#you can foster an appreciation for reading in someone. or at least a level of respect

[harpieisthecarpie]

p.s. people lacking reading comprehension and approaching media in bad faith is NOT ONLY a result of public schooling, or even of social media

For kids and teens, many are rarely shown that it is fun to read. They get forced to read books for class, or as a thinly-veiled punishment for hobbies and grades a guardian doesn't approve of. Or they get called stupid instead of having a learning disorder/neurodivergence accomodated for.

If a kid's only association with the library is "the place where my parent loudly tells librarians I'm dumb and don't read" and reading as "the thing my parent makes me do when my grades are too low" can you really expect them to develop a respect for literature? To grow up into adults that enjoy it?

Punishment is anathema when developing someone's curiosity. It is anathema even when just developing someone's reading comprehension skills.

If no one around a child has their own healthy relationship with reading, or expresses interest in the child's interests, that child is far less likely to see reading as a good thing. If I never see grown ups around me reading, if they actively deride my curiosity, how long until I internalize their opinions and give up?

psa: if you think your kid doesn't read enough when was the last time you talked to them about a book you liked? or hell, talked to them about any story in any media you liked?

psa2: even if ur not a parent, you can be the shining example for a sibling, relative, or friend!!!

[weaselandfriends]

Have you thought about opening a Patreon? I would pay a lot of money if it meant getting your stories more regularly...

My prose sucks, yours is spectacular. How do I get better at it? I try reading a lot, but I'm starting to conclude there's only so much you can pick up via absorption without some kind of formal instruction.

1. I'm not especially interested in opening a Patreon, and here's why. First, I work a reliable full time job that isn't too demanding on me, so I'm already financially stable. My following right now likely isn't large enough to sustain me full time, so I wouldn't be able to use Patreon as a primary income source anyway. Even if my following was larger, though, it would be a gamble to quit my job and sustain myself solely on fan donations. Ultimately, it would probably be more stressful for me than my current situation, and I could see my writing quality suffer under the pressure of needing to constantly output material on a monthly basis. On top of that, I'm not sure if sustaining myself on Patreon would actually increase the regularity of my stories. Unlike seemingly most authors (go look at Alexander Wales' Tumblr for an example), I'm not an "ideas guy." I don't get a lot of story ideas. The ideas I do get I nurture for years, slowly adding details to them until they're ready to write. Cockatiel x Chameleon was an idea I got in 2015 (published 2022). Modern Cannibals was an idea I got in 2012 (published 2017). When I am actually writing a story, I'm usually able to consistently output content, even with my job. The limiting factor for me isn't my available time in the day, but my brain. I appreciate the sentiment, though! One of my favorite comments, which I received on Cockatiel x Chameleon, went something like "You should be on humanity's payroll."

2. My prose sucked too. When I was a teen, I would write stories and my classmates would laugh at how badly written they were. In college, I couldn't even get my friends or family to read my stories. (I once described one of my stories to my grandmother and she said, "Well that doesn't sound any good at all.") At age 18, I decided to start reading classic literature. Only classic literature, at a rate of 50 pages a day, every day. I read all kinds, from all sorts of time periods and countries. I read everything from Homer to David Foster Wallace. And while I read, I wrote. I wrote badly. In college I wrote novels that pretty shamelessly imitated the prose styles of Faulkner and Cormac McCarthy. By the time I started writing Fargo (which is a story where I think my prose was still improving), I had written nine complete novels and had read somewhere between 200 and 300 works of classic literature. I didn't have any formal training, at least in terms of writing fiction. I was an English/Geography dual major, and from my English classes I learned how to close read a text, and in general I learned how to write an academic essay. In my final year of college I took an MFA-styled creative writing workshop, but by then I was pretty much beyond what it could teach me and I don't feel like I learned much of anything from it.

Other than reading and writing, I started editing. One of my later pre-Bavitz novels I finished, then went back and edited assiduously. I took a 100,000 word rough draft and over 14 editing passes pared it down to 70,000 words. That was massive for improving my prose, as it forced me to engage with my story on a word-by-word level. Every single word fell under my scrutiny and thus I had to grapple with how valuable, how good that word was. What I learned from that experience was massive for improving my prose going forward.

I think it's entirely possible for someone to improve their prose just through the basics of reading, writing, and editing. Julirites, the author of Fargo fanfic London, has massively improved her prose over the course of the story. It didn't even take her nine failed novels to do it, either. Be willing to experiment. Be willing to fail. Don't be afraid of someone laughing at you for writing purple prose. Imitate authors you like, that's the first step toward developing your own unique style.

[gothra]

Probably a dumb asf question but I'm bad at analysis and love reading your insight 😅. Why is Hughie considered the canary and not MM? Don't get me wrong that I love Hughie with my whole heart, but Marvin has displayed stronger principles and more willingness to stand by them

You are very right, MM just has a bit stronger of a will than Hughie does (coming from someone who loves Hughie to death). I’ve asked myself the same question: why is it that MM, who has known Butcher for years (likely a decade, at least) and whom Butcher trusts, isn’t considered his “canary”?

I think the answer can be found in a combination of Hughie’s representation in the story and the nature of the metaphor itself.

You have to remember that Hughie is meant to be a sort of stand-in for Butcher’s little brother, Lenny. That’s a role that is better suited for a skinny white man like Hughie than a large black man like Marvin. Lenny was always, in a sense, Butcher’s canary, which means that Hughie gets to be that, too. Butcher is soft on him because of it, in a way he’s not soft on Marvin, even if they were once close friends, and because Butcher is softened by Hughie’s presence, he’s more receptive to Hughie’s ideas. Hughie calls him back down to Earth, where MM does not. Butcher listens to him, whereas he frequently ignores MM’s reservations (even if he sometimes respects MM’s contributions and advice)

I don’t think that Marvin and Butcher are that close anymore, if they ever truly were. Their relationship is tentative and fraught with frustration. MM has seen the worst of Butcher, and has lost trust in him because of it, even though we can tell he still cares for Butcher on some level. Hughie is not there yet. He still has a deep, devotion to Butcher, and a desire to stick around and foster the good in him. He’s fine being a babysitter, and Marvin is not.

The nature of the canary metaphor is also worth looking at. This wasn’t Hughie’s designation from the birth of Butcher and Hughie’s relationship. Butcher was not expecting to love or trust or respect Hughie the way that he does at this point in the story, he was just keeping Hughie around for the extra hands. He viewed Hughie as someone easy to exploit. Fundamentally, that’s what the canary metaphor is about, because the bird is trapped in a cage, exploited for its lungs. But the other part of the metaphor is the responsibility of the miners to honor and appreciate what the canary does by listening to its voice (or lack thereof) and taking everyone (including the canary) out of the mine. Hughie is successfully credited as Butcher’s canary because Butcher listens to him. MM is not, because Butcher doesn’t.

[veronika-tserber]

ASTROLOGY AND GIFT-GIVING PT.1 🎁

~ Birth Chart Clues to the Perfect Gift

This is PT.1 of this short series of posts I'll write on this topic. Today, we'll cover some of the natal placements you can explore to help you figure out meaningful gifts!

If you simply want something casual for your favorite co-worker to say "I appreciate you", look no further than their Sun, Moon, and Venus signs.

For all of the other cases, read further. I use and recommend the Whole Signs house system, but it's up to you. 😊

🗝️ 1. How do you want them to FEEL?

Reflect on this question for a few minutes.

There is no single astrological placement that can give us the exact coordinates to "Happyland" for anyone. However, if you figure out the kind of feeling and/or experience you want to gift them, you can gain a much better sense of direction.

You will still have to mix and match since there is going to be a cocktail of at least 2 different energies, but that's kind of the fun of it, right?

🔍2. Clues to Find Out...

1) What they VALUE and what gives them a sense of SECURITY - Their VENUS sign + the Sign at the 2nd house cusp

2) What is FUN for them and brings out their INNER CHILD - The sign at the 5th house cusp + their LEO house

3) What fosters their sense of PURPOSE and GROWTH in life – The planet ruling the Ascendant + the house it sits in (the chart ruler)

4) What makes their inner child feel SAFE and NURTURED – Their MOON sign + their CANCER house

+ Bonus Ideas 🙌

5) STELLIUMS

If they have a cluster of 3+ more planets in one sign or house in the chart (typical stellium), this is a major area of life for them, which is why they would appreciate you adding more gasoline to the dumpster fire. 😂 E.g. if they have a 1st house stellium, they might love it if you try and help them improve their self-image and physique in some way.

On the other hand, instead of matching, you can choose to complement that energy. What do I mean? Look at the opposite sign and house, and activate them, instead. A 1st house stellium can become self-obsessed and might have trouble connecting with others. Activate their 7TH house of relationships/give-and-take and organize something that you can do/experience together. The sign can hint at what that mutual activity could be.

This can help them stay balanced and it's most likely going to be the gift they didn't even know they needed. Planets in that opposite house can provide additional clues, but for the sake of this post, let's keep things relatively simple.

6) The DRACONIC MOON - A Shortcut to the SOUL?

Okay, this one is a bit speculative, but from my personal experience and observations, it resonates deeply.

If you are new to this concept, you can easily calculate your Draconic chart HERE

Essentially, it's believed that the Draconic chart represents the characteristics of our SOUL. This is who we were as little children, before our conditioning (basically, the birth chart) kicked in. Special importance is given to the Draconic MOON sign, which is considered to be the energy we've practiced and mastered over many lifetimes.

In the context of gift-giving, you can look straight into someone's Draconic Moon sign and see what is the energy of the sign they resonate with on a deep, SOUL level. It could be like giving them a present that reminds them of their truest essence, which is sort of amazing, isn't it?

- Foxbörn

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ 1

ᴄʜᴀʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ

ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʏ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ?

[picnokinesis]

Was Bill attracted to the Doctor back in college in your Campervan AU or did she know better?

Absolutely hilarious question, and for a moment I was going to say 'yes' simply because it would be objectively Very Funny if the entirety of the uni crew had had a crush on the doctor at some point - however, knowing Bill, I think that she can appreciate the Doctor on an aesthetic level, but she absolutely knows better lol. I actually fundamentally think that she's simply just not into her. And I'm not sure when precisely she gets with Heather, but that would also come into it at some point. So - short answer is no. I think she can see where people are coming from but definitely sees the Doctor as a friend. Another thing with these two as well is that they kind of recognise themselves in each other, thanks to both growing up in foster care. Bill is much more well-adjusted compared to the Doctor being an absolute mess, but the sense of understanding is still there. I also can just imagine Bill doing a LOT of eye-rolling at both Jack and Rose whenever they talk about the Doctor because, okay, SURE, she looks good in a leather jacket, like really good, but -gestures nebulously to indicate the whole of the doctor's General Deal- is she a good IDEA? No. Absolutely not. Never in a million years. The worst part for Bill is when Jack and/or Rose nod in agreement like 'yep, we are well aware. still here yearning anyway.' I also feel like Bill being completely disinterested in the Doctor matches their dynamic in canon nicely as well. Also also, I'd feel genuinely bad for the Doctor if all her mates were crushing on her. That's a special kind of aroace hell. It's nice to have someone who you just Know is not into you, and you're not into them back - like a sense of safety, I guess? Like when a gay guy becomes best friends with a lesbian, it's just...you know what this relationship is and there's no confusion and it's just...safe. And you get each other, at least more than the average person. That's Bill and the Doctor.

On a tangential note though, Jack and Rose used to talk about the Doctor a lot, before the cybermen incident. I don't know how many people read between the lines in the scene in part 6 chapter 18, but when Jack tells the Doctor about him and Rose driving the TARDIS at night in the driving rain at the end of their roadtrip...but then doesn't actually say what happened, just that Rose really cared about the Doctor...the precise moment that he's remembering is that him and Rose had a conversation, and Rose told him what happened on the beach (i.e. that she'd kissed the Doctor, but that nothing was going to happened about it because that's what she'd promised), and they had a whoooooooooole conversation unpacking all of that. The Doctor and Bill slept right through it lol.

[gurugirl]

I just wanna say, like thank you genuinely for writing things I feel like a lot of people are terrified to touch for whatever reason. Fiction and smut especially I feel like is such an important space to dive into all of the crazy wild thoughts and fantasies people have, even when the majority of the time, we’d never want to be in said situation. That’s what makes it fun. And I think a lot of people are scared to go there, but you’re one of the most crucial influences in the online space for writing things that people want to read shamelessly, and I really appreciate it.

Thank you for not only being the amazing writer that you are, but for always fostering the community you have even through the people who judge and don’t always understand. Writing should be a safe space no matter who you are and everyone should be able to read what they enjoy even if some people are critical of it, and you really create that space on your blog.

Ily ❤️

🥺🥺🥺🥺 oh you!!! Like? This is so incredible to see. I don't know if you can comprehend what sort of emotions this makes someone who writes feel but I can't describe it to you in a way that conveys how I feel after reading this.

I just can say that I write things that I hope others will enjoy on some level and be able to relate too at least a little. It's not about me thinking these situations are healthy or to be modeled, it's just the fantasy and I know so many of you understand that.

Your kind words make me so happy and feel so warm right now. This will make me go to sleep with a big smile on my face tonight.

Thank you so much 🥰 So much 💕

xoxo

[fwkei]

Remember...?

Draken x fem!reader (mainly fluff slight angst)

Finally got my first request yall 🥳 I couldn’t strictly follow the request like i wanted to but i hope thats alright, the gist is still there. anyways thank you sm for it and i hope you enjoy 

TW/CW: Mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex work

WC: 7k (omg the most ive ever written🙆🏻‍♀️)

Note: I changed my writing style a bit for this request so i hope yall don’t mind! and again i dont read my stuff over so my apologies if theres any mistakes lmao

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

You sat on the street, overheating as you watched the ‘heat waves’ coming off the ground. You held your hair up with one of your hands since you had nothing to tie it with, while the other held a lukewarm water bottle. You sighed, you felt so anxious and frustrated.

What now?  

You thought letting your mouth part due to your heavy breathing 

You took things too fast. It had been about 3 weeks since you left your parents ‘home’ and why did you leave? Well there were a number of reasons that are a bit too much to list, but all that matters now is that you’re completely and utterly on your own. 

You only managed to scavenge small jobs here and there to get some money to buy some basic necessities but nothing more. 

“Sorry Y/n, my niece is coming down to Tokyo and I told her she could have a job here and stay at the studio above...I’m gonna have to let go. I’m sorry.” said your boss to you only a couple hours ago, with pity filled eyes 

“...No it’s fine really! I understand.Thank you for taking me in while you could.” you said bowing your head at the man, biting your inner cheek trying to keep a level head 

“I’m happy you understand. You can leave your apron and hat on the cashier. On your way out.” he said patting your shoulder as you slowly brought your head up 

“Right..” you said taking off your apron and hat as you walked slowly to the cashier, placing it down 

You brought your hands to your temples out of stress, trying to figure out what you could do now. You only had very little money, and there was a heat wave striking Japan this week. At least your boss allowed you to live and pay rent in the small studio right above his store, which had an AC, but now that was for his niece.  

This had been the first time in a while where you had no idea what to do. You had always been the type of person to be able to take care of yourself and your problems..on your own. All your life since you can remember, you always had to be the one to take care of others, not that you mind or minded...but you were only so young. You never really had a childhood, at least not that you can remember. You do remember cleaning up after your parents who lost all will just to even... parent. You remember taking jobs as a babysitter at a really young age in your apartment complex to make some money.. You remember being the reliable older kid of your school and complex, where kids would come to you asking for help with things like homework all the way to buying something for them to eat because they were hungry. Not once did you ever say no, because you really did want to be there for those kids who’s parents didn’t give them the care they needed. But it just became too much.. You ended up spending all of your saved up money on them, just so they could have something to play with or something to eat. 

Before you even realized it, you were in your last year of high school, with no money saved over, no scholarships, no one to rely on but yourself. Not even a friend. Was it really the right thing to do? Use all your money that you worked so hard for to help kids he lived next door? Or just plain stupid? You knew you couldn't support them forever...but you tried so hard to. All you wanted was to give them a childhood they never had, and someone to look up too. But now you left them. All because you were frustrated. You felt so unbearably guilty. All the work you put into your studies to get at least some type of scholarship just went to waste because you couldn't handle your life anymore. You were being so so so stupid. 

Before you even knew it, the sun was going down, and you grew even more tired and sleepy. You signed, taking a jacket out of your bag and placing it on the ground so you could rest your head on it. You brought your hands to cushion your cheek as your eyes started to close. The air finally got a little cooler making it easier to breathe and well...do anything. 

As you were falling asleep you could hear chatter and laughing, and finally a tap on your shoulder waking you up. You cringed your eyes before opening them up more to see 2 women. One had blonde hair and the other had pinkish hair. They looked older than you, maybe in their 20’s. One held a bag and the other held a bottle of wine with two glasses, they bent down so their heads could be closer to yours. After examining you for a bit they turned to each other and smiled happily before turning back their gaze to your confused face. 

“Hey?” you said sitting up more, a little startled by the intimate contact they were giving you 

“Hey there, say...what’s a pretty girl like you sleeping on the street for?” asked the girl with pinkish hair that was tied into pigtails 

“I uh..don’t have a place right now so..” you said scratching your head 

“Really? Hmmm.” said he one with blonde hair 

“How old are you? And what’s your name? I think we can help you out! Woman to woman!” said the pink haired girl smiling sweetly making you feel fuzzy at their niceness 

“18, and it’s Y/n.” you said smiling nervously 

“Nice to meet you Y/n, I’m Remi, this is Rema, my twin sister.” said the pink haired girl pointing to the blonde as she waved sweetly 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too..!” you said bringing your hands to your thighs smiling 

“So did you just turn 18?” asked Rema 

“Sorta, 2 months ago, why?” you asked 

“Oh good!” they both said 

“Well, it’s your choice really. One of the girls left today, and the boss sent us to scout another girl to take her place, buttt we just went to buy food with no intentions of finding someone but luckily we just found you! It’s perfect!” said Remi 

“Oh? What work?” you asked getting excited 

“Oh silly, we live in a brothel! It’s really not all that bad you know, great pay and rooms...so what do you think?” asked Rema 

“A brothel..” you said under your breath 

Your mind was in a serious state of concentration. 

It can’t be all that bad, right? You just have to please people and go on with your day so… that’s what i've been doing my whole life… plus… there's a bunch of women in those things right? I probably won't get too much attention from customers if there's sweethearts like Remi and Rema walking around...so...just for the time being… I think it could really work out in my favor. 

You thought to yourself 

You brought your head up, giving the girls a closed eyes smile before shaking your head ‘yes’ making them jump in excitement. 

“Oh good!” yelled Remi grabbing your hands 

“I’m so excited! We haven't had a new girl in years! How do you think Ken will react?” asked Rema smiling as you 3 all started to walk 

“Ken?” you asked furrowing your eyebrows at the familiar name 

“Oh right, We’ll have to introduce you to him and everyone else tomorrow. He’s the bosses foster kid..I think you two are actually the same age.” said Rema bringing her pointer finger to her chin 

“Mhm mhm! Oh and since you're new, tomorrow I will take your pictures for the board, you can borrow one of my sets till you can afford to buy one for yourself, how does that sound Y/n?” asked Remi smiling and holding your hand 

“It sounds..great! Thank you so much.” you said bowing your head slightly 

“No worries! Hopefully the boss will take you in.” said Remi patting your head 

“Yeah..” you said as you 3 continued to walk to the brothel 

You couldn't seem to get your mind off of that familiar name..Ken? You swore you knew someone named that. It definitely wasn't a popular name so it’s not like you knew it from some type of T.V program.. After thinking hard your whole way to your new home you couldn't seem to remember them. The person named Ken. And so you decided to brush it off for the time being. 

The brothel was pretty big, and consisted of 12 girls, not including yourself. It was really late so everyone was asleep. Remi and Rema showed you to your room which was much more spacious than your room at home. They told you that you were allowed to decorate it and style it however you wanted. But they told you it was important to know that this was the room where business would be done, and not to leave important things around since some of the men came into brothels for the sole purpose of stealing. Remi even told you a story about how one of her clients tried to steal one of her panites, but then the boy named Ken stopped him by knocking him out with one punch to the stomach.   

“He sounds strong-” you laughed as they gave you a small tour 

“He sure is! Like the bodyguard of this place! He’s a sweetheart!” said Remi smiling 

“I’m sure..!” you smiled 

“Alright that’s about it, you should shower now and get ready for tomorrow. The boss will probably wanna take a look at you before seeing if he wants you. But I'm sure he will! You're pretty so it’ll go smoothly!” said Remi handing you her shower stuff for you to use for tonight and a set 

“Got it, and again...thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” you said again 

“Of course! Remember..we’re neighbors so feel free to knock whenever you need something..Also I can give you some tips before your first client so you know what to do.” she said smiling 

“Right, goodnight then!..” you said feeling your face get hot at how she so easily talked about sex. 

After that, you did exactly as she said, you showered. You thoroughly washed your body, face, and hair. Getting out you looked down at the set Remi gave you. It was just a black bra and matching panties with a silk cover up which made you feel better knowing you could cover up with that.  

You rubbed your mouth as you started to rethink your decision. I mean...you respected sex workers..but was this life what you were willing to settle for? Aimlessly waiting around for some random horny man to choose you and do things with you just for you to get only 40% of the payment? Was this all really worth it? Leaving home to avoid your problems...to end up here? You were grateful, yes, Remi and Rema were so sweet and open with you. You could only hope that the others were just as nice. You really wanted things to go well, and that can only start with some good rest. 

You woke up to a knock on your door, to see Remi and Rema walking in with a smile 

“Morninggg!” they sang as you quickly got out of bed 

“Hi!” you said frantically 

“No need to rush! Usually men start coming in at 10, but since you don't work here officially yet you got to sleep in a bit! But the boss called for you, you should go to the set up room down the hall to get ready, remember it?” asked Rema 

“Yeah I do. Thank you for waking me-!” you said smiling and grabbing your stuff and shoes 

“Course, good luck Y/n!” they said as you quickly walked out of your room to get ready 

As you walked in, there were a few other girls getting ready. You smiled and introduced yourself to them, and them to you. They were all so nice and pretty. It made you feel a little bit better about being here, and less nervous since they complimented your looks. You got ready in about 10 minutes, letting one of the other girls help you out with your hair and stuff like that. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror before stepping out and waving to the girls ‘bye.’ 

You nervously walked to the boss's door. You took a deep breath before knocking. You heard a muffled ‘come in!’ so you walked in smiling while holding your covering close. You gave a nervous closed eyes smile before seeing his office was simple, just a desk with a bunch of papers and a chair on the other side. 

“Y/n, correct?” he asked placing down his paper and taking off his glasses to look at you

“Yes.” you said smiling 

“Pleasure-” he said leaning over the desk to shake your hand 

“Likewise.” you said smiling, shaking his hand firmly before sitting down

“Well, I’m sure Remi and Rema told you just about everything you need to know, I take 60% of your earrings, I use that stuff to pay for rent and bills for you girls and my kid… which usually takes up about 30% of that 60%, meaning you make a profit of 40, while I make only a profit of 30 per girl.” he said 

“Yeah, I was told.” you said smiling nervously fiddling with your hands

“Good good, now that that's over with..” he said getting up ad signing 

“I’m just gonna take a look at you, no need to be nervous I’m not gonna touch you or anything, so please don’t feel worried.” he said smiling 

“Right!” you said getting up 

“Alright just do a quick 360 with arms up.” he said smiling 

“Okay.” you said doing as he said 

He looked you up and down but not in a lustful way at all, it was more of like a ‘just seeing how you’ll hold up’ kinda look, almost like he was a bit worried for you. 

“Thank you-” he said sitting back down as you did the same feeling nervous

“I was also told you’re 18? Right?” he asked looking down at his papers 

“Yeah that's right.” you said 

“Well I don't usually have this talk with the other woman because they're older. I know the age of consent in Japan is 16 and blah blah, but you’re still pretty young, are you sure you wanna work like this?” he asked looked into your eyes 

“...Not entirely but it’s the best I can do right now.” you said with a determined face

“I see- we’ll then welcome, and just remember you can leave whenever you want, but give a 2 weeks notice. When Remi is done, ask her to take your picture.” he said 

“Understood, thank you!” you said said smiling and leaving   

You walked out of the room, closing the door carefully signing in relieve 

That went pretty well.

You thought 

You started to walk down the hall so that you could ask Remi to take your picture. But when you put your ear to the door, you heard lewd noises letting you know she wasn’t done just yet. It was already 5, and the brothel closes at 10. You didn’t really know what to do, so you walked over to the kitchen, sitting down at one of the stools waiting for Remi and or Rema to finish up with their work. You tapped the pen that was on the table and started to look around the kitchen. You remembered Remi told you there were snacks in the cabinets, so you got up and started to open and close them one by one to find something to eat. You finally found a cabinet filled instant ramen, you grabbed one and started to pour water into it, popping it into the microwave that was on the counter top. You stood in front of it waiting, playing with the loose strings of you covering when suddenly you heard the door open. 

“I’m home.” said the tall boy with dark hair tied back to reveal a dragon tattoo on the side of his head 

Is this Ken? 

You thought as the microwave beeped, making his eyes turn to you

You quickly shot your eyes to the microwave, hoping he didn’t notice your stare. He looked so familiar it was almost irritating how you couldn’t remember him. You took the hot cup out of the microwave, placing it down on the counter top, ignoring his presence as he walked over, placing down the plastic bag in his hand, noticing your frustrated face trying to figure out where the utensils are. 

“Left of the sink are where they are.” he said sitting down on the stool across from you after looking at your face a bit 

“Thank you.” you said smiling nervously turning around to grab a pair of chopsticks 

“Are you new here?” he asked taking out a styrofoam box from the plastic bag, opening it to reveal a hot meal of meat and rice and vegetables 

“Yeah..I was supposed to start today but I don’t have my pictures taken yet.” you said smiling turning back to mix your noodles 

“Could you grab me a pair too?” he asked realizing he forgot to take a pair of chopsticks from the restaurant 

“Sure-” you said turning back quickly to grab some for him, placing it in his hands as he gave you a soft smile making your eyes widen slightly. 

“You look familiar..” you both said at the same time making both your eyebrows raise in shock then turn into a slight scoff from the both of you 

“Glad we’re on the same page then.” he said taking a bite of his food as you did the same still standing 

“You know you can sit down, don’t feel nervous.” he said looking up you slightly 

“..yeah.” you said smiling, walking around and sitting next to him. 

“So when’d you come?” he asked turning his head slightly to see your mouth filled with noodles making him smile a bit 

“..I came by last night, really late with Remi and Rema.” you said after finishing your bite

“I see...I feel like I remember you from somewhere, can’t pinpoint it though.” he said looking back down at his food 

“Same here, and you must be Ken though, right? When I first heard your name I swore the same thing but I just can’t remember..” you said before sipping some of the broth of your soup

“Yeah, but you can call me Draken and your name?” he asked getting up to grab a napkin from across the table 

“Draken...sure! Oh right, my bad. It’s Y/n. Nice to meet you-” you said smiling holding your hand out for him to shake

He only completely shot up to look into your eyes with his wide ones. You gave him a confused look as you watched him get knocked out of his thoughts, bring his hand up to shake your hand before clearing his throat and walking back over to sit. Maybe you struck a nerve? Maybe had the same name as someone who hurt him in the past? You really didn’t know but it made you feel interested. He looked like he just had his life flash before his eyes or something. 

“Are you okay?” you asked 

“Uh yeah, I’m fine. My head just hurts a bit.” he said looking as if he was deep in thought 

“Oh? I have some tylenol in my room.. You want one? Or I can make you a cold drink, you’re probably dehydrated?” you asked smiling a bit 

Draken turned his head to look at you, his mouth was parted, and he just looked so..anxious? You couldn’t even tell, almost like congested because he wanted to say something. 

Draken felt his heartbeat quicken when he heard your name. As soon as you said it, a random memory that was buried deep in the back of his mind hit him as he quickly re-lived it. But could it really be you? The Y/n he knew from so so so long ago? Around 10 years ago? There could be no way, he remembers the girl moving to a different city..the chances were so low that it could really be you already. 

But the second you said those words.. Those words of offering to make something for him, or give him something, despite you thinking you only just met him...Made him know that it was really the Y/n he met when he was only a little boy...but how the hell did you turn up here? In a place and part of town like this? He was so confused and just wanted to ask you...but you still didn’t remember him. 

“..No I’m alright, thanks..can I ask you somethin-” said Draken before being interrupted 

“Y/n!! Come on, let's take your pictures!” yelled Remi coming out of her room waving as a man walked out too buttoning his shirt 

“Sorry, just remember what you wanted to say and tell me later.” you said smiling and standing up and walking over to Remi

Draken watched you as you walked away. He saw Remi give you a hug, and the man that was walking out checked you out to which Draken gave him a pissed off look. Making the man smile nervously, wave, and leave. 

Do you really wanna live your life like this, Y/n?

He thought to himself before packing up his trash and throwing it away

Remi took your pictures, telling you to do different poses etc, and you finally settled on one. You walked over to the front of the house to place your picture in its designated area above your name. You signed, stepping back to look at it, fixing your gaze to see Draken was walking over with his hands in his pocket, looking as he was going to leave. You saw him glance at the photo making you feel slightly embarrassed.

“Nice.” he said smiling but looking into your eyes in a way where it looked like he was concerned for you. 

Just as you were about to thank him a man walked in and started looking at you making you feel nervous. The man requested you, and so you smiled at him pointing your hand to where the showers were, as you started to walk behind him, you turned your hand giving a thumbs up to Draken with a nervously flushed face, smiling, as he he brought his hand up giving you a thumbs up with soft and concerning eyes before opening the door and leaving. It made your smile fade slightly, you’ve seen that face before from him. But not from today.. And it was all you could think about during your work. 

As you laid in your room, after work you couldn’t help but feel a little bit...stupid? You felt so unsatisfied, not because of your customers but because you just couldn’t remember. It felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch hard enough, and with every interaction you had with the boy almost felt like a tease, like the itch just became more itchy and your scratches just became more weak. Maybe if you spend more time with him, you’ll remember? 

It had been about 4 weeks, 4 weeks of saving your money, and every 4 weeks the boss collected his fair share of the cut. It wasn’t a pretty 4 weeks, it was probably the worst 4 weeks of your life. But... you and Draken would often exchange stories about your lives late at night which you enjoyed a lot. It always makes you feel better. But yet again you still couldn't figure him out. You felt as though you’ve met him before, and as though you two have had these kinds of talks before. 

Draken only grew more and more helpless, seeing how you still haven’t remembered. He was slowly watching your life crumble. He felt so angry that you settled and believed you deserved to live like this, barely scraping by. He felt so awful, and saw how you grew so tired of it all. He just so badly wanted you to remember him, so that he could once again talk to you like he did before.

You had one last customer before closing, going through your usual routine, this n that, the man offered you a drink. You stupid obliged drinking it, hoping it would make your time more enjoyable but you were wrong, so very wrong, and so very stupid for drinking that stupid drink. You remember some parts, you did your job, then it all went black.. You woke up after hearing knocking on your door. You jumped out of bed, confused. You remember seeing the man leave as you started to fall asleep but that's about it. Usually you never fall asleep after the work because you never do much, your mind started to panic. But the door opened revealing Remi smiling.

“Hey sleepy! Boss says it’s your turn, come on, get your cash!” she said smiling 

“Right let me just..it’s in my drawer..I don't know why I fell asleep so fast I think alcohol makes me sleepy.” you said getting out of bed and kneeling in front of your drawer to get the envelope of cash you had been saving.

“Heh, same here. I never accepted drinks from clients..they never had good intentions with that!” she said coming over and sitting at your bed 

“..yeah.” you said starting to feel that panic arise in your body when seeing the envelope was...gone.

“What's wrong?” asked Remi noticing you were frozen 

“I- the money..It’s gone..he took it..” you said with wide eyes feeling as though you were about to sob realizing you had just lost thousands of yen.

“Don’t say that..it..it probably just got misplaced! Come on, I'll help you look!” said Remi getting up  

You couldn't even respond because of the amount of panic you were in. Your heart was racing and you felt tears fall from your eyes. After about 15 minutes of looking, you two found nothing. Absolutely nothing. You sat on the floor with your hand over your mouth, again, trying to keep a level head. 

What now..?

You thought to yourself feeling hot tears stream from your face.

“Hey..guys? Boss is calling for you Y/n..what’s going on?” asked Rema walking in seeing you covering your face, crying 

“She was robbed by the guy who just left, he put something in her drink to knock her out while he looked around and took the money...she doesn’t have the money.” said Remi 

Rema’s mouth parted in shock and pity. 

How could you mess up something so easy? All you had to do was keep your money safe. But you even failed at that. 

“You have to tell him, Y/n.” said Rema rubbing your back

“Yea..yeah, could you two just give me a second? I’ll be right out.” you said smiling while wiping your face 

“Sure.” they said frowning and walking out 

You fisted your hands, and grabbed your covers before screaming into them to muffle your sounds..

Okay..it was a couple of thousand yen...not too bad right? I can promise the money by tomorrow..I’ll pick up some sort of street job...yeah! That’s good. Everything is fine..it’s fine.

You thought to yourself before wiping your face on more time and slapping both sides of your cheeks to wake you up.

You got up and walked to the bosses door feeling the eyes of people on your back. You knocked on the door before opening it slowly, refusing to make eye contact as you went to stand in front of the man with your arms behind your back.

“Alrighttt, let’s see here, in the last four weeks you had a total of 37 customers, so you should have around 300,000 yen, correct?” he asked looking at his paper 

“Yes.” you said still looking down

“Alright, just hand it to me so I can count and divide it, you can sit.” he said smiling holding his hand out 

“I..I don-” you said before being interrupted by a knock 

“Come in.” he said 

“Hey sorry dad, Y/n left her money with me while she went out. Thought I should bring it to her. Remember, Y/n?” said Draken walking in with an envelop in his hand smiling as he came to stand next to you, as you nodded your head ‘yes’ 

“Oh, thank you Ken.” he said smiling and taking the envelop 

Your mouth parted as you gave a confused look, Draken only smiled and gave you a thumbs up while his dad counted the money. You felt so guilty and shocked, and all you could do was just stand there, like an idiot. 

“Here you are...120,000 back..” he said, patting the money on the table to make it flat, putting it back into the envelope and handing it to you

You hesitantly brought your hand to grab it, glancing over at Draken who gave you small smile

“Thank you-” you said to him seeing Draken was already opening the door to leave 

You quickly followed after him as he walked into his room. Before entering his room he turned around and looked down at you 

You felt your eyes soften as you felt as though you were about to cry again, you tilted your head and neck down biting the inside of your cheek to keep in your cry. 

“I promise I’ll pay all of it back by tomorrow, all 300,000.” you said 

“Do you ever give yourself a break?” he asked as you brought your head up to look at him seeing he looked almost irritated 

“You didn’t even ask why I did it, you just immediately jumped to feeling guilty. And you don’t need to pay me back. Really.” he said bringing his hand to close to the door, but you stopped him by grabbing his wrist making his breath hitch 

“Why?” you asked looking into his eyes 

“You still don’t remember? Even after all this time we’ve spent together?” he asked smiling as you took your hand off his wrist 

“Remember...?” you asked furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, but then it suddenly hit you

“I swear it wasn’t me! I didn't steal!” yelled a little boy with blonde hair as two cops stood in front of him 

You tilted your head and walked closer, but still keeping your distance to hear. It was a winter day and you were on your way to the corner store to buy some snacks, but you were met with an interesting scene. You kept your hands in your pockets as you listened over to the boy screaming and pleading his innocence 

“I wouldn’t steal something so stupid! What would a kid like me need a lighter for!! I don’t know how it ended up in my pocket! Lay off!” he yelled as the officer dangled the lighter in front of his face

A lighter?

“Keep it down! We know how troubled you kids are here! Especially with those tattoos!” yelled back the cop as the boy grew angry and fisted his hands, ready to punch the cop

“Hey!!!” he heard a voice yelled 

“Hey wait a minute!” you yelled waving your hand smiling as you ran to the scene 

“Can we help you?” asked one of the cops in a soft tone 

The blonde boy grew quiet, and you saw his hands loosen as he looked at your smiling face 

“Yeah, why are you two yelling at my brother?” you asked furrowing your brows at the two grown man 

“...Your so-called brother stole a lighter from the corner store right behind you, where are your parents? We would like to have a word with them.” he said standing up straight 

“Yeah, and talk about how they let their son tattoo himself already..” said one under his breath making the other laugh 

You looked over at the boy growing angry, you gave him a smile..making him calm down.

“He said it was just an accident, I asked him to pick up a lighter from the store so that we could light a candle at our father’s grave! See!” you said digging into your bag to pull out a candle 

“He probably felt pressured because I asked him to get it, so if you’re gonna get mad at someone, get mad at me!” you said as you started to fake cry 

“It’s our father's death anniversary, and you're yelling at kids for making a mistake.” you faked cried

“Yeah!!” yelled the boy making you smile under your hands as the two officers became anxious, feeling bad for what they had just done.

“..we’re sorry. Please let us apologize.” they said slightly bowing at you two 

“I don’t think we can accept it...you two also made fun of the dragon tattoo on his head!...dragons were our dads favorite animal. He risked his life fighting for Japan and you two are laughing at him! Is that how your mother taught you how to behave?” you asked pretending to wipe you tears as the blonde boy watched you in awe seeing you toy with grown men 

“Please let us treat you both to whatever you’d like from the corner store as an apology!” they both said bowing lower making you smile and look back at the boy. You gave him a thumbs up as a smile grew on his face 

“Fine..come on then?” you said as both the officers raised their heads, opening the doors of the corner store for you both 

You and the blonde boy walked around the store, filling your baskets with all types of things. The blonde boy watched you in just pure awe as you walked around picking your favorite snacks, as he did the same, glancing at you every now and then. 

“Here.” you said smiling at the cops 

“Right!” they said frantically taking out their wallets as the boy placed down his stuff nervously, still watching you

“Oh and-” you said reaching your hand to grab the lighter from the officer and placing it into the bunch of snacks 

You smiled, your hands were behind your back as you watched the officers pay for yours and the boys' food, placing them into bags for you guys too. You grabbed the lighter and your bag, as the boy did the same 

“Mom told us to meet her at the cemetery steps, remember?” you said looking into the boys eyes

“..yeah, I remember.” he said smiling feeling his face become hot 

“Let’s go then.” you said smiling and taking his hand as you two ran out of the store 

After a bit you two stopped and sat on the curbside while you both chose a snack to eat.  

“Here’s your lighter, you don’t have to stay with me by the way.” you said handing him the steel lighter 

“..Thanks” he said 

“Sure- what do you need it for anyway?” you asked smiling 

“My boss asked for it.” he said putting it in his pocket

“Oh, are you in some type of delinquent group?” you asked looking at him 

“Yeah..” he said smiling 

“That's cool, what do you guys do?” you asked taking a sip of your drink 

“We kinda just...like...do stupid stuff and fight..” he said 

“Sounds fun, but...stupid.” you said laughing making him scoff 

“Why’d you do it?” he asked 

“Do what?” you asked back turning you gaze to him 

“Come in to cover me. You could’ve gotten in a lot of trouble because of me.” he said with a frustrated face 

“You’re right, I just wanted to, that's all.” you said smiling making his mouth part and cheeks redden

“You seem pretty fun too so I thought we could be friends or something..” you said nervously 

“Yeah! Sure- We can be friends!” he said happily making you feel flustered 

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you, my name is Y/n, yours?” you asked holding over your hand 

“Ken, but you can call me Draken-” he said taking ahold of your hand gently as you gave him a closed eyed smile blushing 

“where the hell did you find that candle and com up with that whole sob story Y/n?”

“Dunno, I saw the candle on the ground by a newspaper, I kinda just winged it- “

After that day you remember hanging out with Draken almost every other day. You remember him telling you how he and his close friends started their own gang and needed some sort of funding, and so you gave it to him, on his birthday.

“I saved up! You said that you and your friends needed some money to start off so that you guys could buy a flag or banner? Right? Well, here’s 30,000 yen for your birthday!” you said handing him an envelope and a small balloon.

“Are-are you serious right now Y/n?” he asked taking the gifts, opening the envelope to look inside to see the money as his eyes lit up 

“Yeah, I babysit more kids now so I was able to put some aside for you.” you said smiling satisfied with his reaction 

He didn’t even say anything, all he did was bring his arms around you upper body, hugging you tight making you laugh as you brought yours to hug him back 

“Thank you- you’re the best! The guys will be so happy!” he said smiling while grasping your wrists in excitement. Your eyes traced over his face as they soften. You smiled. 

“Likewise.” 

And- after that, you remember the day you 2 separated as friends. You both sat on the curbside, you remembered you called him to come and see you. It was a winter night and the sun was going down. 

“I uh..well I don’t really know how to say this without sounding cliche but-”

“What? Are you gonna confess that you’re madly in love with me or something?” he asked grinning, making you sweat drop 

“Jeez be quiet...I’m trying to make this a memorable moment-” you signed smiling, placing your palms on the cold cement 

“Alright let’s hear it then Y/n-!” he said bringing his hands to the back of his head as he laid down looking up at the stars 

You only frowned slightly, you shifted your position so that you could sit beside him and have a good look at his face. 

“You’re scaring me..” he said jokingly making you smile 

“It was really fun the past year.” you said smiling as Draken shot his head up to look at you face to face 

“The hell are you talking like that for?” he asked furrowing his brows 

“My parents can’t afford living in any districts in Tokyo anymore, so we’re moving to another city… about 4 hours train ride from Tokyo so-” you said looking down at your hands on the floor

“So? You act like I won't be able to come and see you or you come and see me..” he said ducking his head a bit so that you could look at him 

“Draken, train tickets are about 220 yen per person, I can't afford it, and if you came by to see me I'd feel guilty because you’d be wasting your money just to only see me for like an hour.” you said 

“How can I be wasting my money on you? It’s not wasting if I wanna do it and see you, plus what makes you think it'll only be a couple hours?” he asked 

“I’ll have to start working once we get there, so I wouldn’t have anytime...I wanna start saving so that one day I can come back to Tokyo and live here, so that I can see your dream come true of helping your friend create a ‘new era of delinquents’ you know? I’ll even help you guys if you want with financial stuff or something.” you said smiling at him 

Draken bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to tell you so bad how he felt but..

“Look, I have a feeling I know what you’re gonna say..just remember what you wanted to say and tell me later, okay?” you said placing your hand on top of his causing his eyes to widen 

“...You’ll remember me, right?” he asked looking into your eyes deeply making your mouth part 

“Yeah, I’ll remember you as long as you remember what you wanted to tell me. Cause I feel the same” you said smiling as a tear fell from your eyes 

“good...I will.” he said smiling back and tilting his head and wiping it off your face

After the memories hit you, you stood there with wide eyes and tears, with your wrist covering your quivering mouth. You had completely suppressed your memories of Draken, and your feelings because you knew you wouldn't be able handle being apart from him for so long. And he did the same. You couldn’t imagine how unbearable it was for him to be waiting up like this. You looked up at him seeing his eyes were softly looking at you. You could do nothing but bring your arms around him hugging him, as he brought his arms around you to do the same. You were still such in shock. 

“I never thought you’d end up in a place like this, living a life like this.” he said against your ear 

“I don’t wanna see you like this, please let me take care of you like you did for me..” he said said tightening his grip slightly  

You could only cry at his words, you didn’t even wanna try to speak because you knew it would only come out as a sob. Was it really alright for you to rely on someone so much?

He pulled back from the hug and looked at your face, seeing you were still crying as you nodded your head ‘yes’, he smiled and wiped them away with his thumb. The smile on his face...he looked so satisfied...and happy...happy that you finally remembered. Finally remembered him.

[thealexchen]

i’ve actually read both of the articles that you mentioned earlier! I could see where both of them were coming from at varying points, though shannon liao’s struck me as a tad harsh, as someone who felt very seen by Alex, particularly with regard to her asian-american identity, and the cultural details and familial attitudes you see displayed throughout the game (especially in episode 5.) I could see why others would like them to be more overt, but they’re still present & relevant as is, imo.

I'm happy you read and enjoyed them! Well, since we’re on the subject, I might as well give my fuller thoughts about all this. This answer got horrendously long, so I'm putting it under a read more. I really wanted to talk about this more fully, so thank you for sending this ask!

I definitely see Robert's point in his article. Alex didn’t need to be Asian for the story of True Colors to be told, but it’s still meaningful that she is so that Asian fans and fans of color can look up to her and feel represented. The Chens buck a lot of stereotypes too: Mrs. Chen was not a “tiger mom” and her kids and husband remember her fondly. Mr. Chen doesn’t push Alex and Gabe to excel in school, and in fact neither Alex nor Gabe went to college, but they still had happy futures. Alex isn’t the best friend or the Asian schoolgirl or the dragon lady or the Asian nerd. But at the same time, when Robert says "Alex never really talks about her thoughts on Chinese culture,” that’s like— well, what’s wrong with talking about it? Why not talk about it more explicitly? The words “Asian” and “Chinese” and “Vietnamese” aren’t even used in the game when "gay" and "lesbian" were, and that's a little disappointing.

I figured people would figure out Alex was at least Chinese because of her last name, but I saw some streamers unsure of what Alex’s ethnicity even was (“Alex is… Chinese, right?”). That was disappointing because Asians tend to be treated as a monolith when we’re so internally diverse. Also, it’s completely possible to miss that Alex and Gabe are also half-Vietnamese. Their mother’s name is Giang “Wendy” Chen, a Vietnamese name, but that’s only in the credits. There’s far less Vietnamese (and Southeast Asian) rep than Chinese, so I wish that had been made more explicit.

In Life is Strange 2, Sean and Daniel’s struggles (personal and institutional) were centered around their identity as half-Mexican boys. True Colors almost seemed to be going in the opposite direction in that Alex’s Asian heritage never really becomes plot-relevant, but Alex and Gabe’s background comes into focus in the last chapter.

Part of Shannon’s critique was that because Alex’s parents aren’t in the picture, the game can’t explore Asian culture through a familial lens. There is some truth to that: for children of immigrants in particular, their parents are their strongest (and sometimes only) link to their race and culture. I thought a big missed opportunity was exploring Alex’s possible sense of isolation and struggle to reconnect with her Asian heritage after being separated from her family.

After growing up with two Asian parents, eating Asian food, celebrating Asian holidays, likely speaking Asian languages, etc. it would have likely been disorienting and lonely for Alex to suddenly be raised by non-Asian foster parents and lose all those traditions all at once. Possible comments like “I really miss Mom’s pho” or “Do you know how difficult it is to find hoisin sauce in the stores around here?” could have inferred more at that specific kind of loss and isolation in Haven Springs. The game touches upon this very briefly when you look at Gabe’s shrine, and Alex does comment “I don’t even know if I’m doing this right… but I felt like I had to do something.” In this way, I find it especially poignant that she still held onto cultural traditions after so long.

But I still thought Shannon’s critique was overly harsh. The little details really do add up, like in Alex’s childhood home, and meant a lot to me too. And most importantly, there was representation behind the scenes too: Alex was voiced by two(!) Asian American women and the lead writer, Felice Kuan, is Chinese. I think Alex naming her mouse Shu-shu was my favorite detail. Because it’s the one detail you can’t miss. Every streamer remembers Shu-Shu’s name and loves how cute she is and they can probably infer it’s a Chinese term. It just is so visible and empowering in that way and my heart felt warm every time I heard someone say “Aw! Shu-shu!"

But that doesn't mean Alex's Asian heritage didn't matter at all. I really appreciated that Alex's backstory still mattered because she came from a poor, working-class immigrant family. Her life circumstances were used for drama, but none of Alex's suffering was racially motivated and that felt tastefully done. I’m gonna paraphrase a comment I saw on alliebeemac’s playthrough of episode 5: "It's no coincidence that both Alex and Ryan lost their mothers at a young age, but because Ryan's father was a military veteran and had a high-paying job as a Typhon foreman, he got to keep his childhood whereas Alex's entire world was torn apart... And if you want to look at it even more metaphorically, the white patriarch Jed was able to preserve his own image as a hero and 'good old boy' of Haven by literally sacrificing an immigrant family to the mines with the expectation that nobody would come looking for them. Whether you're an immigrant or whether you're a foster child, the system is saying 'we don't care about you.'"

And at the end, Alex tells Jed, "You want to look away and pretend the men you hurt weren't people. But I won't let you.” It's a deliberate stand against Jed (a white man)’s dehumanization of poor laborers, including her Chinese immigrant father. Jed isn't explicitly portrayed as a racist, but his actions come from a privileged, and subsequently racist and classist place. For me, it worked better than LiS2's portrayal of racism because it was subtler and more personal. Alex stands up against Jed out of a personal sense of justice for her brother (and her father).

Do I wish we had more? Yeah, absolutely. I wish Alex got to actually speak Mandarin or Vietnamese in the game because that's so rare in games, even though I knew that would be unrealistic because Erika Mori is Japanese. I wish the character artists had at least made a version of Alex and Gabe’s models without shoes, because it just didn’t look right to see them wear shoes in the house (especially in bed??) and even LiS2 had Sean and Daniel in their socks in some scenes. I wish Alex and Gabe talked more about their family while Gabe was still alive and Alex could have had that comfort of someone who misses the food and customs they used to celebrate. But like I said, one piece of media isn’t gonna please everyone. And Asian representation in particular is so tricky because not only is there not enough of it, but Asian Americans are so diverse and come from so many different backgrounds. Children of immigrants are going to feel more connected to their Asian heritage than third or fourth gen kids or mixed race kids for example. Everyone is going to have a different definition of “Asian culture” and “accurate representation.”

But on a meta-level, it really means so much to simply have an Asian face on the box of a major Western game ❤️ Like even just seeing the way Alex's eyes crinkle when she smiles or how other characters find her attractive (like Steph’s note during the LARP preferring Alex’s natural black hair), it feels so affirming. It’s incredible to see an Asian girl be called the hero of her own story, to see her succeed and fail and cry and laugh and fall in love and kiss another woman and be comfortable in her bisexuality. It acknowledges that the queer community includes Asians, that Asian girls can also be curvy, that Asian girls can and do struggle with mental health. And like Erika Mori said, Alex is a fully-realized character and that’s what makes her so compelling, first and foremost. She also has a strong moral compass and dreams and fears and is such an incredible role model for people of all backgrounds, and that’s what makes her identity as a queer woman of color so much more meaningful.

[manie-sans-delire-x]

My thoughts/analysis of We Need to talk about Kevin

From abnormal psych class paper:

The character I chose to analyze and diagnose is Kevin Khatchadourian from the 2011 film, We Need to Talk about Kevin. Brilliantly depicted by star Ezra Miller and various other child actors, Kevin is an angry, emotionally detached boy who struggles in his complex relationship with his mother. We see the unhealthy relationship develop between the two through-out the film as Kevin grows from a baby to a young man, ending in tragedy as Kevin achieves his ultimate revenge against his mother by massacring the rest of their family as well as several classmates in a school shooting.  

After carefully noting Kevin’s behavior and the way he and his mother Eva interact when he is a young child, I have decided to diagnose Kevin with reactive attachment disorder (RAD). The diagnostic criteria from the current Diagnostic and Statistical manual (DSM-5) for RAD reads as follows: 

A. A consistent pattern of inhibited, emotionally withdrawn behavior toward adult caregivers, manifested by both of the following: 

1. The child rarely or minimally seeks comfort when distressed. 

2. The child rarely or minimally responds to comfort when distressed. 

B. A persistent social or emotional disturbance characterized by at least two of the following: 

Minimal social and emotional responsiveness to others 

Limited positive affect 

Episodes of unexplained irritability, sadness, or fearfulness that are evident even during nonthreatening interactions with adult caregivers. 

C. The child has experienced a pattern of extremes of insufficient care as evidenced by at least one of the following: 

Social neglect or deprivation in the form of persistent lack of having basic emotional needs for comfort, stimulation, and affection met by caring adults 

Repeated changes of primary caregivers that limit opportunities to form stable attachments (e.g., frequent changes in foster care) 

Rearing in unusual settings that severely limit opportunities to form selective attachments (e.g., institutions with high child to caregiver ratios) 

D. The care in Criterion C is presumed to be responsible for the disturbed behavior in Criterion A (e.g., the disturbances in Criterion A began following the lack of adequate care in Criterion C). 

E. The criteria are not met for autism spectrum disorder. 

F. The disturbance is evident before age 5 years. 

G. The child has a developmental age of at least nine months. 

Specify if Persistent: The disorder has been present for more than 12 months. 

Specify current severity: Reactive Attachment Disorder is specified as severe when a child exhibits all symptoms of the disorder, with each symptom manifesting at relatively high levels. 

Kevin displays behavior that meets both criteria A and B. As a baby he cried constantly, reportedly even when held, showing an inability or unwillingness to be soothed. As a toddler he shows defiance, disinterest in social interaction, and a refusal to engage in play, such as when his mother is attempting to play with a ball with him and he refuses to roll the ball back or respond in any way, instead staring at her with a sullen expression. Kevin also refuses his mother’s pleas to say the word “Mommy”. As a slightly older child, Kevin continues to act defiantly and shows anger, ripping up the paper when his mother attempts to school him, immediately soiling his newly changed diapers on purpose, throwing food against the wall and onto tables, breaking his crayons, making nonsensical noises to irritate his mother, and destroying his mother’s artfully decorated room. When he is taken to the doctor to be examined, he shows no expression, does not speak, and stiffens his body. When his baby sister is born, he purposefully sprinkles water onto the newborn, causing her to cry. It should be noted however that in one instance Kevin seems to relax his cold exterior and accept comfort from his mother, shown by the scene in which he falls ill and cuddles with his mother while she reads him a story. He even apologizes for her having to clean up his throw-up. Unfortunately, as soon as he is feeling well again he is back to being rude and rejecting any attempt of hers to take care of him, refusing her help to change his clothes.  

As for criteria C, although Kevin has not experienced extreme abuse or neglect, I believe Kevin suffered from a traumatic birth as it was mentioned that his mother was resisting. His mother Eva did not desire a child, especially not one as difficult as Kevin, so she emotionally neglects him and is cold to him. Eva makes it very clear to him that he is unwanted, telling him straight to his face that she was happy before she gave birth to him and not correcting him when Kevin mentions that Eva does not like him. In one instance, she is accidentally too rough with him and breaks his arm, which Kevin later refers to as being the most honest thing she ever did. Kevin also meets the criteria of D through G, and his symptoms are persistent. I would say Kevin has moderate to severe symptoms as he does exhibit all listed symptoms quite regularly.  

I believe Kevin’s psychological problems may also have developed into conduct disorder (CD) as an adolescent and then antisocial personality disorder (ASPD) or psychopathy in adulthood, especially after taking into consideration the mutilation of his sister’s eye and the killing of his sister’s guinea pig, his father, his sister, and several classmates. He shows no guilt or empathy, appears to have shallow emotions besides anger, and shows no evidence of having affection or emotional bonds to anyone. He is also very manipulative; putting on a fake act of normalcy for his father, turning his parents against each other, and navigating the legal system to get his best outcome. However, I know that children with RAD can also be violent and if not treated, behave in a way very similar to conduct disorder in adolescence and ASPD or psychopathy in adulthood. The main reason I chose to focus on RAD over CD or ASPD is because I believe the root of Kevin’s problem is immense pain at being rejected and unloved as a child and that he harbors a deep desire to have that connection but is unable to accept affection.  He is so focused on and consumed by his anger towards his mother, while someone with true psychopathy may be more detached and indifferent. I also leaned more towards RAD given that he showed symptoms from such a young age and did not seem to have any problems outside of his issues with his mother, such as acting out in school or engaging in petty, impulsive crime. I do wish that the film showed more of his interaction with his peers. Lastly, I felt RAD was a more accurate choice because of the subtle signs of it that are associated more with RAD than CD, such as stiffening his body when others try to hug him, making nonsensical sounds, and not making eye contact as an infant, although that may not have been intentionally put in the film. Either way, his parents certainly needed to talk to professionals about Kevin when he was a child. Had they done so, perhaps they could have prevented the tragedy of both his life and the pain he inflicted on others.  

Response to tumblr ask:

I agree! I would have loved to see how he interacts at school, what he does when he’s alone and has spare time, and more of his childhood.

I think he had multiple reasons:

1- To make his mother suffer since he obviously has a lot of anger and resentment towards her

2- Because he doesn’t feel much positive emotion and gave up on ever feeling pleasure or enjoyment from regular life. Normal life is incredibly boring for him. He wanted to DO something- real, meaningful, make something happen. He wanted to Live. I very much relate.

3- He enjoys the attention he gets from it.

We talked about this in my forensic psych club- whether we should give interviews and all this attention to violent criminals. Our society is fascinated by them to the point where we make movies and books. People sell and collect memorabilia. They have fan-girls writing love letters and showing up to their court sessions, even fighting each other over them. It’s pretty crazy. But on the other hand, it’s important that we study them. Or is it? There’s a debate about everything.

4- His philosophy and world view. 

He is very nihilistic, he doesn’t believe life “means” anything and right/wrong doesn’t exist/is just a matter of opinion or viewpoint. His actions don’t really matter either, nothing does. I used to think exactly like he did when I was a teen, and I still do in a way.

As for your last question, it’s easy to forget one way of thinking when you’re in another. It’s hard to remember how one state was when you’re in a different one. Also, as shitty as outside life can be, life in prison is even shittier. Makes you appreciate the ability of choice and being able to do things, even just to walk around outside or buy an icecream cone. He was also only 15 at the time of the crime, and in the last scene he’s 18. A lot of chemical changes and neural development happens in that time. He matured- his way of thinking about himself, the world, and the others around him changed.

[spazztrapavacado]

AA headcannon pt 15: Apollo's childhood

• Strangely enough, the only things he remembers of his actual parents are the smell of his dad's hair-gel because he got into it a few times and his mom's singing voice because she was always humming. These memories become fuzzy and distant, but it's why Lamiroir's voice had been so strangely soothing and why he feels the need to put extra hair gel on even though he could accomplish his style with less

• Not that he knows this is why, if you ask him, he'll probably say 'Her voice is familiar, but I can't place it' or for the other, 'it just feels like the right amount'

• Our boy was so slow to develop in the time he was going from foster-home to foster-home that the people that took care of him were legitimately concerned he had other problems going on, so he got taken to the doctor a lot

• When he took his first steps, no one was really there to hold his hands and lead him along so he fell over twice crossing the room to get a toy, but he was determined

• When an older kid tried to take his bracelet from him to tease him, they both quickly discovered that if Apollo was not intending to part with it it would refuse to come off. This thing has a death-grip on little Apollo's wrist and he's just "It comes off when I take it off so it must not like you." >:/

• Believed for a long time that his bracelet liked and didn't like certain people, all based on his own opinions of course because it's his best friend and always has been.

• The main reason Dhurke wanted to adopt is because he ends up not having enough time to play with Nahyuta and is worried his son's going to have social issues later. Plus, he can afford to have another kid, no problem. It might even be fun :)

• When Apollo gets told by Dhurke he's going to be adopting him, he is all starry-eyed and beaming

• It's his turn to go home with someone, and he is sure it's gonna be the best thing ever. Dhurke can only look at him like 'I was here because I needed company for Nahyuta when I go away, and now I'm looking at the most adorable child I've ever seen in my life besides mine, who left this boy??'

• Him and Nahyuta hit it off surprisingly well, but in weird ways. Apollo will see him meditating instead of playing and walk over to sit a little ways away, trying to mimic him and figure out why this is fun instead of immediately judging him like other kids. Nahyuta curiously asks about the bracelet Apollo always wears and respectfully doesn't touch it until he's been given permission to. They're both really careful with each other and it's appreciated

• When Dhurke has to take them to live in the woods, he's very glad he got Apollo. He'd be worried they would get lonely if they didn't get along so well

• It was a whirlwind of confusing feelings getting sent back to America, and it left a bitter hole in Apollo's heart. He didn't understand why his dad just gave him to a foster home across the sea with hardly any warning. It was just him and his wrist-band again, lost and alone. He felt more alone then than he ever did in that new house full of kids than in the woods with just Yuty.

• He was promised Dhurke would come back, but the words were hollow, and he knew it. He turned away any chance at getting adopted by other parents because he couldn't deal with this if it ever happened again, he was okay to just be him

• When he meets Clay and cheers him up, he's a little unsure what to do when the boy keeps pulling him along to go play. Clay seems to really like having him around and who is he to turn down a chance at having a friend, at least?

• Their teachers are always taken aback seeing them play because in class they're so respectful and focused and at recess they are fighting with sticks and screaming

• One wants to go to space and one wants to be an attorney, they're definitely an odd pair, there was no getting around it

• Phoenix Write's name starts appearing in newspapers and Apollo starts reading them. This is the coolest attorney in the world, he hopes he can be half as cool as Wright.

• High school was the last stretch of time before childhood was over and he could go be an adult

• He is so ready for it to end, he sees adulthood as a sense of control he's never had and he desperately want it, he's tired of being swept along by tragedy and loneliness

• Clay's still gonna have his back, though, so he's got that going for him

• His grades are great, he's making all A's, even if he has to study hard in all his free time and do all the extra credit his teachers are willing to give him, his average scores are over 100% and his report cards always say something about 'excellent work ethic'

• Kristoph Gavin, who scouts for new attorneys to mentor, has never visited his school in previous years, but keeps walking in and addressing Apollo directly so he's confused but happy about that. That's a good sign, right?

• Kristoph is, at first, dissapointed his scores are from extra credit and not that he's some kind of genius, but he's testing him anyway just to see if he's got the guts to go with his more than perfect scores

• He passes, much to Kristoph's satisfaction, he does very well and has all the skills he'll need to be useful. Kristoph pays for his college and picks all his classes with the faith the boy will manage.

• "You gotta pick a protege young so you can have that level of control over their career." -Kristoph 'perfectionist' Gavin

• Around that same time Clay is accepted into a college, as well

• So this is goodbye...

• They're both sobbing, they've both lost people before and it feels like this is the last time they'll ever see each other

• They promise to write and call, and go their separate ways. They really should have expected it, I mean one wants to go to SPACE, but it's all tears and sniffles and promises to stay in touch

• When he looks back on it, Apollo's childhood is a jarring mess of feeling tossed around by the whims of fate and losing things that are important to him, but if there's anything he's thankful for, it's that he's getting a chance to tie those loose ends up now

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 9

“Don’t kill Cardan.”

The Bomb cocks her head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… don’t.”

Previous

Read chapter 9 on AO3, or read below:

The Bomb returns sometime later with a liter bottle of spring water and Tylenol. “Prescription strength,” she tells me, dispensing two pills into my open palm. “Good stuff.”

“Whose prescription?” I croak, sitting up. It feels like every ounce of liquid in me is squeezing itself out as sweat or something else. Masturbating only helps so much—the only thing that abates the worst heat symptoms is mating with an alpha. And since that’s not happening, it’ll just have to run its course.

Oblivious to my true suffering, she winks at me.

I throw the Tylenol back and wash them down with a swallow of cool water, then keep drinking. My mouth has grown so dry. But I wrench the bottle away from my mouth and say “Leave it” when the Bomb moves to take the pills back.

She gives me a look. “I’ll be back to give you more later, but I’m not leaving this with you. For all I know, you’d shut down your liver to make us take you to the hospital.”

I blink at her, wretchedly aware of the heat of my skin where my eyelids press together. I hadn’t even thought of that.

“Crap,” she says, fumbling in the plastic bag. “I should have taken your temperature first. Hold on, maybe we can still get it before the meds kick in.” She clicks her tongue. “Chemistry I like fine, drugs, sure—but nursing isn’t my area.”

“What is your area?” I ask. I don’t really feel like talking to anyone, but my curiosity is strong enough that I push through it. Anything to learn more about the people who’ve taken us.

The Bomb holds up her prize, a thermometer still in its plastic packaging, and grins at me. “I like blowing stuff up. I dabble in hacking. Basically, if there’s a wall, I want to bring it down.”

I shift in my blankets. It’s an endearing answer, but I worry that any positive feelings toward our kidnappers is budding Stockholm Syndrome. “This must be a boring job for you.”

“It was supposed to be, yeah.” She wrestles the thermometer out of the plastic and hands it to me. “You have a way of keeping things interesting. And Cardan’s a riot. I hope we don’t have to kill him.”

The beep of the thermometer turning on immediately after that statement makes me jump. “You said you wouldn’t,” I protest. “You said you’d take care of us.”

“I know. Our employer’s anxious about how much you’ve both seen and heard. But we can’t kill you, so there isn’t much of a point to getting rid of him. And between you and me, the Roach is very fond of him.”

“So—”

“Stick that thing in your mouth,” she says. “We don’t have all day.”

I glare but stick the cold tip of the thermometer under my tongue and wait for it to start beeping again.

The Bomb leans over, reading the lit-up display—red, already a bad sign. “One hundred point nine,” she announces. “No wonder you’re miserable.”

“No real danger though,” I sigh, pulling it out of my mouth and giving it a little shake. Would they really take me to the hospital if my condition deteriorated? Maybe I should consider trying to dehydrate myself. That’s the real danger of going through heat without a partner. I could do it, I think. “Forget” to drink, drive the fever higher. But our current circumstances are already precarious, and there are a million ways this might end badly for me. The headache is pulsing stronger over my left eye already, and the last thing I need is a full-blown migraine. I take a sip of water and silently will the Tylenol to kick in faster.

“We’ll keep an eye on you,” she affirms.

I wipe my hand on the back of my mouth, already feeling a little more like a person instead of a sweaty blob of hormones. “Don’t kill Cardan.”

The Bomb cocks her head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… don’t.” I cap the bottle, looking down at my hands. My cheeks are hot again, which at least means some blood in my body has decided to circulate instead of pooling in my groin. “But I don’t think he deserves to die. He didn’t do anything.”

“Hmm,” says the Bomb, mulling it over.

I jerk my head up, but she’s smiling at me. Teasing. I flush again. “I’m just saying. I don’t see you guys as killers, anyway.”

Her voice has a dangerous edge to it when she asks, “You don’t?”

I shake my head to clear it. I may be sick, but I can’t allow myself to forget where I am and who I am with. The Ghost shot me already, and it’s easier than I’d like to imagine the Roach’s twisted features contorting further as he plunges a knife into someone’s back. “Maybe just you?” I offer.

“Well, you’re not far off. Murder is a messy business. I prefer to set the charges and wait at a safe distance. But we all do what we have to.” She shifts, and I must look worried, because she adds, “He’s probably going to be fine.”

“Probably,” I echo, and then sigh. “His family’s even more messed up than mine.”

“Well, your dad is Madoc.”

“My parents are dead,” I say.

“Oh,” says the Bomb. But no apology, no condolences. I kind of appreciate that. I learned a long time ago that no amount of apologies would bring my mom and dad back.

“And my sister—never mind.” I shake my head. I really must be addled if I’m spilling my guts to a stranger. Is this Stockholm Syndrome? Is this how it starts? “At least she’s not trying to kill me.”

“It’s another level of family drama,” she agrees. “The Kardashians have nothing on the Greenbriars.”

I try to work out why I feel comfortable around the Bomb. I think her frankness reminds me a bit of Vivi. She never bought into the pretensions of our new life—she wanted out as soon as she was in. And she talks about it like she really is outside of it. The Bomb is like that. She says what she means. She isn’t bowled over by anything.

“How can you do it?” I ask. “How can you do this kind of work for them? Is it really just the money?”

The Bomb blinks at me, her eyes large and luminous in the dark. Her brows draw together, and she looks past me. I seem to have struck a nerve, and for a moment I think she isn’t going to answer my question. Then, at last, she says, “It isn’t just that. The Roach and I—we owe them a lot. I think if… we might not be alive now, if not for what they did.”

“That’s worth kidnapping for? Maybe killing for?”

She looks back down at me. “I know you’ve had shit happen, Jude. I’m not interested in a competition there. But I think Madoc’s kept you from a lot of bad stuff, given you options. Some of us aren’t so lucky.”

“I know that,” I protest. How many Designation Equality Club meetings had Taryn and I attended in our time? Vivi was president for a little while, I think to spite Madoc. “I know it’s not all mansions and parties. And you know, bad stuff can happen in parties and mansions too.”

“Sure. We are the bad stuff.” She flashes me a grin, then says, “Just think about what could have happened if Madoc hadn’t been there to catch you guys. Where you might have ended up. What you might have done to get out of it.”

My stomach twists. I have, of course, thought about that, but it’s an alternate universe that I can’t look directly at, like a solar eclipse. It’s easier to think about two branching possibilities: parents alive, or parents dead with Madoc intervention. Thinking about Madoc never showing, about Taryn and Vivi and I getting put in foster care, maybe separated… it’s so dim and distant.

“I’m not interested in a competition either,” I tell her. “I mean, I am judging you a little for kidnapping us. I will judge you harder if you kill Cardan.”

“No one’s going to kill Cardan,” the Bomb says, patting my shoulder. “You should lie back down. I’m surprised you’ve been upright this long.”

I scowl, but my head is already beginning to feel swimmy, so I settle back into my blankets. “I’m really stubborn.”

“I got that.” The Bomb gathers up her things, but leaves the water bottle within reach. I am grateful.

Just before she can put her hand on the doorknob, I call softly, “If you kill Cardan, I’ll kill you.”

She looks back over her shoulder at me, looking oddly fond. Maybe a gang of kidnappers and thieves respects threats. “Yeah,” she says. “I got that one, too.”

---

Cardan somehow manages to con his way into spending a lot of time outside of the cell. I am not sure how long, because I am curled up toward the wall and barely notice the light from the window wax and wane. But as the day passes his scent starts to go stale and sour, and I pick my head up every time someone opens the door.

It’s always the Bomb, returning to give me more Tylenol or hand me fresh fruit—not fast food, therefore a luxury. It occurs to me then that they kept buying us stuff from a drive-thru or grocery store because they didn’t think they would have us for long and didn’t bother stocking up. But someone must have thought to buy one a bag of mandarins this time, because I am given a couple to nibble on after each dose.

“Boosts the immune system,” the Bomb says when she drops off the first one. She seems in a good mood, probably because the medication has managed to wrestle my fever down to a balmy ninety-nine. Achy and hollow, I just give her a nod. My hands shake when I peel it, but I can peel it, and I’m grateful for that. I have been so humiliated already, and I can probably take more, but I don’t want to.

I slip into a weird daze for the second half of the day. Even though the fever is gone and my cramps are easier to bear, I find myself cursing Cardan’s name. I am pretty sure his presence made my heat worse—just the presence of an alpha, a desirable one, has convinced my body that there’s a chance I might mate, so it’s punishing me worse for abstaining. The longer he’s gone, the more clearheaded I feel, to the extent that my head can clear. And I am angry, at him for intensifying my misery, and at myself, for being like this in the first place.

By the time he returns, any trace of sunlight is gone. He walks slowly, shuffling behind the Bomb. Even as she talks to me and I nod along, sticking the thermometer in my mouth, my eyes track his progress as he settles in his corner.

His hair is damp, his scent shot through with the floral soap from the bathroom. He showered before coming in. I am unreasonably jealous of him. My hair is plastered to the back of my neck with sweat, and my thighs are basically stuck together with dried—anyway, I haven’t left the room all day, not even to pee. I feel like a damp towel someone wrung out and left to dry over the side of a sink.

After I’ve taken the Tylenol, the Bomb hands me a paper napkin with two more pills folded in it. “In case you wake up in the middle of the night,” she explains.

“It’s night?” I ask.

“We sleep in shifts. If there’s an emergency, have Cardan pound on the door.”

“Why me?” Cardan asks. He’s assumed his usual posture, with his leg propped up and his arm balanced casually on his knee. I wonder if the Bomb notices the rigidity in his shoulders, the tension in the line of his mouth. I do.

“I don’t think Jude’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

I sniff derisively, which is a bad move, because I get a fresh whiff of Cardan and am forced to bury my face in my pillow to smother a whimper.

“Point taken,” Cardan says. “Night. Thanks…” I imagine the rest of his sentence curling up and dying at the novelty of him thanking anybody for anything, but he manages to continue. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

The Bomb dusts off her knees as she stands up. “No problem. If she dies, we’re extraordinarily screwed.”

“I know. Still.”

She nods, then leaves. This time, I hear her lock the door behind her. Cardan and I are once again stuck together, alone.

I turn over and curl toward the wall again so I don’t stare. It’s not like heat gives you night vision, but for a couple of seconds he seemed to be a crisp outline in the near darkness of our cell. I don’t want to be tempted. I don’t.

“How, uh.” Cardan clears his throat and tries again, awkwardly. “How was your day?”

“Sucked,” I mutter.

“Yeah.”

“Yours?”

“Sucked less, probably.” He pauses. “But still sucked. I, um, I wanted to check on you.”

“It’s okay.” I shift my head. There’s a twinge in my abdomen, but at least it’s not another full cramp. “Did you learn any neat card tricks?”

“Yeah, actually. The Roach says I’m a fast learner.”

“High praise from a career criminal.”

Cardan chuckles, and my heart jumps. I made him laugh. I don’t know why that affects me the way it does. It must be the heat, another weird side effect. “I should’ve brought the deck in. To show you.”

“If we get through this, you can show me another time.”

“Oh yeah?” I can tell he cracks a smile just by the way his voice picks up. “You’re still gonna want to hang out when we’re out of here?”

I press my lips together to keep from echoing a smile. “I don’t know,” I say to the wall. “Maybe I’ll be too busy with my cool new friends from college to make time for you. And maybe you’ll be too busy hanging out with the Roach. Although that’s honestly an upgrade from your normal crowd.”

“Ouch.”

“He’s not a douchebag alpha,” I point out.

“I don’t know what he is.” I can picture Cardan shaking his head. “I sat next to him for most of the day and I still don’t have a clue. He sounds like an alpha, but he doesn’t really look like one. He doesn’t smell like anything. He and the Bomb seem to have some kind of communication going, but I don’t know if that means they’re mated, or… just close, I guess.”

“I think the Bomb’s an omega,” I say. “Like me. We kind of had a moment earlier.” I screw up my face in thought. “It bothers me that I still can’t get a clear read on her scent, though. Especially now. That’s weird. What do they have to hide?”

“Maybe they’re all betas,” Cardan suggests. “They don’t give off the same pheromones we do.”

I snort. “That’s not possible.”

“Betas exist.”

“Yeah. They’re one in a thousand. The odds that there would be three in one place...”

“Impossibly low, yeah. You’re right.” He sighs. “Well, we’ve seen their faces, but maybe they don’t want to leave scent markers around so they can be tracked that way. That seems like a smart crime thing… to do.”

My lips twitch again. “A ‘smart crime thing?’”

“Oh, like you could do better.”

I snicker, but then the cell falls quiet. We have officially exhausted every subject that will keep us from facing our circumstances, and we know it.

“So,” Cardan says, “now what?”

I don’t know. I cannot imagine spending the night in this cell with him, like this. But I am supposed to be the one with the plans.” “Um, I guess we try to sleep.”

“Right, right. Will it hurt your foot if I take the pillow under it? I’d ask to borrow a blanket, but…”

“No, I get it,” I rush. The blankets are in no condition to be lent, but I’ve left him without any bedding and anywhere to sleep. “Definitely take the pillow.”

There is silence, in which I can imagine him nodding, then the rustle of his clothes as he crawls over to take the pillow propped up under my leg. His hand skims my foot, and it’s like an electric current zings up my body. I hold my breath, waiting for something else to happen, but I just hear him move back to his corner.

“Do you want, um, my sweatshirt?” I offer.

He scoffs, “I don’t think it’ll fit, Duarte.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such an asshole. To keep your arms warm, because you don’t have a blanket.”

There’s a longer pause than the situation calls for, and then he says, “Yeah, toss it over.”

I make myself sit up so I can unzip it, then ball it up and fling it toward him as hard as I can. I am not feeling very strong, but the room is short, so it lands at his feet anyway. He picks it up and buries his face in it.

“Oh, you pervert,” I scold, even as my stomach does a flip. I am surprised to find I’m not mad. I’m not even annoyed. What had I thought was going to happen when I threw it over to him? It’s saturated with my pheromones.

And my scent. Which he’s supposed to hate.

“I just,” he says, taking another sniff. There’s a fuzzy edge to his voice. “I thought it would help. Since we can’t—I don’t know, I just thought it would help.”

I force myself to lie back down and turn around and not watch, even though I am unbearably curious. My face is hot, and heat gathers between my thighs again. It’s just the pheromones. It’s just the circumstances. If my mind were less addled, maybe I could make more sense of all this, but I cannot.

A minute or so later I hear him shift again. “Yeah, it’s a good blanket,” he says. “Thank you, Jude.”

“Sure.”

Then all is silent again, and I think he has fallen asleep. It seems impossible that he could. I am so weary, but my arousal is skewering me like a hot spike, and I keep listening for him on the other side of the room. There’s no way I can seek relief with him here, and no way I can sleep like this.

“Cardan,” I say, breathily. “Are you awake?”

He whispers back, “Yeah.”

I shift. It’s like parts of my body flare to life at just the sound of his voice. “What do you think would happen if you came over here?”

“You don’t—want that, right?”

I don’t know what I want. I think I am closer to wanting him—to wanting at all—and then the memory of Valerian using his knee to try and wedge my thighs apart comes back. I pull the blankets tighter around me. “This sucks so much.”

“Yeah.”

“Less for you, right?”

“You think so?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you flooded with adrenaline or whatever it is that theoretically enables you to keep thrusting for days on end?”

Cardan chuckles. “Wow. You must really be far gone if you’re willing to put me and ‘thrusting’ in the same sentence.”

My cheeks warm. “I meant ‘you’ as in ‘alphas.’ Don’t be dumb. And aren’t you used to this?”

“From—oh. The O?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, that’s different. They alter it somehow, on a chemical level. All of the euphoria and adrenaline, none of the, uh… the aches or the erections lasting longer than four hours. You know, stuff you want to avoid if you’re not in rut for real.”

“Right, makes sense.” I hesitate. “So, you are? I couldn’t tell.”

“What?” He sounds incredulous. “Yeah, yes, I am. Of course I am. There’s like no space between us and no ventilation. It would be impossible for me not to be.”

“Alright, alright.” I squeeze my pillow a little tighter. “You just seem so…”

“So…?”

“Clear,” I finish. “And calm. Calmer than this morning, at least.”

Cardan is quiet for a second before he asks, “Remember this morning, you asked if I was afraid of you?”

My heart thumps. “Yeah?”

“I’m not. I’m afraid of me. I’m afraid of… of...” He grasps for words. “I’m afraid of all the stuff I want to do. Because I’m coming to a realization that’s very painful and you can’t laugh, but I am, and it’s, it’s important—I don’t want to be like Valerian. Or like my brothers. Or even like Locke. I want to be different. I don’t know if there is a different, but I want to be it.”

I am so bewildered that I don’t reply. For as long as I have known Cardan, he’s never been anything other than a bully, a terror, delighting in other people’s suffering, reigning from the top of the food chain. He always seemed to enjoy being an alpha, relish it. I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s telling me now.

Is he saying he doesn’t want to hurt me? He’s never cared before.

But I think about him tucking the blankets around me, gingerly propping my foot up on the pillow this morning, and I wonder.

“It wouldn’t be like Valerian,” I whisper, but he must have fallen asleep, because he says nothing.

Next

[effiethebookworm]

TSE Appreciation Week Day 3!

Hi again! Wow, almost halfway done with TSE Appreciation Week ALREADY? No way. If only it could be TSE Appreciation Month....... *wistful sigh* Here’s the fanfiction for Day Three! This one wasn’t my best one. I started out with a ton of motivation, but quickly lost it. Anyway, I hope you like it.

Idony and Melody

I sit next to the cold window, the smell of smoke wafting from the fireplace in the corner. I touch the windowpane, feel the frost seeping through, and quickly remove my hand. The children are out sledding today, but I decided to stay in. I dislike the cold, and wanted a bit of peace. The door to the room opens, and I hear my mother's boots stepping on the wooden floors.

“Idony, we have a new child with us.” I turn my face towards her, and get up from the window seat. I hear a smaller set of shoes now, coming into the room.

“Hello, what's your name?” I ask. My mother replies.

“This is Melody. Noah found her by the docks.”

“How are you doing, Melody?” Silence.

“Idony, Melody is mute.” I keep my smile on, although I no longer feel happy. Melody will be a new challenge. How will I keep track of her? I grope for my umbrella, and reach in Melody's direction.

“May I feel your face?” A hand grabs mine and squeezes. “I'm blind, you see.” The hand squeezes twice, and I reach up the arm and find the face. It has an upturned nose, long eyelashes that are damp with snow, full lips, and short curly hair.

“Mother, how do you know Melody's name?”

“She wrote it out in the snow for me when I asked.”

“So she knows how to write her name. Melody, can you read?” I ask. Her chin moves up and down.

“Wonderful. Do you know where your parents are?” Her chin moves up and down again.

“Perfect! Are they here in Greenway?” She pauses a moment, and then shakes her head. A moment later, she nods.

“Did you run away from home?” Another head shake.

“Did your parents abandon you?” Head shake.

“Did they die?” A nod. I reach onto her cheeks and feel tears. I grab a handkerchief from my pocket and dry her eyes. “I am very sorry to hear that, Melody.” She sniffles.

“Please take Melody to her room.” My mother says from the doorway.

“Yes, Mother.” Taking my umbrella in one hand and Melody's hand in the other, I take her upstairs to the girl's quarters. I don't really need the umbrella, I know the orphanage halls like I know the sound of my brother's voice, but it makes me feel safer. We get to the room, and I tell Melody,

“This is your new room. Find a bunk with nothing on it, and it's yours.” She lets go of my hand, and walks towards the bunks.

“The bell will ring at five for supper. The girls bathroom is the door to the right.” I point to my right, where I know the bathroom is. “Welcome to the St. Claire Orphanage, Melody.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Baysmore! Welcome to the St. Claire Orphanage. You're right on time for your appointment! My name is Idony St. Claire, and my mother owns the orphanage. Are you interested in adopting a child?”

“Yes. May we meet some of the girls?” A deep voice says.

“Certainly. Please follow me.” I lead them upstairs to the girls wing. Most of the girls are downstairs, playing or helping with chores, but a few stay up here and read.

“We have visitors, girls.” I can hear them scrambling into a neat line.

The Baysmores pass me to look at the girls.

“Hello, what's your name?” Mrs. Baysmore says.

Anna speaks up. “That's Melody. She's mute.”

The Baysmores quickly move on to the next girl, and I sigh. Melody has been here for three months now, and she has gotten that response on every single visit. As the Baysmores move down the line, I hear the rejected girls go back to their activities. It doesn't seem to bother them, being rejected so many times. I've talked to a few who actually don't want to be adopted. They want to stay until the age of eighteen and then go out into the world on their own. I know a few who have, and become successful workers and even business owners. I hear the Baysmores walking towards me, along with a girl.

“Miss St. Claire, do you have a foster option? We don't want anything final quite yet.”

“Oh, certainly!” I say. “If you'll just come downstairs with me, you can fill out the paperwork. Also, may I ask which girl you chose?”

“Me!” Rebecca says. The Baysmores sound confused.

“Why did you ask? Don't you know her name?” I laugh a bit.

“Of course I do. Can't you tell that I'm blind?”

“Oh my, I'm so sorry,” Mrs. Baysmore says.

“No reason to apologize.” I say. “Let's go fill out those forms.”

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“Hello, and welcome to the St. Claire Orphanage. Today is our annual Adoption Fair!”

Claps from the small crowd.

“This year, we decided that instead of having the girls' line on one side and the boys' on the other, they are grouped by age. Remember to look at all ages, not just the babies. All of the children are wonderful, and many would find amazing homes with your families. So, let the annual Adoption Fair begin!” More claps, and a few whistles. A very loud, high frequency squeaking noise.

“Enel, please stop. No one wants to go deaf today.”

The squeaking stops, and I hear giggles. I grab hold of my umbrella, and walk down the wooden ramp of the outdoor stage. The air is warm and at a perfect humidity level, perfect early summer weather. Child voices mingle with adult voices, and I hear laughter and even singing.

“This might be our most successful fair yet,” I hear a familiar voice say from a few paces away.

“Noah!” I rush towards my brother, and his arms envelop me. “How long have you and Papa been back?”

“A few hours. I have great news.”

“You and dad can stay forever?” I touch his face, and feel a slight frown. It disappears quickly when he says,

“Nope. I got accepted into medical school in the East!” I gasp. “That is amazing! Now you'll get to be a doctor, just like you've dreamed!” And maybe help me see again, I think, but don't say.

“The bad news is, I'll have to leave in the fall.”

“Oh, okay. But you usually do leave in the fall.”

“I'll have to stay until next spring.”

My face falls. “So long? Don't you get Christmas off?”

“Yes, but only two weeks. It takes a month to sail from Gallitan to Cedulan, where the school is.”

“Oh.” We are both silent for a while. “Well, I guess I'd better see how the fair is coming.” I say.

“And I ought to go unpack.” Noah squeezes my shoulder, and then lets go. I walk towards the noise of the crowd.

“How are you doing?” I ask a person at the edge of a cluster.

“Pretty well.” She responds very slowly and nasally. It is very hard to understand her.

“That's good!” I say. “Have you met any of the kids yet?” There is a long pause, and then a male voice says, “No, we haven't. I know this is an odd question, but do you have any deaf children here? We specifically want a deaf child.”

I am confused. “No, I'm afraid we don't. Is there any particular reason you want a deaf child?”

The woman speaks again, very slowly, and with a slight stutter.

“When I was a child, until r-recently, I was deaf. I had a surg-g-surgery last year so that I could hear. That is why I s-speak so s-s-slowly. I only learned to talk last year. I have-have been making a kind of speaking, but with hands. I call it S-Sign Language, and I want a child that I can teach it to. I al-also know the hardships of being deaf, so I might be a better mother than someone who has h-heard all her life.

“Oh, my. I am sorry that we don't have any deaf children.” Suddenly, an idea hits me. “We do have a mute girl. She can read and write, but she cannot speak. Do you think that she would work?”

“Yes!” The man says enthusiastically. “May we meet her?”

“Right this way, please.” I tell them. I walk over to a voice I recognise as Kulie, one of Melody's roommates.

“Kulie, do you know where Melody is?” Kulie looks around, at least, that's what it sounds like, and says, “There. 2 o'clock, straight shot.”

“Thank you Kulie.” I lead the couple over to Melody.

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“Melody? Melody! I know you can hear me!” I almost trip over a see-saw, but catch myself with my umbrella just in time.

“Melody! Come out. You need to go home with your new parents. Please, Melody.”

I hear a small whimper from inside the slide tower, about twenty feet away. The orphanage playground is huge, full of nooks and crannies and tiny secret passages perfect for hide-and-go-seek, but terrible for finding kids. I walk slowly over to the tower, carefully sweeping my umbrella in front of me before every step.

“Melody, please. You will love it with your new family, they have a big house, and a cat, and a big yard, and a big family of kids next door who you can play with. The mom used to be deaf and mute, and she can teach you how to speak with your hands. You liked her when you met her, remember?” I use the voice that I use to comfort sick babies. I am at the foot of the slide now, and I can hear Melody whimpering at the top.

“Melody, I know that change is scary, but you need to accept it. It's going to happen whether you like it or not. You need to come down by yourself. It's your choice. You don't have a choice on whether you're adopted or not, but you need to come down on your own. I'll wait for you.” I stand at the bottom of the slide for a moment, and then I hear the squeaky whoosh of Melody coming down the slide. She takes my hand, and squeezes. I take my handkerchief out of the pocket of my pinafore, and use it to wipe her eyes.

“Come on, sweetie. Let's get you to your new home.”

The End

[solacefruit]

Hello, I re-read your fic "one of a king, no category" again recently and first of all I absolutely love it and I always tear up no less then 3 times every time I read it. I was curious, if you remember, how you decided on the 9 cats you chose for the 9 lives ceremony, and also were there any other characters you considered using but who didn't end up making the cut?

Hello there! Thank you so much for writing in with such a sweet compliment, it really warms my heart to know that story has hit such a lovely chord with so many people. I think out of all the stories I’ve written for Warriors so far, one of a kind, no category is the one I’m proudest of and the one I’d like to be remembered for the most. 

And thank you for this question, it’s a very good one! I have a feeling it’ll get very long, though, so I’ll put it under the cut. 

I didn’t have to think much at all to know which cats I wanted to write about for this story, because I’ve been thinking about these nine in various ways since I first read the series. In many ways, one of a kind, no category is a love letter to characters I felt were treated cruelly and unfairly in canon and I wanted to give them a brief moment to be something other than what they were--whether that was to complicate or reinterpret the narrative they’re given in canon, or to highlight the qualities they have that often get overlooked or underappreciated by the writers (and sometimes other fans). 

So there’s cats like Silverstream and Rosetail, who are barely there and then killed off as a plot point--to cause drama for Greystripe or show the brutality of clan life, respectively. Then there’s cats like Lizardstripe, Nightcloud, and Foxheart who are basically written as shallow, “bitchy” antagonists--and as a result are often seen that way by the fandom--or cats like Ferncloud, who are seen as “boring” or “useless” because of their time in the nursery and often resented for that by fans. 

And I don’t necessarily blame fans for these readings of the characters, because the canon is so badly written. I think there’s always a tendency for male characters to be given leniency and complicatedness that is often withheld for female characters, but in Warriors, that cultural reading issue is compounded by the fact the writers themselves don’t ever really do female characters justice. Canon Ferncloud is largely there to pop out kittens and then died in battle “as a result of fan complaints” because Erin Hunter’s misguided understanding of the criticism they were receiving--i.e., interpreting “all she does is have kittens” to mean “we want her to fight [and die]” instead of “please give her character depth--no, not death, no, Erin, don’t--”

I wanted to take these characters and humanise (for lack of a better word) their canonical representations in a way that makes you actually care about who they are/were and the life they lived. Silverstream’s death is a tragedy. Rosetail’s life is a triumph. I wanted these experiences to be embodied in a story in a way that could give readers feelings and change how people thought of these (canonically very badly written) characters, not because I think Erin Hunter is a secret genius and deserves it (they don’t, I hate them), but because the characters themselves deserve more recognition and care than they often receive. 

Anyway, I’m sorry, I’ve gone way off track! To actually answer your questions: 

1. Leopardstar: one of the few female leaders--whose story is then basically about what a bigot she is and how she betrayed her whole clan (more or less) for a man because she was secretly in love with Tigerstar. I hate that they made a female leader (one of very few!) just to be like “eh she’s a lackey to an evil man she’s in love with who doesn’t care about her.” 

2. Rosetail: as mentioned before, she is barely in canon at all (in the main series; she returns in Bluestar’s Prophecy as kind of Bluefur’s best friend?). She’s actually the first clan cat to die after Firepaw joins Thunderclan, but it mostly gets swept aside and people are sad for like a minute and then the shock value wears off and she’s forgotten. 

3. Nightcloud: she’s kind of the contentious female character of the main series, because she’s either too clingy or too mean or a bad mother etc., and I’ve seen many people sympathise with Crowfeather over her--even though her side of things genuinely sucks. I wanted to give her space to be a kind of unlikeable person who still deserved better than she got. I think she deserves the same compassion people are willing to the extend to the man who mistreats her. 

4. Brightheart: one of the most famous disabled characters of canon--but she never really gets a decent resolution. Her ending is “happy” but I feel that she’s not really given closure for much of what happened to her, and in many ways the story around her is still very ableist. I feel like there’s a lot of extremely challenging internal growth that she would have had to do that never gets noticed in canon, so I wanted to give her a moment of sharing a fraction of the strength and wisdom she would have taught herself. 

5. Silverstream: as mentioned before, she’s so young and it feels to me like she exists--and dies--for the purposes of man-pain and I hate that. She gets so little personality in canon and then dies in childbirth, and I wanted to first give her a self that is so wonderful and real that it genuinely is devastating that she dies. It’s not a shrug, or a “poor Greystripe”: it’s a heartbreak to see someone so vivacious and excellent and hopeful get their life cut short. I want her story to be centred on who she is, not who she fell in love with and how he feels. 

6. Foxheart: she’s basically a mean, snotty villain in Yellowfang’s Secret (as is Lizardstripe) and an enemy of Yellowfang in a way that to me reeks of internalised misogyny from Erin Hunter, if I’m real with you. I wanted to give another interpretation of the events--especially considering how unbelievable it is that Yellowfang “got away” with that whole secret kit thing. It doesn’t make sense, unless you consider that other cats are in on it. Literally all Foxheart had to say to ruin Yellowfang’s life was “that kitten’s not mine”--and she never said that. I think that gets overlooked a lot and I wanted to explore that detail. And I thought it fitting to reinterpret a character whose name is literally an insult in canon (”fox-heart”) as having so much integrity that she would rather go down in history as a villain than be a snitch and a traitor to a clan-mate.

7. Lizardstripe: similar to above, she’s written as a horrible, bitter lady who resents her own mate and kits and is bullied into fostering Brokenkit and is miserable about that. It’s literally said “[h]er bitterness and resentment towards Brokenstar is what led him down his path of hatred” which is classic “blame a woman for a man’s behaviour” and a very rich statement from Erin Hunter who in the same breath is like “some cats (i.e., Brokentail) are just born evil as a punishment from Starclan on their birth mothers for breaking their vows.” It is so vile how Erin Hunter’s writing revolves as much as possible around blaming and punishing women for everything, including and especially men’s development and behaviour. 

8. Ferncloud: sort of mentioned before, but Ferncloud over the years has gotten a lot of fan disapproval for being passive and frequently pregnant. I think a lot of those criticisms--when levelled at Erin Hunter’s lazy writing--are fair and just but sometimes I feel that, in pursuit of more “strong” female characters in media, some fans forget to appreciate the many ways femininity and female characters can be subversive and/or still good, even when they’re not traditional hero’s narratives. In the real world, domestic labour (i.e., women’s work) is significantly undervalued, and I feel that Ferncloud can be read as an amazing example of someone who works to the bone every day and is largely ignored and underappreciated because the work she does is expected and taken for granted. 

9. Greypool: I love her--or at least my version of her. She doesn’t get a lot of attention in canon, other than a mention of being the foster mother to Bluestar’s kits and the fact she loses her memory as she ages and is murdered by Tigerclaw. It felt fitting for her to be the final life, both as a great and renowned storyteller in her own right and a cat considered to be very wise and kind with her words and thoughts, since ultimately one of a kind, no category is about the way stories can be told to shape the world--i.e., Erin Hunter’s often sexist canon versus the compassionate and intelligent retellings this fandom creates. 

As for cats that weren’t included, I’m happy with the nine I chose and I love them, but there are a lot of other cats who’ve been poorly treated by canon that would deserve a better story too. Snowfur of Thunderclan leaps to mind, as does Feathertail, and Palebird of Windclan, and honestly even Bluestar and Mapleshade. I think to a certain extent it’s hard to really engage with any of these characters’ narratives without also acknowledging the impact of sexist tropes on that narrative--i.e., how much of canon is “the character” (an intentional construct) and how much of their characterisation/story is kind of a side-effect of uncritical sexism perpetuated in the writing of said character? And I don’t really know the answer, because that’s not really a line that can be drawn. But I like to think one of a kind, no category and similar stories help reimagine other versions of these characters as fuller, more real people and that thought makes me happy. 

[bookandcover]

The Home Place, subtitled “Memoirs of a Colored Man’s Love Affair with Nature,” takes an unique look at the experiences of working in environmental science, birding, farming, and otherwise existing in eco-spaces as a person of color. This book was my sister’s selection for our family’s ongoing Anti-Racism Book Club. As a graduate student in earth and environmental science, she thinks and talks a lot about race and gender within her field, mentors younger female students in the field, and teaches undergraduates. Like her, I expected this book to lean into the challenges of representation in the field and to comment on the (under-discussed) positive relationship between people of color and the natural world. And while these broader topics were discussed, this was, first and foremost, a deeply personal memoir. J. Drew Lanham starts his story where his life started, explaining his personal and familial connection with the land—The Home Place, a specific farmstead in Edgefield County, South Carolina, where he was born and grew up. This personal connection and narrative is essential—Lanham’s love for nature is shaped in his formative years by the close connection his family has with the land they live on and farm. His later academic connections to the land—from his graduate research to his volunteer work collecting bird identification data to his writing and communication about scientific topics—all these stem from that childhood passion that runs deeper than interest or fascination: J. Drew Lanham understands the land on an instinctual level. He sees himself as a natural being, in tune with the deer, wild turkeys, and monarch butterflies, with the possums, foxes, and eastern red cedars.

The structure of the book (moving roughly chronologically through Lanham’s birth, upbringing, growth, and independent life) is shaped by its foundational idea: Lanham’s conviction that he is a product of the land that raised him, as are his family members, his siblings, his parents, his grand-parents, and his ancestors before them. Therefore, looking at and observing The Home Place naturally leads to the work of observing his own family and how he came to be who he is in the world. The Home Place is exactly this, both physical landscape and the people that exist in harmony with it. Over and over again, in both small and large ways, Lanham reinforces this central thesis—from the chapter on the spring that fed and sustained the Home Place, which was maintained by his father and could not continue after Daddy’s death, to the chapter on digging into his family’s history (figuratively and literary) as he traces the Lanhams’ connections to the land. J. Drew Lanham acknowledges that this central thesis is not necessarily obvious nor free from controversy. Many Black Americans’ experiences with the land exist within the legacy of slavery and stories of immense suffering on land that never belonged to them. But, for Lanham and for other Black Americans who grew up close to the land, surviving off it and also existing with it could develop a new narrative around Black identity and the natural landscape.

When I think of subsistence farming, I often think of the many challenges and set backs of the hardscrabble life. And while Lanham is not shy about sharing that his parents occasionally “argued about whether to buy hay for cows or groceries for us,” his book as a whole focuses on the feeling of abundance and of spiritual wealth he experienced growing up living off the land. He emphasizes that land itself is a source of wealth, in all its forms, and that fostering a close relationship with the land is a way forward that he perceives for Black Americans. He says “But the land, in spite of its history, still holds hope for making good on the promise we thought it could, especially if we reconnect to it. The reparations lie not in what someone will give us, but in what we already own. The landscape can grow crops for us as well as it does for others.” I thought this was a very interesting perspective that strives to redefine the Black/natural world narrative. This was one of several moments in the book where I really felt that Lanham was writing for a Black audience specifically. He does have a perspective that puts the impetus on each person to choose their relationship with the land, to be a responsible steward of the natural world, to educate themselves, to lean into their connections with the land and trust it.

I was somewhat startled by this as it felt that Lanham prioritized talking about what Black people can do to achieve the “Normal Rockwell painting life” his family led when a huge part of systemic poverty and racism (from my perspective) could not be Black people themselves. Many systems—education and pay rates, land ownership and inheritance, access to banking loans and credit—are broken and rely on all of us to engage with fixing them. No matter how strong you are, you cannot climb alone from beneath a bolder that is pining you down, a boulder you inherit, a boulder you have to carry every single day and in every situation simply because of the color of your skin in America. Perhaps Lanham intends, intentionally, to focus on what Black people can do, in spite of these broken systems, as acts of empowerment and self-determinism? I was surprised how individualistic this book felt at times, with very little focus on how systems of oppression could be dismantled. For example, his primary suggestion for how birding while black can become safer is to normalize this experience by invading the natural sciences with more and more people of color. “Get more people of color ‘out there,’” he writes. In sharing this recommendation for progress, he doesn’t acknowledge very directly how dangerous this act is or how difficult his recommendations are to follow for each person who must be a pioneer in the field. Of course he understands the risks and challenges, as he’s been the “odd bird” so many times in his own life, but perhaps he could have spoken as well to the ways others in leadership positions (regardless of race) could provide support for young people entering the natural sciences (from mentorships and training, to financial scholarships, to diversity workshops and conversations that increase awareness and inclusivity within the field). Saying this, I feel strange criticizing his way of talking about these topics, even if the criticism is simply asking for more (more beyond an individual’s responsibilities, more beyond Black people making changes by stepping in and fighting for their spaces), as Lanham’s approach leans on his lived experiences as a Black man, which I cannot relate to in several ways.

I can, however, relate to his experiences growing up with a close relationship to the land. Unlike my sister, my experiences rambling through the Maine woods, raising sheep and chickens, and hiking, swimming, and spending nearly every moment of my youthful summers out of doors, did not translate into a career in environmental science. However this doesn’t mean that I don’t think of my relationship with nature as close nor my personal and emotional experiences with nature as deeply spiritual and transformative. As a writer, as a teacher, I draw all the time on my understanding of nature and my love for it in order to connect with other human beings, to bring the beauty of ecosystems to life for them, to find common ground (an apt metaphor). I noted the sections of The Home Place where Lanham talked about his graduate research and discussed how sometimes the monotony of the work cut into his love for the natural and his appreciation of all the experiences that brought him here. This was a very relatable moment—for anyone who chooses a career based on passion, that passion needs to withstand the least glamorous moments of that job. At its most slow, most boring, and most frustrating, do you still love this thing? Do you still see its worth even when you hate it? For me, the natural world can be relegated to a place of spiritual purity, simply experienced and enjoyed, because I don’t study it. Yet, Lanham reconciles scientific study and simple appreciation nicely, describing how his passion grows with his concrete and scientific understanding, and how the spiritual and scientific dimensions of his experiences with nature both shape his love and commitment.

I loved that Lanham described how his foray into writing brought a new third dimension to his personal relationship with nature—looking back in order to capture in words, he was able to trace the significance of The Home Place—and the act of literary examination changed him: he cried tears of release as he shared his story with his writing workshop, the first time he truly mourned the loss of his father after thirty years. In one of my favorite lines in the book, Lanham says of his experience first sharing his work with his peers in a writing workshop: “They’d unwittingly given me permission to be someone I’d never been.” For him, this was someone emotional, someone who sheds tears in moments of deeply-felt sorrow and transcendent joy. That joy, often, comes when facing the natural world as it is, and so he applies his pen to responding to nature. His descriptions of the natural world are interwoven beautifully throughout the book and are, so clearly, the creations of a close observer. I related so deeply to these moments, and felt transported, as I read: “Now, as back then, fall is the time when nature speaks most clearly to me…Breathing is suddenly easier and the soaking sweat evaporates. You want to inhale deeply enough to take in every molecule wafting on the wind. The tired smallness of September’s deep green fades then flames into October’s vermilion sumacs and scarlet maples, lemon-yellow poplars and golden hickories.” This is both accessible and accurate writing. J. Drew Lanham knows his science, but he describes the world visually, as he perceives it, not as he measures it.

For me, these writing moments were more effective than the structure of the chapters, which started to feel a bit formulaic as the book progressed. Lanham frequently uses the natural world as metaphors and many of these metaphor are born of quite astute and surprising observations—the ecology of a church’s location growing the mindset of the congregation and the Tuskegee Airmen as a metaphor for flight that takes Black people beyond the contexts others expect for them (the Wild West is another space examined along similar lines of thinking). But Lanham tends to set his big metaphors up in the same way: beginning a chapter with the central concept (in its most analytical, literal, or universal iteration), following this up with personal anecdotes, and ending the chapter (like its own short, contained essay) with deeper reflection on how this metaphor operates. This chapter structure, although predictable, didn’t lose the joy of any one of these observations. Lanham writes some truly profound individual sentences. And believe him. His depth is genuine.

I would be remiss in writing about my response to this book if I didn’t briefly address the chapter “Jawbone,” which troubled me deeply. For all of Lanham’s gentleness and nuanced appreciation of each living thing, he is still a hunter, and he describes a particular hunt—and the deer’s jawbone that he saves from this hunt—in this chapter. His interest in hunting is tied to a larger interest in land conservation and ecosystem management, as he explains it, and it seems that he tries to contrast his approach to hunting with those who hunt for trophies, or for the wrong reasons. But, the outcome is still the same. And he uses many of the tools—scents, blinds, and mating calls—that other hunters use to outwit their prey. He also tries to contrast his hunting with that of others’ by focusing on the deer’s jawbone he has collected. Rather than the trophy of a large set of antlers, he prizes the jawbone with evidence of the animal’s long lifespan and role in the ecosystem. The way he feels about this jawbone, however (elated, awed that this animal died at his hand and not someone else’s), seems to me not very different than the way trophy hunters feel about their prizes. Sure, he consumes the meat from the deer he kills, but it seems that hunting is not necessarily for his and his family’s survival, nor significant as an affordable food source available to them. I think I was most troubled by the concept of control and how that comes through in this chapter. It seems like hunting, for Lanham, seems to be rewarding in a kind of patriarchal, stewardship way in which the reward—while paired with thoughtful choices about which animals to kill and how to use the meat—is not sorrowful necessity, but some kind of pride (in the hunt, in the win, in the triumph). This chapter was all the more jarring following up on the youthful chapter where Lanham kills a sparrow with a bb gun and truly mourns the preciousness of a life lost. And while I also frown upon willful ignorance or dismissal of the source of one’s meat (or willful ignorance about the human and environmental impact from one’s vegetarian diet, as well!) I do think that the act of killing changes you as a person. Although I do not agree with Lanham on the topic of hunting, this is one section of the book, and human are complex, living contradictions. No one needs to hold perspectives and behave in ways that are perfectly consistent; no one ever does.

This book was a powerful testimony to how much we can—and, Lanham argues, we should—rely on nature. This book contains the particularity of the Black experience and seems to speak directly to a Black audience, as mentioned. But it also contains much that is universally applicable to our lives in the 21st Century, as we humans grow increasingly removed from nature and from the lifecycles of ecosystems and understanding how we are, inescapably, part of those. I love how Lanham observes at the very beginning of the book that, “to be wild is to be colorful, and in the claims of colorfulness there’s an embracing and a self-acceptance.” Through this book, he celebrates his specific identity and his experience as a person of color, but he also taps into our shared humanity when he illuminates the rewards of living a wild life. He thoughtfully reveals himself through describing his ecosystem, and, in this, invites us to see ourselves in the same way, with our own ecosystems, Home Places, and reasons to live a natural life.

[iggyalfi2319]

Between Borrower and Giant

BBAG: X/2/? - A/N A little idea I had on my mind after reading different G/T stories and different perspective. And I thought, “Why not crossing the perspecives in one story?”

The storyline isn’t really solid and expect me to use OCs and weird ideas. The scaling might fail me a lot, I’m not good at size appreciation ^^;

I’m all ears if you have questions or suggestion.

I hope I won’t drop it like other countless stories I gave up from laziness and block -_-; Also, English isn’t my native language, don’t be mad...

Hai, I stop rambling and let you enjoy that thingy.

=====BBAG=====

Giant: (noun) a person or thing of unusually great size

Tiny: (adjective) very small.

Borrower: (noun)  One who takes what belongs to another, and uses it as their own

Everything is just a question of perspective.

Patton hummed softly as he was cleaning his little cozy home.

It was located somewhere in the forest, few minutes away from the nearest town. He enjoyed the peace and calm from his place even though he kind of craved other’s company. Sometimes, he could be touch starving, causing him to be very clingy toward his friends.

Yet, he gladly enjoyed some time for himself in his little home too.

Being the “Dad” of the crew could be pretty tiresome.

Sometimes, he felt that he was abused for his kindness. He gave and gave. While he didn’t get much in return.

*tunk*

Patton got pulled out of his reverie when he heard a familiar clatter.

He quietly went to the kitchen while trying to contain his excitment of getting the visit of his favourite little guest.

Virgil came out from the teapot that was actually a secret entry specially made for him. The original hole in the wall being too small for him, he had widened it and hidden it behind a broken teapot, so he just had to lift up the cap for getting in or out from the pot/entry.

You see, Virgil was “slightly” bigger than the few Borrowers that Patton had caught the sight of before. The bigger male was curious about it, but the emo generally avoided the topic.

Patton got on his knees and slowly crept in the kitchen before watching Virgil dropping his bag outside of the pot and pushing the cap back to its place. Then he hopped down from his porcelaine perch, dusting himself off.

He looked around, noticing that the place was unusally quiet at this time.

“Odd...” He muttered. “Maybe Patton went out -”

“PEEK A BOO!”

Patton jumped out of his hiding spot, scaring the shitz outta the poor emo.

“UWAH!” Virgil yelled and fell on his butt. “HOLY FRIGGING SKET, PATTON!”

He grasped his chest, his heart beating like crazy.

“Oh I’m sorry kiddo!” Patton panicked. “I just wanted to surprise you...”

“Just don’t do it again...” Virgil muttered, trying to calm down.

“Any way I can help? Do you want some water?” Patton asked sheepishly.

“Go for water...” The tiny male answered, using the 4-7-8 breathing technique.

The young fatherly man went to fetch the small cup he got from a doll sized tea set he got specially for Virgil. While he knew he couldn’t force him to stay with him, he wanted at least to enjoy some time together. Virgil started to openly interact with him not this long ago, heck, Patton knew that the Borrower was still a bit weary around him. There was some days where the emo would sneak in, unannounced. Probably for taking some emergency stuff. In these occasions, Patton would pretend not to acknoledge him, despite really wanting to. He prefered avoiding raising up Virgil’s stress level. Though, that didn’t keep Patton from ostensibly leaving the needed objects or food.

“Here your water kiddo.” He came back with the little cup. “I brought some cookies too.”

He had been practicing on making smaller portions. Virgil’s unusually big small size made things slightly easier. If it was for standard Borrowers, making even smaller pieces would be too complicated. Especially with Patton’s bad eyesight.

Virgil thanked him before drinking up the cup. Then he picked up a cookie. To him, it was the size of a plate. He broke it into smaller pieces before eating it up.

“How is it?” Patton asked. “Do you feel better?”

“These are delicious, big guy!” Virgil moaned softly at the taste. “I feel a lot better already.” Patton gasped in delight, stars in his eyes while the smaller male finished off his cookie.

“You’ll have to thank Cara for giving me her recipe.” The glassed man chuckled softly.

He looked at the emo sitting on the counter, letting out a small sight.

Slowly but surely, he moved his hand.

As expected, Virgil watched his movements.

“M...May I?” he slowly approached his hand toward him.

The doll sized male leaned carefully against it.

Patton tried not to squeal in happiness.

Virgil was like a wild animal. Very hard to gain his trust and so easy to break.

The tallest gently ruffled the smallest’s hair with his thumb. The Borrower closed his eyes, enjoying it.

They stayed like that in silence, savouring the moment.

Patton must admit he loved Virgil’s company more than anyone else’s. For Virgil, Patton was someone nice to have around, even if he was a bit suffocating sometime. But that was a part of his personality, so he accepted it even though he voiced out or showed his discomfort, knowing that Patton would step back.

Soon, the Borrower moved away from the hand. Patton whined softly but he didn’t protest.

“I have a present for you, from the kids.” Virgil ruffled in his bag.

“Really?!” Patton bounced excitedly.

He had a soft spot for children. When he learned from Virgil that he was in a foster family with 8 kids, Patton wanted to know everything about them! Heck, he even wanted to meet them. Of course, Virgil downright refused. At first from the lack of trust toward the big guy. But then, from the dangerosity. From the travel from their place to Patton’s house, or from the hostile environment that Virgil had experienced himself.

While Patton pretty much immediately welcomed Virgil and the Borrower slowly growing close to him, he really didn’t like Patton’s friends and did everything to stay hidden from them. So bringing children was out of question.

Virgil pulled out was seemed to be a blanket to him, which ended up being like a small tissue in Patton’s palm.

“That was the biggest sheets they could get.” The emo scratched the back of his head. “Cara helped sewing them together.”

Patton vaguely hummed, admiring the artwork.

It represented one big purple and black person, a couple standing next to them, smaller in size, then 8 smaller figures surrounding the big purple one. The details in the lineart was impressive, and even the slightly crooked coloring was beautiful. “For Mister P” was written on the top of the artwork. “Mister P?” Patton chuckled.

“W...Well I wanted to keep it vague at that time...” Virgil sputtered. “But I promise I’ll consider introducing you properly to them...one day...”

“I’ll be looking for it.” Patton lightly petted him.

Virgil blushed lighlty.

“Guess who is here, Padre ~!”

Both of Patton and Virgil jumped out of their skin at the ceremoniously booming voice of one of Patton’s friend, Roman.

“It’s time for me to leave.” Virgil stood up. “Thanks for the cookie.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for the night?” Patton asked, a bit disappointed.

“I have people waiting for me...” Virgil mumbled, packing the cookies in his bag, as well as some foil, toothpicks and other knickknacks that Patton would probably not need anymore.

Patton scooped him and brought him to the teapot.

“I guess I’ll see you later, big guy.” Virgil saluted.

“See ya, kiddo.” Patton smiled.

“Patton are you here?” Roman called.

Said glassed man just had the time to put down the cap on the pot.

“In here, Ro, I’m coming!” He called back, preciously cradling the present given by the Borrower.

“Ha! There you are.” Roman let out a princey huff.

Logan was apparantly here too.

“Greeting Patton.” He nodded slightly, before noticing the piece of fabric that Patton was holding. “What is this?”

“It’s a present from a little guest.” The father smiled

Logan and Roman eyed him suspiciously, but Patton was too busy admiring it to notice.

-

Virgil flew throught the forest, swinging his hooks from tree to tree like Spiderman. He had a long way to go and night was already falling.

While he enjoyed his little time with Patton, he cursed himself for not leaving sooner.

Cara, the foster mother, was surely waiting for him, a pan in her hand.

Though, she was used to it. Even before Virgil, because her husband, Amos, was the one going in the Giants’ realm for borrowing. He was the one who taught everything to Virgil.

The young man wondered how Amos could do that during so many years, especially when he was franckly smaller than him.

Soon, the trees were getting smaller and smaller, when Virgil reached the other realm.

Time for the change of perspective.

Virgil knew that he was near home, when the trees were just a few feet bigger than him.

He reeled back his hooks in his bag before continuing by foot, slowly heading toward the big old shacks, patched up here and there. Signs of expansions were very obvious.

A blonde woman around her 50s with glasses and green eyes, wearing a pastel green dress with a yellow apron and sandals was waiting for him outside, her hands on her hips.

“Hi Cara...” Virgil looked down at her.

“Virgil Andersen! What took you so long!” She said sternly.

Though her expression softened pretty quickly when he winced at her tone.

“Amos and I were worried sick, and the kids wanted to wait for you before goint to bed.”

“Because I’m technically their bed, right?” Virgil snorted.

“Don’t be so cocky young man.” She scolded him. “Amos was even about to get you himself.”

“What?” Virgil’s eyes widened. “But it’s dangerous!”

“Hey, don’t forget who taught you everything, kid.”

A man also around 50s with wild blond hair, a thick beard, greyish blue eyes and dressed like a lumberman joined them, dragging some logs.

“Since you’re here, get them on the pile before we can finally go to sleep.”

Virgil easily scooped up the logs and put them with the others.

Amos opened the entry made for Virgil, meaning the whole front walls in two big doors.

The shack was big enough in width for him to live in but slightly cramped up because it wasn’t high enough for him to stand in.

The young man shuffled inside on his knees, careful not to knock down anthing. Of course, the furnitures were pushed against the walls so Virgil could easily move around, but years of living here made him an expert in twisting and avoinding objects. Very useful when you live with messy and mischevious children.

He let his bag in the entry, Amos saying they would take care of it tomorrow before shuffling to the sleeping area.

The floor was a giant mattress and above there was 8 hammocks.

Assuming that the youngest inhabitants were asleep, Virgil carefully stripped down to his shirt and boxers before lying on the mattress. He couldn’t fully lie down, and shuffled as quietly as possible to find a comfortable position.

Suddenly -

“Virgil is back!”

“Get him! Get him!”

“Finally!”

8 smaller figures fell on him.

“Oof! Hey, slow down!” He groaned as the kids crowded him.

“So you went to visit Mister P?” One who looked like a younger version of Amos asked. “Tell us! tell us!”

“Did he like the present?” A red haired girl who seemed to be a native American piped up.

Are you two getting close? a voice rang through everyone’s head as a white haired girl had galaxy like eyes glowing softly.

The kids snickered at the thought while Virgil sputtered.

“What make you think that!” He hid his face.

“So it’s true?” a brown haired boy jumped in.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Virgil huffed and plucked them off him.

He set them in their respective hammocks.

“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Now, good night!”

He curled up and started to drift off.

When he heard a soft “THUMP”, before feeling a small weight against his torso.

He opened an eye, noticing that the smallest of the children as nestled up against him.

Soon, another child joined.

Then another.

Then another.

Till all the children were all cuddling him, peacefully asleep.

Virgil sighed soflty and protectively curled up around them.

Between Borrower and Giant, the 20ft tall emo had to find his place in this two opposite worlds.

=====BBAG=====

BBAG: X/2/?

Leave a comment and a like if possible ^^

[rpbetter]

I genuinely don’t think the problem is as deep as people are seeing it as, with that whole resource blog and vent blog drama. I was there when it began, and it started because someone sent a submission that was recognizable enough to trace to that resource blog, who ended up calling themself out, and then a bunch of people dogpiling them, and then it turned into the 2021 edition of good old tumblr wank, mocking sockpuppets included. I essentially watched a bunch of 30 year olds call each other doodooheads like a couple kids on the playground, but at least kids forgive and forget after a day or two.

That’s probably why they’re avoiding this situation like the plague. The first time a submission went through about that resource blog, it made people feud like the Montagues and Capulets. Obviously they don’t wanna risk fueling that type of drama again. If it’s true that they aren’t letting these submissions through and it isn’t tied to reasons like tumblr eating the ask, then it’s probably because they don’t wanna be involved in this drama anymore. And I don’t blame them, because honestly, even as an observer I’m tired of seeing it, I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be for y’all who are actually involved. Geez. Who even has the energy for this much drama anyway? I’m tired just getting outta bed.

Sorry, Anon, I really had to!

Anyway, I'm sorry it took forever to get to your message, not only did I need a break from this, I needed to space out things related to it, it had taken over the blog. I appreciate that, despite how over it all you are, you were polite about how you feel. I know that is not always easy, and I do really appreciate it!

I hope that you don't feel I am being hostile to you about anything I say, it isn't meant that way. Differences of opinion, when not expressed hatefully, are always welcome here. I'm just going to try to express some of this situation from another perspective, and full disclosure, I'm pretty pissed off about it whether or not I actively want to be. This did impact my hobby, it did hurt people I care about, and I cannot believe such an unnecessary act lead to shit that is still going on.

On the first point...most things aren't as deep as we're given to feel they are after we've been made to feel incredibly unsafe, targeted, repeatedly let down and lied to, and experienced an astronomical level of sketchy behavior out of muns in a position that one is supposed to have some minor level of responsibility (as well as decent comportment) within. So, maybe it isn't that deep, but at this point, I very much cannot blame people for their concerns and suspicions.

And it was incredibly sketchy. CoaR, I'm just going to say it, everyone knows of which blog we're speaking at this point, did all of the following, breaking their own rules for moderation repeatedly:

allowed an actual, openly stated, callout blog to interact with their posts

allowed a meme blog to use their posts for the point of off-blog drama mongering, callouts, and outing themselves

would not moderate this situation as stated in their rules, when they've a bit of nasty record in the not too distant past of mass-blocking for far less and far more questionable reasons

did bother to post about how they weren't getting involved, as though this did not break multiple rules and absolutely is one's problem if it is your vent blog someone is using to create and foster bullying - simply giving the bizarre statement that blocking won't help anyone, when that isn't the point at all lol the point is being intolerant of people using your blog, that has to operate on a basis of being as safe a place as possible for venting (which is drama), this is about a stance and blog security, not being anyone's parent

just as weirdly vaguely threatening everyone first with all the mods "watching," because that's not actually implying an Orwellian parental role no one asked for, then with Sky once again misunderstanding the difference between being a " disciplinarian" and an ass

consistent lack of transparency on all counts

and then, yeah, there is the choice of publishing submissions/rebuttals combined with all of this and those submissions/rebuttals being what they are - not all related to "the drama," or in violation of the rules either, but the apparent willingness to publish them from one side of "the drama" there for a bit

I cannot blame people for feeling like all of this combined is a legitimately sketchy situation. One in which they've already, again, been made to feel unsafe within because COAR was used as a list for callouts.

When people see someone like Raven getting wildly different treatment by not being so much as warned, they're going to feel suspicion about the mod(s). It makes it so much worse that they chose to make the statements they did instead of a transparent, reasonable one like, "We apologize that CoaR was used the way it was, we should have blocked the callouts blog right away, but didn't. To reiterate the rules we've had in place for years, this blog is never to be used for callouts or taking bullying off-blog. Due to how widespread the problem has become, we will not be publishing anything related to it any longer. Submissions will be deleted so we can begin putting this behind us."

Acknowledge fault, apologize for it, say what you're doing to mitigate it now. That's it. Don't actively make it worse!

About the submissions...I know I'm alone in having tested that out. It isn't limited to things that either break the rules or are related to the issue. It's very select topics that are a bit uncomfortably aligned with the bias displayed, and from very select blogs. That's a problem. It's not selectively publishing based on drama-avoidance or rules, what CoaR has always done and no one here is taking an issue with.

I have 0 interest in things like trackers, they're far too easy/tempting to use maliciously for most people, and at the very best, they foster an environment of paranoia. What I know about them comes from really minimal personal experience (I wanted to see what posts people were most interested in on another blog, but it felt creepy with the amount of information I had, so I dropped that very fast) and what mutuals who use them have told me/questions they've answered.

So, is it possible the mod(s) is selectively deleting submissions from blogs they feel are a problem? Yes, it is totally possible. Do I know that for a fact? No, I totally do not. My point is that this is exactly the sort of paranoia that takes off when too many suspicious things happen back to back. You begin seeking the answers you are not getting, and you're seeking them because every day for a month or two, your experience logging in has been one of what the fresh hell. It's a need to insulate yourself from further exposure to harassment.

It's a very simple formula: act sketchy, people look at you like you're sketchy.

And I'm not going to condemn anyone for that.

I will also say that, unless several people deleted their comments or have me blocked in multiple places they somehow know of and take issue with, I did not see what you are describing when I read over the total explosion that happened...what, like a month, two months ago at this point? It was very fresh at the time.

What I saw was someone having submitted about a meme blog screenshotting their mutual's rules. Raven going off about it in a reblog. Two commentators trying to discuss the issue and finally, just saying they weren't surprised what meme blog it was once Raven outted themselves like a fully hinged individual interested in following CoaR's rules.

One of those s commentators is a friend, the mun whose rules were in the posts is a friend. I've never been anything but transparent about that. I'm also familiar with some of the other parties who ended up going on hiatus, but only from discussions on the vent blog over the years. So, yes, I do have personal investment here, and I do not feel like any of those people telling Raven and the callout blog they were at least involved with that their behavior was bullshit can be equated to immature shit slinging. There were even two muns who repeatedly tried to have a civil conversation with Raven, specifically, and for their efforts, got some of the most wildly juvenile treatment.

The worst things I saw came from hate anons and the callout blog.

The people receiving that treatment were largely driven off tumblr. For a time, forever, it differs with all of them. So, I feel like saying that about the thirty-year-olds thing is a little off. I'm not trying to be shitty, Anon, but the muns who tried to address Raven's bullshit were all of that age range. They're definitely continuing the drama, they're not here. They can't feel comfortable enough to be on their own blogs still.

I also am required ethically to say that we all really need to stop with throwing around ages like this. Again, I'm not trying to be hostile to you, Anon. I've been trying to show other people's perspective in this (it doesn't matter if you agree or not, I just think it's important to understanding, stopping, and prevent problems to have a fuller perspective that we often lack because we are incredibly tired of whatever is going on, and you're right, we are all really damn tired and also Tired), and as it is an advice blog, I try to address problems here. The pervasive ageism in the tumblr RPC is a problem.

It's a problem that gets discussed when it involves adults not wanting to interact with minors and, as I've seen it put several times, "treating them like the plague." There are a billion "conversations" and complaints about that, but there aren't many at all when it comes to the RPC's bizarre ideas about what age constitutes an adult (you're an actual child until around 23, you're ancient and need to die already, you pedo, at 26) and what being an adult actually is.

You do not turn thirty and lose your hobbies. You also do not turn thirty and become an ultra-mature adult, no leveling up into arcane Adult Knowledge and Behavior unlocks when you wake up on your thirtieth birthday. Between the ages of 17 and 27, you go through so many rapid changes in your cognition, but it levels off considerably after that. You're largely the same person at 32 as you were at 27, and you cannot say that about being...17 and 20, 22 and 25. It begins to take longer to see changes in who you are, those changes are less extreme - your personality, preferences, and viewpoints remain largely the same, they just refine a little here and there.

There is no line at which people "should" stop engaging in any hobby, and it's incredibly gross that the RPC seems to think anyone out of college-age should have no interests, let alone passionate ones, outside of going to work, having a family, and paying bills. That's a bit horrifyingly 1950's isn't it? It's also really misogynistic, considering that the primary base of the RPC is female or afab. When you deal in this, you're literally telling thirty-year-old people with uteruses that they should have no interests outside of birthing children and caring for them.

This isn't what you were doing, Anon, but it's part of the tumorous growth of this ideology that we casually throw around things like "a bunch of 30-year-olds" to make a point. We've seriously got to stop doing that, it isn't a message that most of us would agree with. There are other ways of saying "I think these people should behave more maturely since they're adults."

If I said something like, "well, they were just in their mid-twenties lol what do you expect?" I'd get hate anons, pants would be shat in, and more importantly, it would be wrong. That needs to work both ways, this isn't a separate issue.

An issue that repeatedly comes down to the absurdity of finding differences and drawing lines into cages around people in an environment in which we have the freedom to be more equal than in offline reality. We're all just people here, all just writing and interacting and loving characters. That's all we need to be, and all we need to be judged on is our behavior.

I'm sorry that anyone behaved in a grossly inappropriate manner during any and all of this. It was a heated thing that came to involve too many people and too much harassment, and those are factors that will always see people behaving in ways they would not normally engage in.

And like I said, you don't become some wise master of maturity at thirty! There is a problem mun I'm currently dealing with on another blog that is my age who is one of the most immature people I have ever run into. I have mutuals and friends in the early to mid-twenties who I'm confident weren't as childish as this mun when they were literal children. So, do people thirty and over behave in a seriously unbecoming, childish as hell manner? Yes, they so do! Whether it should be this way or not, you can't expect everyone to be at the same maturity level psychologically at any given age. To me, that just says that I shouldn't age-type people negatively. It isn't relevant where their behavior is.

Otherwise, I'm holding people at some nebulous age over thirty to higher expectations than other equally adult-range people. It isn't acceptable for anyone to behave in the ways I witnessed and was subjected to. It's not even acceptable in teenagers, it's just more understandable (not excusable) because they're working with many things they quite literally cannot control at all times. To act this way is telling everyone below thirty that they're just immature, irresponsible, dicks. It's insulting to them to be labeled in this way, too, even if too many of them see it as a free pass and are, thus, okay with it right now. They won't be, eventually.

Anyway, again, I'm not trying to be shitty to you! I don't think you meant anything in your message in a nasty way, and I cannot say how much I appreciate that after the bullshit brought to this blog and that I've been dealing with privately to help some of those affected feel like the RPC is a place they're safe and welcome in again.

I am definitely tired! Everyone else involved is as well. At least, on what I have to term as "this side" of the equation. I cannot speak to the other side, obviously, but I think they got tired enough of it not being tolerated to be quiet at least. When you make it unfun for people like that, that's usually what happens, after all.

So, I don't think it's them trying to continue the drama. Most of the people I know have remained in their corners happily or been obliged to leave for a while. As for the other people with suspicions...like I said, there are a lot more factors going on here than wanting to perpetuate drama. Sometimes, when we try to make ourselves feel safe, vindicated/vindicate a friend, there isn't any other option but to have the topic come up or breed into suspicions, correct or incorrect ones.

It's a situation that CoaR had a great deal of culpability in, and as such, had a lot of power to mitigate this well before it got to suspicions of who was modding the blog. That wasn't done, and won't be. Like Raven's antics, I have to feel like they've brought some of this on themselves. I do not and will not condone any hate messages sent their way, but again, right or wrong, people do have a right to feel the way they are.

If I were you, I'd stay as far away from it as possible. I don't go on CoaR unless I have to in order to answer something. I had a single blog blocked over here until this all went down (hilariously, it happened to be one that was involved, too, sometimes the red flags are legit, folks), now I have a sadly large number of them. It's now added to liberally, and I hate to do that, I like this blog to be open even to people who disagree with me. I can't deal with the constant drama, though, and I'm not going to be in a new callout every month until I die. Outside of being true to my word about accepting any and all vent messages, I don't want to see it, I don't want to be involved with it. I tag the posts so that followers can filter it, but I'm not going to function as a semi-callout blog by telling people who they should avoid. Just that they should avoid anyone who is making them feel this tired and done. Myself included.

I hope things have settled down in your corner of the RPC since you sent this! They have over here, thankfully. I think most people are staying away from the vent blog and hoping a new and better one comes along. It's back to the usual drama of "stop calling muns pedos for aging up characters."