrow's nascent attractions were focused more on characters in books (Anne Shirley, Jane Eyre), authors/poets (Emily Dickinson, Emily Brontë, E.M. Forster), and musicians (Billie Holiday, Buddy Holly, Johnny Mathis), more than anyone he knew personally, which continued as he remained a social pariah into high school-- but he blossomed once at university, and dated around a bit before falling very hard for someone after his move to San Francisco (this comes up in his story path).

Jasper: Jasper's brain trips him up at every turn when it comes to personal relationships, and while he does experience attraction to people (most often women, though not exclusively so), his inclination to act on it is very limited because he simply can't turn off the alarms in his head that tell him there are other responsibilities more worthy of his focus and time. He's been in relationships, but they inevitably fail because his primary devotion is to his ongoing work (there's reason for this, addressed in the game during his story path). He's not one to do things halfway, however, and has spent a sleepless night (or several) over the years researching pleasure and romantic gestures, determined that what perceived failings he has that can be corrected or compensated for, shall be corrected and compensated for. Good luck with that, MC.

[houseofchimeras]

☀️

When did we awaken? When did we first know we identified as nonhuman? For our multiple system, the honest answer is we have always known, or at least, we have always known as far back as we can remember. We have always known ever since we have had the ability to be aware of much of anything and have had coherent enough thoughts to be aware of how we felt. That seems like the most likely answer. If not that early, at least as young as age 7 or 8 based on memories clear enough to say with certainty that at that time, we certainly felt we were nonhuman. For this reason, our multiple system does not consider ourselves to ever have had an awakening; or, more accurately, it seems what awakening we had occurred so very early in life we do not remember any of that process of discovery. We do not recall a moment in our life when we came to the realization and conclusion that we identified as nonhuman having not previously thought such was the case. None of us recall a time when we didn't feel nonhuman to some extent or another. In fact, as far back as any of us can remember anything at all, we've always been aware that most of us are nonhuman and been aware of our individual species identities. As far as our own perception stands, we have always known we were animals (or for the few, plants) trapped in a human body.

Clear enough childhood memories to glean much of anything from only reach as far back as about 7 years old. So, we believe if we experienced what can be called an awakening, it occurred either around that age or before then. So, the exact circumstances of our awakening is unknown to us due to our lack of earlier childhood memories. Due to the fact we have no memory of ever having not feeling or knowing our nonhumanity, we strongly feel our awareness of our state of being is something we have been aware of, if not from birth, then certainly since early childhood at the very least. Our only limitation back then was an exact context for all of our feelings and experiences as well as a label for it all. We might not have had a term to describe our experiences and our feelings, but they were still there. That would come later on in life.

Our earliest memories only go back to about age 7 but even by that age our nonhumanity shown through. We grew up being aware of our unusual state of being even though we didn't fully know what it all was or what it meant back then. Our brain couldn't wrap around all of the experiences, feelings, and thoughts we had, nor did we have a vocabulary hardy enough to even begin to describe our state of being, but our nonhumanity was there, nevertheless.

It wasn’t until years later, in 2003 that we would finally learn of our first words to describe our identities and our experiences. (The first terms we learned were “were” and “transspecies.”

- Earth Listener (she/her/hers)

[kilar]

CAS - service - Radio Roža

Last Thursday, January 26th, I, with the companionship of my two dear friends Kaja and Vita, went to Radio Roža situated close to PRHG, in an ally-way street called Palach. Radio Roža is a community based internet radio created from the need to follow and keep up with the cultural acts of Rijeka as well as promoting underground genera’s, you can read more on the following link to their website - https://www.radio-roza.org/o-nama – you can find useful information about the Radio Roža there, as well as find a way to listen to them. I visited Radio Roža (RR) with my two friends to promote, spread awareness, benefit and expand our Kult community. My friends and I talked about how Kult came to be what it is today, the process of making the magazine as well as our thoughts about it. It was very interesting, RR is a small project and not a lot of people know about it, to be honest, neither did I until last week, but I always noticed their sign while walking through Palach. I was nervous because I had never talked into a radio microphone before, or like, been in a studio, or like, been featured on a radio show before. So I think you can imagine the stress that I was overflown with. But, never the less, I collected myself with the help of my friends and the supportive environment there. I thought to myself I would sound more natural if I just took a deep breath and realized this is nothing scary, and it worked!

I thought about posting this to my CAS experience portfolio, but is this considered CAS in any way? Well, I did my research beforehand and I assure you it is. I found a photograph from a website which explains it:

As we can read from the photo describing service acts as: ‘Experiences that involve interactions with individuals or groups, which provide benefits from the community. These experiences should not only involve contributions to others, but also with others, while developing a deep commitment’ so there you have it. It is CAS.

Back to what I was saying. I loved it. Truly, deeply, amazingly loved it. It's as simple as that. I liked the idea of my voice talking about something I am so proud of while also promoting it and sharing the news about something very cultural and important not only to PRHG but to Rijeka itself. I also loved the atmosphere of the studio, very nice people, amazing vibes, beautiful colors and space, I was so intrigued by the artwork that was surrounding me, it was like I was inside a painting or an artwork. The only problem I encountered was collecting my words and making reasonable sentences, I bluffed so much we had to do multiple takes, so in conclusion, I think I could work on my vocabulary and public speaking a bit more if I want to continue public speaking and promoting other works. I also feel like I contributed to the community because I helped spread the word of something that's not really heard of, a lot of other student's work will be promoted this way, as well as our school PRHG and community. I would love to repeat something like this again! The radio feature will soon be available on their website so be sure to check it out, when they upload it I will attach a link here! Enjoy!

From the 37th minute on the link below you can listen to the interview!

[1] http://ibtucker.weebly.com/cas.html

[leam1983]

"Why the French don't show excitement"

Or, more succinctly, how to show a complete lack of understanding for Linguistics, language expansion and the way the structure of a language in turn ends up structuring thought itself.

Americans, mostly, tend to be excited for a lot of things. Linguistically, American English conveys emotion very vibrantly, but in a way that's always fallen a little flat for me. My American expat colleagues always speak in superlatives, everything is always the best or the worst or drives them nuts - or something to that effect. Americans express themselves as if everything jostles them from one emotional extreme to another, and you're left feeling that this masks a certain dearth of emotional vocabulary.

I realized, as a Québécois, that I could alternate between living in the être (to be, to be aware of how I feel, to display some mindfulness) instead of in the concept of faire (to be sucked into the emotional charge of what I'm doing) the moment it became obvious to me that my best weapon against a customer blowing up in front of me was to focus on the data points I was offered. In somewhat nerdy terms, I sometimes mentally cosplay as a Vulcan, minus the verbal tics involving logic, and imagine myself as a being of complete rationality. The moment that clicked, I realize how so many people I work with have no real ability to express their inner lives, because they're locked into the perception that the only things that matter to the outside world are the more extreme ends of it.

Walt's sometimes verbose thought-process descriptions made sense to me, at that point. He appreciates clarity and ensures he has the right words for what he feels and what he needs to describe. That gives a sense of deliberate speech to him, when he's being serious about something - and it's in complete contrast to John's endless seas of hemming and hawing that fail to mask how he's trying to both navigate his emotional and cognitive mindscapes at the same time, while speaking to you.

Mindfulness matters, considering.

You're probably a lot less excited, angry, happy or even pissed off than you think you are, if you stop to give it some thought.