#when the person in the mirror is the very antithesis of your being

[lu-is-not-ok]

Is the self in the mirror my reflection, or another being entirely?

[entities-of-posts]

Hi, I have a question not directly tied to the roleplay (though I don't mind if you answer it in that direction): A while ago, you talked about your theory of a potential 16th Fear emerging to balance the emerging Extinction: the Dull. I find that concept compelling, but in that post you also said that each of the powers has an "opposite" due to how people like to categorise things and I'd be curious what you would consider the opposite of each power. (Mostly because I like lists and sorting things xD)

Some do have a pretty clear opposite (Vast/Buried, Lonely/Corruption), but with a lot of the others it's less immediately obvious or simply up to a bit more interpretation. iirc Elias says the Stranger is the antithesis to the Eye, but the Dark and the Spiral similarly foil its central concepts, and I'm not sure what else their opposites would be, really.

Let me just preface this list by saying that this is my own opinion and interpretation, and thus 100% right and correct and indisputable.

I will also say that there are Fears which I would call near opposites, but imperfect mirrors - such as the Stranger and the Eye - and some that just seem to hate each other without being antithesis - such as the Desolation and the Corruption. It’s also worth mentioning that overlap always exist between mirrors, of course; this is why there is a classic duality between the moon and the sun, but no one talks about the duality between the moon and a giraffe, even though they have much less in common.

That said, here is my list:

The Vast - The Buried: the most widely agreed upon. Spaces too large versus too small. The terrible freedom of being adrift in an endless ocean, of freefall, versus being crushed in place with not the space to crawl an inch. You get it. The comparison is so clear and easy that it kickstarts the speculation about all the others.

The Eye - the Dark: extremely straightforward; just as much as the Vast and the Buried, to me. Knowledge versus the lack of it. Stark light versus impenetrable darkness. What sees you versus what you cannot see. Literally symbolized respectively by an open eye and a closed one.

The Corruption - the Lonely: Toxic love versus miserable isolation. An overabundance of company, much too close, under your very skin, a swarm of uninvited guests within your deepest sanctuary who will not leave, versus a life so barren of any company at all that that you might almost start to crave the former. The heat of fever versus the cold of fog.

The Web - the Desolation: careful planning versus reckless destruction. A trap so intricately laid, hundreds of delicate moving pieces and redundancy measures waiting for just the right time… so easily laid to waste by an unthinking, spontaneous act of cruel hunger for rubbles. Man’s quest, since the dawn of time, has been to tame and leash fire. And we still haven’t mastered it.

The Hunt - the End: a wild fight for life versus its cold ending. The journey versus the destination. The two oldest fears. The Chase wants more than anything to never End. The End doesn’t Chase; it just waits. And you’re the one that walks towards it every instant.

The Stranger - the Slaughter: here is the part of the list where people start to look at me oddly, because they’ve often never considered those pairings; but hear me out, and remember that I am inarguably correct. The fear of something Else pretending to be human versus the fear of what truly lies at the core of every human person. The fear of being tricked by an elaborate disguise versus the intimate knowledge of the truth: that those who hurt others aren’t monsters disguised as people. They’re just people. And the urge is in you too. Masks, versus what is revealed when all masks are cast off. And they both have musical motifs which makes for some fun parallels.

The Spiral - the Flesh: the horror of the mind versus the horror of the body. Unreality versus a reality only too physical, only too inescapable. Your brain is lying to you, but your body keeps the score. Follow the patterns, the Spiral says, there is more, they are lying to you, just follow me down - this is all there is, the Flesh whispers, this is the raw and dripping truth, this is all you are and you will never escape it. The Distortion even admits it can’t digest an avatar of the Flesh.

[dutchdread]

Got a question why do some fans say tifa know the real cloud when in ff7 original she says they were never close as kids in the life stream scene? Even in remake and rebirth she say on the gs ride I can't remember us ever being this close before. Doesn't that make the playing field equal for aerith because tifa didn't know the real cloud either right?

I don't know if they're saying she "knows the real" Cloud, because I sort of agree, she doesn't really get to "know" the real Cloud until he bears his soul to her in the lifestream sequence. I think it's better to say that Tifa is "connected" to the real Cloud, narratively speaking, while Aerith is not.

First though I have to address the misconception that Tifa and Cloud weren't close as kids. They were, traces of two pasts gives us some insight into the childhood of Tifa and Cloud, and in it we learn that Tifa and Cloud were closer when they were VERY young, but grew apart later on. The implication is that this is when Cloud started developing feelings for Tifa, which caused him to distance himself. But there is still a difference between that and Aeriths connection. I think the best scene to explain this is the most obvious one, the water tower scene. In the water tower scene we discover that while Tifa likes Cloud, she wasn't sure yet what sort of "like". Mirroring Aeriths scene at the end of rebirth. But while Aeriths scene ends with the "but" of "liking, BUT not like liking", Tifas story goes a little different. Cloud says he'll be a soldier, and that he's not like other boys, not knowing that this was the 4th time someone has said this to her. And yet, the proclamation didn't disappoint her. Because it's not the alure of Cloud being a famous soldier that catches Tifas eye.

"she'd discovered that Cloud - the quiet neighbour who had always seemed as unreachable as the stars - was just a normal boy like any other. She'd come to understand that she did like him. And it was that special kind of "like" - the one that ties up your heart, making you yearn to be with that person for the rest of your days.

It's that moment, where Cloud bears his soul to her for the first time, when he's "just a boy", that Tifa falls in love. In other words, Tifa fell in love with the exact antithesis of the fake soldier persona that he put on later in life. The irony, and beauty, of this story lies in the fact that Cloud believed he needed to be this heroic soldier for Tifa to notice him, but all he really needed to be was just a boy with some dreams, he just needed to be himself, to be human. For Tifa, Cloud was already a hero just as he was, the boy that followed her up the mountain.

When Tifa meets Soldier Cloud, she's put-off by his eyes and his soldier persona, because that's not who she hoped to see. She hoped to see that hopeful shy boy from Nibelheim that asked her to come to the water tower. Meanwhile Aerith liked his eyes and soldier persona, because that IS who she hoped to see, only in Zack. She's longing for the boy she's wearing pink for, whom she sent letters to for 4 years. Of whom it was her one wish to "spend more time with". Both girls in essence are looking for that connection with the fake Cloud/Zack conglomeration. But only Tifa has the real connection, because at the heart of the fake Cloud lies the real Cloud, and not Zack. Which is why her dates and interactions with Cloud go naturally, because that's his heart shining through from underneath the fake persona. And that's why all the dates with Aerith are so rough, because Aerith is bouncing energy off of him in a way that would work with Zack, but Cloud is not Zack, and because of that the entire thing feels forced and unnatural.

[gold-rhine]

Love language post again but with the four Sumeru boys! :D

Alhaitham

Alhaitham is that one annoying "Well actually..." guy. His favorite book is Hegel's dialectics, which he's read in the original and wrote his akademiya thesis on, but if u just read that thesis you'd think he hates it bc he tears into mercilessly. but in fact thats how he shows respect, bc as per dialectics, its only possible to grow when confronted with the antithesis to your thesis, and producing synthesis based on that. his mirror theory is based on learning about yourself by being confronted by the opposite.

his love language is when you excitedly tell him of your plans instead of being excited with you to melticiously nitpick them for hours with -_- face, bc he thinks that the best way to help you is to show you all of the possible flaws and problems beforehand so you can fix them and succeed. he's also very particular on when to help you or not. like he won't help if he thinks you need to learn to overcome smth, bc again, he thinks you can only grow by challenging yourself, BUT he also doesn't believe that every challenge is worthwhile. so like he might refuse to help with something relatively easy, but another time he will just drop shitton of money out of nowhere without you asking or find the loophole in bureaucracy and so on, bc these are not the kind of challenges that will help your personal improvement, they are logistical hindrances.

as to how to best show you care for him, out of Sumeru Autism Trio, Alhaitham is like the only one who is not big on infodumping. he strikes me as a type who will just silently stew on his thoughts, spew out a book that shakes up that specific scientific field and immediately move on to another subject. but his character stories say he likes reading physical books instead of getting info directly from akasha bc he likes questioning and distilling views and biases of the author, so i think finding something with really new and surprising perspective that he's never considered before is one of the best things, be it a very smart academic study or bonkers crazy conspiracy theory doesn't matter, what matters is the uniqueness of the mirror that can be applied to the world.

another thing is that Alhaitham will just never conventionally show emotions. like he knows how to mask and play social roles if he needs to, but he doesn't enjoy it and it's useless to expect it from him. Alhaitham is actually one of genshin's least traumatized autistics, his grandma never forced him to pretend to be "normal". you just have to be okay that even he's most comfortable and happy, he still has the same resting bitch face on, and mb learn to tell the difference when it shifts into slightly more tense tired bitch face, when he just neds to go sit alone in a dark corner with headphones on for awhile and not take this personally. otherwise, Alhaitham is pretty transparent about he likes and doesn't like if he trusts you, like he *will* tell you straight up what he wants or if he's unhappy. his communication style is not for everyone, esp its hard for ppl who enjoy seeing partner express emotions visibly, but there's a different kind of intimacy in intense and raw-cut way if it clicks for you.

Tighnari

Tighnari is a mom friend and a harangued middle regional manager at the same time. he has like twenty different check lists active on the back of his mind at all times, half of these check lists are actually responsibility of other ppl, but Tighnari knows ppl are incompetent clowns and he has to double check that everything goes ok.

Tighnari's love language is that he will have an extensive check list for you to make sure you're taken care of. your love language for Tighnari is to make sure you take care of yourself, so he doesn't have to mom you in addition to moming all of the incomptetents in his life. he needs someone who can be trusted to be responsible about their own well-being, so Tighnari can relax as with an equal. if you cover all your fundamentals, then his check list can easy up to sweet little things which he likes fussing about.

and like Tighnari does like to fuss and organize things, just when the stakes are not high and its not a forced responsibility. you can ask him organize a trip or to choose the optimal restaurant and so on, and he will happily fuss and research and figure out logistics and enjoy it very much, despite grumbling all the time, just make sure to tell him he's done great job afterwards.

also, of course, he likes infodumping about his mushrooms and plants and complaining about idiot tourists and his idiot bosses, and also will happily listen to what you have on your mind in return.

Tighnari is overall a grumbly sweetheart who found his place in the world and is happy with it, and just wants someone to share this place with as with an equal, so he can relax and let go of the stress and exercise his fussing tendencies on nice enjoyable activities

Cyno

Cyno might at first glance seem to be from the same no visible emotions type as Alhaitham, but it's not really the case. Due to Akademiya's racism against desert people, Cyno had to learn to wear this resting stoic bitch face all the time, to don't answer provocations and don't show emotions to not be labeled as uncivilized, and he was scrutinized twice as hard as other students. He's the most traumatized out of Sumeru Autism Trio and it's now hard for him to show emotions and vulnerability after years of being trained not to.

he says himself that he knows his jokes are bad and he says them not bc he thinks they are funny, but bc he wants to break tension or break someone's impression of him as intimidating and unapproachable, bc like, Cyno is not great at socializing. that's his way of being like "Hey i'm not scary actually". so him clowning around ppl is his way of showing trust and invitation to engage, its basically like when large predators playfully roll on the ground and expose belly, its the vulnerability of being silly with someone. he'll be happy if you indulge him, and listen or participate with his silly hobbies like card games or roleplaying, a support of him trying to get out of the restricting role he was schooled into in akademiya.

Cyno is incredibly supportive himself, he might not be great at social cues or expressing himself, but he will show up for you 200% every time. he has actually a nice amount of emotional intelligence, even if he's clumsy in using it. he invented the card game excuse to look after collei bc she wants to feel independent and so he's pretending he is there on silly selfish pretense, bc thats more comfortable for her. Deep down, he's very sweet, loyal and steadfast, even if awkward and hyperfixated on his duty.

[apoapsis]

@femtaillle said, ❝ i know you. i know about you. ❞

              He’s aware that he should exercise more care when stepping in for SIGMA directly.

It wasn’t as simple as SIEBREN merely being that efficient; he’s been finding himself getting far too carried away with wanton violence more and more often– and clearly someone had finally taken notice. Hm. Not his fault that he finds SIGMA’S bubbly demeanor and eccentricity nearly impossible to mirror– it would be far easier if his counterpart would simply behave and conduct himself… more properly; more like himself. Often, it seemed as though, in an attempt to re-establish an identity for himself, he established himself as SIEBREN’S own antithesis, whether indirectly or doing so willingly. Oh yes, he could certainly sympathize with him in that regard, if only it didn’t include the infuriating compulsion to polarize himself so vehemently against the very idea of their shared DIVINITY. How SIGMA could knowingly possess such an intimate understanding of such power and still deny his new place in the UNIVERSE was simply beyond him– then again… perhaps he simply needed to be shown exactly what he was capable of, or… perhaps he was afraid of his power.

                Either way, repetitive demonstration was clearly required– that was simply the price of choosing TALON, as cruel as it felt at times… But if he spared him the so-called ‘tough love’, he would die; if SIEBREN couldn’t protect him, who would? 

... Why did SIGMA have to be so… fragile?

                Visually, he is SIGMA– but he moves all wrong. In retrospect, if anyone would take notice to their little “secret”, it would be the Widowmaker herself, as he is the original; what interest does he have in pretending to be meek, when he has achieved GODHOOD? SIEBREN does not carry himself in such a miniscule way; he occupies space so very unapologetically, broad shoulders squared; his regal head cocked back in prime, elegant form as he leers down at friend and foe alike– their honor to be granted the opportunity to bask in his true radiance, the vermin that they are. There is no post-battle commentary, no detectable ounce of SIGMA’S habitual attention-seeking whatsoever, as a thoroughly thrashed astrophysicist lurches aboard the dropship, the aircraft shuddering beneath the blanketing, increased gravitational pull of SIEBREN’S influence, and silently taking his place upon an unoccupied seat to click the safety harness into place. Out of all of the other units, this time he’s the one coated with the most blood it would seem– really, he’d anticipated a mission with just himself and the Widowmaker to be much… tamer, considering he’d been deployed to destroy the facility while she cleared the surrounding areas of survivors. As much as he loved the physical aspect of beating another person into solid concrete, it was exhausting. He can’t tell if the blood coating his face and saturating his previously fluffy, snow-white wisps of hair is his own or not. A pale tongue listlessly peeks through thin, chapped lips, clearing a thin line through the scarlet coating his upper lip with a slow, methodical swipe. Metallic. A sign of a job well done. 

… You are disgusting...!

               ... An odd way to thank me– personally, I found your silence far more respectful... you should be quiet more often.

Initially, he pays no real attention to his crewmates; as far as SIEBREN was concerned, with the mission now complete, they were no longer his responsibility, and any sense of obligation to them rapidly dissipates once he’s cleared to leave the craft. Ideally, he might have wandered off to the medical ward if one Miss Professor O’Deorain did not happen to be employed there– but in reality, superficial and-or otherwise non-debilitating injuries were rarely, if ever, willingly presented to the medical staff. That’s typically why SIGMA often neglected to remove the armor until safely within his room– but right now, SIEBREN is so sticky with the slowly congealing blood and souring bits of gore that he needs it off of his body. It’s fine when it’s warm, but now that it’s had a chance to cool off, he feels sick. He’s quick to meander towards the armory since he knows it’s often quiet– a majority of the time, the equipment provided was brought directly to the agents unless preparing for private missions, and he’d noticed nearly all of them rarely turned up there to hand in their used equipment, leaving it fairly deserted when returning from missions. 

               SIEBREN’S only just unplugged his capacitor from the cable jack socket in the back of his head when Widow speaks up, making him jump reflexively. Maybe SIGMA would have indicated she was there if he wasn’t so upset with him– ah well. It’s difficult not to feel ‘caught’ when he’s well aware that his existence is intended to be, well, secret. It’s here that he makes his next error– rather than instantly recoiling and stammering an unnecessary apology and insisting he knows nothing in his counterpart’s obnoxiously non-subtle way of attempting to redirect attention from himself… There is a moment of hesitation as glacial lavender eyes lock with her equally glass-like stare. She knows…? What did she know? A part of him is praying that she meant the observation towards SIGMA, but… no, she doesn’t speak to him that cryptically; his counterpart wouldn’t have understood the subtext, surely. But if she wasn’t speaking to SIGMA, then…

“... Do you genuinely…?” he asks in a hostile, agitated tone as he resumes discarding the bulk of his gear and allowing it to drop unexpectedly hard to the tiled floor below as his increased gravity accelerates its natural velocity and making the light, durable carbon fiber alloy sound as though it were made of lead with the force with which it impacts the floor. Left in SIGMA’S hideous little jumpsuit, he pads towards her in careful, paced strides– she’s made him aware that she already knows, so there’s no point in attempting to float or pretend any longer while they’re here together. Even with his feet planted firmly upon the floor, he towers above her callously, his own glassy stare just as unblinking as hers as he draws near. Gravity is intoxicating this close to him as his influence exerts pressure upon the atmosphere directly. Yet he would be remiss to deny a sense of curiosity as to why she would feel so inclined to bring it up. 

              “... I don’t think you do.” SIEBREN counters–  however, rather than snap at her, he cocks his head several degrees to the side, narrowed snake-like eyes gazing down at her over the bridge of his broad nose with muted interest. “Because if you knew anything, you would know better than to address me so openly– you didn’t even ask SIGMA if he approved of this. What could you possibly know of me?” Despite sharing the same vocal inflections and cadence that SIGMA exhibited, SIEBREN speaks more directly, articulating each word with uncharacteristic evenly-toned sharpness. “-- Here; let me guess! I would deduce that Miss Sombra must have shared something with you in regards to me… And my disinterest in masquerading around as SIGMA has finally lapsed, is that accurate? In any case, I should... probably have a word with Miss Sombra about that...” At least, in regards to SIEBREN-- he doesn't care what she says about SIGMA.

A dry snort escapes the astrophysicist as he looks her up and down once over, an annoyed scowl crossing his features. “... Regardless… You may know of me– but surely you will not claim to know me. If it's enough to bring it to my attention, then please! By all means-- speak!”

              “-- Tell me; what do you claim to “know”?

"... Of what significance are you to me?”

[beatsboy]

8.23.24 / day 61 of being a delusional artist

and i think i finally get it now that i’m not in some quest to romanticize my life that will not make me love myself and maybe i am not even in a quest to be a great artist after all, what appealed to me most in embodying that of a delusional artist was the act of defending the art at all costs, defending your time and space to create. but is that not just a quest at protecting the only space that feels like mine?

i know i am an artist. i have always known this. what i resent is the fact that it feels like there are all these things and people and obligations and worries that pull me away from the one thing that feels good and important within me. yes, it feels good to make money, it even feels good to be so good at sex you’re a professional. it feels good to make over $2000 in a day like today, but i don’t feel full, i don’t feel whole, after playing with three mens’ assholes my entire day. it feels good to be independent, but not when i’m still thinking about how everything i do proves or doesn’t prove my ability to be an adult on my own to other people.

so, no, i am not on a quest for romance in my life. i am not on a quest for art. i am on a quest to live for myself. because i get it now, that is the only way i will love myeslf, if i do it for myself. all of it.

i realized this, driving home, with sweet pea in the backseat, singing to “leader of the landslide” by the lumineers, a song i listened to in a time when i liked indie music sung by emotionally unavailable men. before i’d even really begun to unpack the kind of relationship i had with my father. or the fact that i would have to let him go completely to become my own person. and listening to this song now, i cried, because i had been holding it in, because it has to come out at some point. and finally, after a day of holding in tension between my lungs like a frozen breath, i let it go, and i laughed, after crying, when wesley schultz sings: “maybe when she’s dead and gone i’ll get some sleep” because i realized how much i felt this way, how part of me just wishes he would die, so we could all mourn him the way i have been, so we can all move on, so i can have full access to my family again.

but in the same way a breakup is not the end of the process of separation, but the beginning, death is not the end of someone’s unraveling, it is the just the start. it will come someday. he will die, and i will probably go to his funeral, not because i want to honor or respect him, only to support the people. and it may very well be the next time i see him, at his funeral.

i cannot live to prove him wrong, though, any more than i could live up to his expectations of me. i can’t spend my life imagining what he might think of me and my decisions. i can’t daydream about performing at the Super Bowl and him turning on the tv, seeing how wrong he was. that is not why i do this. that is actually the antithesis of why i do this. and yet, i think these things from time to time. because the thought of him still has ruling power in my brain, worse than any ex boyfriend, girlfriend, or friend.

i will exorcise it from my body and my soul and my sweat and blood and tears and spit and hair in my bathroom sink. i will cry him out, bleed him out, sweat him out, every time i shave my beard and rinse away the tiny hairs, a part of him will be released from me, until there is a day, when i look in the mirror, and i am a man he does not recognize, because he did not care to get to know me, and i will not shake at the resemblance in my reflection.

[muutosarchive]

lips still parted, hand slowly lowers itself to her lap. gathered together neatly, despite her still blushing features. their heart is near fluttering behind the cassock, when black claws pick apart the knot within her white hair. fused together long ago from the salty waters she used to lurk within. never needing to see the surface, if she didn't wish to. but mist is less a water ghoul of what most would consider beautiful. her blue-green skin, fins upon her legs & arms... patches of scales, with tiny, razor sharp teeth. little fish ears poking through her hair, braided & matted, whilst dreaded together in certain spots. her body dual toned in some areas, & webbed together in others... she has long preferred the mask, in fact. keeping herself covered -- so to be treated this way, is different in itself. less considered pretty than she truly is.

the space by her horn is still tingly from the continued stimulation of hair pulling around the keratin mass. it makes mist's spine just a fraction straighter in the chair. eyes looking anywhere but herself in the mirror. watching ant, as she smiles & coos over them. knee crossed, two hands rest atop them. sea-foam capped by red tipped nails, that stand out from the remainder of male presenting ghouls on stage. yet this is all that does, save for the extra bit of height on their shoes. something else she had denied, at first.

back straightens, head angling upward at the affections given to her cheek. trying to keep her lips in a line, politely -- though it curves up a little regardless, thanks to a stinging feeling in her sternum. that which sits with the anxiety. as a symptom, perhaps. fingers drumming overtop of one another, with painted claws overlapping. trying to relax -- though it only comes forth in some bobs of her ankle. "do not worry, fire guleh. we know all too well the convention of their elements. however, they are -- as we know it -- the antithesis to our own." remain factual. the knowingness of where your fingers should be placed, upon the fret board. it is no different, to know her place socially. where she is gentle, & patient -- calming. antimony is wild, & rough. impatient, being the indicator here of their obvious differences.

she is very charming. mist of course is no stranger to locking away one's femininity, in a male dominated world. (well, at least outwardly it would seem as such). being personally trained by sister imperator was a learning experience if nothing else. on that of how things work around here. though as comb teases, mists' gaze keeps low. & when antimony notices, mist brings a hand to her chest when the chin perches upon her shoulder. hand fluttering down her cassock buttons, before entwining webbed fingers. hands hugging her knees again, while she looks over at the other with a blank curiosity. etherealness almost illuminated by her confusion.. her chin tilting back straight, to view herself in the mirror. dry lips open, with pointed shark teeth just visible past her tiers. large marble eyes wide when she watches the fans of her gills lick over the lip of her collar. the way pink stands out from iodized skin.

she must admit, the way her hair is shaping up -- it looks beautiful. the edges of her lips even threaten to quirk. normalcy seems on the horizon, for her nest. though it's hard to smile with fire eyes on her. red as embers, & with a grin that only illuminates the other woman's thoughts. gulp shifts water ghoul's neck, as her eyes flicker from her own reflection back to antimony's. as naked as the day she was born. this causes a thick exhale from the nostrils, with a soft amusement born upon her face. the slight pursing lift of her lips & twinkle of the eye. flexing her bottom paw, raised & putting pressure on her knee with both hands. & with a little exhale, there's a return of her face & lidded eyes downward, upon the huff of breath at her neck. shakier pull inward, mist angles her face against the knuckles. warming cold blood. nuzzling back as best she could. "the one called mist hides nothing, antimony." she speaks under her breath.

lips pursed closed, eyes lid with a softness about her. using her own soft song to calm her nerves, whilst she relaxes into the other. though there is a soft flush upon her cheeks. allowing her chin to be angled, pliant for the fire ghuleh as the water's chest rises like rippling waves in the regaining of her breath. smile growing a little more when she catches ant's gaze in the mirror. "we have no doubt." a pause, leaning back as she continues watching the other. calm, with soft sing-song hums released upon paying attention to her ears. a long sigh following suit, at the prodding of horns. head tilting with the direction of the comb. "-- when we first entered the clergy's service." mist recalls. "it was done by the mother superior, if our recollections serve us correctly." how could she forget?

A pleasant peel of laughter reverberates through the cavity of Antimony’s chest, and she caresses Mist’s face with the flat of her devilish tail; pointed like the speared prongs of a pitchfork. “No, no, dolcezza, don’t apologise,” she purrs, and plucks apart the mat with her claws instead, black as charcoal, just like her gradient fingertips. “Not for making such a delightful little sound,” this time accompanied with a girlish giggle, a flirtatious noise she saved those she deemed worthy of seeing her feminine side — her fragility — the playful spark she kept buried in the caverns of her soul. “Mi dispiace, I can be a little impatient,” such was the disposition of a fire ghoul.

Retrieving the comb from the vanity once more, Antimony teases at woollen, white curls, frizzy after spending so long saturated with sea salt, and twain in tight braids, and that’s when she notices, the ghuleh’s eyes, restricted to their lap. “Diavoletta mia, what’s wrong?” Antimony sounds anguished by the display. “Why won’t you look at yourself?” Ceasing her brushing, Antimony bends down and perches her chin on Mist’s shoulder, like a gargoyle ornamenting the masonry of a church. “How can you appreciate my work when you won’t look?” It simply doesn’t make sense to the fire ghoulette, who is absolutely enchanted by the features the ghuleh usually glamoured away: from her fanned digits, like intricate origami, the iridescence of their scales, and the ribbon-like ridges of their gills, only just concealed by the high clerical collar.

“If I were you, I would spend all my time looking in the mirror,” she confesses; few possessed vanity like that a fire ghoul, except for maybe the rare quintessence designation — or rather, one quintessence ghoul in particular. “I would walk around the ministry as bare as the day I was born,” she whispers closely, seeing if she can provoke another squeak from the sweet amphibian. “All that gorgeous skin,” she caresses her cheek again, this time with her knuckles, her touch hot like a volcanic spring, warmed by convection currents roiling under her skin; subject to the tectonic shifting of her mood. “All blue, and green, and iridescent. What else are you hiding, hm?” And she nuzzles against her face with a grin.

Then she retreats, before she overwhelms the poor water ghuleh with the closeness of her breath and her heated gaze. “And if you won’t look at yourself, look at me,” she instructs, cupping her chin and angling her head up until it’s drawn level. “I’ll put a show on for you, hm?” She says, and her serpentine tail swoons from right to left, pendulous with its motions. “We’ll have you brushed and braided in no time,” she promises, throwing her reflection a wink. As she dips back into that tangled head of hair she makes sure to caress the arch of one of her ears, and teases around the base of one of her horns as she divides a section with the comb. “Tell me: when was the last time you had your hair all brushed out out like this?”

[candymay]

Talking Shame in Bones And All

My problem with Bones And All is ultimately how it’s been promoted to the public: a lust-filled love story about two cannibals in the American landscape. Then, some are left disappointed from expecting a gritty, consuming kind of romance slash horror. Or perhaps it’s the sweet remnants of Luca’s success of depicting love and passion through Call Me By Your Name (and other films from the desire trilogy) that wasn’t quite the same in this one. But to me, it’s just simply not what Bones And All wants to talk about. 

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

It almost feels like an antithesis of Luca’s previous romance film. If Elio and Oliver’s relationship grows naturally in a safe environment of acceptance and intelligence, a literal family home in beautiful Crema where nothing happens, Maren and Lee’s relationship builds from their shared nature that seems to stick with them, carrying the family curse of being the ‘others’ in the world without a home but stolen cars, driving fast but going nowhere in particular. If CMBYN is a slow-flowing Italian river, BA is a muddy American pit. Oliver’s snug swimming trunks, versus Maren’s heavy hard-structured oversized jacket.

So I guess it won’t be fair for me to compare them as they are completely different in nature. One is about acceptance, the other is about shame. What stuck with me the most, however, is BA’s concept of love as a partnership. I remember Sully’s words, “You don’t need to be alone. You can bond with me as long as you like,” and Maren’s question to Lee, “Why did you offer to bring me along?” to which he simply answers with, “You seem nice”. Perhaps it seems bleak that these ‘eaters’ are bonding with each other even with the lack of ‘love’ just in order to survive, but hasn’t it been like that for most of us too, our parents and the generations above us, for years and years?

I thought it was an interesting take on the reality of building a family, a discussion about our current period of time where our generation is waking up to break generational trauma cycles, which is painful, confusing, and alienating.

I’m very intrigued with Maren and Lee’s characters as the symbol of hope and sacrifice in the name of love. Maren is on the road to find her mother, but really to understand herself. However she seems aimless most of the time, her intention and actions aren’t clear like Lee’s. Just like our generation, she’s angry and confused. She knows she doesn’t want to be like her mother. She just doesn’t know how.

On the other side, Lee survives for his remaining family who still believes in him; his sister and Maren. He goes out of town, eats people, goes back to his sister, and goes out of town again when hunger strikes. His questions have always been, “Do I seem nice?”, “Do you think I’m a bad person?” (and again for the last time, “Am I bad?”). My favorite scene of him was when he dances to a KISS song, struts to the mirror, and catches the remaining blood on his neck then goes completely shut, murmurs to Maren that he’s going to take a shower. It’s simple, but it tells a lot about his guilt and shame. Hope is a powerful thing that brings hope to others. In this case, Maren seems to be Lee’s last hope for salvation. “Maybe love will set you free.” In the end, he sacrifices his body to Maren knowing that his sister has been eaten like he ate his father as if in an act of atonement.

To me, the chemistry isn’t supposed to be romantic in the traditional sense, because it’s no traditional love after all. At first I was a little dismayed by the lack of ‘chemistry’ on screen, I personally think they’re quite detached from each other. But that only sets the tone of realism on how two people who used to be alone for years would be with one another. How the guard is up as a subconscious act of self-preservation, even with their closest ones - even when they try. They don’t talk about their nightmares, but they take turns driving while watching each other sleep. It’s chaste, and the only times the band snaps are when they ravenously ‘eat’ together or when they talk about their traumas from their parents. The love manifests in the form of protection, sharing ‘food’, and literally killing someone to save the one you love. But of course, that’s just my take.

That all being said, I think the difference between Maren and Lee is their views toward the future. That we can stick to what we know and love the way we always know how, or go further and seek another option, as dark as the future might seem.

“We don’t have many options, Maren. Either you eat, you off yourself, or you lock yourself up like her in there.” 

Maren’s future is uncertain, but we can hold on to the fact that she knows she can’t stay still and let her monster dictate her own ambition to better her life. We don’t know how, and she doesn’t know how yet. But one thing is for sure, at least we know that it’s a one step forward.

...

I actually really enjoyed this film despite a few “God I wish it was much gorier” (now I know why Luca hates it when people focus on the cannibalism part too much!) I wish I could deep dive more into Lee’s character (his choice of fashion.. and how embarrassed he got by getting called a slur word by his sister from the way he dresses and sheepishly takes off his shirt). All is just my rambly opinion though!!✌️🖤

[brutaliakent]

Jason was characterized as happy go lucky before the idea of redhood was ever conceived, you can either have a character who became """full of hate""""" because of a single event they can't let go of, or a character who struggling with it from the beginning because of the hardships they faced as a child in poverty, honestly the second is much more interesting to me, but I doubt DC will ever treat it with that much nuance

That's fair, I too doubt that DC would ever do justice with Jason's writing. Jason's writing is very loose and up to interpretation, I personally am fan of Jason being a traumatised but happy go lucky kid who never had a chance to process trauma until he felt safe with Bruce, his main goal was always to help people especially less fortunate ones and when he realised that Gotham's system is so corrupt that they would run free was when it began to irk him and made him justifiably angry at the system that fails the victim.

For me Robin Jason and Red Hood Jason contradict each other because even when his birth mother betrayed him Robin Jason's last act was to try to save her, while the immense trauma of torture and death and subsequent less than smooth resurrection which he went through without proper support system fundamentally changed him and I dont think that'd be a stretch because everyone processes trauma differently. Jason as a character is so compelling because as a robin he always choose to forgive instead of hate (even two face) and as Red Hood he's the antithesis and mirror of both his younger self and of batman.

Though at the end the character is open for everyone's personal interpretation and I would love to hear yours ❤️

[shashuthelittlevoidling]

What even is the Void

The void is many things, yet most notoriously of all it is nothing. It is the pre-existential nothingness from which all was created and to which all shall return. The void is beyond time and space, existing both outside of the universe entirely and between every gap between every sub-atomic particle. The void penetrates everything, destroys it, changes it, and leaves the infinite potential for new creation to occur. As such, the void is deeply linked with entropy. Understanding the void can be beneficial to any practitioner who wishes to change themselves and the world around them, but working with it too deeply can be very dangerous even to advanced practitioners as it is a very fast road to occult madness. Don't mess with it unless you really feel called to, and always take a guide with you who knows their way around the timeless spaceless paradox of existent non-existence. The void consists of various layers, although these layers are less defined than those of the planar realms. They're more like different flavours that your brain synesthetically translates into colours, forming endless fractals. Within the Qlippoth the void takes the form of Da'ath, the abyss that must be crossed before the practitioner can descend into the final three qlippa. Da'ath permiates both the tree of life and the tree of death and is but a different expression of the same fenomena in both cases, even more obviously so than any of the other spheres, as it is not truly a sphere to begin with, but rather the void between them. Beyond Thaumiel the void takes the form of three more layers. Tohu, Bohu, and Chasek, but we will not go too deep into those right now, as I still don't know enough about them myself. These layers however are also mirrored on the tree of life as Ain (Soph (Aur)), as source is both the antithesis of the void, and simultaneously the exact same thing. The void is often said to function as a hivemind, especially when talking about Da'ath, and though I have still to fully connect with it, there does seem to be such a thing. The void however, exists not only within the contemporary western left hand path, but accross many cultures and religions. Something, must always come from nothing. Often times it is compared to primordial oceans, mist, or simply chaos, and I would personally say that while the void is all those things, it also predates them, as an even emptier infinity. Though, at this point we can not speak of "predating" in any sort of linear time sense. When working with the void, you will become more like it, as you will practicing with any current, deity, or realm to be honest, but especially with the void it can make you lose touch with your humanity. And yet, to advance with it, you do have to become like it, Solve et Coagula. Destroy and create again, with limitless possibility. One must learn to be a part of it without being consumed by it entirely. The void is home to some, and scary to others.

Have a great day, and don't forget to hug your inner child today.

[charthanry]

BBS: Deconstructing the Entire Series (Part 2 of 13)

Welcome to my deep dive into each episode where I break down character motives, P’Aof’s delivery, and general musings of all things BBS. Basically, a scene-by-scene recap with commentary from me, your friendly neighborhood commentator. If you missed the previous installment of breaking down episode one, you can check it out here.

Recapping the recap: We left off EP1 with the reveal that Pat and Pran are dorm room neighbors only they don’t know it yet. Pran is quietly owning his feelings for Pat by wearing the watch Pat returned to him as kids. The two friend groups are annoyingly aggressive for no apparent reason other than it’s something to do? PatPran are tasked with keeping them in line and by doing so, have a built-in excuse and access to each other.

Episode Two: Mr. Dumpling, Mistaken Identities, and Dumbass Friends (or AKA Pran asks himself “How is this my life?”)

Mr. Dumpling, also known as the boy across the hall. 

We begin with two very different perspectives of the boys’ morning routines. Pran the ever pragmatic rises with the sun, spends time meticulously primping and practicing his come hither look in front of the mirror. He even takes the time to prepare a nutritious breakfast, where his toast must line up just so, all while listening to classical music. This is Mr. Type A with all his adorable neuroses on display and we love it, and him.

Across the hall his antithesis, Pat, snoozes away multiple times (Pat, you’re my spirit animal, those last dredges of snoozing are the best sleep ever). This lays the foundation, in case we didn’t already know, that these two are total opposites. Pat finally crawls out of bed at the very last minute and quickly pulls on the nearest items of clothing, yet still manages to look put together. We hate him. He does so while jamming to alt-rock tunes. Again, total opposites. We’re picking up what you’re laying down, show.

What’s even more hilarious is that although Pran wakes up over an hour earlier than Pat, he still somehow manages to leave his room after Pat does. Ah, Pat you lead such a charmed life. And it’s about to get even more charming. 

If you must encroach on my personal space, could you at least wash your hands first?

Pat and his cronies are headed towards the new curry restaurant for lunch when Pat considerately sends Pran a text to inform him of his whereabouts. A surprised Pran texts back that he and his friends already have dibs and sends Pat a photo of his half-eaten meal. Thinking quickly, Pat maneuvers his crew to a noodle shop instead. We’re then shown a fun montage of all the times Pat and Pran ran interference so their friends wouldn’t bump into each other. The most hilarious one being in the restroom where upon exiting a stall, Pran is shoved back inside by Pat who covers his mouth with his hand (this time not so HOT) as he hides Pran from his boys. This shows us that Pat and Pran are in sync and in total collusion with each other to keep their two groups apart. 

But we all know what they say about the best laid plans. The two gangs run into each other anyway; at the bus stop where taunting ensues. And we're all thinking calm your asses down, it is not that serious. Before things can escalate further, Pran and his sexy brain concocts a story of how their senior faculty members built the bus stop together and declared it as the pavilion of peace. Pat picks up on Pran’s intent and backs his story. Their idiot friends fall for it and everyone slinks away to their respective corners. Pat sidles next to Pran and asks if the story is true, Pran nods at the CCTV camera above them and Pat puts two and two together. Again, they’re totally in sync. 

My notification tune for you is set to: Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On 

The scene changes to Pran in his room working on his song (we all know what this song will eventually be!) when there’s a knock at his door. He’s got dinner delivered. As he sits down to eat, he gets a text from Pat asking if he’s in for the night and we’re treated to the most adorable text exchange. Pran asking Pat why he needs to know, are they boyfriends? (Squeeee! Nobody ever try to convince me that Pran is shy. It just isn’t true.) Pat responds with he’s never had to report his whereabouts to someone 24/7 like this and the only thing left for them to do is share a bed so that they can keep tabs on each other at all times. Pran responds with a puke emoji, but we know that it’s all deflection.

Pran proceeds to take a bite out of a humongous piece of fried chicken, and makes it look so delicious that we’re all drooling. He then finds a salad in the bag and thinks it came with the meal even though he didn’t specifically order it. After he’s done eating, he gets a call from the food delivery guy (cameo’d by BBS casting director!) saying he mixed up his delivery with his neighbor’s from across the hall. Because Pran is a considerate soul, he grabs three oishi green tea bottles and goes over to apologize. And the entire fandom collectively holds our breath thinking this is the moment they finally realize they’re neighbors! But his knock goes unanswered, and he instead leaves the bag at the door with a note.

Sorry :( I ate your salad. These drinks are my apology. 

But also, a guy who takes care of his cuticles? I want no more disparagement of Pat being dirty (unless it’s in the bedroom).

After Pran goes back to his room, Pat finally comes to the door and finds the bag of drinks as well as the note. He sees the precise and neat handwriting and assumes it’s from a girl. Inside we see that he has Pa over as he shows off to her that the receipt is folded into an origami crane. He imagines his female neighbor to be a health junkie and decides she’s flirting with him and he’s going to reciprocate. 

The next day Pran finds boxed dumplings hanging on his door with a “thank you” note attached. Pran works out that it’s from his neighbor and doesn’t know what to make of it.

It’s lunch time and we see that Pran and his mates are at the curry restaurant again (are there no other restaurants for them to eat at??) and the group is teasing Pran about his secret admirer. They work out that it’s a dude based on the pronoun used in the thank you note. They tease Pran mercilessly and ask if he already likes HIM and the face Pran makes is ADORBS as he looks out the window towards a group of guys.

Apparently, Pran has a built-in homing beacon linked to Pat because we see that Pat is sitting outside that same restaurant with his crew. And the timing of the screen switching to Pat when Pran’s friends ask if he likes HIM (the neighbor) is just too well done. Show, we’re onto you. Also, F*CK ME does Pat look GOOD here. We don’t blame you, Pran, we’d stare too.

Pat, can you just not with all of THIS. I actually need to be productive today, I can’t just sit here and stare at all that you’re exuding. Also the sun is still out, have you no mercy for the general population?

Pran comes back to his dorm and finds a box of desserts hanging on his door with yet another note. This time saying: “don’t forget to have desserts after your meal” there’s also a second message on the back that stuns him. He doesn’t know what to do and Nanon plays the cute, confused look so adorably here. Aw, kitten, have you never been hit on before?

Later when Pran shows his friends the note, we learn that neighbor guy has invited Pran to come up to the roof to admire the moon with him that night. After some teasing, his friends convince Pran that he should go even if to let the guy down gently. It’s the polite thing to do, pfft. Okay, apparently Pran’s friends are all Casanovas in the art of wooing? The show is really asking us to suspend our disbelief here and I’m just not buying what they’re selling. In fact, I’m demanding they refund my ticket for admission.

The rooftop. The site of so much HAPPENINGS. If they only knew.

That night we see Pran go up to the roof and who should be standing there waiting?? None other than rival frenemy, Pat. Boys, boys, welcome to YOUR ROOF. Lots of things will happen here, get yourselves ready for them.

They learn that they both live in the same dorm but still haven’t figured out their case of mistaken identities. Pran asks if anyone else came to the roof besides Pat and is told he’s been there alone the entire time. A girl walks outside and Pat thinking that she’s his mystery neighbor approaches her commenting on the lovely moon (pfft). Pran overhears and smart boy that he is, puts the pieces together. He’s about to run away but hears Wai’s words in his head about making things clear to the other person and decides to tell Pat that the person he’s been waiting for has already shown up. And it’s him. Awww. This totally counts as their first date, right? I mean, Pat is dressed the part. He brought snacks. And their activity is moon viewing. I don’t care, I’m counting it.

Go back and rewatch Pran’s body language as he asks Pat this question. He’s fidgety, doesn’t know where to put his hands, and can’t make eye contact. Adorable. I almost want Pat to look him straight in the eyes and say: yes, I do, very much so, what do you say to that, Mr. Parakul? Just to see Pran’s flustered reaction. Pran, are you prepared for Pat’s answer? You know he’s capable of volleying back whatever you’re serving, so why are you setting yourself up like this? But also, YASSS Pran, go after eeeet.

You take back these words right now, mister.

Finding out his mystery crush is Pran puts Pat in a mood, so he rallies his friends to drink away his sorrows. Only they wind up at the very bar where Wai waits tables, because of course they do. Korn and the gang decide to mess with Wai to cheer Pat up (what kind of ass backwards logic is this??) and proceeds to do that very thing. It’s both cruel and cringy. Pat waves them off as though to wash his hands of the whole thing, but still laughs at their antics. The entire fandom shakes our head in disappointment, Pat. You’re better than this.

I side-eye Pat so hard here. As much as Wai may be deserving, you simply do not show up at someone’s place of employment and pull this kind of stunt. Just no. (And for the record, this is less in defense of Wai because I would NEVER defend that weasel, but more an admonishment of Pat.) And to make matters worse, one of them records the entire thing on their phone. Oooh, this is so gonna come back to bite you, Pat. Hell hath no fury than a pissed off Pran.

The next day, Pran’s friends are hanging out at his place where Wai is lamenting his frustrations about the night before. Pran consoles him and says he’s gotta be the bigger man here or this feud will never end. Wise words.

Pran receives a text and it’s from Pat letting him know that he and his friends are en route to hang out at his dorm. Uh oh, incoming collision.

Uh, Korn. I think Pran might have some objections to this claim of yours. Also, did you two coordinate outfits today? 

Pran responds that he’s currently chilling with his friends in his dorm and Pat tries to quickly pivot by suggesting to his mates that they relocate to a restaurant. They’re up for it but want to invite along Pat’s mysterious neighbor. They then go banging on Pran’s door, thinking they’re doing Pat a solid by including his crush, while Pat stands there flustered and unsure what to do. The guys inside hear all the racket (how could they not?) and Pran has to physically stop Wai from answering the door.

The catcalling continues outside, and Pat finally has heard enough and tells his friends that the owner of the dorm is a guy. Curly and Moe both turn on Larry (Korn) and berate him for not respecting mystery guy’s privacy when not two-seconds earlier they were all-in on the same behavior. Ugh, these moronic boys. My eyes are currently stuck to the back of my head for how hard they just rolled.

Back in Pran’s room, Wai and co. think they have everything figured out and start teasing Pran about his neighbor flirting with him, trying to get more details out of him. Pran is adorably flustered and changes the subject.

That night after everyone leaves, Pran texts Pat that they need to talk. He’s got a bone to pick with him and it’s not the fun kind. (Yeah, I said what I said.) Pat invites him in, but Pran is visibly hesitant. Pat then heads to Pran’s place and Pran puts a stop to that as well. After this game of back and forth, they end up at Pat’s. 

Pran are you wearing an ice cream cone shirt to subliminally send a message to Pat? You know the boy has a weakness for ice cream. Are you offering yourself up as the ice cream here? If so, we definitely approve.

The boys start bickering when Pran takes offense to Pat implying his life was much more peaceful before Pran came back into it. Pat is adamant that he said no such thing. I can watch these two bicker all day long like the old married couple they already are; when there’s a knock on Pat’s door. It’s his dad! The boys panic and look for a hiding spot for Pran. They first try the closet (ha! not in there boys! How meta of the show to have Pat literally try and shove Pran into the closet?) eventually Pran ends up under Pat’s bed.

Dad’s surprise visit is ominous and Pran hears everything. Dad’s words are a deep stab to the heart because we know he’s the root of this rivalry and to perpetrate that Pran was a little puppy following Pat around is all kinds of wrong especially considering we all know that Pat is the clingy one.

After Ming leaves, Pat is apologetic but before he can get the words out, Pran beats him to it by announcing that he’s moving out.

Oh, not this face! Anything but this face. We can’t take it.

Back in his room, Pran’s face after hearing Pat’s dad guts us because he BELIEVES the words to be true. He’s asking himself have I been obvious this whole time? Does Pat know? He’s convinced that he needs to work harder at repressing his feelings for Pat and we just hurt so much for our boy. He finally put on the watch! Damn you Ming, if I could take you out back and flay you alive, I would. Pran decides that he needs to remove himself from Pat’s proximity and to do that he needs to move out.

Pat powwows with Pa over ice cream. See? What did I say about ice cream being his kryptonite? She’s in her school uniform, so we can only infer that he sought her out at her high school (his former school) because he was so distraught over Pran. Aww, not you too, puppy. These boys are really working our emotions this episode.

Pa correctly points out that if Pat feels he did nothing wrong then why is he here with her? She calls him out on his guilt and his face says it all. She encourages him to clear things up with Pran so they can both avoid a repeat of history. Foreboding words.

We see Pat walking around Pa’s campus and as he crosses the administrative building, he stops and stares, lost in thought. And we’re treated to our only flashback of the episode, BUT it is a very important one.

We learn that back in high school, Pat and Pran were both assigned to put on a holiday concert for their school. But on the day of their concert, they are interrupted midway through their performance when Pran’s parents unexpectedly show up wearing Grinch faces. So much for ‘tis the season to be merry. Pran sees his parents, visibly deflates, immediately looks at Pat, and walks off stage. Pat knows something is wrong but doesn’t fully understand the depth of it until he learns Pran’s mom has withdrawn him from school.

Pat recalls the last time he saw Pran in high school. And the look the boys give each other here is excruciating, more so because we know this will be the last time they’ll see each other for YEARS. And it HURTS. They’re 16-year-old boys who just want to make music together and because of their parents’ drama, can’t. It’s devastatingly unfair. The universe doles out its cruelty so indiscriminately and our two boys are casualties of it. We can feel Pran’s heart break in this moment. And Pat, while still in the dark about his feelings, can sense that this is wrong, and it’s not supposed to be this way. But he’s helpless at what to do so he can only wordlessly stare. Commit each other’s faces into memory boys, it’s going to be a while until your eyes can take each other in again. Sobs.

Remembering that he was partially responsible for Pran’s transfer spurs Pat to stop him from moving out. This is Pat showing his hand. He wants to stop carrying around this debt to Pran for saving Pa and for being the reason that he had to leave school. It’s been a heavy anvil weighing on him, and he doesn’t like this feeling. He thinks moving out in place of Pran will make things square between them and this is such a great callback to young Pat returning the watch to Pran as kids, in which we see the naivete in him. Pran feels wronged, so Pat is doing what he thinks needs to happen to make things right, the ultimate fixer. In this sense, Pat’s worldview is very black and white. And our hearts ache just thinking of when this idealism is going to shatter for him.

And this look here is Pran’s response. He wants Pat to owe him. Pat has taken up so much residence in Pran’s heart and mind, he should demand some form of retribution, right? An unconventional case of an eye for an eye, but instead it’s a heart for a heart. Along the lines of, you’ve taken so much space inside my head and my heart, how about I exact just a tiny bit of the same from you? You owe me, so no, I’m not gonna let you off that easily. If I can’t get you out of my mind, I’m going to make damn sure that I’m lingering in the back of yours. You owe me this much. Pran is so deliciously petty, and I AM HERE FOR IT!!

Flustered Pran is the best Pran, right up there with soft Pran. But this Pran? Wowzers.

The two bicker on who is staying and who’s going and end up tussling with hands going every which way. They manage to end up on the bed in compromising fashion. How lovely and convenient that the room Pran is checking out just so happens to have a huge ass king-sized bed made for two giant-sized boys to roll around on. But also- HOT ALERT!! Sound the Alarm! We are in full body touching territory. Gird your loins fandom. It’s HAPPENING! I repeat, the I’m fully hovering over you, covering your chiseled body with my own soft one while staring deeply into your eyes is here and it’s glorious. If this is only the appetizer, we are all going to cease to exist when the main course is served. Everyone, grab your nearest BBS moot, check their pulse, and gather fortifying measures!

But how much do I love that this all starts with Pat hovering above Pran only for Pran to flip their positions midway through where he’s now on top. The show is telling us that they’re both equals here, no one manhandling or strong-arming the other. That either position works for them. God, I love this show.

Pran loses out on the room while Pat cackles in the background. In Pat’s illogical mind, because he offered to move out in place of Pran, he now considers them even. Pran doesn’t buy any of it and says as much. I’m with Pran. Pat, did all that tickle fighting loosen up some screws? Because the words coming out of your mouth don’t make any sense.

Is this a threat or a promise, because really, I could work with either one.

These boys sure love sharing enclosed spaces but instead of his hand covering Pran’s mouth, this time Pat’s hand has moved to Pran’s stomach (and we’re not even sure where his other hand is). Behold! He’s graduated and we’re all witnesses. You are moving in the right direction, Pat. Just a couple inches lower is the payload. Oh HO! STAHP, you all know you’re thinking it. I said it so that you don’t have to, so don’t give me any of that side-eye. Again, we all have our kinks so no judgement here. Inside the elevator just so happens to be theirs. It must be all the mirrors. Pfft.

Elsewhere, in a jarring scene change, the two dumbass friend groups end up in an all-out rumble resulting in the destruction of the bus stop. So much for the pavilion of peace. And so much for Pat and Pran’s fragile and temporary truce. 

This concludes our second hour with our boys. I have mixed feelings about this episode. Let’s get the bad out of the way first. There’s just too much of the two friend groups being imbeciles. I understand the necessity of having friends that don’t get along, forcing Pat and Pran to intervene and thus interact with each other, but here the friends totally detract from the overall story. They’re idiots and I feel like P’Aof spent too much screen time on them. Time that would have been better served elsewhere.

Also, we learn disappointingly that BBS is not immune to the episode two pitfalls. That is, they put all their eggs into the pilot to grab you from the start and the second episode ends up being lackluster by comparison. With episode one being an amazing giant hook to grab viewers, the transition to this episode, which is mostly all build up, feels comparatively weaker. Perhaps it would feel less so if one were binge-watching, but for those of us who agonized seven long days in between episodes, our hopes were high, our expectations even higher, and EP2 did not rise up to meet us. Never say that I’m unable to criticize my beloved show, I know and acknowledge its shortcomings.

Even so, despite EP2 being in the running for the weakest episode of the series, there was still a lot that did work, and it mostly succeeded in what it set out to do. And that was to inform us of Pat and Pran’s history and how Pran’s mom played a role in their separation. So, on this front, this episode did feel narratively necessary as a bridge from the past to the present. 

I also love that we’re seeing a pattern of obstacles being resolved within the same episode only for new ones to crop up heading into the next one. It makes each episode feel like a standalone yet still connected by an overarching story. In this case, Pran moving out is decidedly no longer an issue as we close out the hour, only for us to now have a destroyed bus stop to contend with. We’re learning that nothing gets dragged out overly long on this show and that’s an unexpected and pleasant surprise. How often have we seen shows drag out one misunderstanding after another across multiple episodes? BBS said nope we’re not doing that. To that we say, bravo show!

Now with all that out of the way, let us dive into the specifics...

In the words of The Clash: Should I stay, Or should I go?

Pran is standing at a precipice here. One that I’m ecstatic the show is addressing this early on. He calls Pat out to talk but when Pat invites him inside his dorm, Pran visibly hesitates. Note that at their homes, Pat has always been the one to sneak into Pran’s room, never the other way around. 

Pran is conscious of the wall he’s built between himself and Pat, never straying over that line. Where Pat is constantly scaling that wall to get to him (foreshadowing), Pran has always stayed on his side where it’s familiar and safe and things are on his playing field. Where he knows the rules of the game and how it’s played. So, for Pat to openly invite Pran into his space here makes him pause. Likewise, when Pat sees his hesitation and moves to go to Pran’s room instead, Pran stops him. You’d think this is strange since Pran allows Pat into his room at home so why not here at uni?

At home Pran looks, acts, and behaves as Dissaya’s obedient and only son. At university he has the chance to take a breather and be himself, away from expectations, away from constantly seeking perfection, to simply be Pran and not live up to someone else’s version of him. And he’s not sure yet where Pat fits into all of that. If Pat is part of his past, what does letting him into his present mean for his future? Pran’s overthinking nature equates allowing Pat into this part of his world as surrendering a hard-won piece of himself. If he lets Pat in, and should Pat decide that he doesn’t want to stay, then where does that leave Pran? But you ask, he doesn’t care if Wai and his other friends are in his space, why not Pat? To which I answer very simply, they’re not Pat.

In this sense, Pran’s dorm room not only represents his inner sanctum, but it quite metaphorically houses his heart as well. If he opens his door to Pat and lets him in, what will be left of him if Pat carelessly tramples it? Pran is protecting himself here and sees being in Pat’s space as the safer choice. At least there he can leave of his own volition and not because he was discarded or left behind. Oh, Pran.

The show has always been very precise with its flashbacks and episode two continues that trend. We are given only one, but boy is it a knockout. This flashback reveals so much of Pran’s family dynamic. Pran’s mom is intense, his dad defers to her, and Pran is left being the dutiful and obedient son. Which means any little bit of happiness that Pran allows himself is fleeting and temporary. Pat, music, his guitar all things he loves but cannot have. 

The flashback also sets up the stakes for our boys. Earlier we had Ming show up at Pat’s to check that his son was falling in line with his expectations and now this flashback shows us Pran’s side. His mom feeling it necessary to separate the boys because of a musical performance seems extreme, but it does show us the consequences of Pran allowing Pat to get close. It’s very interesting that P’Aof chose to reveal all this from Pat’s point of view. I commend the decision because the easier route would have been to show us this from Pran’s perspective. But P’Aof doesn’t go for easy here, he goes for impact. And it pays dividends because we now know that Pat was also affected by their separation.

This episode plays up the hijinks as it tries to cement itself in the romcom category, except fans know that we’re being lulled into a false sense of security especially in the first half. It’s light! It’s funny! Bad things never happen here! We won’t be made to be clowns in your circus, P’Aof! We’re pretty adept at doing that ourselves without your help, sir.

):):):):):):):)

And this, friends, wraps up my deconstruction of BBS EP2. I appreciate that you stuck around to relive episode two with me. Next up in EP3, our boys spend quality time together and a long-kept guitar makes its presence known. Stay tuned!

**ETA: The recap for EP3 is now up!

[shallowseeker]

I think my main takeaway I'd like to keep is this:

There's a lot of merit in being anti-destiny, anti-soulmate, anti-chosen-one, anti-Cupid, anti-mirrors/anti-parallels.

To me, that doesn't necessarily mean we poo-poo on characters labeled "soulmates," like Mary and John. To me, it means, we must be hesitant to believe such a claim in the first place. Because Heaven isn't reliable.

And perhaps, it is us swallowing the "soulmates" line robs Mary and John of choice.

///

Beware the mirrors:

Before we swallow literal snake oil directly sold from The Architects of a Heavenly Matrix (Gabriel, Zachariah, Chuck, etc.), we must first consider that these "mirrors" may be deeply, deeply suspect or even untrue objects of ridicule or manipulation directly imposed by the author.

Not mirrors of truth, then, but funhouse mirrors. We err when we view our precious side plots as black-and-white revelations of truth. Most importantly, mirrors aren't one-to-one recipes for figuring out what characters mean to each other.

///

The very concept of soulmates is Thee Antithesis of Free Will.

As a fandom, we are so willing to believe Mary and John weren’t "in a real relationship" and had no agency.

Why?

Because a Cupid told us so, and we don't think the Cupid had reason to lie, so we believe him.

Yes, they had rocky moments and John for sure had post-death idealization of Mary. John heavily decayed as a character so did Dean, but that doesn’t mean there was no goodness or love to begin with. You can become a bad person.

I think it's a little unfair to assume that they didn’t fight like Hell to choose each other and dodge the machinations. It's also a little unfair to assume that they didn’t choose each other, just because they, like all marriages, weren't perfect or honest with one another. If they had been perfect, don't you think that's actually more suspect?

Oh, but Heaven told you so? Right. Heaven, which feeds you a regular diet of cupids and soulmates and other bullshit. Hmm.

///

Are you Team Free Will?

By the time we finish watching SPN, words that imply destiny should send us running for our goddamn lives. So, how did TFW lose?

SPN feels forever unresolved because:

Dean will dies after placing too much focus on Revenge, the corrupted, unfair past

Cas dies after placing too much stock in Jack’s Destiny, the idealized, inevitable future

Sam’s mistake was probably falling prey to Chuck’s illusion, the corrupt future, and losing Hope

Perhaps, they jointly screwed up when they lost their hero-ness and didn’t trust they they were Enough on their own, without Fortuna's luck.

///

An alternative to mirrors?

Anyway, I sort of see all the mirror stuff as Chuck making fun of his characters or trying to misdirect them, or at worst, trying to tell them who they are instead of letting them discover it for themselves.

I know fandom loves its mirrors, but I like to remind myself that these mirrors can contain false, toxic messages to mold you to take on a role and to perceive things a certain way.

But importantly:

You are not one-dimensional.

You are not one archetype.

You do not have a sole purpose. You do not serve a sole cause.

You are multi-faceted and beautiful.

You can care about many things and people in your life.

You are worthy, even in the throes of the storm, even in the midst of turmoil, and even tangled up in the ugliness of war.

You can make the worst mistake of your life.

You can be an abuser and victim, and that doesn't make you a caricature; it makes you messy and human.

You can doubt who you are and go full-blown existential crisis and lose your way.

But you can start trying to be good anytime and you should always keep trying to fix it. That's hope. That's the whole point.

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

this might be a weird thought but the way jensen performs masculinity (and i KNOW it’s a performance cause like, have you SEEN the mockumentary?) is just.... so inherently queer to me lmao

ok. okokokokokok. you asked for this. i have a LOT of thoughts on this. it’s gonna be under a cut because i’m gonna be annoying and psychoanalyse a celebrity i’ve never met(and hope i never do) but trust and believe when i tell you i know what i’m talking about so

you want my opinion? here goes. there is absolutely no way jensen ackles is straight. i hear you, ‘how do you know that he’s bi? that’s invasive and creepy’ but may i counter that point by saying how do you know he’s straight???? why is the default for everyone heterosexual? that’s a toxic mentality to have; ‘oh you don’t know for sure so just treat him like he’s 100% straight just in case’ like....what? heteronormativity drives me wild i’m sorry

and also, um, just to, um, prove my point that this man is decidedly not straight™(i really don’t want to do this but like it has to be said) we KNOW he’s not straight because his d*ck has spoken for itself around misha, like, four times. I HATE SAYING IT!!!!!!! but, um, straight men don’t get aroused by men. ...do i really need to explain myself further???? that’s what i thought(and don’t give me the ‘it could have been for unrelated reasons’ or ‘that wasn’t a boner!’ crap because um good lord yes it was and misha caused every single one so no it wasn’t a coincidence i’m gonna move on before i collapse into myself like a dying star)

anyway, on to the topic at hand which is jensen and his performative masculinity. and it’s a juicy one.

after the unconscious amount of hours i’ve put into watching and subconsciously judging jackles, i have come to the conclusion that like, 90% of how he presents himself and talks and even moves is an act. it’s a facade. it’s a shield. he is not that person. it actually seems exhausting, because he tries to compose himself in this macho, manly, confident and effortlessly cool way, but he’s not that person he desperately wishes he was and wants to be perceived as. he’s on guard every second, even the slightest tilt of his head is like, pre-meditated in some way? if i’m going FULL body language analyst mode, i’ve noticed he has a certain posture he always shifts himself into, and it’s very ‘pursed lips, stoic faced, gruff voiced, square-shoulder, broad and manly’ but, not to be rude jensen, it kind of reads as a little kid imitating the adults he thinks are cool? oof i am going IN huh(it’s out of love though i promise)

he is trying to be this person at every second:

because that’s who he wishes he was, because that’s how he gets validation from the people around him that he looks up to; straight white guys. but to me, who he presents himself to be at conventions is just as much of a performance as this whole eye of the tiger bit is.

oh i should mention i know his body language isn’t naturally like that because how he naturally carries himself is actually pretty flamboyant? like he seriously must be toning himself down HARD

examples:

there’s no tension in his body here as opposed to the eye of the tiger gif. i’d describe it as...generally loose and free? he’s at ease when he moves like that and you can see it.

oh and dude!!! DUDE!!!! how could i not mention the fucking SPECTACLE that is his voice??? jensen. i watched season one. i know where your voice naturally sits. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU SOUND LIKE. and there have been so many accounts of fans visiting jensen in his trailer and being surprised that his real voice is two octaves higher. again, his performance of masculinity is all encompassing. he can’t even talk normally because, in his mind, that’s a chink in his armour.

and, like you said, anon, this whole smokes-and-mirrors gong show of ‘i am the cool texan man’ is inherently queer. who are you trying to impress??? guys??? that’s pretty gay dude.(btw: gay[honorary])

i feel like i’ve already read this man for filth but i have to keep going bc i have so much to say

ok next thing i’m gonna talk about is how jensen says one thing but everything else about him tells us the exact opposite. another HUGE element of performative masculinity, ONE THAT DEAN WINCHESTER IS A MASTER OF. have i mentioned how dean and jensen are like mirrors of each other when it comes to their sexuality and queer identity??? because it is fascinating how everything i say about jensen also directly applies to dean.

allow me to introduce the grumpy face™. as in, the face he glues on when he’s enjoying doing something but doesn’t want to let anyone know it. and it’s ALWAYS when he’s doing something that could be seen as unmanly in any way. (and when i say manly i mean the ‘ideal’ version of manhood that doesn’t really exist but that jensen seems to be striving for[and dean too])

prime example is this video he did with daneel. the grumpy face™ doesn’t budge the whole time as he’s like,,,,playing an instrument and acting like he doesn’t want to bc i guess that’s too girly??? but i also find this video fascinating because the joke IN it is kind of that they’re both poking fun at him for being so insecure about playing a freaking flute. because, i mean, he gets into it, but he wants you to think he is not.

also this picture.

what is this. i hate them. jensen is smushing himself into misha’s forehead but noooo his face is telling us ‘i hate this’ because CLEARLY he does. also misha’s so happy ew gross

he does that face in photo ops with misha ALL THE TIME but how many times has he also literally asked the con goers if he can also have those photos on his phone too? because of course he actually loves touching misha and is actually a sentimental fool but he tries so hard to hide it and fails so spectacularly.

oh and this. and of COURSE this. actually let’s talk about the hitch kiss for a hot minute because it’s a perfect example of exactly what i’m talking about

(he is so transparent guys. he tries so hard but he’s so obvious.)

1. misha was never supposed to be onstage with him. so it’s a boldface LIE and OBVIOUS PLOY TO GET MISHA TO KISS HIM when he says ‘they’d like us to make out now’. but of course the way he says it is ‘oh my god can you believe what these crazy panel people are making us do haha but i mean what they say goes amirite’. same energy as ‘oh my god did you just dare us to kiss rn???’ ‘....no i didn’t’ ‘oh my god i can’t believe you’d ask that haha but i can’t say no to a dare lol’ it’s the SAME THING

2. the fact that he was in the worst mood before misha came onstage and FAKE KISSING HIM made him feel...SO?? much better? like not just a little better a lot better like, again, that says a lot, because if they weren’t dating he would not be in a better mood if misha kissed his cheek unprompted. bc that cheek kiss wasn’t a joke it was a genuine sign of affection and AHHHH

3. after the kiss happens. you know, the one that jensen actively leans into and is smiling like an idiot the whole time through and is quite clearly having the time of his life during....he says ‘well, that was uncomfortable’. .......my guy. um. i don’t know how to tell you that i do in fact have eyes and you are NOT pulling the fast one you think you are

like i’m so sorry jensen but i have you pegged. it’s literally no use.

god there’s so many instances of him doing this with misha specifically. the whole ‘ew gross lol’ but then everything about him tells us the exact opposite. like this(i hate this. how dare he say ‘he has though, hasn’t he?’ LIKE THAT?????)

so yeah my point with that is he really wants us to think he is one thing when he is the antithesis of what he’s trying to be. he really likes those things that he talks down about, and everything he’s loudly projecting is all to hide how he really feels. he went to a gay bar with daneel, for crying out loud. he wants to play a role in drag. he’s queer and he likes it. pov: you’re jensen ackles train of thought: ‘ok so i really like this thing that people might make fun of me for or call me gay for liking so if i just say ‘lol as if’ and make a grossed-out face they will be FOOLED. i am a genius. hey misha wanna blow on my ear lol i meAN GROSS EW’

i have two more things i want to talk about when it comes to this topic so PLEASE bear with me anon this is why you took so long to answer clearly lmao

ok so we’re now going to go over my favorite hot take of all time. which is ‘how do we know dean’s performing masculinity? because sam isn’t.’ only replace dean with jensen and sam with jared and oh my god do we ever have a case

jared is as STRAIGHT as they come. he is secure in that knowledge. and that’s why he is perfectly comfortable treating misha like this:

and not try to scream ‘i am not enjoying doing this!!!!!!’ at us. because he doesn’t care what we think of his sexuality like jensen does(because he has nothing to hide whereas jensen DOES)

something i found the other day that no one has brought up but i SCREAMED upon finding it is this one clip THAT I CAN’T FIND OH GOD but i promise i’m not making it up. i can’t believe i can’t find it guys it is gold. i need need NEED to talk about it. and if anyone knows what i’m referencing and can apply links in any way i will love you forever but here’s what happens off the top of my head:

ok so i’m a bit too braindead to explain it perfectly but um basically it’s a j2 panel and someone brings up magic mike and i think jared says ‘yeah i didn’t watch it’ and then jensen says ‘all the way through’. stupid joke. whatever. the joke is that jared is gay for watching magic mike.

and then i literally kid you not. jared gets this like ‘jesus christ ok dude? lol’ look on his face and then goes ‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ and jensen gets a guilty look on his face and walks away. and jared did not say it as a joke. he was being dead pan and earnest. and jensen knew it too, he knew he was projecting. i wish i could show you guys the clip i promise if i ever find it i’ll link it but IS THAT NOT SO DAMNING FOR JENSEN????? like come ON. also proves my point that when you compare how they feel about watching magic mike. jared doesn’t care bc watching it just doesn’t interest him, but he also thinks that just watching it in itself doesn’t make you gay. jensen however.......has a different mindset, clearly.

‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ is actually a great title for my next and FINAL section(we’re almost there folks) which is how jensen projects his insecurites about his own sexuality and relationship with misha onto misha.

i hope by now we’ve all seen this video of jensen impersonating cas. it is a blatant microaggression on his part. and like obviously homophobic. it’s like in his mind if he makes fun of them for being gay it makes them both less gay somehow??? it’s self-deprecation in a way??? let’s just tell it like it is: that impression was just jensen’s overt internalized homophobia rearing it’s ugly head. he does it a LOT too when it comes to misha.

i mean:

and that whole mess where he’s making fun of misha for being a bottom in their panel in 2016? ‘so you’re saying, like with football terms, there’s a handler and there’s a receiver heheheehe’ jensen you’re not exempt from being gay just because you know football terms lmao

oh and his OTHER impression of misha where he mocks him for...bicycling...because it’s not a manly enough sport??? jensen NO ONE else has ever thought this hard in their lives about what constitutes as masculine enough to be a sport before. that’s all you bud. we don’t find those jokes nearly as funny as you do. you are reaching, sir

the good news is that misha thinks it’s hilarious and knows it’s projecting on jensen’s part and will tease him endlessly for it. many stories come to mind, like that one photo op story where they’re literally dressed in rainbow banners and pride stickers but when misha goes to hold his hand jensen said something like ‘no way’ and then misha stepped back, put his hands on his hips and went ‘that’s the part that’s too gay for you???’ and jensen LOST it

or when that whole underwear thing happened(messy messY MESSY BTW) and then a fan asked a question about what dean and cas would do in rome and misha just said ‘when in rome’ and jensen makes a face like ‘are you serious’ and then misha says ‘you can’t look at me like that anymore, because of what you did!!!!!!’

OH and that whole story about when misha suggested they put jensen in the closet for that cat video....yeah um

and then when jensen was asked to do bisexual finger guns for a photo op and the con goer said ‘he looks bisexual here’ and misha literally said ‘oh he definitely looks bisexual here. i would say he’s actually closer to the gay side of the spectrum’ so..um...make with that as you will

OH MY GOD i’m finally done. wow. WOW. that was a lot. i hope i’ve blown your minds. ty anon i really wanted to talk about this and i hope you’re happy with the outcome!!!!!!

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

[1/?] Sorry for venting. I just saw some bad takes that gave me a lot of feelings. Personally, JC stresses me out every time he comes on screen, but I don't mind it when JC fans say fan-typical things like how they like JC because he wears purple, or is grumpy, or they think he's hot, or that they ship x*ch*ng because the cql actors have nice jawlines. They're harmless, fun takes, and while I don't agree with some of them, I see where they're coming from

Hello there anon, vent away as that is what my blog is open for as I love/hate on Jiang Cheng as he is in the plot, as well as all of my beef with what has been done to him for the EN side of the fanbase! I am more than fine listening and engaging with the unsavory "unpopular" discussions of his canon behavior and this goes for anyone of course that needs an open play area. I'll try to engage with what you have sent point by point as succinctly as I can.

[2/?] (some of these are obviously crack, and I am a fan of a few problematic faves). But then there are stans that just have to put other characters down to make JC look good. Like, I think some fans take their freedom of interpretation for granted because most of these takes aren't even labeled 'headcanon,' 'ooc,' or 'crack' anymore. Stans feel that their interpretations are valid, and while they are, valid =/= canon, and they're treating these takes as canon, which becomes popular fanon.

I enjoy Jiang Cheng for what he is, however as I had said it took me another reread to get to my stance of him being the negative mirror to Lan Wangji's positive and my comfort with that for the story once I realized what purpose he served. He is only insofar tragic in regards to his circumstances, but it does not absolve him for what he is at his core (no pun, but I can make a very nice metaphor that even with a piece of Wei Wuxian in him he is still forever unable and unwilling to stand by him equally all while stagnating where as Lan Wangji is able to flourish, grow and mature with nothing of import left from Wei Wuxian in a technical sense). As for ships, I am a little dirty Xicheng whore for fun and can say there is a sense of entertainment for me making it work with two people where one is wildly ignorant and the other wildly rabid. But that is outside of what is established as canon in the work and I always try to keep the two strictly separate due to the skew fanon perpetuates.

3/?] And now, it's not clear what part of the fanon references canon JC or the canon events of mdzs. JC is an asshole; I don't like him as a person, but I do think that he's a complex character motivated by many issues (sup, YeeZY), which makes him fascinating to explore. Unfortunately, erasing his culpability also removes his agency. JC should be allowed to be an asshole character who makes his own decisions even if they're the wrong ones. He has made his own tragedy by constantly casting Wei Wuxian as the villain of his life.

Now thanks to you I will be using YeeZY to forever and now to acknowledge Madam Yu (this is your fault for the new tag). From a standing from storytelling I agree that he is complex in the Jianghu for MDZS. Where in the usual political intrigue of Wuxia, he would be the mustache twirling villain that is outright unforgivable in narration, it is by favor of Wei Wuxian's narration that has an early steeping of empathy for him. And he is not meant to be seen as ultimately sympathetic, the work builds up his hate against Wei Wuxian who tries to rationalize it all several times until he is finally unable to. Jiang Cheng is the antithesis to Lan Wangji and the false bait to get attached to in Wei Wuxian's first life. I will make the note their meeting in Yiling is lukewarm between both as they exchange nothing really in terms of conversation and all pleasantries are left in terms of Jiang Yanli for Wei Wuxian. By this point Wei Wuxian has already switched his yearnings of platonically wanting a part of Jiang Cheng's life, to subconscious romantic inclinations about Lan Wangji and the perceived loss of being in the other's life.

The very point of Jiang Cheng as the deconstruction, is that he has no passion in life despite his apparent exploits because he put a shadow to hang over himself as an excuse to say others think he is not good enough. He has no deeper motivations than pure selfishness by the end of the work and is pure frivolity that he has built up losing the meaning of his sect as a tradition. He had his agency (more than anyone I might add in the work due to his social position) that he used to build his reputation as a passive rich sect leader that has little to do with civilian problems.

4/?] And I think a JC, somehow, that realizes that he did something wrong and is working hard to change for the better and gain self-actualization to become that UWU best jiujiu the stans want him to be, who is ready to talk (not yell at) with WWX, apologize to him, and create a better, healthier relationship with him is a much more powerful reconciliation and happy ending than 'everyone is wrong and mean and they all apologize to JC, which magically gets rid of all his issues'.

He is forced out of culpability in reconciliation because simply put, his audience do not like the reality that relationships fray and dissolve with no further resolution other than we as adults both need to move on for safety and good health. It is not acceptable in real life and fiction is allowed to place that also in it's thematic relationships. He has a small, small spark of recognition at the end of the main story, however he himself seems to choose to ignore it, as change is hard and he has never taken to that well as was foreshadowed with his dogs and the idea of sharing a space with Wei Wuxian. To write this is an awful lot of work into his psyche which is not a nice place, he is a terrible being and downplaying that to make a sugar sweet person does not work instantaneously. He is the one responsible for the entire fallout with Wei Wuxian and he hysterically realizes that even as he tries to continue to blame Wei Wuxian.

The issue that I have with his current stan culture, is that they already view him as something he is not. They play at bicycle with all of the other protagonists that have positive traits that they strip as they see fit; Good affirming loving to children adult Lan Wangji, Self-sacrificing ultimately did it all for love and care Wei Wuxian, Hard exterior but softened to who they consider an annoyance Wen Qing, Loyal as partners in their exploits on the field and always have each others back Wen Ning. They even take Jin Guangyao's persona of playing damsel and using that as a positive to soften up Jiang Cheng into something he has never been for anyone for ships.

[5/5] Also, making WWX/WN/LWJ apologize just makes them look better than JC. Like, stans supposedly love JC, so they ahouldn't be lazy and work hard to give him actual character development. Again, I'm sorry for spamming your ask. It just really baffles me about where they get these 'hot' takes (All I'm going to say is that JC was ungrateful, and WN had a reason verbally dismantle him).

They see this, but, they will spin it in any way to excuse Jiang Cheng due to the story itself showing that he was in the wrong to everyone he flung accusations at and his hate. No one but him is at fault for his spite as he had gotten his revenge on the ones that had ruined Lotus Pier and killed his parents. His own resentment pitted him against good and well meaning people that he refused to help as he mimicked his mother's words about raising their heads higher out of goodness instead of keeping low and staying self-centered. There is the underlying criticism of taking individual arrogance as self-care at the cost of others. Each point that Wen Ning makes is exactly what Jiang Cheng himself knows as he hated Wei Wuxian for being something he could not be or even wanted to be. Jiang Cheng wants kindness but does not understand that kindness to others needs to be selfless and accept the hurt that can come with that in life. He encompasses the fall from the path of buddhist lifestyle, "The Three Poisons" to Wangxian's "Without Envy" at the stories end.

[6/5] P.S. I'm not saying I want reconciliation fics, but I just feel that if stans want JC to have a happy ending, then I think that he should actively work for it. I think it would be interesting to see what force of nature would push him through a character development because throwing a therapist at him would result in a murder.

"I'm not saying I want reconciliation fics, but I just feel that if stans want JC to have a happy ending, then I think that he should actively work for it."

They do not think he has to work for it, they say his tragedy is enough, while heaping accusations against Wei Wuxian and saying his own are not enough to absolve him. Something Wei Wuxian has never denied and told all present they are allowed to forever hate him for what he had done in the past, but that they need to find a way to live in a life that is always moving on. He learned that grudges do nothing once they are absolved and it leaves you with hate with nothing else to do with it once that object is gone. In terms of reconciliation, I do not ever think that either want anything other than a distant peaceful out of each other's life set up. Jiang Cheng does not need Wei Wuxian in his life to be satisfied and never has since he used him as the handicap to hide behind to stay angry and miserable. Being without that fallback opens the world far more for him to change than him ever interacting like an old friend with Wei Wuxian ever again, if he ever had the guts to do that.

[inb4belphienaps]

serein

warnings: dialogue and musings, lots of introspection idk word count: 1132

“Why won’t you kiss me like you do in your dreams?”, he asks.

I stare at him then, trying to turn the words over in my head before looking away. My gaze instead lingers on the wall, on the patterns and textures of the paint, and how dull they appear.

“What do you mean?”

The question itself is meaningless. Just a way to keep the conversation going so that the air isn’t stilted.

“You haven’t kissed me once in person.”

He takes my hand in his and brings it to his face, splaying my palm against his cheek. When he speaks again I feel his voice reverberate in my very bones. He sounds sad. And curious too, as if the solution was only a whisper away.

“Truthfully?”

I caress him, tracing his jaw and I watch his eyes close as he nods.

“I’m afraid.”

Those eyes open once more, and I gaze down at him. They glow with reverence in the darkness of the night, illuminating his features that much more. Those colors paint the scene and meet me with intrigue. Pure violet and magenta, electric purple and something tinted in fuscia. Gorgeous. They blended so wonderfully into one another, so completely that it was hard to tell which color predominated.

“What are you afraid of?”

His voice is soft, uncannily calm and steady. Perhaps it merely seemed that way because I was anticipating his reaction. Still, it gives me comfort – to hear that familiar tone and to see him evidently unreserved. And by doing so, he becomes the antithesis to how I feel in this moment.

“Of me?”

I shake my head as he continues to hold my gaze, getting lost in the warmth and softness of his skin, how it feels underneath my fingertips.

“Humans are funny creatures. We’re easily overwhelmed by our emotions.”

He remains quiet, opting to kiss the tip of my thumb. Even that sends a shiver through me. I can picture myself walking along the ledge of a tall building with the way my heart is racing. One wrong step and it would all be over.

“I’m afraid that if I kiss you, I’ll continue to fall deeper and harder for you.”

He smiles, and his teeth shine in the low light. Suddenly, I can’t find the strength to look away.

“Is that it? Is that why you’ve been trying to avoid me?”

“That’s the gist of it, I think…”

I feel him press his lips against the inside of my wrist and memories of times we’d shared through our dreams come filtering into my peripheral like droplets of rain. Things I’d done. Things I’d said. My self-control hangs by a thread, and like a cat with a toy dangling in front of it, he tosses it around.

There’s a thin sheet of glass separating the two of us, so thin in fact that I can almost touch him.

“What else is there?”

“You tempt me.”

His grin widens, and I feel the familiar flutter of butterflies in my stomach. His presence pulls me. It turns me into a puppet whose only purpose is to be strung along and made to dance.

“Far too often and without a second thought. I don’t think you realize just how much of an effect you have on me.”

“What do you expect? I am a demon after all.”

“But you’re not always using your powers, are you?”

There’s a pause, a silent acknowledgement of the weight my words hold. He is beautiful. A mirage bathed in bewilderment. His scent intoxicating. A sweet poison, invisible and lethal and irresistible. He is a creature of sin. A concept I cannot fathom and yet I know that I am a part of the problem. If I had the strength to cut off these strings, would I be able to stand on my own?

“I don’t have to”, he whispers. “Even now, I can hear your heart racing.”

I can feel it quicken the very moment he mentions this. How he knows and listens. He wraps his arms around me, resting his chin against my stomach. How every fiber of my being sets aflame with his touch.

“So you must know, where this fear stems from, I mean.”

“I can take a guess.”

He takes a deep breath and I find myself mirroring him. He’s cool to the touch, as he preferred to be to spite the nature of demons. Except…the only one melting in the other’s embrace is me.

“But I want to hear you say it.”

The heat of embarrassment creeps its way up my neck and I realize that my fear is a little unfounded. Based solely on my own preconceived notions and it all seems so silly, so trivial. This was reality.

“I’m afraid of hurting you.”

He laughs. It was expected and yet it startles me because it’s genuine. He’s amused. As if he can’t believe what he’s hearing despite my confession.

“And I’m the one with the horns.”

“What does that matter?”

I find myself becoming indignant. There were too many things to consider, weren’t there? Did he truly understand? I’d been certain before we’d had this conversation. Doubt begins to set in as I try to recall which of my thoughts he’d been privy to come nightfall. When the quiet linger of sleep would keep us tied.

“I suppose to you it doesn’t.”

“That’s true”, I murmur. “It doesn’t matter.”

He sighs. His breath tickles. I see the concern on his face, the way he debates his answer and like a ripple on the surface, the clarity that flickers across it.

“You won’t hurt me. I won’t let you.”

My hand moves on its own, stroking his hair. Soft locks that shine with an aegean hue and those tinted ends that reflect the light. Picturesque and timeless. It’s odd. How vividly in detail I can recall his features. How they seemed to have seared themselves into my mind.

“Likewise, you won’t let me hurt you. We’re the same, you and I.”

Perhaps we’d shared too much during those twilight hours. Perhaps we’d become all the more entwined by doing so, unable to distinguish our own entities as separate, as individuals.

Perhaps, we’d become one. No longer would we have to be wary of tipping the scales when we were perfectly capable of maintaining an innate balance.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

I take his hand and rest my finger on the center of his palm.

“This. This is where you have me.”

He pulls me in for a kiss. I almost hesitate. Then I feel his lips on mine – familiar and foreign, like something from a distant dream finally rooting itself in the present.

“And this is where you’ll stay.”

“Yes”, I concede. “Always.”

[anna-pixie]

padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part one}

              ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

me: has a witcher series to finish which is taking a lot of time

also me: starts a new series about a character i’ve never written for before!

{also trying out a new layout? unsure of what i think of it}

summary: you’re hopelessly in love with anakin skywalker, but he only has eyes for padmé amidala. your heartbreak is starting to effect your performance in the jedi temple, and your position as padawan to obi-wan kenobi is in jeopardy.

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader {eventually}

warnings: none

               ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

         ╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Your face is blank as you watch Anakin from across the room, something you’ve learnt to do from many, many months of suppressing your emotions. Though your face no longer betrays you, the way your heart swells at the sight of his smiling face reminds you of your ever present love for the fiery Jedi.

Your warmth stutters, however, when a hand is placed on his shoulder, and Senator Amidala appears from behind him with a smile full of sunshine and grace. You can’t help but slightly purse your lips as Anakin’s whole body reacts to her touch, as though she is a magnet and he is made out of pure iron.

Anakin, whilst being a great Jedi and an exceptional pilot, is not as skilled at masking his emotions. Despite it technically still being a secret, you’re sure that everyone knows of his love for and marriage to the gleeful senator. It was like a punch in the gut when you had found out about their nuptials. You and Anakin had been close friends for years, your friendship was one of those will-they, won’t-they friendships, full of flirty banter and sexual tension. You had liked it that way, you were content that way. Until the day he arrived with the joyful news that he had settled down with Padmé. That was the day that your friendship changed forever, he withdrew from you, became more distant and treated you the way a Master would treat a Padawan - holding you at arms length as though you had never been close in the first place.

It suffices to say that you’re heartbroken, and you wake up every day just as heartbroken as the last. It’s a horrible cycle that has had devastating effects on your training. You’re unfocused, unwilling to put in any extra effort, unwilling to socialise the way you used to because everywhere you go, the two of them are there, as in love as the day they wed.

“Credit for your thoughts?” The melodious voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi floods your ears as he settles himself beside you on the black lounger.

 “I’d like to think my thoughts are worth more than a singular credit, Master.” You joke, leaping to your usual defence mechanism of humor to deflect from the obvious sadness radiating from you. You’ve never met anyone as perceptive to the force as Obi-Wan, both a blessing due to his vast knowledge, but also a curse, due to the fact you can never quite hide your emotions from the Jedi Master.

You had trained under Obi-Wan at the same time as Anakin, however your recent slip ups had meant that while Anakin was promoted to the rank of Jedi Knight, you still remained a Padawan under the guidance of Obi-Wan.

 “Of course, my Padawan, I apologize,” Humor laces his tone, before he turns to face you completely, his expression more serious as he holds eye contact with you, “I do require a serious conversation with you, Y/N, about your recent performance as my Padawan. Please join me in my quarters for a drink of tea. Be there around 7. Enjoy the rest of your day, young one.”

You watch with a fond smile as the older Jedi makes his leave from the bustling room, his robes swishing behind him as he goes. Truth be told, you had harboured a crush on your Master when you first began to train under him. The first few times you met him were spent with longing gazes and a lot of lip biting on your end, but eventually your attention was captured by the flirty, playful nature of Anakin. You wonder how things would’ve turned out if your focus had stayed on the older Jedi master, you know he is very set in his ways, but you wonder if maybe something would have bloomed between the two of you. You can imagine Obi-Wan to be a very gentle lover, in all aspects, the complete antithesis to the damned Skywalker boy you had fallen for.

With a shake of your head, you banish all thoughts of romance from your mind. You’re training to become a full fledged Jedi, attachments are not allowed. That doesn’t mean other things aren’t allowed, that stupid voice in your head reminds you. No, you won’t let yourself think about such things.

              ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your head is hanging low as you stroll slowly through the hallway of the Jedi temple, on your way back to your residence after a long day of not really listening to the things the council had been droning on about. You can tell that people are starting to notice your wavering commitment to the cause, however you honestly cannot bring yourself to care.

 A shriek escapes your mouth as a hard body barrels into your own, almost sending you to the ground had it not been for your quick reflexes summoning the force to keep your body upright. A smile forms on your lips as you hear the tell tale chuckles of Anakin, who seems to have quickly ran out from behind one of the pillars without first checking for passers-by.

“Y/N.” He breaths, an apologetic smile on his face as he gathers himself, brushing his chin length hair back into place, “Sorry about that.” His voice is sheepish and he scratches the back of his head.

 “Don’t worry about it, Ani, walk with me?” You throw out, averting your eyes as you nervously await his response. You don’t know why you even asked, you haven’t been alone with him for a while, he’ll definitely say n-

“Sure. You going back to the residences?” You nod at his question, too shocked by his agreement to form words at the moment. He sends you another smile as you start your trek back to your quarters, your legs moving of their own accord whilst your mind takes a moment to catch up with the current situation. You curse your heart for the way it swells instantly with happiness at the presence of Anakin, simply walking beside him, barely feeling the warmth of him under his robes, makes all the feelings you try so hard to suppress return to the surface.

A noise from behind grabs your attention, and the two of you turn your heads, only to be met with the sight of a giggling Padmé trying to sneak out from behind the same pillar Anakin came from. The familiar sadness hits you like a tidal wave as you face forwards once more, just catching the fond smile on Anakin’s face as he looks back at his wife. The fleeting happiness you get when you’re around him is not worth the floods of sadness that always follow, you think, as the two of you walk silently towards your residences.

“I haven’t seen much of you lately, Y/N. No one has, actually. I know Obi-Wan has been worried about you.” He speaks casually, his tone so breezy that it sounds as if your welfare never even crossed his mind. Obi-Wan is worried about you, fine. But is Anakin? He’s the source of all your pain to begin with.

 “That’s nice of him.” You muse, not even glancing in his direction as you continue walking, hoping that your upbeat tone is enough to quell any curiosity he may have. However, it is not, and you’re stopped when he tugs at your elbow, gripping onto it with a slightly lax grip as he narrows his eyes at you.

 “Seriously, Y/N, what on Tatooine is going on with you?.” His tone is firmer now, and your skin is heating at the feeling of his hand on the bare skin of your arm. You try to find your words as you gaze into his eyes and you quickly realise that you need to get yourself together, lest you want him to feel your true emotions through the force.

“Absolutely nothing.” A tight smile pulls across your lips and you wrench your elbow out of his grip, leaving him standing outside the temple with his suspicious gaze trained on your retreating figure.

 By the time you return to your room, you only have an hour or so before you’re due to meet Obi-Wan for tea. You decide that you must do some meditation before you face your Master, knowing that his concern for your wellbeing will make him more perceptive when he analyses you.

You find brief tranquility, thinking of the lush skies and soft greenery of your home planet Alderaan. It’s not long before your mind is bombarded with the images of what Anakin and Padmé must’ve been getting upto behind the pillar of the temple, stealing secret kisses and laughs because they love each other so much that they can’t possibly wait until they are in private to be together.

Jealousy rolls off you in waves, thinking about how you wish it was you that he was so desperate to kiss, so desperate to hold and be in your presence even though it is forbidden. Accepting the fact that Obi-Wan will be able to sense your negative emotions from a mile away, you begin to get ready to join him.

You’ve never been in a Master’s quarters before, so you’re unsure of whether your usual outfit is appropriate attire for the occasion. A simple tank top, usually a light colour, and matching tight pants, with a sheer sarong wrapped around your waist. Deciding that you doubt Obi-Wan will care what you’re wearing, you decide to forgo any changes. You fix your hair and look in the mirror with a frown as your thoughts take over once more.

What does Padmé have that you don’t? Is it her position in the senate? Her maturity? Her outgoing personality? You had tried to be more like her, more vocal and social in your day to day life, but by nature you are cripplingly shy, so that failed miserably.

               ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Come in, Padawan.” Your Master’s voice sounds from behind the large white door, and you wait patiently as it slides open for you at his command. He is still wearing his robes from the day, you note, as he pours two small cups of herbal tea at the small table next to his kitchenette.

All the Jedi Masters have larger, more equipped residences than the Padawans, and usually make food and eat in their own quarters rather than in the mess hall like the rest of you.

You take a moment to look around Obi-Wan’s room whilst he is momentarily distracted making your drinks. It’s very...him. He seems to have chosen to forgo the harsh, overhead lighting that adorns the rest of the residences, instead having a few dim lamps dotted around that spread a low, moody hue around the room. It is relatively clean, his bed is made, scattered with many comfy looking blankets, yet every free surface seems to be covered by piles and piles of books. You can tell that most of them are old Jedi texts, and a smile tugs at your lips at the dedication of your Master.

 It’s strange to be in here, you feel like you’re completely surrounded by every aspect of him. You can see a spare change of robes hanging on the doors of his closet, probably ready to be worn tomorrow, and the door of his fresher is slightly ajar, allowing you to peek inside if you wish to. There is a dirty plate next to his sink, he must have just finished eating before you arrived, not having time to clean the dish properly. Seeing his room like this, he seems so human to you all of a sudden. He seems so… familiar to you.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” His voice is amused, and you turn to face him with a blush. He is sitting down now, in one of the chairs that surrounds the tiny table, opposite another one for you to sit on. You mumble an apology and make your way to the seat, awkwardly perching yourself on the edge of it.

 “I like your room, Master Kenobi, it’s very… homely.” He smiles at your admission and gestures to your tea before taking a sip of his own.

“Thank you, Y/N. I like to have a place I enjoy spending time, I appreciate it when I return from long missions.” You hum at his response, letting out a pleased noise as you taste the tea he prepared. It is some sort of woodsy concoction, not what you’d usually go for, but it tastes like heaven on your tongue.

“So…” You clear your throat, the anticipation of this impending conversation almost killing you, “You wanted to talk to me, Master?”

“Ah yes, straight to it then?” He looks puzzled at first, as though he is unsure of how to approach the topic, before heaving a resigned sigh and placing his tea back onto the table with nary a drop spilt, “Y/N, you had so much potential. I chose you and Anakin to train under me because I saw something in the both of you. Anakin? He was hot headed, fueled by passion and rage and I thought it a good challenge to help him control it. You, on the other hand? You were quiet, reserved, overwhelmed by your shyness but absolutely simmering with potential. And we unlocked so much of it, did we not? You were excelling, even more so than Anakin. What happened, Y/N? You can’t expect me to believe that my best Padawan forgot everything she’d learnt overnight. No…” He leans forward now, not allowing your wide-eyed gaze to waver from his as he continues with his serious spiel, “You stopped trying, you gave up. I would like to know why, and you’re not leaving my quarters until you tell me. I’ve tried to be gentle with you, kind, but the council are threatening termination of your place in the Jedi temple.”

Silence descends on the tense room as your brain struggles to comprehend everything Obi-Wan just threw your way. Of course you knew the council weren’t happy with you, you’d seen the disapproving gazes from Mace Windu and Ki Adi-Mundi, but you never even considered it had reached the point that they were considering ending your training as a Jedi, and relieving you of your place in the temple.

The only sound that breaks the silence is your breathing getting quicker and quicker, until Obi-Wan realises he needs to try and calm you down. Your anxiety is so strong he feels as though it is hitting him, and he notices the way your eyes begin to well up, and you realise with a start that months and months of pent up emotions are making themselves known right now. Right here, in your Master’s quarters.

 Luckily, General Kenobi is a master at diffusing situations, and is quick to kneel in front of you, taking both of your hands in his and gazing up at you with those kind eyes of his.

“If nothing else, Y/N, a Padawan should be able to trust their Master. Can you trust me? Whatever the problem is, it will not leave this room. I give you my word.”

You know you shouldn’t tell him, for Jedi’s should not love, but you crumble the second his thumb brushes over the skin of your hand. At this moment, you want to be comforted, and not just by anyone, by Obi-Wan specifically.

“I love him, Obi-Wan. I love Anakin so much it hurts, but he doesn’t love me, he loves her.” You sob, tears spilling freely from your eyes as you avert them from his own. When you hesitantly look back towards him, you expect him to look shocked, angry, in disbelief. Rather, he just gives you a sad smile that conveys the fact that your admission was exactly what he had expected you to say to him.

Has Obi-Wan known about your feelings for Anakin this whole time?

        ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝