#we’re all part of the same community so why are we fighting amongst ourselves

[butchharts]

I feel like a lot of queer people forget that not everyone has gone through the same experience with their gender/sexuality and that it’s okay to not relate entirely to one another

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[anamatics]

Your opinion on old fandom forums vs, fandom today?

I didn't answer this one last night as I wanted to be able to type out a proper response, and one that's partly adapted from an essay I wrote back in 2016.

As a fandom old, I’ve spent a long time in fandom spaces. I did my time with writing slash and het ships, but I always loved writing stories for me about people like me. I have witnessed first-hand the rise and fall of listservs and live journal as places where people who liked femslash gathered to discuss their favorite shows. I know a lot of fandom history. When I comment on the events in fandom, it still comes from my position as a fan, not as a creative. I want to preface all of these thoughts with this.

Fandom used to be something that you didn't talk about. It was secret, never mentioned in public, zines and stories mailed back and forth across the country. The internet changed that, people's attitudes toward things like queer and trans identity changed that, people's want to see diversity on their screens changed that. Yet, at the same time, there is a whole new generation of young queer creatives emerging onto the writing scene who have grown up witnessing the rise and fall of these great, monolithic fandoms that exist beyond the space of shows themselves. More and more, networks, writers, and producers are paying attention to what the fandom says and to what they react to.

This is why I don't really like fandom these days, because I've seen both sides. I struggled with this working on Carmilla as someone who had been, and in may ways still was, a fan. I know fans have power, I've done things because I know fans have power. And yet, I felt like I'd lost my place in a community - in old fandom - because of this realization. And I myself asking questions about my place in new fandom. Questions that, most of the time, had no answers.

Is it valid to be both grateful for the acknowledgement of fan desires within the creative side of television and web writing and a little horrified by the amount of entitlement that any capitulation by those productions seems to engender within fans? Am I valid in feeling trapped by this feeling of wanting to be the best possible arbiter of representation and knowing that I can never be perfect because the perfection demanded by the queer community isn’t achievable? Does my voice even matter in fandom circles anymore because I’ve “crossed over” to the other side? Am I allowed to continue to speak critically about representation in shows that are not my own because I haven’t “fixed mine yet”?

I struggled with this when Carmilla was airing. I still struggle with it now, too, because I see how trolls on Twitter and Tumblr have reacted to folks like me speaking out about problems we see in our communities or within fandom. People like me aren’t allowed to criticize fandom, or fandom culture, because we’re no longer seen as truly a part of it: by being creators who can’t always live up to fandom’s sometimes unreasonable standards, we’re now considered just part of the problem. We can’t critique behaviors and call things out within this fandom community that should also represent us because when we do we’re hurting the fandom community.

Every queer creative out there has shouldered some of this hurt, I know I have. I stand by what I’ve said despite the backlash. If you cannot believe in the truth you speak, what good are you to a community looking to you for change?

Those who speak to the internal problems of fandom culture are shouted down. People with years of fandom experience, who are far more knowledgeable of the history of fandom (and especially the femslash corners of it) and presence in media than the present-day narrative setters, are shouted down and told that we are part of the problem. Creatives who speak out and criticize other works are treated equally poorly. The problem is that in refusing to look at the problems within our fandom spaces, and saying that everyone outside the group is to blame for the problems of poor representation, we are sticking our fingers in our ears and refusing to look at what’s wrong with us. We eat our own.

The queer community – and by extension the queer fandom community – functions like an ouroboros as far as I can tell. That’s the snake from Norse mythology that eats its tail, representing infinity but also representing the inevitable crush of our own bullshit as it comes down around us with the hopes of becoming a better community. There should be a place within this community for everyone, and yet it’s this same space that is preoccupied with gatekeeping characterized by constant infighting, identity policing, and silencing or invalidating opinions that don’t perfectly align with this vision of what is considered acceptable in the eyes of the thinking of the day.

Queerness is messy. There’s a lot of nuance to it. And there will always be people who want their own community within that umbrella of queerness. That’s a valid want. You want to be around people who are homogenous, because it’s when variety is introduced that feelings get hurt. But the existence of a community for marginalized people should not come at the detriment and degradation of other vulnerable people, nor should it come at the expanse of dismissing intersectionality within our community.

But instead, we eat our own. We dismiss trans headcanons like people in old fandom used to dismiss queer headcanons. We're doing the same bullshit, just rinsed and repeated, directed at a new set of people whose voices are smaller than the small specks of power new fandom has granted (cis, white) queer people.

We fight ourselves amongst because we feel as though we cannot fight the forces of our own oppression. We censor ourselves to make sure that we don’t say anything to upend the proverbial apple cart. We do this not because we’re afraid of the problematic elements outside of the community that could come into our community, but rather because we’re afraid of those within our own community who have the power to kick us out from under our own umbrella and back into the rain.

So when I think about fandom these days, I imagine this moment of losing community. I imagine the hurtful message sent, the dismissive post on the forum, the hateful tweet, actions that cost nothing when they are directed at creators, fan writers, fan artists. These people exist to create content that is to be consumed. They aren't human. They aren't even real. They're just the producers of content that fandom sucks up like a vacuum cleaner without bothering to engage with the creators except to demand more or demand better. Nothing makes you feel alienated from your community like realizing you only exist to produce for it and when you don't produce to standards, you are attacked.

What's worse is that a lot of folks in fandom don't even think about this these days. There's no risk in blasting off a message or a tweet. But social media is an echo chamber. It’s a hive mind, and it’s a place where people can get hurt, very badly, and very quickly. Social media should not be used as a weapon to badger the people trying to get into positions where they can create change, which is what I feel new fandom has done. But at the same time, new fandom has also become a space where voices can be uplifted, where people can be seen and heard who maybe weren't before.

So TL;DR, I think social media ruined fandom, I have a lot of baggage/trauma from working on a show as fandom was transitioning from old fandom to new fandom, and like... we have to be better to each other.

[griffinblogsgw2]

The Narrative Challenge of MMOs

So I saw a post recently in the GW2 tag about how the narrative of Guild Wars is more communal vs individualistic compared to other fantasy games and, while I did like a lot of what the post said, I think it gave GW too much credit. A lot of what GW2 does is a direct result of it being an MMO and this got me thinking about the narrative challenges inherit to that.

I didn’t want to hijack their post to write about it, so here we are.

First off, hi my name is Griffin North. If you know me at all, you probably are familiar with my GW2 fan comic, Tora Steals Things (over at ToraStealsThings.com) or you know me as that random person who wrote an essay several months back about the dying tumblr fandom of GW2 that ironically blew up.

What a lot of you probably don’t know about me is that I studied Game Design for two years and have a Diploma in it. Part of what I studied was in fact narrative in games so this is where most of my knowledge on the subject comes from, consider this my disclaimer and take it for what it is.

Narrative in MMOs

Narrative in videogames is a huge topic but today I really want to talk about MMOs in general. One of the problems I saw with the post that inspired this was a comparison between Guild Wars and several fantasy games that are single player.

The demands between a single player game vs an MMO for narrative are different!

If you want to make an earnest study of Guild Wars compared to other games, it’s best to stay in the same ballpark: look at what WoW or what FFXIV are doing! That’s how you find differences! Unfortunately, I haven’t played WoW since 2007 and I haven’t even touched FFXIV so I can’t personally dive into those differences myself.

For the purpose of this essay, you can consider this as a case study of how Guild Wars 2 specifically deals with the narrative challenge of MMOs here (and why this leads to it feeling more communal as a story), but if anyone reading has anything to contribute on how other MMOs handle this I’d love to hear it!

Let’s talk about the main challenge of writing a story for an MMO

Say some new story content drops in game: you get a letter saying to go talk to a certain NPC on the map to progress the story. So you go do that only to find that said NPC is talking to a whole crowd of other players doing the exact same thing. Even as you talk to the NPC and he delivers his lines like he’s only talking to you, you know that isn’t the case -you’re not stupid after all.

Like it or not, this moment breaks the immersion of the story for a player, and this is the heart of the main issue MMOs contend with:

How do you make a player feel like the main character amongst a sea of main characters?

Game Designers want you as a player to feel special but this is immensely easier to do in a single player game than a multiplayer game. In an MMORPG, they have to deliver story that makes your character special while contending with the fact that as soon as you’re released into the world you’ll meet several other special characters played by other people. It’s really hard to feel like the magic hero with the master sword if everyone you see is also a magic hero with the master sword - get it?

How does Guild Wars handle this?

Heavy Use of Instancing

I don’t know how common this is now but when I first played Guild Wars 2, one of the things I really noticed was their heavy use of instancing when delivering story beats compared to other MMOs I’d played at the time. It’s not an elegant solution, you literally get torn out of the normal game world to play your own instance of it and that’s jarring, but it’s effective in that it allows you to be the main character of that instance. Even if you bring along friends, so long as you own the instance, your character is the one that speaks and is shown in cutscenes. Fairly simple solution, that.

The narrative immersion only really starts to break once you’re back out in the normal PvE maps with other players, and honestly there’s only so much the game can do about that.

To deal with that they contextualize the other players to justify them being there.

Guild Wars 2 narrative contextually allows space for other important player characters to exist because so much of it is organized as a war effort, and this does make a huge difference. Because you’re at war, those other players do not have to be you, the commander, to be significant. They can be various other members of the pact for example -very shiny, glittery disasters with special weapons pact members, but pact members all the same.

Guild Wars is definitely not unique in this approach though, and I think that’s obvious. World of Warcraft has you as a member of one of two different alliances at war as the game’s basic premise. I wouldn’t be surprised if FFXIV has some sort of war in it as well. It’s the easiest way to justify why these other heroes are running around in your adventure: you’re the special one, and they’re all a bunch of soldiers.

Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t fully solve the whole breaking immersion of having a crowd of people talking to a story NPC, but this is one of the ways games like this combat the “everyone is the hero” problem.

If you’re following so far, this is why, by design, MMOs can’t be too individualistic

A war effort is a common backdrop to these kind of games because it easily justifies the multitude of players in it, but this also inevitably means that the story is going to be more communal in nature. You don’t/can’t fight a war alone.

There’s one other thing that Guild Wars does though, that makes it feel less individualistic as a narrative...

The Main Character is Special Adjacent

What I mean by this is that the main character is rarely the one the story is actually about. They’re still special, yes, but they’re special adjacent as in they’re always beside the actual special character for the story. Think about player rage about Trahearne or Kormir taking player credit and you’ll know what I’m talking about here.

The reason they do this is because it’s really hard to tell a good story about a character who’s basically a blank slate - we can’t know how the player characterizes them personally or what they’re even named. Characterize the commander too much and you risk alienating parts of your audience who view their character differently. Giving them too much of a character arc leads to the same problem. The solution then, is to allow the player to be special in SOME way but have the focus be on a different character that they CAN characterize and have grow.

Usually you’re special in how you relate to that character: you’re Trahearne’s Commander, you’re Aurene’s Champion, you’re the Boss of the various characters in Dragon’s Watch, etc. This is why the player character, the commander, doesn’t have as much growth or characterization compared to the rest of the cast.

The main character is special adjacent so that you can have your fully customized mmo character and still be the main character basically. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is true of other MMOs as well.

And this is why games like this feel less individualistic

It’s by design of how MMOs work -that’s really my point here. I love the world of Guild Wars 2 and how much of it feels like we’re fighting to save the world from ourselves or fighting nature (I see some parallels to real world shit like climate change here), but I do think it’s communal nature has more to do with it being an MMO than any real strength of its narrative.

Anyway, that’s all I got.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[wiseabsol]

Let’s talk about why it’s a bad idea if Karrin Murphy’s fate is final.

Some quotes to consider:

pg. 217: “See that this warrior is laid in state,” [Mab] said, and moved her head in a curt gesture toward the Bean. “She has shared our enemies and earned our respect, and so shall it be known amongst my vassals and to the furthest reaches of my kingdom.”

pg. 366: “You tell Odin that Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden says, upon his Name, that if he doesn’t treat Murph better than I would myself, I’m going to kick down his door, pluck his fucking ravens, knock him down, kick his guts out, drag him to the island, and lock him up in a cell with Ethniu [ . . . ] I beat a divine being once [ . . . ] If I have to build a nation to get it done, I’ll do it again.”

pg. 366: Gard shook her head. “Not until the memory of her has faded from the minds of those who knew her. That is the limit not even the All-father may cross.”

So what points can we draw from this?

- According to Gard, Murphy cannot return to Earth until her memory has faded from the minds of those who knew her. This, presumably, includes immortals, whose memories last for a very long time. If this is truly the case, then Murphy cannot participate in the BAT. She and Hendricks will be benched for Ragnarok. In short: Murphy is fucked. 

- Dresden has sealed away a Titan and is willing to do the same to a god. He is currently planning to build his own magical community. Would it really be that surprising if he is willing and able to do something that a god cannot in a future book? Especially when, as mentioned above, Murphy is fucked?

But let’s unpack this more:

First, let’s look at this from a writing standpoint. Why does this rule need to be in place? The short answer is that Butcher is covering his bases. Once we, the readers, learn that Odin has snatched Murphy’s body and is making her into an einherjar, we feel a burst of hope and relief. After all, we’ve seen einherjar before, so doesn’t that mean that we can look forward to Murphy returning at a later date?

Butcher doesn’t want us to think that, though. He wants us to feel as though she’s gone forever...even though we know that the BAT, aka Ragnarok, is coming up, and the einherjar are destined to fight in it. So how does he try to throw us off? He comes up with something that feels...contrived. Something that isn’t a part of the einherjar myth. “She can’t come back! Because--because everyone has to forget about her first! Yes, that’s it! Her fate is final because of this rule I’m only just now saying is a thing!”

But why should we buy this? This is a series in which Dresden is constantly pushing past his own limitations and the roadblocks placed in front of him, and where other characters aren’t afraid to do the same. It’s a series in which the rules are set up to be broken in creative ways (zombie T-Rex, anyone?). Even reality itself can be shattered (and why set that up in Battle Ground if you’re not going to do it in the BAT?).

Aside from that, though, if Murphy really is gone, then we’re left with some problems:

1. Murphy’s death is pointless. As much as Butcher tries to have the characters say that she died fighting a Jotun, she didn’t. She was killed on accident by a scared cop. That’s not satisfying. It could have been if it had more set-up across multiple books, and if Murphy had spent some time grappling with poorly trained officers and cases of police brutality (maybe even cases in which she’d gone too far). But the Dresden Files is stuck in the 90′s in a lot of ways, complete with valourizing “good cops” like Murphy and chalking up “bad cops” like Rudolph to a weakness of character, rather than admitting that there’s a problem with the institution as a whole. In short: This isn’t even political commentary on Butcher’s part. It adds absolutely nothing to the series. 

2. Odin making Murphy into an einherjar is arguably a Fate Worse Than Death for her, rather than a reward. Why? First, her Catholic faith has been ignored. Her soul is not going to the god she chose (did Odin even ask her if she wanted to go to Valhalla? Did Murphy consider it an honor?). Second, everyone she knows and loves will have to die before she can fight again--and what’s the point of her fighting then? Third, she will be forced to sit out of Ragnarok/the BAT. So Odin, in addition to doing a disservice to Murphy, would be benching a warrior during the End Times. How does that make strategic sense? Also, if he’s not going to use his shiny new einherjar, why make her into one at all? Why not just let her be buried and let her soul go to her own god?

3. How much agency does Murphy have in this scenario? Would she really accept the above rule and choose to not help her friends with her new powers? Does that sound like her?

4. If Murphy stays gone, it means that yet another woman has been written out of the story to give Dresden manpain. That’s exhausting, especially considering how poorly Butcher has treated his female characters in the past. Losing Murphy, who is arguably our main female character, feels like adding insult to injury after what happened with Susan, Molly, Lash, and so many others. Why should female readers keep reading a series in which almost every woman character is tortured, killed, or transformed against their will?  

5. Murphy and Marcone were the last important vanilla mortals. If she’s gone for good, then between that and Marcone now being magical, we are left with a series in which normal people--including those with disablilites--can’t survive and make a difference in the fight between magical forces. They’re victims to be protected by Dresden--and thus don’t have agency--or canon fodder if they do get involved. While I suspect that Randy will act as their voice in future books, losing both Murphy and the non-magical Marcone is a blow that I’m not sure the series can recover from. As one reader put it, it’s hard for us to see ourselves in this world anymore, considering that there are no characters like us left in it. Granted, this is a problem even if Murphy returns as an einherjar. But Murphy didn’t have to die in this book, so this problem could have been avoided.   

6. And on a more petty note: Teasing a Dresden and Murphy relationship for ten+ books, and then throwing it away in one, is a nasty thing to do to the readers who were invested in that subplot. “Characters in happy relationships aren’t compelling” is also a weak excuse for doing it, considering that those characters have more to fight for when the world is ending. Finally, just to point out something small: Murphy had sex with Dresden for the first time on the evening of Day 1 of the peace talks, then died on the morning of Day 4. That’s not cool. Butcher can do better.

[summerofsixtytwo]

a check-in on tj

i’ve been feeling a little compelled as a student of transformative justice (tj) to check-in from within the middle of a pandemic & write about my thoughts on tj; everything i want to continue learning & all the things i wish i knew before & it feels like the correct time for me given just how much has happened & continues to happen this year alone. 

i wanted to check in because tj can feel complicated. because sometimes the work of accountability is difficult to process and understand & i want to share what i know & what i feel might be useful in these moments. 

i want to begin by saying that most of the time when i write about the world, politics or love, i write knowing that the things i think about constantly & the visions of the world i want to live in have originated from majority Black and woc feminist, abolitionist & tj practitioners.

i want to name this & uplift the work of people like mia mingus, mariame kaba, shira hassan, adrienne maree brown & the countless number of people practicing transformative justice & those that have birthed the language for us to be able to engage in constant & evolving dialogue. 

i am consistently & eagerly reading their work & i am in awe of the way they articulate their visions for accountability. this is why i consider myself a student of tj & i want to preface by saying that by no means do i consider myself someone who has mastered transformative justice. i am just an eager student.

okay. here i go.

when i think about tj & why i am so interested in it’s importance i can’t help but to think about my childhood.

i learned complexity at a very early age. i grew up a queer kid in a Jehovah’s witness home. at 6 or 7 years old, i mastered hiding who i was. i learned as a little kid that being fully authentic in my world implicated tragedy. at 8, i faced decisions like that of being genuine about my queerness or preserving what i thought was relative safety.

unknowingly, i was forced into a deep understanding of complexity. i learned to hold multiple truths at once. i knew my parents loved me, i knew they were providing me with things necessary to survive but at the same time, i understood that i had to compromise parts of me in order to receive their love. 

as an adult, i understand that it shouldn’t have been that way, that i was deserving of unconditional love & that in fact, all queer kids are deserving of unconditional love as children.

like so many of us, i also endured physical, sexual &  emotional harm as a child & as a teenager (that i will not go into extensively here) but growing up was complicated & i want us to be able to sit with the reality that we can love people who have harmed us & more than anything sit with the truth that this reality is complicated, hard to digest and even more hard to explain. 

i want to quote roxanne gay who communicates so well in her book “hunger” how i understand the complexity of love. she says: 

“We don’t necessarily know how to hear stories about any kind of violence, because it is hard to accept that violence is as simple as it is complicated, that you can love someone who hurts you, that you can stay with someone who hurts you, that you can be hurt by someone who loves you, that you can be hurt by a complete stranger, that you can be hurt in so many terrible, intimate ways.”

for me, a fundamental part of understanding transformative justice is to begin to feel comfortable with complexity & to lean towards it even when it gets really hard & uncomfortable. it’s also fundamental to be able to stay true to our values of a world without prisons & police even when our instincts tell us to lean towards punishment & vengeance which our world is already so full of.

as an abolitionist, i want this this understanding to lead all of the political movement work i engage in & the work of deepening my connections with the people around me. i want to remember principled struggle when it gets very difficult to process when someone around me in movement spaces causes harm or makes a mistake.

i want us to abandon the harm-doer vs. survivor binary that we’re so skilled at. i want us to practice being invested in looking at how the punitive systems live within us and not necessarily just outside of us. i want us to remember that all of us love someone who has caused harm & that because this true, accountability is hard work.

i want us practice resolving small conflict amongst us so that we can get really good at mediating & resolving large forms of harm. i want us to practice being in right relationship with each other so that it is easier to tell each other how we feel & grow larger, more profound commitments to each other.

this is a lot of work - but i know we can do it. i know we can hold each other far better than the state can.

but to do this we have to be more intentional about our language. we have to be able to distinguish between harm, conflict, disagreements, mistakes & violence. we can’t conflate them. we can’t demand that everyone understands what has happened & agree to cancel someone because we haven’t yet processed and distinguished the differences between conflict & violence.

we have to be comfortable when we assess & determine that what happened was a misunderstanding & resist the urge to name it harm even if our feelings at the moment blur this truth.

we also have to be very committed to understand the implications of accountability & what it means to demand it. we have to understand that most of the time, accountability entails a process with mediation. accountability takes commitment. accountability is a time commitment & holding someone accountable very rarely happens on the internet. it take a lot more than that.

i want us to get to a place where we can be honest with ourselves & the world when all we want is revenge. because it is valid. we are human. but i don’t want us to continue confusing it with accountability. this is important.

think of conflict as generative.

i want to get us to a place where we look at conflict as a natural part of human connection. i want us to accept that conflict is imminent & normal. i want us to invite it and commit to conflict as long as it is generative. i don’t think any social justice spaces exist where conflict doesn’t exist with it. we have to be able to accept that conflict & disagreement are bound to happen & that we have to get really good at holding it & looking at it as normal part of the human experience.

normalize conflict so that we are better at distinguishing harm & violence from disagreements. 

i think these are a few ways to practice transformative justice in small ways. shifting the culture from a punitive one to one that is more analytical of how we are in connection to each other.

i am so interested in the personal commitment that i have to the abolition of prisons & the police but i know that to get to that we have to be able to work endlessly on the relationships we have with each other.

i am queer. i am aging. and eventually i will get sick and depend on other people.

this is the truth. all of us are aging. most of us grew up in communities with much shorter life expectancies than for example white people. so many of us will inherit illness & one day we will need people to take care of us. if this doesn’t push me to work towards collectivism, mutual aid and love for each other, i don’t know what does. 

if i’m being honest, i am worried. i am worried about our future. what will happen when we cancel each other out of our existence? how can we practice accountability that isn’t scary? 

how can we hold each other accountable in ways that say:

“hey, you fucked up & right now you’re not allowed to be in this place among those you harmed. here’s some materials for you to study that will help you understand why you fucked up. here’s your group of friends that are committed to abolition that are gonna help you understand how you fucked up. and you’re probably not allowed to be in the space ever or until it is clear that you have understood why you fucked up and that some clear, concise & reasonable demands from those you’ve harmed have been met.”

& not a complete shame campaign that freezes, immobilizes & replicates the tactics we say we are committed to fighting & ending. 

tj takes time - it takes discipline. it’s hard work.

i believe that we can get there. we have to. there’s a whole apocalypse happening right now that we need to be able to survive & surviving rarely happens alone.

[faranae]

If you don’t mind me asking but how can the word queer be used as a positive thing to say about the LGBT community, As every time I hear it it has been used in the negative way.

First thing’s first: I’m very sorry that’s been your experience Nonny. I don’t mind you asking at all, but it’s just not an easy question to answer. 

Here’s the thing: I’m not an educator. I’m just one queer dude trying to fight for the right to identify myself as I see fit without being tackled to the floor and accused of being a “cis white neurotypical homophobe” for it. (I do wish I were exaggerating, but my inbox has been hella wild this week and I can assure you I am maybe one of those things, possibly two but I am honestly just not ready to dive into the technicalities of what qualifies as cis right now.) 

As for your question: I can give my own take on things, but I’m the first to admit it will be biased. 

Story time! Long post incoming:

I hail from a tiny village in Ontario, Canada, where I was raised by my grandparents. 

Where I grew up in the early-mid 90′s and beyond, queer was used as a slur just as much if not less frequently than gay, lesbian, dyke, butch, twink, and any number of currently acceptable(?) LGBTQ+ terminology. Consider this my point of argument, I suppose: A good portion of the stigma is absolutely based in locale/environment. In my personal history, they were all bad. Especially since baby Fara was raised in the Roman Catholic school system. 

Then came the opportunity to leave: I was accepted into a specialized arts program at a high school in the city. I moved away, and nosy neighbours and an unshakeable reputation were traded in for public transportation and being lost in the crowd. It was the best thing to happen to my baby gay life. 

Ninth grade was a wild awakening. I’d already known for years that I wasn’t exactly “normal”, but the sudden exposure to all of these divergent teenagers was really something. I was quickly adopted into this massive group of queer peers, and there was a lot of education in that short year as I learned about myself and others through them. 

We were the group of kids that took up a good third of the cafeteria every free period, playing Magic: the Gathering and euchre and singing songs and laughing amongst each other. We were the theater kids, the artsies, the techs, and the nerds. We outnumbered the jocks and other social stereotypes by a decent margin. A quick social media check on my part shows most of those kids identify as LGBT, queer, or otherwise allies in their adult lives. 

Those kids taught me that queer was a weapon for us as much as it was for “them”. Someone on the bus calls you gay? Turn on your heel and plant an innocent kiss on your best friend’s cheek. Don’t be vulgar, but absolutely fight for what you believe in. Some were… Considerably more aggressive in their acts of expression. Queer was ours. It was what we made it. What that old lady on the bus said with disgust, we held over our heads with pride. 

A lot went wrong after 9th grade. My mother pulled me from the arts program and as such I was sent to a brand new school elsewhere in the city. What happened there made it very clear that experiences are not universal. Where I’d previously had a massive group of support and strength, I found myself forced back into the closet for my own safety. 

Not only was “queer” a negative expression once again, it was violent. 

Within a week of reluctantly admitting to a counselor at this new school that I wasn’t straight, I was very publicly pulled from PhysEd and assigned an isolated changing room for the rest of the semester. Only a few days later and my new peers suspected I was “one of the gays”, all without me saying a single thing in public about it. 

Make no mistake: I was a shy, quiet kid for the most part. I tried to be brave and embrace the change as I’d learned from my peer group at the first school. I made the mistake of wearing a pride pin to school after that; my quiet little rebellion against what they’d started to say about me. I held my chin up through the glares where I could, and shot coy smiles at those who used those words against me like they were supposed to mean something unforgivable. I even called a few girls pretty out of spite. (They were actually quite pretty, but also very ugly on the inside.) 

My “cocky” and “unapologetic” refusal to be insulted was met with a group of girls beating the everloving shit out of me while I waited for the bus after school that day. All because I was “queer”. I didn’t go back. 

A lot’s happened since then: I dropped out of high school and got my GED as soon as I was legally able. I found my tribe again after that, and reconnected with a good chunk of the original crowd. I discovered there was a word and culture based around my take on how relationships should be (polyamorous). I got married. Had a kid. Bought a binder. Did a lot of living and made a lot of mistakes. Still am. 

I hunted for literal years trying to find one word, one flag, one identity that fit me. What I wanted. Where I belonged. I was especially sore about it whenever Pride Month rolled around:

(From the end of pride month in 2018)

Most terms that seemed to fit always had some exceptions or exclusions that turned me off or disqualified me from using them by saying I straight-up wasn’t welcome. It was only in the past couple years that I finally said “fuck it” and settled on “Queer”, an identity I’d had since ninth grade but always wrote off as “too vague”. I hadn’t realized that it wasn’t vague, it was intentionally inclusive of anyone who wanted to use it. 

And that, that’s the important distinction there I suppose. Are there those who don’t want to use queer or find it makes them uncomfortable? Absolutely, and that should be respected. We all have different experiences; different origins that paint our perspective of what is and is not acceptable. To some queer is power or comfort, it’s rebellion, it’s a fist in the air screaming that we exist and aren’t going anywhere. To others, it just digs at old wounds. To another group, they read that it was a bad word online and dug their heels in. 

The problem lies in that only one side of this argument seems to be respecting those distinctions. If one does or doesn’t want the Q in LGBTQ to apply to them, that’s their choice. You don’t see gay dudes up in arms saying “There shouldn’t be an L in LGBTQ since I’m not a Lesbian and I don’t appreciate people implying I am.” Or you shouldn’t see that, anyway. And yet we see that very thing happening with the Q. 

Members of our community are being pitted against each other by people who have no business instigating such fights. The same rhetoric and strategies are being used to shove queer out of the spectrum as are being used to exclude aro/ace and bi folk, and trans to a point as well. 

The culture itself is being twisted. People aren’t looking into why and how queer has come back into the spotlight as a “slur”, when we’ve been peacefully using it ourselves and reclaiming it since the late 80′s. Hell, we were “queer” before we were ever “gay,” with that use of the word originating in the 1800′s (gay popped up as an alternative to homosexual in the early to mid 1900s). 

In 2005, when same-sex marriage was legalized nationwide here, we threw parties and held each other and cried at how far our queer butts had come. 

In 2020, I look at the next generation on social media and see them screaming that my identity is now an unforgivable and homophobic slur. 

I hope you can understand where I’m a little skeptical and even bitter here. 

We’re going backwards, and it hurts. 

So yeah. Queer is seen differently by many people based on our experiences and exposures. Unfortunately that paints it in very different lights in different corners of the community. 

I am queer. At no point will I ever apply that label to another person who doesn’t want it to be. In my experience anyone who implies that “the queers are trying to force you to be queer too” is either very ignorant, very misinformed, or malicious in their intent. 

It’s no different than the “foreigners are going to take our jobs”, ���gays will corrupt our children”, or “foreign religions will take away our freedoms” arguments. They are started and spread with malicious intent, and latched on to by those who don’t yet know any better. It’s why civil discussion is so, so very important. 

Thank you for asking so politely, Nonny. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do much more than give some personal anecdotes, but the use of the word queer is something that isn’t entirely black and white for anyone nowadays. I can’t just pull a bunch of citations out of my butt and say “this is why it’s a good thing”, because it really is subjective you know? 

Besides, this is my blog, not my old Comms class in college. Nobody’s convincing me to write a full APA-compliant essay on the subject unless they’re paying or professionally grading me on it. 

[writeitdown-wid]

Identity

I wish we, as a black community, could stop using the "white boy" nickname on our light skin brothers, friends, and sons. We all have some idea of ourselves now but growing up and trying to discover who you are, in a society full of labels, can be confusing.

Put yourself in the shoes of a child, trying to find out who you are, being called the N-word out in one huge community(...) but a white-boy in the community you call home. Who do you listen to?

Imagine being followed around stores, harassed by police, and being told you can't date people's daughters, to then go to the community you call home and be called a name tied to your oppressors. Which somehow makes you less understanding of the oppression because "since you're lighter, they must treat you better." Right?

So where do you fit in?

As an ADULT we should know it's with us all cause in reality, to them we're all the same. We don't live in the times of "house ni**as" and "field ni**as" anymore, we on level plain field in the grand scheme of things. Light skin brothers names still get turned down on resumes. Still get looked over for promotions. Still gotta be the one black voice in those damn diversity meetings reminding people what they know damn well they can't say and why.

All the hate tied to the color off skin started with them, don't take part in it.

We must not be divided because that's what they did that got us here in the first place.

We must not compare struggle because we struggle together.

And we must not fight each other because we have a bigger battle to win.

I know it can be used endearingly amongst some, trust me i understand that too, but you never know who's ears are around. Hearing is believing.

Everyone understands things differently, we don't know what's going on in someones head. Not everyone is so strong all the time, THINK about what you say. The only truth is we're not always right, always be willing to grow ✊🏽✌🏽

[everythingjacksepticeye]

Deep Speculations #1

Okay, so this month I've really just sat down and put my thoughts together for when it comes to the Jse Egos. I've thrown my thoughts out before, but I feel like I've only done so during moments when the community is on fire and everyone's rapidly throwing out scattered theories by the hour, so I thought  that maybe it was time to just sit down and really think about it  and write while I'm calm and can analyze everything more closely. 

My main focus will be the theory of multi universes/realities. I honestly think out of all the theories out there, this one makes the most sense to me when it comes to figuring where all the egos come from and who they are as a whole. I'm not completely sure how many "universes" there are, but I do think that some of the egos do share the same universe as some of them are aware of each other. Personally, I believe that Chase, Henrik, Jack, and us (the fans) share the same universe. I include us because I like to remind myself and others that even though we're not egos ourselves we still play an important role in everything and since we're Jacksepticeye fans I feel like it's kind of a no brainer that we share the same universe as him. Chase is also friends with both Henrik and Jack so that's what lead me to believe that they would likely share the same universe as well.

Just to include to what I said above, in most of my theories I do visualize that Chase and Jack share the protagonist role during all of this - I don’t think it’s just one or the other. I feel like Chase gets quite a bit of spotlight because he’s the one who tries to help Jack by taking over the channel while he’s in a coma and I’m sure that he and Henrik are likely the ones who are working the hardest to get Jack back. 

Moving on to JJ and Marvin - before JJ's latest video, I originally thought that out of all the egos he might have his own universe due to the old silent movie style he shows up in, but I after watching his video in October of 2019 and noticing there were small hints of Marvin on his puppet stand, I briefly wondered if it could be possible that the two of them share the same universe. Those hints could have easily meant something else, but I thought it could actually make a lot of sense because magicians were quite popular back in the day entertainment wise - so maybe Marvin's original universe is, indeed, the same as JJ's. Another theory I thought may be possible is that JJ and Marvin may be apart of the same universe as one of the other's - just from an earlier time - which would possibly bring in the idea that Marvin may have figured out the ability of time travel.

Then finally, I feel like it's almost a given that Jackie and Anti share the same universe as one another as they're both arch-enemies of each other. I have these two separated from the others because I have a very strong suspicion that out of all of them, Anti and Jack are not from the same universe. I personally feel like Anti is the true alter ego of Jack out of all the egos. All the other egos feel like their own person - at least to me. I feel like there is probably qualities of Jack in all of them, but Anti has always struck me as a true parallel. Each time I try to break it down to what he might possibly be, I've come to a conclusion that he's likely a corrupted Jack of another universe and even shares the same real name - Seán William McLoughlin - as well. My theory behind his tendency to appear unstable/glitchy whenever he makes an appearance is due to the fact that he's not supposed to be in the same universe as our Jack, because - in a sense - they're the same person and maybe whatever "laws"  these universes have freak out when the same person is in the same universe at the same time - thus the invasive individual has a hard time remaining stable in that universe because it's constantly trying to throw them back into their own. 

I think in his universe, Anti is a villain and Jackie is his hero counterpart. It's likely that he's hated amongst the citizens that occupy that world. This lead me to believe that it could also be possible that JJ and Marvin may or may not be apart of their universe too - perhaps Anti has devastated their world enough that a certain magician decided to help a certain hero time travel back to stop Anti? And maybe - there was a first attempt that ultimately failed and ended breaking things - such as timelines and realities? Either way I think something happened that lead Anti to discover the existence of Jack's universe. And going back to what I mentioned earlier, I do believe that Anti is another universe's Jack, so I think some part of him legitimately craved the attention of fans who love him - there have been moments that I've noticed that Anti seems to genuinely enjoying his time with us - in his own very terrifying way and I also believe that's the reason why he's always puts extra effort to stay one step ahead of us - because this something he actually cares about. He doesn't want to lose us - his stolen audience. That's likely why he also gets frustrated by certain things that revolve around us as well and leads to the reason as to why we feel like there’s been moments where it felt like we were the ones he is after. I feel like he became jealous of this "other Jack" and wanted what he had - so he ended up trying to take his place and that's when everything started to go haywire - because out of all of the others he's not supposed to be in our reality.

One way or another, I have a feeling that Anti knew this and that's why he put Jack into a coma. Perhaps his original intention was to knock Jack out and throw him into the universe he came from - just so things would be "balanced' and he wouldn't have to always fight to exist in our reality. Knowing his personality, his original intent may have actually been simply to kill Jack and that would be that - but I think there's something that prevents him from doing that because Jack has never truly died. I think there may be a possibility that there's a some sort of "rule" of some sort that if you kill your true alter ego - then perhaps you'll die yourself - so instead Anti decided to go the route of putting Jack into a coma just to be safe.  I feel like he still hasn't achieved throwing Jack into another universe, though, because there's still moments where there's a glitch here or there, but I do think that he's either getting closer to that goal or he's simply become strong enough over the years that either way - he's able to resist those effects to a certain extent now.

By the end of it, it's hard to tell how all the egos are connected, but I do believe that Marvin is likely a key factor in all of it. I feel like he may have tried to help - be it either trying to change a timeline or maybe he's actually more of a neutral party and attempted to toss Anti into another universe with thought in mind that "they could deal with him - we've already had enough". Not much is known about Marvin and where he stands in all of this, so that's why I'm not really too sure about him. Maybe he's regretting his actions now and is trying to bring everyone together to set things right once more? Which could explain that reoccurring spiral/noise effect in the Chase, Henrik, and JJ  clips. JJ and Chase didn't visually have the spiral like Henrik, but all three videos shared the same sound and I'm wondering if that's Marvin's magic at work trying to bring everyone to one place.

If Marvin is Anti's accomplice/or friend, however, then that would change everything. I'm a bit skeptical of this theory, but if I went along with it - then it could be possible that Marvin is doing just the opposite and trying prevent the others from stopping Anti. It is a bit hard to believe that EVERYONE is completely against Anti - so there have been times when I've wondered that maybe he has a partner somewhere among the egos.

Or maybe he has a complete agenda of his own? Maybe this started with him experimenting and meddling with time and universe travel and that started off all of these events in the first place. For all we know, in the clip with Henrik that could have been research notes he recently discovered - written by Marvin himself. Until we get an actual video of Marvin and more details about him - I think out of all the egos he’s kind of the hardest to pinpoint at this moment.

I think that’s all of my thoughts as of right now. Feel free to comment below and add in your own! I really enjoy reading other theories and I also like to hear feedback about my own. :) 

Thank you for taking the time to read this! I know know it’s a lot to take in.

[zanth-i]

Bonjour-Hi! I was born and raised in Montreal. But I don’t quite belong.

Because speaking a language is not the same as having a voice.

Here’s a story that may resonate with many first-generation immigrants. We may be born in Canada, but because our parents weren’t, we’re not considered bona fide Canadians, and our ethnic upbringing does little to wean us as such. We’re raised with pride for our heritage and develop everlasting patriotism — for our parents’ country of origin. We’re the quasi Canadians, well aware that with every passing generation, we become, well, more Canadian. But even so, one’s roots are not easily forgotten, if ever. Cultural indoctrination has proven its permanency.

So why is it that in a seemingly open-minded city where I’m free to live true to my heritage, I often feel like I don’t belong?

I was born in the late ’70s to Greek parents in Montreal, Quebec. My parents settled here in the mid-’60s. They’d planned on staying for 5 years but stayed for more than 50 (and it’s surely not because they couldn’t resist the good weather). They spent most of their life in this city because it became their home. My late mother always said that she had two motherlands: the one where she was born and lived as a young girl, and the other where she grew and lived as a grown woman. My father still stands by their decision to move here, though wishes they’d retired there (something to do with the weather, again).

While my parents faced many challenges and weren’t always greeted with a welcoming smile, I’d like to center this piece on some of my reflections on being raised Greek in a French Canadian province.

Like most immigrants, my parents held on tight to their traditions. As they began to settle into the city, ex-pats came together and gave rise to Greek media, educational, social, and religious institutions. And of course, they introduced Montrealers to Greek food.

Us kids, we inevitably made friends with our kind and upheld such a strong sense of community so immersive that our “Xeni” (foreign) friends would eventually “turn Greek” and become all too familiarized with our way of life. We’d speak English amongst ourselves (sometimes Greek), but Greek with our parents (sometimes English). And if not every year, every other year, as kids, many of us spent our summers off at our respective parents’ birthplace, “back home” in Greece, visiting our grandparents. As adults, many of us still make it a point to return and often. And we still unreservedly boast about our beautiful motherland.

While my parents made sure I spoke Greek fluently and knew my roots well, they were adamant about me learning to speak French, as “this was the language of the future in Quebec” my mother would counsel. So when I was 7, she pulled me out of the Greek educational system asserting that their French curriculum wasn’t sufficiently robust, and instead put me in an all-french school, where I experienced major culture shock. And to accelerate my learning (along with my shock), she also signed me up for French swimming lessons, French scouts, and French camp. Oh, and I was only allowed French tv and was to speak to my big sister exclusively in French, for a whole year. As you gather, she lent high importance to the French language, and I in turn learned to speak it fluently, and also to eventually forgive my mother for her militant (but in the end effective) ways.

Now — while I love speaking in French — I find myself consciously choosing to say hello rather than bonjour. Largely because I feel we’ve taken the language policing too far. For this, I direct my disappointment to the Office Québécois de la langue Française (OQLF) whose efforts may be well-intentioned but I feel are misplaced. And the Coalition Avenir Québec’s recent decision to inject funds into the OQLF especially during a pandemic while we’re literally fighting for our lives is a bitter reminder of the powerful provincialism we’re regularly faced with. It’s no longer about speaking French, it’s become about not speaking English. And to then have the minister responsible for the French language in Quebec say that this “is not against English institutions,” and “we can do both — respect English institutions but also respect French in our society” is playing offense.

Without making this article about the laws of the OQLF, it will suffice to say that the laws along with the board were created out of fear that the French language would go extinct in Quebec. That said, it’s important to note that the French hold a majority in Quebec. But their concern with having their heritage eclipsed, nods to the anglophone/allophone influential minority. Also to consider is that Quebec (begrudgingly to some) is in Canada, where anglophones are of majority. Naturally, in came the language laws with the mission to protect the French language in a primarily English-speaking nation. It’s only natural to want to secure your kind and colony.

For those of you that don’t live here, I want to clarify: No one will arrest or fine you for speaking in whatever language you wish amongst your friends and family. It’s when you seek to operate professionally — as an employee or business owner — , and seek service of any kind that things get sticky. Businesses are subjected to fines if they don’t abide by the language rules. And people are subjected to discrimination, plain and simple. French fanatics will not literally convict you, cuff you, and lock you up for not speaking French, it just feels that way.

I believe it is moot point to argue historical events and statistics in an attempt to prove or disprove the language laws, because in the end what matters most is people’s current state of mind and wellbeing. And if Black Lives Matter has taught us anything, it’s that history often needs a rethink, and room for redemption. With that in mind, our elected leaders and citizens of this province should be asking themselves “how do yesteryear laws continue to serve us?”

I understand that the French want to maintain their heritage in Quebec — it’s really the same for everyone settling onto any land. But I feel our Provincial government is stirring up a storm only to later justify its self-serving plebiscite.

If their true intent is to segregate the citizens of this province, I suspect that things will worsen with time and anglophones/allophones will eventually protest and march with #OurVoiceMatters banners in hand.

Some of my Francophone friends that are here fresh from France complain of being picked on for their accent. Some anglo/allophone friends often cope with disapproving glares for speaking in their mother tongue. And some of my pure laine friends think anglos are arrogant and dismissive of Quebec language and culture. If none of this resonates with you and you feel that there’s no race problem in Quebec, you’re likely part of the problem.

I remember wishing a francophone a happy Canada day (in French) and being met with a dry “I don’t celebrate that” as she handed me the flowers I’d just purchased from her shop at the Atwater market. And such racist and discriminatory occurrences are constant in everyday life here. Especially online where you’ll find no shortage of Anglophones complaining about some language-related fines, and Francophones coming to the OQLF’s defense, leaving low-brow remarks ordering anglos to pack up and leave if they don’t like it.

Here’s the thing, as a first-generation immigrant, I can assure you that just because I speak the French language doesn’t mean that I’ve given French-Quebec culture a voice.

If I was born to Greek parents in Montreal, QC, Canada, what is my country of origin?

My name is a dead giveaway of my ethnic background. When I’m asked where I’m from, I’m reminded of the struggle between being born somewhere but *really* originally being from somewhere else.

Being born in Quebec doesn’t make me a Québecoise any more than being born at the Jewish general hospital doesn’t make me Jewish.

Ironically, in Greece, I’m called a foreigner. Growing up Greek in Montreal, is not the same as growing up Greek in Greece. Goes to show how culture unavoidably breeds bias and immigration ushers it along.

Consider the saying “when in Rome, do as the Romans do”

So when in Quebec, do as…whom?

Think of the last time you traveled and how you were absorbed by the culture and became enchanted with their way of life. Now consider someone traveling here. What are they absorbing and experiencing?

Most say they love our multicultural vibe. And this perhaps defines Quebec culture — our hodgepodge of many cultures. And so making sure everyone speaks French or else, does very little to raise and cultivate the French-Quebec culture. Hence SNL’s latest ‘bonjour-hi’ skit, a spoof that caused upset amongst Quebecers especially francophones, that Bowen Yang issued an “apology” for missing the mark.

Many are unacquainted with Quebec heritage and culture because its people are preocupied with language correction, instead of cultural connection.

I humbly suggest they stop staring at the tree and instead take notice of the forest. Culture is more than language. It takes a lot more to maintain heritage and identity. This language battle only speaks to cultural impotence. Ask any immigrant who has no language charters and laws in place to secure their language and identity, but still has managed to preserve them. A powerful culture speaks for itself, in whatever language it chooses and its pull is so great, that you don’t resist. So instead of focusing on condemning each other for our differences, let’s start exploring how those differences make us fundamentally the same. What binds us will bond us.

I propose we start with the following statement.

#JeSuisQuebecois(e)Parceque…?

[aroacepagans]

Alright so the survey on aro community needs from this post got 30 responses, and with it all being long form I don’t expect to get many more.

So what I’m going to do is give summaries of common themes and answers above the cut for people who don’t want to read through a bunch of text, and then I’m going to put individual answers under the cut for folks who are interested. Please note that these are all anonymous survey answers, and they do not necessarily reflect my opinions. I encourage people to have/start discussions around the topics brought up here so that we can work towards having a mutually fulfilling and cohesive community. 

Summary: 

 What are the community needs of alloaros?

More recognition and visibility both within and outside of the aspec community, aro specific spaces where no one will assume that they’re ace and where they don’t have to be bombarded by ace content, safe spaces to talk about their experiences with sexual attraction, and a wider community acknowledgment that ace and aro don’t mean the same thing. 

What are the community needs of aroaces?

Separate aroace spaces, space and language that allows them to express the interconnectedness of their aro and ace identities, a recognition of the diversity of aroace experiences including the experiences of oriented aroaces and aro leaning aroaces, spaces devoid of both sex and romance, and less infighting between the aro and ace communities. 

What are the community needs of non-SAM aros?

New language that doesn’t enforce the use of SAM as a norm and that doesn’t enforce a SAM/ non-SAM binary, more recognition of aromantic as one whole identity, more inclusion of their identity within aro spaces, and having the ability to label themselves as aro without being asked what their other identity is . 

What are the community needs of greyro/ aro-spec folks?

Specific spaces where they can talk about aromantic attraction, more recognition and visibility both within and outside of the aspec community, more greyro/aro-spec specific resources and content, and a larger platform within the aspec community to discuss their experiences.  

What are the shared needs of these different subgroups within the aro and arospec community?

Increased visibility, spaces free from amatonormativity, safe and unbiased shared spaces for all members of the aro/aro-spec community, separation and distinction from alloaces, more in-person spaces, and a building of understanding and acceptance between the different community subgroups.  

How do we meet all of these needs within an online space?

Better and more formalized tagging systems, creating more forums, chats, tags, etc, that are specific to different aro and arospec subgroups, creating more variety in online aro spaces generally, giving equal online spaces and platforms to all aro subgroups, and having open and polite community discussion about our needs within online aro spaces. 

How do we meet all of these needs within an in-person space?

Use inclusive language, allow for smaller sub-communities within larger aro and aspec groups, provide resources for small, lesser known identities both within groups and at pride, push for more aro inclusion in wider queer spaces and create safe and respectful discussion spaces where everyone can voice their needs  

How do we reconcile conflicting needs?

Civil and open discussions, try to find solutions instead of just arguing, and create separate spaces for subgroups when needed while continuing to maintain larger general spaces for discuison and community building. 

Individual answers:

What are the community needs of alloaros?

1. A space to be aromantic but not asexual. As an alloaro myself, I struggle to relate to many aroaces - and the ace community in general - because my sexuality is a big part of my identity, right along side being aromantic. I want a place where I can discuss how being aromantic affects my sexual attraction without having to focus on one or the other

2.  A place to talk about sexual attraction without being ridiculed or being called a player. Advice about how to go about getting a relationship that fulfills their needs without be demeaned to expected to evolve into romantic.

3.  I'm not alloaro, so I don't feel comfortable speculating on their behalf, but from the perspective of an outsider looking in, they need more visibility, both within and outside of the aro community.

4.  Recognition mostly, acknowledging that asexuals can’t keep putting their stuff into the aro tag, the fact that romance repulsed allo aros exist and are uncomfortable with allo aces putting their stuff everywhere

5.  Aro specific places. I personally don't have to talk about sexuality in general areas but aroallo specific places/sites/tags for this would be great.

6.  Dismantling the assumption that aromanticism is inherently linked to asexuality (even if it is for some individuals, it's most definitely not a hard rule that applies to everybody else), moving away from seeing aroace as the "default" aro experience and in fact not assuming one's other possible identities because they identify as aro at all

7.  Not one myself - probably spaces to find safe hook-ups if desired, to talk amongst themselves

8.  Less ace experience talking over aro experience. Also, not conflating the two identities as one.

9.  I often feel ashamed of the allo part of my identity. I think more visibility would help a lot. It also took a very long time for me to even consider being aro because I was under the impression I had to be ace so separating those ideas would help.

10.  As I’m not allo aro I can’t really say, but a lot of them have been speaking out and saying that they don’t want aro to automatically mean aroace, and that aromantism is not a sub sexuality is asexual

11.  To talk about alloaro specific issues freely, and to not be assumed to be ace or to have to leave our sexualities at the door when entering aro spaces

12.  Increased awareness that one can experience sexual attraction without romantic attraction

13.  To be respected and given a aro-specific space/platform to discuss their needs/issues/etc

14.   A space to not be: assumed ace, confused with aces, forced to avoid talking about how they want sex without romance and how that sexual desire affects them, etc. A space where they can find others like them to help them understand themselves better and make friendships and feel less isolated.

15.  i'm not alloaro so i'm not going to speak for them but like. acknowledging that aro does not mean ace and allowing the aro community to exist outside of the ace umbrella is super important

What are the community needs of aroaces?

1.  Recognition that aro is an equal and completely it's own community but that the community doesn't have to be completely separated.

2.  Separated areas where uniquely aroace experiences can be discussed

3.  Less infighting between the aromantic and asexual communities. You can and should call out hurtful behavior by the other community, but going into isolation mode leaves aroaces stuck in the middle of two sides retreating in on themselves. Aroace issues are aro issues! Aroace issues are ace issues!

4.  Acknowledging that we occupy a unique overlap between the aro and ace communities that no other perioriented people experience (if we can even call ourselves perioriented, since we're basically forced to straddle two communities or else have one aspect of our identity erased); having spaces where we can talk about our aroaceness without having to separate out our identities, when we often can't

5.  Well if you mean just "aroaces" who use it as one word for a convergent orientation they need a place where mixing up and "confusing" an experience as related to their aromanticism when it's more about being ace doesn't get aros yelling at them in the Tumblr tags that they shouldn't tag it aromanticism and they're stupid/horrible hurting aros when they do. They need a place where they can talk about their experiences as very interconnected and inseparable without offending people for whom they are separable. They likely mostly want to learn from allo aros and allo aces what it feels like to be allo so they better understand more of society and don't want to feel alienated from either community of aces as a whole or aros as a whole.

6.  I just want some safe wholesome space. Since I joined the aro community on tumblr couple years back, it just feels like the community is defined by discourse, negativity, fights, petty disagreements and drama. I understand, the community is still in diapers and we need to figure ourselves out, but I feel like we've lost the way. Do we need to react to every troll and hater? Is seriously someone offended by them? Why do we legitimise and acknowledge them as part of the discussion? It's like giving an equal platform to scientists and flat earthers. Is this really how we want to be? If you try to think away all the drama stuff, what's left? Is there anything left at all?

7.  The freedom to find their place in both ace/aro spaces and for people to allow them to use/not use the SAM as they see fit. Perhaps giving non-SAM aroaces some new language?

8.  More community for aro aces. As an aro ace myself I always have to divide time between the aro and ace communities

9.  a space where both identities are recognised as equally important - a space where aro identity isn't seen as a subset of ace identity, or deriving from it - somewhere they can express romance and sex repulsion or lack of thereof

10.  A term that isn’t AroAce. Something that is not just a combination of aromantic and asexual. But to also not be a sub set of allo aro or allo ace. We shouldn’t need to choose which identity is more important and we shouldn’t have to use the SAM.

11.  I think to recognize that there is an aroace spectrum. You can be mlm, wlw, nblnb, etc and still be aroace

12.  Content that doesn't rely on "but we still experience x attraction!", tips for living alone/single, also tips for finding/being in a committed relationship such as a qpr (I personally want a relationship but I have no idea how to even start looking for one)

13.  I am not aroace so my opinion should not carry as much weight as others but from what my aroace friends irl say, I think we need more recognition for oriented aroaces

14.  To be able to talk about the intersection of our identities and how we are uniquely impacted by aphobia

15.  Understanding that not all aroaces feel that their two identifiers hold equal value to them (e.g. aromantic as a primary identity with asexuality as a secondary identity). Letting people focus on the one identity over the other is not an exclusion on the other identity; their preferred identity is just more meaningful in their lifes and/or personal growth.

16.  Available spaces that are not only sexualised spaces (eg clubs), options to avoid discussion of sex, being hit on if desired (colour code in mixed irl aro-spaces?)

17.  Aroaces need a space where they don't have to pick between their aro and ace identities, as well as a space where sex and/or romance repulsed aroaces dont have to deal with romance or sex in any way

18.  Idk, not aro ace but I would say recognition as well

19.  Full disclosure, I've mostly stopped participating in the ace/aro communities of late (though I haven't stopped reading it) because it felt like every time aroaces spoke up, we were brushed aside or shrugged off because we were the "privileged" ones (in both aro and ace circles). That means I'm a bit out of the loop. I identify far more with my aromanticism than my asexuality, but I've definitely been made to feel that I'm somehow a negative influence on both communities because I technically belong to both. I feel bad enough discussing my identity outside of the ace and aro communities, particularly among queer friends - it feels like when I bring up aroace experiences, it's like I've doused the fire of whatever conversation I was in, and I don't feel like replicating that feeling by trying to talk about it on the 'net, too. So, I guess we mostly need acceptance. We need spaces where alloaros can talk about their experiences without feeling bombarded by aroaces, we need spaces where aroaces can talk about our experiences without feeling like we're marauding on allo experiences, and we need places where both sides can talk about our aromanticism as one community. We as aroaces need to do better about determining when to discuss our issues, and making sure we're discussing them within the communities they're relevant to, as well. I have a pretty solid handle on which aspects of my identity are informed by my aromanticism and which are informed by my asexuality, but that's not a universal experience. Plenty of people have issues separating the two, especially when they're missing both sexual AND romantic attraction. It's hard to determine which of those "missing" pieces are supposed to fit where, and it's important to understand and find a place for these people to post, as well. But ultimately there needs to be more acceptance and openess all around. And I have no idea how we can do all of this.

20.  Often aro and ace-ness are inseparable to aroaceness and thus unless something is very specifically about sexual attraction aroaces need to have a sense of flexibility

21.  Honestly, as a greyro-ace myself, I feel like aroaces are sort of the face of the community

What are the community needs of non-SAM aros?

1.  it's all in the name 'non-SAM' for me. that it is assumed everyone has multiple attractions and/or labels themselves by them. it's use rather implies that the words aro or aromantic or aro-spec /don’t/ automatically include us. it's obviously a perspective change needed here, maybe a new term or descriptor as well? i don’t kno really but i hate the specification of — the expected /need to/ specify — non-SAM.

2.  I'm gonna skip the other Qs b/c I don't think I can speak for SAM-using folks. Anyway, as a non-SAM aro I think some of my big things are 1. Recognizing that aromanticism can be its own identity without being split or modified 2. Ending the default assumption that I am ace, identify as ace, and know what the heck ace people need in their communities. 3. Recognizing and respecting aros who don't want or desire QPPs and making it clear that non-QPP friendships and family are not only as good as but can be just as fulfilling as other relationship models. 4. Including non-SAM people as part of our basic and default definitions of asexuality and aromanticism. 5. Making space for discussions of why microlabels don't work for everyone and why the SAM doesn't work for everyone 6. Making an active effort to make aspec spaces more accessible to folks who have just learned about aspec stuff, folks with cognitive and language disabilities, and non-native English speakers. And, like on a broad note, my autism makes it difficult for me to break my identity into tiny pieces. The aspec community's focus on microlabels and the split attraction model, plus the fact that the people participating in discussions often seem to be younger than me and just barely in the process of developing an identity that I've been comfortable in for many years, makes me feel isolated and alienated from the community. When I do participate, the complex and high-entry-level jargon that some members of the community use make it difficult for me to participate in community interactions, which leaves me feeling even more alienated.

3.  again, not speaking over other people, but it's important to recognize that aromanticism is a full identity on its own and doesn't inherently require use of the SAM. breaking down the alloaro/aroace binary

4.  It seems they want to just talk about aromanticism without having people judge which type of aro they are for if their views count etc. They want more than anyone for aces to be better allies when it comes to LGBTQIA arguing where the A doesn't mean Ally and rather asexual that there needs to be room for the queerness of aromanticism in the LGBTQ+ umbrella. They more than anyone will always need aromantic specific everything - recognition, representation, communities, where no one expects you to also be something else

5.  For myself, mostly non binary language and less assumptions that all aros ID with the SAM would be helpful, also acknowlement that non-SAM aros may have differing experiences as a group. This sounds small, and honestly it is, but the unintended consequence of binary language addressing only 'aroaces' and 'aroallos' that I've seen is that spaces can become increasingly polarized between different split attractions and then I've just kind of slipped through the gap in between. It's just my personal experience, of course, but honestly just including this box in the survey is a great start.

6.  In-space focuses and new language.

7.  More awareness

8.  A space where we don't feel the need to express ace/allo identity alongside our aro identity

9.  To not get caught in an alloaro Vs aroace war that they can't pick a side for, is probably one.

10.  We just need ppl to stop kind of adding us in a sentence in their post or say 'not everyone uses the sam' I wish we could have more discussions on why the sam doesn't really work for us or how we're left out from the community as a whole.

11.  Acceptance of just being aro. Aromantic is a whole independent identity despite where it was born.

12.  A space to talk about how the ace community has harmed them or made them feel unwelcome without aroaces or alloaces acting like it is an insult

What are the community needs of greyro/ aro-spec folks?

1.  Understanding that not everyone is completely aro or that their romantic attraction levels change.

2.  providing spaces to talk about experiences with romantic attraction/relationships

3.  I'm in this group. I need to feel like it's ok that aromanticism stay a spectrum and some aros are "more ace" (I'm sex-averse etc) than clearly aro (I might choose to date) and to not feel like people are accusing me of being alloromantic when I don't feel alloro. If people make sweeping statements about aros that don't include me or sweeping statements about alloros that do cover my experiences, it is hurtful and invalidating of my identity. And it even can make me doubt myself which isn't fair after I've spent years figuring myself out. I want a happy community that can get along and not hate aces preemptively before any of the select aces they're talking to did anything wrong. Who can forgive aces who make mistakes but who want to be better allies. I'm an ace and an aro-spec person. I'm an ally to aros who aren't gray but all forms of people being an ally takes some learning curve. Understanding that can go a long way.20 hours agoMore awareness21 hours agomore discussion about our orientations, more material for us in general, people getting a platform to share heir experiences. i feel kind of isolated in the aro community because there isnt a lot thats directed at us and our experiences that are neither really aro nor alloa day ago- a space where romance repulsion and simultaneous lack of thereof is acknowledgeda day agoIdk I'm not on the speca day agoMore content for the smaller identities under the spectrum umbrella would probably be nice, also asexuality being jammed together with aromanticism can be annoying sometimes especially if the post only really has to do with one or the other. Visibility in stories and media and such would also be greata day agoacknowledge that not everyone is strictly ace or allo. Like alloaros, allow us to talk about whether we want romantic partners or how our experiences differ from non grayro aros.a day agoN/aa day agoTheir own voice for their complicated feelings about being on the aromantic spectrum.a day agoNot greyro, likewise not my place to comment.2 days agoThe aro community is actually already pretty good about this, but it's cool that romance still happens for some of us and that out voices are allowed to at the very least be on our own space without criticism.2 days agoUh2 days agoArospecs need to be able to talk about their approach to romance, as it is very often very separate from the way allo people experience romantic attraction2 days agoI think both grey and demi aromanticism and asexuality in general need more recognition 2 days ago

4.  More awareness

5.  more discussion about our orientations, more material for us in general, people getting a platform to share heir experiences. i feel kind of isolated in the aro community because there isnt a lot thats directed at us and our experiences that are neither really aro nor allo

6.  a space where romance repulsion and simultaneous lack of thereof is acknowledged

7.  More content for the smaller identities under the spectrum umbrella would probably be nice, also asexuality being jammed together with aromanticism can be annoying sometimes especially if the post only really has to do with one or the other. Visibility in stories and media and such would also be great

8.  acknowledge that not everyone is strictly ace or allo. Like alloaros, allow us to talk about whether we want romantic partners or how our experiences differ from non grayro aros.

9.  Their own voice for their complicated feelings about being on the aromantic spectrum.

10.  The aro community is actually already pretty good about this, but it's cool that romance still happens for some of us and that out voices are allowed to at the very least be on our own space without criticism.

11.  Arospecs need to be able to talk about their approach to romance, as it is very often very separate from the way allo people experience romantic attraction

12.  I think both grey and demi aromanticism and asexuality in general need more recognition

What are the shared needs of these different subgroups within the aro and arospec community?

1.  what we need across the board is recognition, compassion, and dissemination.

2.  More aro recognition and its own and equal but not completely seperate from ace (for aro aces) community.

3.  To discuss their experiences with the lack of romantic attraction and amatonormativity, amongst other General arospec issues

4.  safe spaces to talk about being aro and all of the ways it intersects with other aspects of our identity; representation and advocacy

5.  Neutral aro-spec spaces where all intersectionality is equally accepted but also not the main topic or qualifier; recognition of a broad range of experiences; recognition of specific language and acknowledgment of their existences; facilitated ability to speak about more specific or 'niche' topics

6.  Recognition in queer spaces and healthy dialogue about language.

7.  i think we all want a platform for our specific topics and we want recognition, but also community

8.  A space where romance repulsion is acknowledged and respected - a space where aro identity is prioritised, no matter what other identities go along with it, if there are any at all

9.  To move forward in our activism to make aromanticism more well known and more accepted in society?? And to have a safe place to go after a day of dealing with amatonormativity and aphobia.

10.  To make ourselves exist outside the definition of asexual

11.  I think all the communities/identities need to recognize that there is a problem. If we unite with each other and have so much love and understanding in the form of unity, I think a lot of these problems will resolve themselves.

12.  Visibility?

13.  make sure we understand each other's experiences and what makes everyone feel included / excluded. We need to make that we sure we own up if we excluded someone, and that we try to fix it.

14.  Visibility is my greatest concern for all aspects of aro and arospec problems.

15.  Aces need to stop speaking for them. Aro-spec and aro people can speak for themselves on their own experiences. Additionally, aroaces need to focus more on the aro identity (whether it's primary or secondary to them) when it involves aro discourse. They can have a focus on their ace identity only with the exception that both identities are heavily tied to each other and both identities are discussed. Again, this is specifically for aro-specific discourse.

16.  Discussion of amatonormativity, experiences with pressure to find partners

17.  A creation of a unified aro space that includes and supports *anybody* identifying as aro or arospec

18.  The validity of aro identities shaping gender identities. I believe I'm nb in large part because of aromanticism.

19.  All four of these groups need visibility and more in person communities

20.  Allo aces need to stop taking over everything is the overarching problem when you think about it, they also need to stop throwing aros under the bus

21.  We ALL need more visibility. We need voices that aren't reliant on the ace community to speak for us as an afterthought, and I say that AS an ace. We need to talk about aromanticism as a whole. And we need to do so proudly and informatively. I've noticed that it's really, really hard to talk about aromanticism without making it sound like I'm demonizing romantic attraction, and that's a dangerous treading ground within the queer community. There's been a lot of negatively portraying queer romantice from outside of the community, and we need to make sure we're not stepping on those land mines, but we do need our voices heard on aromanticism and amatonormativity, too. Also, we need to hold fast to QPRs and squishes (and, imo, aplatonic) and not let those ideas get swept out with the discourse trash. We also need to support both the aros who want and have QPRs, and the aros who want nothing to do with them. I see a lot of support for aros in various forms of non-romantic (and sometimes romantic) relationships, but very little for aros who choose to fly solo, and what that means in a world that expects you to pair up.

22.  I do think we need to be more openly vocal about our separateness from the ace community, though it seems to be tearing aroaces apart at the seams

23.  A space to discuss aromanticism - however people experience it - in a space were others are opening and welcoming. Possibly also older members of the community giving advice to newer members who are struggling to come to terms with their aromanticism in a society so focused on romance

24.  I feel like a lot of aros are frustrated with their experiences being mislabeled as ace experiences, or having the assumption that aro and ace experiences are basically the same

How do we meet all of these needs within an online space?

1.  make sure you aren’t in an echochamber? share/create content for orientations other than your own? be kind? remember that when we're fighting it's kind of over scraps and we deserve better? i'm not sure honestly but i really think a lot of this comes down to perspective. plus remember the block button exists lol. i'm talking about things all on a personal, individual level and i don’t kno how to effect anything otherwise. how about a content creation week where the subject is an orientation other than your own? with emphasis on asking questions to get shit right. it'd be a learning experience that builds community. i can't think of a thing to answer this question on a larger scale ://

2.  We accept that some people see their aro and/or ace identitie/s seperate and some don't. Also that some only have one of these identities. And we spread aro recognition.

3.  Equal education and resources for all parts of the aro spectrum

4.  Cut it out with the pack instinct. Aces and aros snarling at eachother really freaks out aroaces. 

5.  it's impossible to curate a monolithic online space that will meet the needs of every single member of the aro community. what's important is acknowledging your own biases and hearing out the perspectives of others who differ from you, and not generalizing your own experiences/needs/perspectives to the community as a whole. we can create more subgroup-oriented spaces all we want, but at the end of the day we're still part of the same larger aro community and in order for that to work out the best thing we can do is just listen to each other. 

6.  Appropriate tagging has been brought up before, perhaps a reworked umbrella tag system? Again more neutral spaces; appropriate tagging for repulsion and aversion and on the other end acceptance of a variety of topics (i.e. some people will be talking about sex and that's good and healthy, as long as it's tagged there shouldn't be an issue with that); more specific and intersectional spaces; less verbal conflation of ace and aro though I think that's been getting better? Then again a big problem is the aroace split between two communities. I unfortunately do not have any ideas for that 

7.  Provide and Aro-specific online space similar to AVEN. 

8.  trying to give a more equal focus to different subgroups maybe? coming together and caring about those whose experiences are slightly different from ours and giving them a platform too. encouraging diversity 

9.  i'm not sure but it starts by making spaces outside of discourse. blogs like "aro-soulmate-project" are especially important to me because they address not only intra and outside community issues, but because they create aro identity at the same time people interact. 

10.  Idk put everything in the tag it belongs in (aroace content in aro, ace and aroace tags, general aro content in aro aroace and alloaro tags, and alloaro content in aro and alloaro tags, etc) and stop harassing each other. Groups might benefit from ace chat channels and allosexual chat channels? But idk if that's too divisive in some opinions 

11.  Group chats? More posts combining the communities? Spreading the love to everybody everywhere! 

12.  Open discussion 

13.  Since aro communities are extremely small and have been largely ignored-even by the a-spec community-it is up to the a-spec (yes, this includes alloaces) community to be more inclusive when making a-spec positive/information posts while also making more efforts to reblog diverse aro discourse so that aro people get a chance to speak. 

14.  Different tags/ smaller chatrooms. Probably tags people can follow or block 

15.  Better tagging systems, breaking down assumptions and not projecting one's one experience of identity onto everybody else who happens to be aro, creating sub-communities that are specifically suited for a specific subgroup's needs while still being united as the general aro community 

16.  On tumblr, proper tagging of content. 

17.  I think something that would actually help is like an aroace specific forum. We have arocalypse but that seems to be mostly alloaros and I want a forum where I can be aroace and not have to pick sides 

18.  Tag things accordingly 

19.  As I mentioned before, I'm not really involved in community discussions beyond reading about them, but coming up with a standard tagging system seems to be a start. 

20.  Often these needs have been met, though there could be a better job of say tagging 'romance' for repulsed aros and we need to open up space for both romo repulsed and positive to speak at the same time 

21.  I don't know. The internet is too big to manage. I think of the internet as more of many different spaces

How do we meet all of these needs within an in-person space?

1.  Represent everyone, let people speak, let people correct you, aim to make friends, remember that we're all under the A together.

2.  Same as above

3.  Stop generalizing and start being inclusive with language. There’s a big difference.

4.  Listen, if no one ever walks up to me and says "Hey, [name], you're ace right?" just because I told them I was aro and they forgot, I will be happy.

5.  i suppose the same rules apply. listening, providing spaces for subgroups to talk about specific issues, etc.

6.  Similar to previous answer, but spaces advertised as neutral or with multiple groups need to be more explicit in inclusion of a variety of experiences and topics. There are ways to manage this so everyone is in understanding and comfortable, namely just good communication (hence being explicit) and systems of feedback

7.  Queer spaces just need to be informed that the usual a-spec narrative is not the only one. But this will change as people share their experiences.

8.  more aro awareness alongside but also differentiated from ace awareness, and all this coupled with a focus on acceptance rather than identification

9.  A case by case basis? I guess? It'd depend on the scope of the space

10.  Booths at Pride recognizing the lesser known orientations. Doesn’t even have to be booths! Pins, stickers, t-shirts work just fine. Maybe a logo for a-spec, aro-spec, and aroace staying that we are all united.

11.  have info that includes all of us eg. pamphlets don't have the ace flag everywhere and acknowledge that their are aspecs who experience romantic or sexual attraction, and that not everyone uses the sam.

12.  I have only come across one aspec space in-person but it is in the form of a discussion group and everyone is allo ace so I feel extremely unwelcome. I wish there were more resources about aromanticism I could bring to these groups.

13.  For one: language is important. Renaming everything to a-spec meetups/groups instead of ace meetups/groups makes the other identity more welcomed and higher possibilities of growing the community. Again, there are more aces out there than aros at the moment, so it is up to those ace groups to make it more inclusive to all a-spec people. We're a community in this together wheter you feel a certain identity or not. That's what being Queer's all about.

14.  Create an aro-space first... Then events for sub-groups only where they can talk amongst themselves but also community events

15. Have a large variety of arospec spaces to choose from so that everyone can have their needs met

16.  Talk about all aspects, let people voice their experiences and find common ground

17.  I don't participate in in-person communities. Partly because I'm not out to more than just a few friends, and partly because I wouldn't want to go to one and be the stereotypical aroace. I feel both far too representative of both the aro and ace communities, and also not part of either. And thanks to the discourse, I'm not convinced I'd be welcome at a queer meetup at all. In addition, I've already mentioned before that just bringing up my experiences as either an ace or an aro tends to be a conversation-killer. So, I guess it rolls back around to visibility. Making others aware of our existence so that when aro experiences DO come up in in-person conversations, we can avoid the uncomfortable, awkward silences that follow. And I think that can only be done by talking about them.

18.  I'll eat my hat the day that I manage to find a sizable in-person space for aces or aros

How do we reconcile conflicting needs?

1.  I believe this question is far too subjective to each instance that has and will pop up. Which is no help unfortunately.

2.  We accept that sometimes someone needs these needs and someone else needs other needs. Also we ask what people's needs are before we assume their needs.

3.  By talking out our issues civilly and talking about what bothers us so we can accommodate and adapt as needed if needed, and filter out people who just make the community toxic.

4.  Live and let live. Talk it out. Find a solution rather than growing increasingly angry. Literally anything that’s not cocooning away in indignation, we are supposed to be a community.

5.  i don't think our needs actually conflict, for the most part. with the exception of greyro/arospec folks needing space to talk about romance and romance repulsed folks needing to get away from it. but that can be solved by tagging things (at least in the case of online spaces). i think a lot of our perceived conflict comes from the conflation of different issues. for example, giving alloaros room to exist apart from asexuality and giving aroaces room to navigate that awkward space in between aren't inherently mutually exclusive. i recognize that striking that sort of balance is easier said than done, but i think if it were easy we wouldn't be having this discussion at all. we're a diverse population and our needs are ALWAYS going to differ. but we're also always going to overlap in a lot of ways, which is why the aro community exists to begin with.

6.  Imagine you have a spoiled child. You can do everything in your power to give them what they need. Do you think it will be ever enough? Oh, but what's worse, by concentrating on the spoiled child, you completely forgot you have a second one, starving in the corner.

7.  Give each person a choice in the language they use and don't force anyone into an identity/stereotype of aspec experience that doesn't fit. Just listen to people.

8.  By giving space for both and working out compromises or plans of action

9.  Definitely not fuckin argue for weeks and attack one another, discourse only fragments our tiny movement

10.  Set up a time for when allo aro can talk about their experience and the way their identities interact. This lets aroace choose whether they want to come or not. The usual meeting should be a time where any aroace, allo aro, and non-sam using aro can talk about being aro. Or for aros to just meet and interact.

11.  a group discussion where everyone can share their experiences but also safe spaces for aroaces / alloaces / nonsam aros /grayros to talk so ppl can discuss if someone hurt them or made them feel excluded in the group discussion and so they can talk about things that are specific to their smaller communities

12.  Open discussion and properly tagging things

13.  Aro people have been patient. Ace and ace-spec people need to recognize that their exclusive behaviors are mirroring the same horrible mentality that exclusionists in the LGBT+ have. Also recognize that ignoring (or consistently forgetting) the identity is a form of the excluding that identity in regards to posts that are suppose to be a-spec/Queer/LGBTIA+ positive/informative.

14.  Respect and communication, separate spaces when necessary

15.  Creating sub-communities that can prioritize a specific group's needs in that space while not conflicting with the general aro community.

16.  Idk like listen to eachother?

17.  The people who have a problem avoid? Idk

18.  honestly don't know. I absolutely understand the frustrations of alloaros getting ace posts in the aro tags, and I understand the frustrations of aroaces posting their experiences and being told those tags don't belong. I think the ace community as a whole needs to be made aware that the aro tag is not a dumping ground for ace-specific posts, and that if they want to include support and positivity and include the aro tag, then the post needs to INCLUDE US. I think a lot of frustration on all sides right now is that aromanticism comes off as asexuality's afterthought, and I don't think any of us as aros feel that way. I don't think we need a full break from the ace community, and I think we need to stop blaming aroaces when we make relevant posts to the aro tag, since I suspect quite a bit of this issue is from people who legitimately don't realize that aro tags are not the same as ace tags (i.e. ace positivity blogs that post something relevant to ace experiences and think they're being inclusive by "including" aros, because "we're all aspec, just swap out the 'sexual attraction' for 'romantic attraction'!"). But I, as an ace, am of the opinion that the ace community as a whole needs a solid kick in the pants to get them to work with us on cleaning up the tags and acknowledging that aros aren't just aces with a word swap, that we have our own significantly different concerns and ways to navigate the world that aces can't understand. But here's the problem, too. The ace community is one of the larger "aro" voices right now because the aro community is really quiet. Yes, we have our voices, but if you go looking for ace spaces, you find them. You find them in spades. You go looking for aro spaces? You have to dig. You almost have to know what you're looking for before you can find it. I see aros submitting asks on ace blogs, asking where to go to find aro-specific blogs, and there's always only a handful of suggestions. I think a lot of the reason aroaces seem so visible is because we -are- in the ace spaces, talking, and the ace spaces are big. The aromantic community's biggest priority right now is to grow and be heard.

19.  fuck idk tbh the most we can really do is post about it and hope people see and listen

[madstars-festival]

HIRA MOHIBULLAH: “WITH ADVERTISING, I HELP THOSE WHO DON’T HAVE A VOICE”

Hira Mohibullah is an expert is telling stories that have a positive impact. We’re delighted to welcome her to our Final Jury this year representing BBDO Pakistan, where she is Executive Creative Director.

As the most awarded female creative in Pakistan, Hira Mohibullah believes that storytellers have a responsibility to tell the right kind of stories – especially in an industry as influential as advertising.

Her most notable campaigns include #BridalUniform, which raised awareness of the prevalence of underage brides; #BeatMe for UN Women, which challenged men to “beat” women (at something they excel at; and Chai Ka Nishaan (The Hot Tea Stain), a campaign that raised awareness on child burns caused through negligence around hot tea."

Since joining BBDO Pakistan four years ago, she has won more than 170 international awards for her work. A mother of two, Mohibullah is also an advocate for gender balance in the workplace and helped set up a day-care room at BBDO to encourage more working mothers to join the workforce. 

You live and work in Pakistan. Did you grow up there, too?

I’m a third culture kid, and so I don’t really know what place I call home. I grew up in the Middle East and moved to Pakistan when I was 14. I have very fond memories of my childhood and, quite contrary to popular belief, it was fun being a kid in Saudi Arabia! I had friends from all over the world, and from a very young age I was exposed to different cultures and languages, which I feel has shaped who I am today as a creative.  

What led you to a career in advertising: did you always dream of impacting positive social change through your work?

Growing up, I’ve hopped (all too rapidly) from one dream career to another. One thing that I’ve always known about myself is that I get bored with one thing real quick, and so the versatility that advertising brings to my life every single day is what makes it such a perfect match. Right after I completed my A Levels (after having taken every subject under the sun), I chanced upon the communication design course. There it was, my love for creative writing and design brought miraculously together. Advertising was the most obvious choice after that, and I’ve never looked back since.

In my twenties, while my friends were writing their personal statements for college applications full to the brim with life-changing struggles, I was wishing I had more of a story to tell. I grew up in a house with parents who did not believe in gender discrimination. They had two daughters and they gave us the best education to the best of their abilities. There was absolutely no pressure on us to fit a certain mould. With a great support system, I grew up living a sheltered life of privilege. But today, I realise that’s what my story is: with advertising I use my position of privilege to help those who don’t have a voice. It's all come full circle.

#BridalUniform was an incredibly powerful campaign, which won countless awards – including several at AD STARS. What challenges did you face in bringing it to life?

As with most pro-bono campaigns we do at BBDO, we had absolutely no money to spend on this one. So getting the word out to the entire nation, that it was not okay to marry off underage girls, seemed impossible. That challenge gave birth to a genius solution: we hijacked the biggest bridal fashion show of Pakistan, one that was already being covered by all major media channels in the country. We partnered Ali Xeeshan, Pakistan's foremost bridal wear designer and launched the Bridal Uniform: a merger between a little girl's school uniform and embellishments from a typical bridal outfit. Amidst the pomp and show, out walked the showstopper: a little girl wearing the #BridalUniform, symbolising the trade-off that happens when a child is deprived of her right to an education and instead is dressed as someone's wife. Without spending a dime, we were able to rack up one billion organic impressions.

Creativity can help to bring people together in times of crisis: are there any inspiring initiatives taking place in Pakistan right now? What is BBDO doing to keep its staff motivated during the coronavirus crisis?

It’s overwhelming to see everybody fighting on the same front, for the same cause. It’s brought the industry together in a way nothing ever has. Every brand I work on is doing their part to help the nation cope with this unprecedented struggle. We’re all working from home currently (being amongst the first few to implement the policy) and besides a few teething issues in the start, we’re meeting all our timelines even when the work has doubled in amount. My team and I usually get the brainstorming out of the way earlier in the day and then go our separate ways to finish off the pending tasks. Keeping meticulous checklists of individual workflows has helped me stay afloat by giving me a good visibility on the tasks lined up for the entire week.

What does your typical day look like?

I have two kids who I bring to work with me (a 6 year-old and a 7 month old) and in pre-COVID times, I used to joke about “traveling” to work because I would lug around all their stuff in a mini carry-on... everyday! These days in lockdown, I start early, get my 6 year-old’s homework done and ship him off to another room for his online classes while I find myself a quiet corner to tackle my checklist for the day.  

Do you have a process – is there a way you work through a problem? How much of your creative process happens subconsciously?

I’ve hardly ever had an idea strike me in a dream or in the shower, unlike many other creatives I know. For me, cracking a brief requires a formal session (always with a notebook in hand) where I start from a pain-point, deep-dive into real-world insights, colloquially unlock the idea for relevance, and finally tell the story in the voice of the brand. Also, being bi-lingual helps me tackle the creative process from two different vernacular angles.

Who are your creative heroes and why?

Fernando Machado. He’s brave, unapologetically relentless, he has an eye for what will absolutely shake the world and he’s not afraid to do it!  

You recently spoke at TEDxLahore. What did you talk was about?

My joint talk at TEDx was about the importance of telling the right kind of stories. The stories we hear growing up shape us into the people we are today: they define our limits, our fears and our dreams. As advertisers, we call ourselves storytellers, and so imagine the kind of power we hold to change the lives of those around us. Moiz Khan and I talked about the stories we’ve told in our time at BBDO Pakistan, and how they have positively impacted our society.

As the most awarded female creative in Pakistan, do you have advice for others hoping to ‘make it’ in advertising?

No one makes it in advertising on their own! Find your tribe. Go out there and look for like-minded people and a place that matches your vision.

Are you working on anything interesting right now?

Pakistanis love their tea. They have tea for breakfast, tea in the afternoon and then in the evening. There’s tea with snacks and tea over gossip sessions. In a shocking revelation, we learnt that 80% of child burns happen due to hot tea spills. Now in a country where tea consumption is at an all-time high, there is considerable talk around removing tea stains from clothes but none around the perils of being negligent while preparing or drinking that tea. After a successful first leg of the campaign where we were able to bring down the number of accidents by 50%, we’re now working on Round 2 this year!  

You attended AD STARS in 2018. Do you have any favourite memories of Busan?

My fondest memory of Busan is going to The Library of Mystery Literature, a quaint little place which is a library, a cafe and a museum all rolled into one.  Due to an ongoing book-club, they were closed at the time I wanted to visit. I called up the owner, and with my receptionist translating everything for me, told her it was the only day I could come visit and she generously opened up the cafe especially for me. There I met the famous crime novelist Kim Seong-jong, read a crime novel with a cup of buckwheat tea offset against a book-reading in a foreign language… it was really something else.

Hira Mohibullah will judge the Brand Experience & Activation, Creative eCommerce, Direct, Media and PR categories at the AD STARS 2020 Awards. To enter, submit your work before 15th May via adstars.org.

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 43

Codsworth welcomed us with customary fanfare, and Shaun was glad to be home. Nat was eager to tell him about everything he missed at school. Ellie was thrilled to have Valentine and I back, greeting us both with a hug. Some cases had come in while we were gone, which we decided to divide amongst ourselves in order to help as many as quickly as possible.

One case came from a sensible woman who was perfectly realistic about the chances of her husband being alive, but desperately wanted confirmation of his fate so that she could begin the process of moving on. They’d been travelling to Diamond City and become horribly turned around among the rubble and skyscrapers. Super mutants found them, and they'd been separated in the escape. She made it to Diamond City; he hadn't, yet. She described the location he was last seen and gave a few various identifying objects that might be found on his person. Valentine didn’t like the idea of me lurking through a super mutant camp without him, but there was a raider kidnapping that required immediate attention. He insisted I take Dogmeat with me, some excuse about spending a hundred years tracking people down on his own. So he went west, and I went east.

The location was the Wilson Atomatoys Corporate Headquarters. In my gruesome search, I frequently paused to find some sanity in the toy making business… only to instead discover the head of the company had secretly signed a contract to build mines for the military instead. It’s little wonder the world ended.

One employee’s name caught my eye - Arlen Glass. He was one of the cofounders of the company and was fired after challenging the secret military project at a board meeting. The name sounded familiar. I found his office; he habitually forgot his familial obligations, so absorbed was he in his work. He was fully cognizant of this, and made efforts to correct it… in vain.

I confess, I was distracted by Mr. Glass’s story. A pair of super mutants took me by surprise, but in my escape I stumbled, quite literally, over the arm of my client’s spouse. The rest of him was not attached; I recognized a ring she had described. I grabbed it and ran.

In my haste, I realized I had run east, instead of west. Fortunately, the raiders I was running directly toward were more concerned with the super mutants chasing me than a man and his dog. I did fire a few shots to get their attention and start the fight, but then hid as thoroughly as I could behind a pair of dumpsters, Dogmeat bristling beside me. I managed to quiet him, and together we made our way back to town.

I delivered the ring. I could think of nothing to say that would have been appropriate. How does one counsel a stranger after their husband has been eaten? The stoic woman thanked me, paid me, and walked away. I mentioned that there was a settlement northwest that could use another worker, guard, whatever she could provide. She thanked me again, and continued on.

Valentine hadn’t returned yet. I told Ellie to inform him I was headed for The Slog, I’d be back in a few days. I remembered one of the ghouls living there was a technician with a fascination for toy making. I'd found a holotape in the office of Arlen Glass. If this was the same man, he would probably want it returned.

To be honest, I’m not certain why this was so urgent in my mind. I could have simply waited until the next opportunity brought me to that area of the Commonwealth, but for some reason this burned in my brain. I’d listened to the holotape, of course. A heartfelt wish from a daughter to her father. Perhaps the memory of a different holotape spurred me forward.

Whatever the impulse, I needed to see it done. I stopped at the Railroad’s headquarters, even though I wasn’t on Railroad business. I was not in a mood for Goodneighbor. Deacon was surprised to see me, so I explained I simply needed a place to rest. Desdemona would not be completely dissuaded - as I was there, I might as well provide some information. The Railroad has shifted its efforts away from helping synths escape the Commonwealth to helping them blend in. Coursers are rarer than ever, so a synth’s greatest threat these days is the Brotherhood. Fortunately, so far there is no way for a Brotherhood soldier to know if a person is a synth or not, with one notable exception.

Institute refugees are regularly checked on by the Railroad’s agents to make sure they’re getting along in this new world without attracting too much attention. The Brotherhood’s patrols of the Commonwealth tend to spend their time fighting the things they should be fighting, such as raiders and mutants, but they’ve started making personal visits to camps and settlements. The trade caravans out of Bunker Hill are now occasionally stopped, just long enough for the soldiers to get a good look at the faces of the people travelling in them. They haven’t bothered the Minutemen provisioners yet, especially as one regularly delivers food to the airport, but it’s only a matter of time.

Desdemona wanted to know why the Brotherhood and the Minutemen were… tense. Some synths have successfully made themselves a part of Minutemen settlements, some have even joined the ranks. I explained that there was a conspiracy theory among some Brotherhood soldiers that the Lieutenant Colonel of the Minutemen is not only a synth, but a former Brotherhood Paladin who was supposed to have been executed but has secretly been alive and well all this time.

She was surprisingly skeptical. “A Brotherhood synth.”

“He didn’t know he was a synth when he joined,” I said. “He didn’t discover it until after the Institute was infiltrated. I suppose in a way it’s my fault, but I never could have imagined his picture would be on a list of missing synths.”

Desdemona blinked. Then she glared at Deacon.

“I totally mentioned this at least once,” he protested.

“You told me a Brotherhood soldier found out he was a synth and was now living in Sanctuary. You told me you were confident this was not a Brotherhood ploy to infiltrate the Minutemen. You did not tell me he was a goddamn Paladin, or the goddamn Lieutenant Colonel of the Minutemen!”

“That’s the Danse guy!” Tinker Tom added from his terminal. “Eavesdrop on some of their communications, every once in a while someone’ll say something about how if Danse is a traitor anyone could be, and then whoever they’re talking to will say stop being paranoid, and then they get back to the mission or radio silence or whatever.”

“So,” Deacon slowly reasoned, “if they’re on edge about their own soldiers being synths, then they’re on edge about anyone possibly being a synth, which is bad news for us.”

“Can we get a copy of that list you mentioned?” Desdemona asked. “The one with Danse’s picture on it? If Institute data is what the Brotherhood are using to try and find synths, then that’s what we need to keep hiding them.”

“I’ll have Sturges make a copy for you,” I promised.

“Good. I’ll let you get your rest, thank you,” Desdemona said.

I gratefully claimed a mattress.

Deacon volunteered to accompany me in the morning. “If Nick ever found out I saw you and let you go wherever you’re going without going with you, he’d be pretty pissed off.”

“Surely my partner’s ire can’t worry you that much,” I said with a smile at the thought.

“Are you kidding? Have you ever seen Nick Valentine angry?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of realization. “Oh. Oh shit that must have been a hell of a domestic spat.”

“I’d rather not discuss details.”

“Backing off and changing the subject,” Deacon nodded. “So, you see the game last night?”

I laughed, “Deacon, why are you following me?”

“Eh. Nice to get out for a bit,” he shrugged. “And… if I’m being honest, which I’m usually not but go with it just this once, I wanted an excuse to spend some time with a friend, even with bullets and grenades flying. Which happens an awful lot.”

I was flattered. “Hopefully bullets and grenades will be minimal this trip.”

“Do I get to know where we're headed, or is it a surprise?”

“The Slog.”

“Not what I expected, but cool. Nice place. You know, I spent a month as a ghoul once, must have been ten, twelve years ago now? Hard to keep track. Scared the shit out of HQ.”

“I'm sure they found it unsettling to say the least.”

He chuckled, “This a Minutemen check-up, or personal business?”

“Neither.”

“Huh. Cryptic is usually my shtick.”

I smiled, “You invited yourself, Deacon. I'm glad to have you, but don't expect anything riveting to come of this.”

Mutants, ferals, and wildlife slowed our progress, and it was after sundown by the time we reached Finch Farm and decided to stop for the night. A man with a sniper rifle was sitting on the roof. I called out as he aimed, “Good evening, Mr. MacCready!”

“Holmes?” The rifle lowered, “What the hell you doing here, boss? Think I wouldn't show?”

“Not at all,” I assured him. “Did you just arrive?”

“Yesterday,” he clambered down, “Duncan's inside with the Finches. Abigail's taken to him, getting him to do little things around the house. Abraham and Daniel are gonna fix up a shack for us, give us a little privacy, make some more space. I guess their other son is a trader? Isn't around much.”

“Jake volunteered to be a provisioner for the Minutemen. There was some tension between him and his family. It's since been resolved, but I think he and his father appreciate periods of distance.” I turned to Deacon, “Have you and Mr. MacCready met?”

“Met? Not exactly, but I know who he is. Still killing people for caps, MacCready?”

“I don't know, you still pretending to be anyone but yourself?”

“Ah, you have met,” I said.

MacCready shrugged, “Nah, just recognize him from Goodneighbor. Different hair and clothes, same face and sunglasses.”

“Come on,” Deacon groaned. “No one else ever notices!”

“I'm a sniper, and I was sleeping with one eye open. I notice when I know what to look for.”

“Well that settles it, next week I'm turning into a girl just to throw everyone off.”

I chuckled at MacCready's confusion as Abraham Finch stepped outside, “Ah, Mr. Holmes! Good to see you. I understand you're to thank for our new guard?”

MacCready sighed. I smiled, “Let's save him some professional dignity and call him a... freelance soldier. He'll be making regular patrols once he and Duncan are settled, after all.”

Finch nodded, “And he'll get paid for his efforts, we've an agreement. Shelter and food, but also caps. I'll work out something with County Crossing, too.”

“Thank god,” MacCready muttered.

Mr. Finch returned us to immediate practical matters, “If you and your friend are staying, you're welcome to some supper. Not sure where you're going to sleep, though.”

“A chair or corner of floor will be fine,” I assured him.

“Just happy for a roof over our heads,” Deacon agreed.

Finch led us inside the small farmhouse, and made us feel welcome despite the cramped quarters. We traded news and gossip, shared a meal, and turned in for the night.

An early start the next day brought us to The Slog in the afternoon. I told Deacon there was a personal belonging I had to return, and would be back in a moment. He struck up a conversation with one of the farmers while I searched for a ghoul named Arlen.

I found him in a small makeshift workshop, muttering to himself as he tried to adjust a piece on a small mechanical horse.

“Excuse me, are you Arlen Glass? The toy designer?”

He stopped what he was doing, surprised. “I am. Where did you hear that?”

“I read about you in the Atomatoys headquarters.”

“Headquarters? Yes, I worked there once, before the war. I tried to go back, but the place was overrun.” He was suddenly excited, “Oh, but you made it out, didn't you? Tell me, was there anything left in the old stockroom in the basement?”

I was taken aback, “The stockroom?”

“There was a storage room in the basement, on the south side of the building. We kept some toys there for testing and product demonstrations.”

I understood what he was getting at, “Yes, I believe I did see some toys like the one you're working on.”

Mr. Glass was pleased. “After all these years... Well. Well, that changes everything. I'm sure I can salvage the parts I need from there, and more besides.”

I was still bemused by this unexpected exchange, “Parts for that toy?”

“It's a genuine Giddyup Buttercup,” he was quite clearly proud of this fact, “The 2076 special edition. Best toy on the market, before the war. I helped make them. A long time ago. Do you know why toys are important?” he asked hopefully.

“I must confess, I do not.”

“They help children dream. They let them imagine a better future, beyond this blasted wasteland. They give them hope. At least, they did before the war. They still can now.”

I smiled, “A fine sentiment. Mr. Glass.” I thought for a moment about leaving the past in the past, but I couldn't in good conscience. With a sigh, I asked, “Forgive the intrusion, but did you have a daughter?”

He was hesitant, “She died in the war. I wasn't the best father. Too old. Worked too much. In the end I... I never even got to say goodbye.” He turned back to the toy, “I've... seen a lot over the years. You just have to find a reason to keep going on. For me, it was the toys. It's always been the toys.”

“I think I have something that belongs to you.”

“Me?” I handed over the holotape. He was puzzled, but put it into a holotape player on his workbench and pushed play. As a woman's voice said “Go ahead,” he gasped. A young girl's enthusiastic “Hi Daddy” brought an anguished moan from the toymaker. “Marlene. Oh god, Marlene…”

I thought that perhaps I had made a terrible, cruel mistake, but he was transfixed. The voice of his daughter two hundred years ago told him he worked too much but begged him to find a good home for all the horses. She told him she loved him, and missed him, and he whispered responses in kind.

When it was over, he was shaken… but grateful. “It's been so long... I never thought I'd hear their voices again. You can't imagine what this means to me.”

“What happened to them?” I gently asked.

“We had an apartment, in Cambridge. I went to the office that morning, try to talk to Marc again. He'd sold us out to the military, using our factory to make weapons. I had to make him see sense. When... when it all happened, I tried to get back, but the city was in chaos. By the time I got home... there was only a crater. I lay down in the ruins. I... I just wanted to die. Instead... I woke up like this.”

I winced, and found myself admitting, “I lost my wife, too. For a time, I thought I had lost my son.”

“Then maybe you can understand,” he sympathized. “She was right, you know? I did work too much. And now... I'll never hear her voice again, never get to hold her, kiss her good night. All I have left are the memories. And this tape. As one father to another... thank you.”

I glanced around the small room, “You never gave up, did you? You're still working too much.”

He nodded, “I suppose so. We made toys. We made children happy. That's all that mattered. And as long as I can still do that, I will. It's the least I can do. For her. Here,” he retrieved something safely stored in a cabinet, “I was saving this for her birthday. All these years, it was all I had to remember her by…” He handed me a much smaller, perfect replica of the larger toy he'd been working on. “Please, I want you to have it.”

“I can't -”

“I mean it. And... thank you. For everything.”

He turned back to the tape. I left him to his memories.

“You ok, Detective?” Deacon appeared beside be and asked, quietly. “Seem a little shaken.”

“I am.”

“Which, ok or shaken?”

“Both.”

He nodded, “I get that.”

We walked.

“You know, boss, since we had the Big Talk, it's been easier to look at myself in a mirror.”

“Big Talk…? Ah.” His personal history. He had called it a confession. “I'm glad to hear that.”

He shrugged, “Thought you should know.”

“Thank you. Is that why you haven't changed your face lately?”

“What?” He laughed, “Oh, man am I overdue, but who has time, am I right? And with the Institute gone it doesn't seem so urgent.” We walked a little farther. “You still don't know if I was telling the truth or not.”

“I'm not sure I ever will. However, on this matter I believe it best to give you the benefit of the doubt until further evidence suggests otherwise.”

“Works for me. Just warm fuzzy feelings or did you do that weird deduction thing where you know way too much?”

I chuckled, “Simply the fact that every lie you've ever told me has either had a purpose, or been harmless hyperbolic flippancy.”

“... Huh.”

We returned to Finch Farm that night, and spent the day after returning to Railroad headquarters. Deacon didn't say much except to quip about the wildlife we encountered and ask questions about 'old-worlder' obsessions with tall buildings. Desdemona reminded me of my promise to share the data stolen from the Institute, and Deacon said he'd keep me informed if the Brotherhood started causing trouble.

I made my way back to Diamond City. Codsworth informed me Shaun was off playing with Nat, and Valentine was at the office. He reported that Valentine had been a bit “put out” by my sudden trip to The Slog. I thanked him for the warning and went upstairs.

I pulled the small locked box from under my bed. Valentine and Codsworth have never inquired as to its contents. I don't know if Shaun has even noticed it. I opened the lock and carefully pulled out one of the two holotapes inside. I did my best to ignore the other one. I've considered destroying it, but the idea that Shaun might one day need to know the truth stops me. The only other item is a wedding ring.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and put the holotape in my Pip Boy. I pushed play, and felt my heart cease and breath shake as her voice echoed through the centuries.

“Hi, honey!”

I expressed an interest in beekeeping once. She found it hilarious. It was the only saccharine term of endearment she ever used.

A baby giggling mixed with her laughter as she kept Shaun’s curious hands away from the microphone. “I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a father you are... but we're going to anyway.” She knew how much I doubted that fact.

I heard the front door open, Codsworth's greeting, and Shaun's hurried footsteps through the hall and up the stairs.

“Dad? What are you listening to?”

“A recording of your mother.”

He was surprised. “Really?”

“Yes.”

He sat next to me and leaned close. “That’s what she sounded like?”

“It is.”

“She sounds nice.”

I nodded, a bit disconnected from what was happening. “She was. Inspiringly compassionate, but just as forceful and stern when necessary. She loved you very much.”

The tape played to the end and he asked if he could hear the beginning. I let him. He marveled at the sound of himself as an infant.

The front door opened and shut again. I expected Valentine to join us, but… he didn’t. I watched through a gap in the floor as Codsworth hovered over to my partner, hesitating at the foot of the stair.

“Mr. Valentine?” I couldn't make out Valentine's precise words, only catching the word 'interrupt’ but Codsworth's response was clear, “Mr. Valentine. You are my master’s partner, and a second father to his son. You are a part of this family. I don't know what spurred Mr. Holmes to listen to that holotape after all this time, but I am certain he would welcome your presence. As he always has.”

Valentine ascended the stairs.

“Nick, have you heard this?” Shaun asked. “It's my mom.”

“I heard a little from downstairs,” he sat down on the other side of Shaun.

“In the Institute, they told me she died when I was a baby, but I don’t know how or anything.”

“It wasn’t pleasant,” I said. “She... never would have imagined everything that happened. She would still love you, though, very much. Of that I’m certain.”

Her voice was coming to its end. “But everything we do, no matter how hard... we do it for our family. Now say goodbye, Shaun... Bye bye? Say bye bye?” The infant Shaun found the idea hilarious. “Bye, honey! We love you!”

I ejected the tape and set it on the bedside table.

Valentine patted Shaun's shoulder, “Hey, Shaun, head down and pester Codsworth about plans for supper, ok? I’ve got to talk with Dad for a bit.”

“Ok, Nick,” Shaun obeyed. Codsworth took his cue and kept Shaun busy helping.

Valentine closed the distance between us created by Shaun's absence, “Can I ask what brought this on?”

“A conversation with another father. One of the men at The Slog survived when his family didn't. I found a tape his daughter had recorded for him. I debated giving it to him, why open old wounds... but I did, and he was thankful. It hurt, that was clear, but it still seemed to bring a strange peace to him.”

“So you thought you'd try?”

“I wondered if... I didn’t expect Shaun to come home and hear it, but I suppose it’s good he did.”

“You ok?”

I was not. “It hurts. God, Nick, it hurts.”

I gratefully fell against him as he put an arm around me. “Worth it?” he asked.

I took a breath and nodded. “It was good to hear her voice again.”

He held me in silence for a time. “You think she'd approve?” he asked.

“Of you? Absolutely.”

“Even though I'm not -”

“You love me, and Shaun, and that is all that matters. You and Watson would have gotten along well.”

“Watson?”

“Jane Watson. I introduced myself as Holmes when we met, she replied with Watson, and it remained that way through our friendship.” I sighed, knowing full well my eyes must have been red, “Good lord, how did I devolve into such an emotional mess.”

“Hell, Holmes, after everything you’ve been through?” Valentine softly chuckled, “An emotional mess is exactly what you were due for. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Ha. Thank you. Did you stop the kidnapping?”

“He's home safe and sound, though a bit rough for wear.”

“I'm glad you were successful.”

“So am I. Glad you were, too, even if you did take off without me again after.”

“It was important -”

“I know, I know,” he lightly squeezed my hand. “You know, Holmes, I, uh, wouldn't mind getting to know her, if you ever want to talk about her.”

I smiled, bittersweet, “I'll remember.” I kissed him and we stood. I secured the holotape in its box, and we joined our son downstairs.

[hope-for-olicity]

Until its opening night, I hadn’t planned on seeing Avengers: Endgame. That’s when my inbox was unexpectedly inundated.

Have you heard of that part? It turned my stomach. It wasn’t that bad! I liked the point they were making. I had to leave the theater — I wasn’t going to be ridiculed that way.

Messages poured in from fat people across the country and around the world about their experiences watching the movie. I couldn’t figure out why. After all, superhero movies rarely depict fat people — what could the problem possibly be? I asked one person who’d written in what all the fuss was about.

The fat suit. It’s terrible.

I sighed, overcome by a familiar wave of disappointment and anxiety. My stomach sank, muscles tensed, breathing stopped as I thought of the countless humiliating moments I’d spent in movie theaters, watching actors in fat suits, hearing friends and strangers alike laugh uproariously at cruel caricatures of bodies like mine. Norbit. Shallow Hal. Just Friends. Austin Powers. The Nutty Professor. So frequently, fat roles went to thin characters. And so frequently, those roles were defined by hurtful punchlines or condescending pity.

While superhero movies have never been on the vanguard of body positivity or fat acceptance, I’d quietly hoped that Marvel would forego commenting on fat bodies, instead continuing its trend of showcasing more muscular ones. I was crestfallen, but also intrigued. Comic books have a long tradition of making marginalization and difference into strength, perhaps best exemplified by the X-Men, a longform allegory for diverging approaches to liberation and justice in marginalized communities. So I bought myself a ticket, entered the theater, and felt my breath shallow and race as I settled in.

The fat suit didn’t arrive for nearly an hour — long enough that I’d forgotten to stay tense, had forgotten the flashes of Norbit and Shallow Hal. Long enough that I’d been subsumed by the world of the film, and its touching explorations of the Avengers’ responses to grief, trauma, coping and resiliency. Long enough that I’d let my guard down.

That’s when Thor reappeared. He was different than I’d ever seen him before, marked not by his might, his hair, his hammer, or the body we’ve so long known to be his. Following a devastating series of traumas and failures, Thor had dealt with his guilt and depression by drinking, seemingly endlessly. Thor had become an alcoholic, and his body had become evidence of his coping.

Thor’s entry was made by his belly, low and rounded, naked, before panning up to his familiar face. His body was soft and wide, bearing a striking resemblance to so many men watching in the movie theater. Upon his appearance, the audience around me emitted a tense smattering of giggles — the kind of sniggering reserved for church services, libraries, detention. (Friends from across the country and around the world later tell me that, at this point, their audiences loosed gales of laughter, howling at the simple sight of a fat body on screen.)

As the film progressed, Thor’s fellow Avengers and family members made repeated fat jokes about Thor’s changed body, replete with de rigeur punchlines about cheez whiz and eating a salad. Thor’s grief was shown plainly from time to time, and the audience choked up. Then, when a wide shot returned, they returned to the comfort of laughing at a body like mine.

When I left the theater, I found myself feeling numb, unsure what to make of it all. My stomach was unsettled, my muscles still tense, waiting for the blow to land. On the drive home, I pulled the movie apart to see how it worked, searching for what it was trying to say about bodies like mine.

In some ways, fat Thor was a small, but meaningful, step forward. Through some merciful twist of fate, there is no weight loss sequence. Thor is not lectured about his self esteem, his fitness routines, his health. He is not subjected to the commonplace concern trolling that plagues so many fat people, on screen and off.

No, Thor stays fat. He fights fat. And in the show stopping final battle, he winsfat. There is no work out montage, no on-screen dieting, no disgust expressed on screen — that is largely left to the audience’s reaction, and to the camera work that knowingly lingers on Thor’s rounded belly, pausing for the laughter to subside. There are no labored explanations for his weight gain, no didactic lectures about the nature of his body — just a natural metabolization of grief that each of his fellow avengers are processing differently.

In some ways, fat Thor isn’t nearly as bad as I expected, and does represent some small step forward in portrayals of fat characters. Certainly, some fat people have offered that they felt seen by a portrayal that linked weight gain to post traumatic stress, an origin story of fatness that’s less commonly told than, say, simple gluttony. But in other ways, Avengers: Endgame falls into the same tired tropes about fatness that fat people have heard a million times before.

Fat jokes are a constant. Rocket Raccoon, War Machine, Iron Man and Thor’s own mother make a litany of jokes about Thor’s size, the food he eats, and more. Worse — and even more predictably — those who make fat jokes are never reprimanded, never face accountability for the hurt they may be causing to someone they ostensibly love. The central joke stems from a tired old trope: that fat people are thin people who have let ourselves go, and that fatness is always a sign of neglect, some evaded moral duty to shrink ourselves endlessly.

On a deeper level, the movie still reinforces the deeply held cultural belief that fatness must always be an outgrowth of some dysfunction. Fat people, we’re told, can only exist in fat bodies because of some weakness in our character, our back stories, our bodies. Avengers: Endgame, like so many movies before it, insists on an etiology for fat bodies, and the origins of fat are always rooted in dysfunction and deviance.

While Thor’s body is permitted to stay fat within the context of the movie, his body can only be the product of deep pain. It must be explained. It must be exposed. And it must be excused. After all, people deserve an explanation for a body like mine. It is the crushing and unpayable debt that people who look like me live with every day.

And ultimately, despite its minor steps forward, it’s still a f***ing fat suit. It still operates the same way as so many fat suit performances before it. It is still a thin person dressing up as a fat person in order to make cheap fat jokes. And ultimately, it doesn’t contribute anything new to the conversation about fatness or fat people — it still exploits our bodies as a shorthand for trauma and a shortcut to punchlines.

In the days following the movie, as it settles in, I find myself nonplussed. After all, it wasn’t as bad as the colossally cruel Norbit, the deeply misguided Shallow Hal, or the euphorically vicious Austin Powers.

No, Avengers: Endgame doesn’t take its place amongst the most vicious fat suit performances. But then, this is what fat suit performances increasingly rely on: the idea that they’re not as bad as the worst. The idea that they can openly and gleefully mock fat people, as long as they counterbalance it with some trauma, some tears, some momentary sadness that burns off like fog under the heat of just one more punchline. In the case of fat Thor, some folks are already claiming it as a modest victory for fat acceptance.

Fat suit performances may have softened, but they haven’t transformed. And truthfully, the bar for fat suit performances is painfully low. When it comes to fatness, we haven’t even gotten to more nuanced conversations about typecasting, breaking out of stereotypes, or casting.

As a fat person, I don’t expect radical, liberatory narratives about my body. I’m not asking for the moon. I just want to go to a movie and know that I won’t be openly mocked. You wouldn’t think it’d be this hard.

[aroworlds]

"own subjects where my activism is far more emotional. (Like the word “a-spec”, for example) "? You caught my curiosity

Lines like that, anon, are dangerous in giving me free rein to ramble on at you all!

I’m not sure if you’re asking me why I feel the subject be emotional or my feelings about the word, so I’ll assume the first but provide a quick explanation of the second: I was making an oblique reference to the idea that “a-spec” is an autistic-only term that shouldn’t be used by ace-specs and aro-specs, something I cannot abide as an autistic a-spec and discussed (angrily) last week. I have no problem with the word “a-spec” as I use it on all my blogs (you can take it out of my cold, dead hands!), just the idea that it is a thing in need of debating.

(I’ve a less-angry discussion about the angry post here, too, that adds a little more detail.)

In summary, I think the idea that “a-spec” is an autistic term, promoted by allistics, is the act of using autistics as pawns in exclusionist hands to silence a-specs from a unifying term we need and autistics don’t. In claiming the word is an autistic one and shouldn’t be used, allistic exclusionists are ignoring the autistic language and culture that does exist (based around reclaiming identity-first terms) while simultaneously denying a-specs a-spec language and culture.

In using one of my identities against the other, they’re erasing both.

It angers me so much because it’s still treated as a debate, as though the pain it causes me as an autistic aro is abstract–and this is tied so much to my experiences with other intersections of ableism and amatonormativity. Both these things provoke emotional responses in me, and when they overlap, I am very much not calm about it. It’s not something I can reframe as absurdity; I am my emotions and they’re that muddled space of anger and hurt.

I don’t feel more supported as a trans/NB/pansexual person–it does a disservice to the harm wrought by cissexist, exorsexist and monosexist people and “discourse” in LGBTQIA+ spaces, and I won’t minimalise that. I do feel, though, that amongst many reasonable and progressive people (on Tumblr at least), those attitudes are regarded as hateful, and while plenty of exorsexism still reaches me, it’s more often answered. The hate I get on these points is more often directly, horrifically, dangerously vile, but I feel more of an acknowledgement from my broader communities that such attitudes are vile, and often that’s just enough to keep going.

Ableism, though, even in spaces otherwise progressive, feels to me like amatonormativity and a-spec antagonism (especially aro antagonism) in something that is so unquestioned and overlooked. When it’s mentioned, people seem to regard responding to it as an inconvenience, irrelevant. Ableism is so often reduced to readily-understood concepts like maybe not using the R-slur and sometimes things like image descriptions, but the many, subtle ways one can be ableist for so many shapes of disability, never mind struggles like competing/conflicting access needs, are so often dismissed. No hatred is meant so it doesn’t matter.

I don’t think I need to lecture you all on the subtlety of amatonormativity and aro erasure; we’ve all endured it, this feeling that the things that hurt and diminish us aren’t worth bothering about–just as so many shapes of ableism aren’t deemed worth bothering about. Just as folks are so unwilling to provide fully accessible content or reframe their language, folks are unwilling to support aro-specs in any access needs we have with regards romance and erasure.

Ableism and amatonormativity make me feel the most dehumanised and erased, because here I feel that people who should be my own still don’t want to see or support me. Ableism and amatonormativity feel to me like things even otherwise-progressive people don’t want to acknowledge or explore. My disabilities aren’t always invisible, but they’re not always visible either, and so much of ableism and amatonormativity both is not as simply-understood or obvious as not using certain slurs. For me, trying to explain why “-phobia” causes harm when nobody uses the word to intentionally hurt me feels like trying to explain why the truth of most works ending in a romantically happy-ever-after causes harm.

(I’ve seen posts about aromantics and polyamorous folks supporting each other based on our being targets of amatonormativity, but I think aromantics and neurodiverse folks, especially on subjects like dehumanisation and the way love and empathy are treated as normal, have a natural kinship in how what we don’t feel is used to diminish us, and I’d love to see more discussion about this. I do wonder if this is why the best conversations I’ve had about not using -phobia have been in the aro-spec community. Certainly I’ve found more willingness to consider and understand than I have elsewhere, and I think that speaks to that kinship.)

I think part of this anger happens because people tend to explain at me in response–explain why “-phobia” isn’t a problem, explain why “a-spec” is an autistic word, even though I have discussed both from the position of an autistic with phobias. Because these fine points of language are less understood as being based in explicit, intentional ableism or antagonism (hatred), I believe others read them as acceptable, good-faith debate points in a way “trans people are their AGAB” is only “debated” by someone a world away from good faith. I’ve seen people respond to soulmates being amatonormative in the same way–it’s as though they’re archived in some abstract section of people’s understanding, that these aren’t our lives and experiences and pain being dissected.

Our pain is ignored as relevant because it isn’t seen as real.

The people we’re so often fighting are good, progressive people, with no intent to cause harm or deliberate hatred, operating from legitimate good faith. And they’re breaking us. Ableism and amatonormativity are so unacknowledged that there’s no widespread understanding that our pain isn’t an interesting debate point, that a lot of what we’re fighting isn’t direct, intentional or obvious antagonism–and it is ableism and amatonormativity that tells people, ourselves included, that these things are not worth acknowledging.

I have to fight my own internalisation of ableism and amatonormativity to fight someone else’s ableism and amatonormativity of considering ableism and amatonormativity a simple debate topic.

The last ask I got that told me -phobia constructions was fine to use made me cry. I was wrecked by it, because I’d explained my reasoning several times that week, and while there was nothing rude in the ask itself, debating the merits of something I said hurt me was horrible–especially when I had to keep on saying the words, also rendered difficult by my chronic pain. And while I’ve had too few spoons to comment as I should and wish to, @herefortheacenaro has been fighting wonderfully against more ableism on the subject of not using -phobia this past fortnight, and I can only imagine the exhaustion felt now, knowing how much it broke me.

So, anon, while I can handle direct antagonism with much more confidence, because I have enough certitude to dismiss it as hatred, the calm, quiet, polite-seeming ways of turning the unseen pains of my life into a debate topic, particularly if it comes with able-splaining or allo-splaining (and they often do) are the acts of ableism and amatonormativity that break me.

And when they come together, I’m scrambling to know how handle it.

[nilnil6]

She Who Leaps

"Men apply for a job when they meet only 60% of the qualifications, but women apply only if they meet 100% of them."

Whether or not this is true or not, or whether it denotes or underscores a different issue, this quote was a stepping stone for me as a woman to gain confidence I never had before. I learned in an embarrassing incident in a casual interview for a corner store, that the world is more informal than many women are led to believe. Yes sometimes you have to look the part, act the part, and have the know-how to back it up, but sometimes all you have to do is show up to an opportunity and learn from it.

Men and Women are socialized differently in this regard.

For men, they learn that they are men, and by virtue of that fact, they possess the willpower and autonomy to decide their own fates. To change the world to suit themselves. Men are yelled at to never take anything sitting down, to stand up for themselves, to "be a man", and to always fight for what they want. They learn that anything they could ever want - they could have if they just make an attempt. It's why you will see most men as trouble makers as youths, because they are socialized and actually given rewards from pushing boundaries and seeing just how much they can get in return. Likewise, if a man complains about something, people will often respond with "stop bitching and do something already!" It's why men kill themselves more often and often have lower impulse control. They are socialized to believe that acting is the only means to get what they want.

For women, we aren't taught to "be a man" and seize inner willpower to shape the lives we want to live. Instead, we are told by our parents and peers what we aren't able or capable of doing. We are treated as either fragile or sacred, and learn that the world knows us better than we know ourselves. We learn to change ourselves to suit the world, and as our autonomy is denied, we cling to agreed upon social rules to achieve what is socially defined as being within our grasp. We are socialized to never stray, to never question, and to assume that everyone is following these rules perfectly and that the rules are honored universally. How often and readily are women willing to back down and fall back upon rules in the hopes of this authority being in their best interests? When we don't fight, we hope justice will be served. We hope everything will be all right. We hope we will be ok. As with any oppressed group, the will to fight is taken out of us and we become stepping stones of the same system, holding it up, justifying it in this sick process. We are socialized to believe that acting on our own accord is not a means to get what we want.

What I have learned, and in all seriousness, is that you can do anything you want if you are ready to adapt and change based on the consequences.

The problem with men is that they do proceed to do whatever they want, but they do so without heed of consequences. They are socialized to expect a reward from attempting, and when they don't get one, they don't adapt. They don't learn to perhaps change their approach or even decipher whether whatever it is they want is actually something they want. They lock in on it, internalize their inability to get whatever it is, and violently throw everything they have at it. In our society that encourages this, this can seem almost admirable to us. From murder suicides to crimes of passion. But at the end of it all, it is self destruction. A sordid spectacle to watch as man after man fizzles out into nothing.

The problem with women is that we stop ourselves from doing what we want because of the consequences that we correctly see. It has been the case that as a young girl grows up, as society sees us in terms of what we aren't capable of, we are punished whenever we take the bold step to act on our own behalf. We trusted the enforcers and thus trusted the enforcement. Why would the people around us want to keep us down? They seemed to know us better than ourselves. When we were young, we had no way to escape this.

But as young adults and adult women, we're stronger and can see the truth around us. Only we can know ourselves, and sometimes the rewards, hidden by the fires of the world's consequences, are worth the leap.

As a perfectionist, someone who always jumped to the worst possible conclusion, I've identified the negative self-talk during times of anxiety as the words of my father and peers in my childhood.

"You think you can get the job with that? What are you thinking?!"

"There's always someone better out there. Why even waste your time?"

"You're going to botch this interview again. They'll see you as how desperate you really are."

"They haven't called back because you didn't get the job. Stupid of you to even get your hopes up."

"I can't believe you even thought you had the chance."

These thoughts would stop me from acting. I couldn't take initiative because I felt my work wasn't good enough - that I had to get things perfect to be noticed. But as with my childhood, as I would work to improve, it would still not be good enough. And never would be. It's the lie we're taught as children - as little girls - that we have to be perfect and to live up to standards of compliance - under the guise that everything would just work out in the end, without us moving a finger. But the world rewards initiative, not perfection. Even if you think your attempt isn't good enough, even if it is demonstrably worse than someone else's attempt, value is human defined, and your attempt might be just what someone is looking for.

When you're at a crossroad and frozen with indecision, ask yourself what would you gain if you acted and everything went alright. Could you gain a new job? A new friend? A new community? A new livelihood? A new purpose? How worth it is it for you to act? To speak up? To voice an opinion? It is within your power to decide whether you want to fight for something or not, and it is ok to decide that it isn't worth your time. But if it is worth it, fall in love with that dream. Try to have it eclipse your worries if you can.

Ask yourself what could actually happen if you acted. For those of use who only see the worst case scenarios, this grounds us. What can actually happen based on what we currently know? Some of our worst case scenarios might not actually be feasible, though some of them are. Society, with its hierarchies to keep in power, stacks these consequences against us to intimidate us, but there is another half missing here.

Ask yourself how those consequences and possibilities measure up to what you have now. If you have nothing to lose, you have everything to gain. I have social anxiety, I am more focused and productive when I'm alone. My decisions becomes muddled when in the presence of someone else, I am extremely sensitive to facial expressions, and my mind is sometimes overfocused on the other people's approval despite feeling I'll never get it. Slowly I am working under the mindset that my fear to reach out to people is second to my present state of loneliness. I have nothing to lose by initiating contact with someone to become their friend if they were never a friend to begin with. If I fail then nothing is lost. If I gain, then that is something I wouldn't have had if I hadn't have acted before.

As women, we often already know the consequences but feel powerless to overcome them. But it maybe the case that we don't have to wait and wait for the perfect time and place to over come them. We just need to face them and deal with what comes later. This isn't just about jobs, but every aspect of life.

This all being said, everyone's lives are different. It is not the case that if women just found a magical key to confidence that they would be see as equal to men in the eyes of society. Individual actions don't change the world, only collective actions do. Because as a whole, we ARE society. But some of us, myself included, are still operating under what we learned as children - that if we remain good little girls, society will reward us. We are adults now with access to the world widened by the feminists before us. Some of us do have the opportunity to take our space, but we have to let go of the fear that our families and friends put in us as children.  

Side Note: Some of you may relate to my descriptions that are gendered. You may be a female but grew up with a sense of initiative to reach for what you want despite the obstacles in the way. Perhaps you too feel like you will keep fighting when you hit a brick wall. Or maybe you are male but grew up meek, never wanting to fight and thus falling back on agreed upon rules to hopefully meet your needs. But often finding that not everyone follows those rules and often it is a ploy to keep you silent. The associated advice still stands for you. Everyone is different and has different lives and your experiences being gender-non-conforming aren't abnormal or deficient. Society however has an agenda when it comes to gender, and on the whole, globally, it seeks to make men into competitors amongst themselves, easy to dominate, and women servants, to be dominated by virtue of their sex. We must recognize this to fight it. Collectively, because individually we can't do it alone.