#as if internalized homophobia wasn't difficult enough

[chirpsythismorning]

Is it possible the reason Mike didn't confront Will in the van is because a good chunk of the memories necessary for Mike to be fully aware of his feelings for Will, no longer exist to him? Like, his reaction to Will in that scene did come off as genuine awe, with a mix of confusion? It's as if there was part of Mike, deep inside, screaming to get out and profess his love to Will. But because all of those memories are gone, he's confused about his feelings, feelings he just can't quite place.

#stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #birthdaygate #stranger things theory #byler theory #stranger things 4 #as if internalized homophobia wasn't difficult enough #mike gotta deal with this now too #but... what if he remembered everything?? would he have confessed sooner?? #ight imma head out

[ueasking]

Decided to turn my late-night ramblings on Starstruck into an actual post for the three people who might be interested in a little bit more of Yoojae's characterization in the source material. Yoojae reacted poorly to Hanjoon's confession, to say the least, but the novel gives much more insight into why Yoojae reacted the way that he did.

Now the show didn't really explain how Yoojae found out where Hanjoon lived, but in the novel, Yoojae goes to see Hanjoon at his old home the day before the college entrance exam to give him something, only to be told by the landlord that Hanjoon and his mom moved out ages ago. The next day, after the college entrance exam, Yoojae goes to see the owner of the boxing club, who has been feeding Hanjoon meals because he doesn't have enough money for his meals. It is the boxing club owner who fills Yoojae in about Hanjoon's current predicament.

After Yoojae says, "Don't try to preserve your dignity in front of me," to Hanjoon, he also says the following:

Throughout high school, I often went to school hungry, so you invited me to your home to eat. This happened countless times. Why did you do so? Wasn't it because we're friends? So why can't I do the same for you? Why is it that I am allowed to rely on you, but you can't rely on me? If things are difficult, just say so. What's so difficult about that?

Both of them grew up in poverty in the same neighborhood so neither are strangers to not having enough money to buy food. However, while Yoojae's family has made a small fortune and moved into an apartment in a fancier neighborhood, Hanjoon and his mom have been kicked out of their home. Nevertheless, having been through similar situations himself, Yoojae is painfully aware of what it's like to be so poor as to go without meals, as well as not wanting to be seen as a charity case and pitied by others. Thus, after Yoojae's family escapes poverty, Yoojae treats Hanjoon the same as he always has, save for small things like occasionally buying a few snacks and offering to pay for Hanjoon at the comic cafe. Yoojae did not want to tell Hanjoon about his family's newfound wealth on account of Hanjoon's family's finances. Especially after witnessing his parents show off to everyone, Yoojae had no desire at all to show off or even tell others about his family's wealth. As for Hanjoon, he did not want to be a downer about his own situation in the face of Yoojae's "good fortune."

Both of them do what they think is in the other's best interests, but they still struggle to understand where the other is coming from. Moreover, a lot of Yoojae's thoughts and experiences on love and relationships seem to reflect what he has witnessed from his parents, who constantly fight and blame one another. At times, they also force him to take sides. Therefore, it's no wonder that he has such a warped view of love and relationship. And this isn't even taking into account the internalized homophobia that others have mentioned as well.

Hanjoon loves Yoojae so much, and has loved him for so long, that he takes the opportunity to express his love to Yoojae through an expensive heart-shaped box of chocolates, under the pretense of wishing Yoojae good luck on the college entrance exam. We see how happy Hanjoon is to buy the box of chocolates and give them to Yoojae, and then how crushed he is when Yoojae throws it on the floor. But all Yoojae sees is that Hanjoon spent money he doesn't have on the fancy chocolates.

Yoojae reacted poorly, there's no question about that. However, I do think that the rest of the dialogue, which was cut from the show episode 4, gives more insight into what was going on in Yoojae’s mind at the time. [edit: portions of this dialogue were in episode 5]

Are you threatening me?

Are you saying that if I don’t go out with you, I won’t be able to see you ever again? How could you say something like that to me?

You must have known that there was no way that I would ever agree to something as ridiculous as that. So why did you say it to me? Are you really going to never see me again? Are you really going to give me up just for that sort of reason?

Contact me once you’ve sorted out your feelings.

My interpretation is that Yoojae viewed Hanjoon's confession as emotional blackmail of some kind, which coupled with his own confusion regarding his feelings toward Hanjoon, led him to react even more strongly. All this is to say that yes, Yoojae was behaving like an immature teenager, but his life experiences shaped him to be that imperfect person, and he wasn't simply being a jerk just for the hell of it.

That's all I have to say about Starstruck for now and if you're still reading this, thank you for reading my word vomit💕

#starstruck #star struck #스타스트럭 #korean bl #this is my very first analysis-type post on this site and it shows #i'm not able to provide deep and meaningful analysis into shows #like many of the wonderful people on this site #but i hope this post helped shed some light on Yoojae's character and thought process #for those who may be curious about what happens in the novel #and i translated the excerpts from the novel myself #so they might be kinda wonky

[masterwords]

talk of the town

Summary: Hotch has an invite to a Christmas party at the White House and he's asking Derek to be his plus one. That's kind of a big deal and Derek might be having some second thoughts.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 8.7k

Warnings: insecurity, internalized homophobia-ish vibes, alcohol

Read below the cut or on AO3!

Notes: My 2nd entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party challenge! Here I was thinking I wouldn't manage any and I wrote two. This one is pure cheesy rom-com stuff, nothing more. It's way too long and very sappy. It's the time of year when I over-indulge and that extends to my writing for sure! (I didn't exactly use a prompt so much as found inspiration in the theme of the challenge and a few of the ideas sort of mushed together in my head.)

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

“What is this?”

At the sound of Derek's voice, Hotch glanced up from his desk, up from the pile of papers that were barely holding his attention and blurring before his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and felt the first tendrils of a headache beginning to unfurl. Not entirely a surprise, he’d been sitting at his desk for hours now preparing a stack of requisitions for the department that he’d have to endure a long, disappointing meeting in order to finish. At said meeting, he would present at least twenty requests (all vital to the function of the department) and be given the green light on roughly two of them. If he was lucky. At that point, he would have to figure out how to tell everyone who was turned down that they could submit their requests again in a few months and to please not lose hope. (He already had.)

It was tedious and it gave him a headache, plain and simple. He was certain that even if he wasn't prone to headaches this would be enough to do it.

“Excuse me?” Hotch asked, squinting to focus on the man in front of him. Not for the first time that night, he wished he’d remembered to grab his glasses from the console in his car. His contacts were giving him hell. Derek noted the squint and moved a little closer, still maintaining some cautious distance and an air of...irritation? Maybe. Hotch couldn't read him.

“This invitation.” Derek was standing with a small stub of paper in his hand, a gold lined envelope hanging open. The paper was thick, embossed, official White House stationary. He held it like it was fragile, like it was a bomb.

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, oh that. What's the deal huh?”

Hotch indicated for Derek to close his door and have a seat with one wave of his hand. This wasn't exactly a secret but he didn't want the whole BAU to hear their conversation. Some things, like this new relationship, were sacred to him. The BAU had a way of hurting more than helping in most aspects of his life and he was trying so hard to maintain distance here. To that end, he had hoped this conversation would wait until after hours, but then this was technically after hours for most people. Just not them.

“Each year, the White House hosts a Christmas party, I’m sure you’re aware. I somehow manage to make it onto the guest list, much to my chagrin. Normally I decline, but the BAU has had a difficult year and I thought it couldn’t hurt to do a little damage control among the people who hold the power when they have drinks in their hands. The BAU has benefited from my sacrifice on this front on more than one occasion in the past.”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll say. Mister oh let me just pick up my phone and call in a favor from someone so high up the food chain no one could even imagine talking to them…yeah, I'm on a first name basis with the Pope and the Queen of England it's cool...just tell 'em it's Hotch...”

Derek's impression of Hotch was abysmal and a little insulting but he couldn't help finding it amusing. He smiled and shook his head, knocked off his game for a moment, trying to regain some composure.

"I don't sound like that," he managed to say before letting out a small chuckle that had been bubbling in his chest. "In any case, my mother attends every year, a fact that I try not to put too much stock in, but she was insistent that I attend this year. After everything that happened with Emily and the Senate Hearing Committee, I do agree with her.”

“Okay, sure. Yeah. She’s probably right, you guys are better at the politics and playing nice than most of us...but what’s that got to do with me?” He knew where it was headed, of course, but he was going to make Hotch say it.

Hotch simply sighed and leaned back in his chair, the weight of his head on his neck becoming unbearable. The paperwork was going to have to wait, he was going to need to go home after this conversation. “I was hoping that you might come with me. As my date. If you’re free that night, of course.”

“I uh...” Derek started, temporarily speechless. Imagining Hotch’s mother and a room full of politicians and the fucking President and who knows who else...it was a little daunting. A lot of money and not a whole lot of color, that’s what he saw. And worse, was Hotch really proposing that they walk into the White House holding hands? “Look, no offense to your mom and all those people but I'm not looking to be fired yet and I’m definitely not in the mood to be the victim of a hate crime or the poster child for how tolerant and progressive the White House is.”

Hotch smiled a little sheepishly and inclined his head to the side. His contact shifted when he blinked. He blinked again, trying to move it back into place and Derek watched with an amused smile as he did so. Hotch began speaking while he worked on the damn renegade contact. “I understand your concerns, and I do share them but it isn't like that, I promise. It will primarily be a bunch of very drunk rich people rubbing elbows, trying to collect favors and stories. Your name has been on the lips of plenty of people since the bomb in New York, and when you turned down that job to stay with the BAU...let’s just say there are a lot of people who would like to meet you. But mostly I’d just like you there with me.”

“So I’m gonna be your arm candy?”

“Yes. In a sense.” Hotch smiled at the way he said that, at the implication. He couldn’t help it.

“Are you asking me out on a real official date then?”

“I suppose I am.”

“And this date...which would be our third real date ever, hook-ups notwithstanding...will involve meeting your family.” And the President. And probably all sorts of politicians he had no interest in shaking hands with. And maybe dignitaries from around the world and probably celebrities and Derek...thought he might be sick for a second. For the first time since he and Hotch had decided to really try seeing one another instead of just hooking up when the weight of the world got to be too much, he was a little scared of what that really meant. Of the ways his life would have to change to accommodate someone like Hotch who was larger than life in many ways.

“You'll meet my mother, at least,” Hotch said quietly. “You do already know my brother.” Hotch smiled uneasily at first, but a little of his easy, sleepy confidence slipped out. He didn’t pursue relationships with people he hadn’t vetted, hadn’t given a lot of thought to. Especially here and now, with Derek and so much on the line in regards to work. And Jack. The highest stakes. No, it may have only been a third real date but Hotch was already pretty damn settled. It never really occurred to him that Derek might not be on the same page. “I understand if you don’t want to go.”

Derek tried to appear nonchalant, uninterested, but he failed miserably. The offer, while scary on many levels, was enticing...and he knew his mother would probably have his head if he refused a party at Barack Obama's house. “Guess I should make sure I got a suit that still fits me huh?”

“Actually,” Hotch said, his contact finally sliding back into position. The relief was instant. It was short lived though, his head hurt pretty damn badly and without the distraction the contact provided it was nearly all he could think about. “I thought we could go shopping together. My mother will comment on what I’m wearing if she detects even a hint of…”

Derek cleared his throat. “You may be amazing at a lot of things, but you’re not a great salesman, Hotch. Just tell me you wanna take me to lunch and shopping like I’m Julia Roberts and I’m all in. I’ll be your Pretty Woman. Tell me your mom is gonna inspect every thread of your suit and I might just come down with a sudden need to wash my hair…”

Hotch, primed to comment on Derek’s lack of hair, only nodded in agreement. He understood. “I’m not good at this.”

“No you’re not. But it’s okay, because I am. Pick me up at 11:30 tomorrow, we’ll go have lunch at one of those bougie hotels downtown and get some fresh kicks for a party full of stiffs.”

“Oh, they’re not stiffs. Not when you factor in an open bar and live music.”

“See now, you coulda led with that! Alright, so now we’re drinkin’ with the stiffs...I like the sound of this.”

(x)

Hotch slept in on Saturday morning, right through his alarm thanks to the sleeping pill he’d taken much too late for such a thing. He didn’t want the day to be ruined by his insomnia and by 10pm he knew it was headed right for disaster. He knew better than to take those damn pills after 8pm, too. He woke to the sound of Jack banging around in the kitchen, trying to find himself a bowl for his cereal in the dishwasher by the sounds of it. He was groggy and his head still hurt the same as it had the night before. He wouldn’t have much time to get himself ready to go, just a quick shower to wash away the exhaustion and a piece of toast to help when he took some Tylenol for his head. (As if that was going to touch it.)

“You’re going to hang out with Spencer today,” Hotch announced as he threw his mug of cold coffee in the microwave. He didn’t have time for a full pot but he still had his cup from the day before. Ten years ago he would have been appalled by this behavior, now it just made sense. “He’s going to take you to a movie. I put twenty dollars in your wallet, do not ask him for anything. Are we clear?”

“Yes, dad,” Jack replied begrudgingly.

“I mean it. You can buy your own popcorn and soda. I’ll pick you up from his house after lunch.”

“What about candy?”

“You can do what you want with your money, Jack. If I find out you asked for more we’re going to have a problem on our hands.”

“Yes, dad.”

The hotel Hotch was meeting Derek at for lunch was only a block from the movie theater, conveniently planned so Hotch could be nearby if Spencer ran into any problems. Taking a kid to a Christmas classic double feature with Home Alone and Elf seemed like a safe bet, easy for Spencer to manage. A slam dunk, really. And Hotch could have a mostly carefree date with Derek, which would then make the party at the White House their fourth official date and that seemed much more palatable for such a giant step.

The restaurant Hotch chose was one of the nicest Derek had ever been in, and he was no stranger to eating out. The menu was full of dishes he’d never had before, including one that came with three meats he’d never had occasion to try. Rabbit, goat and duck. He lobbied back and forth on it for longer than usual, glancing first at the outrageous price tag and then the descriptions and back before deciding on the lamb risotto. Couldn’t go wrong with risotto, it was a classic and he knew he could get his money’s worth. The problem with growing up poor was that you never stopped thinking about cost and value, even when your wallet didn’t dictate being that kind of frugal anymore. Hotch ordered himself a plate of roasted beets with pecans and feta cheese, and casually pointed to the meat trio before the waiter returned to the kitchen to put in the order.

“You really are treating me like your Pretty Woman,” Derek mused with a soft smile. "Play your cards right and I'll do that thing you like later." He said that last bit with a wink, almost too quite for Hotch to actually hear but it was loud and clear. Hotch felt the flush rising in his neck. "You didn't have to order that dish though."

“You told me the last time we went out that you wanted to try duck. I gave you the opportunity by bringing you here…”

Derek feigned shock, his eyes wide, his mouth open. “You calling me a chicken, Hotchner?”

“No,” Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, maybe. A little. I think you’re afraid to bet on liking it, and then you’ll be stuck hungry because your meal isn’t good.”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

“We can share it,” Hotch offered, sipping his water, peering at Derek over the rim with a sparkle in his eye. He was already more than prepared to say he loved Derek, hell he’d probably be willing to ask his hand in marriage. Going slow had always been hard for him.

“What if it’s so good I don’t wanna share?”

“Then don’t.”

“Damn, you don’t have to be so easy. Put up some fight.”

“I’m more interested in the rabbit. My mother makes rabbit stew, I haven’t had it since I moved out.”

Derek scrunched up his nose, picturing a little fluffy bunny rabbit. He didn't think he could put that in his mouth. “It’s all yours.”

(x)

Derek had never been properly fitted by a tailor before. He’d owned plenty of suits, but he always bought off the rack and if he needed one taken in or let out, he had a neighbor lady with arthritis in her fingers who offered to do it in exchange for him performing an odd job or two around her house. Fix a plumbing issue, put in a new outlet, clean her gutters. She called him her barter buddy, and sometimes her barter boyfriend. Her husband didn’t much care for that but he benefited from the work just the same.

Standing with a tailor’s hand pressing up into his junk was uncomfortable, and Hotch hadn’t properly prepared him for that. But Hotch assured him that when the tux was finished and on his body, he’d say it was worth the momentary discomfort. Derek had his doubts, but he wasn’t about to say so. Hotch had been right about the duck (and the damn rabbit, which he did in fact try and like), so he wasn’t keen on disagreeing with him again.

By the time Hotch dropped him off at his house, full and content, Derek didn’t quite want the day to end. He was having too good a time and it wasn’t often they had a whole day to themselves. “Hey, I gotta go take Clooney for a walk...you wanna come with me? Blow off some of those calories and then maybe...have some dessert?”

Hotch looked at his watch and thought about Spencer watching Jack. Their movies were just about over and he didn't think he should put the man out any further on a rare weekend day. Jessica would be home by now though, maybe he could sweet talk her into picking Jack up and spending an hour or so with him. Derek's life was beautifully uncomplicated and Hotch's was challenge after challenge, and while Derek watched him contemplate whether he could manage some time to just go walk a dog on the tail end of a really nice date he wondered whether he was in over his head. This was a commitment unlike anything he'd ever contemplated before.

“Let me call Reid...and Jess,” Hotch said, his voice laced with guilt. Derek thought about saying it was cool, they could just go to his place, but some part of him wanted to see whether Hotch had this in him. His marriage had ended because of his inability to make time...could he do it now? Was he even able to now?

“Cool. I’m gonna go grab the dog, I’ll be back in five.”

(x)

Derek stood in front of his mirror wearing his tux, white with black pipe lining and could scarcely believe his eyes. It fit every part of him in a way that clothing never had before. He didn’t see himself stepping out on his barter girlfriend any time soon, but he had to admit that Hotch was very, very right.

He was scared, though. Staring at himself in the mirror, adding up how much money and effort and time Hotch was putting into this party, this relationship. Was he in over his head? Was he going to break Hotch’s heart? The man was made to be married, and Derek hadn’t had a relationship go beyond three dates in years. More than a decade at least. And there had never been kids involved, not once. He turned to the side and examined his profile, sighing.

“I look damn good,” he muttered sadly. He wasn’t sure what to do. He liked Hotch. Really, really liked him. But was he leading him on? He didn’t think so, but then again, was he ready to be a father? Ready to live with someone? He had some thinking to do.

Strauss’ number popping up on his phone stopped that line of thought dead in its tracks. She was assigning him to a week at the Academy working with SWAT trainees on their firearms. That was usually something she asked of Hotch and he almost said as much but he didn’t want to rock the boat, so he just agreed. It was going to be a long week. He looked at himself in the mirror one more time and then began getting the tux back into its bag.

(x)

Jessica’s face when she answered the door was about what he expected and the exact reason he’d been hoping she wouldn’t be there yet. There was anger and surprise, and something that looked vaguely protective. He grew up with a big sister, he recognized the look. That “I can pick on my baby brother but if you hurt him I’ll kill you” look.

“You’re not dressed,” she accused, opening the door. He opened his mouth to answer but stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of Hotch coming down the hallway in his tux and bare feet, working diligently at his cuff links. They were giving him grief and when he stopped, Derek reached out and hooked them for him. It was such a simple act of nurturing, he didn't even think twice about it.

“You look like James Bond,” Derek said with a half smile dancing on his lips. Hotch nodded.

“And you’re not coming…” Hotch replied quietly, a little shaken but trying to hide it. Derek offered him a tired, apologetic smile.

“Today was just...it was a lot man. This crew they’re working is rough, bunch of undisciplined assholes who can’t shoot their way out of a paper bag and one of 'em said something that made me really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. You don’t need me there ruining your good time.”

Hotch had a lot he’d like to say. That he’d been looking forward to this, and maybe he’d played down its importance to the point that perhaps Derek didn’t think he was really wanted. Or maybe Derek was scared. He couldn’t read anything on his features. He was too emotionally involved and he was starting to have doubts about Derek.

Maybe he was pushing too hard.

“I understand,” he said finally, patting his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. His head hurt, he’d had a headache all week and he could feel his pulse in the hinge of his jaw. “Are you still planning on staying the night?”

“I’m gonna head home, actually. I don’t wanna be a downer, man. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

Hotch nodded and said that was fine, it was about all he could do. He wasn’t going to start an argument before a party, and he certainly wasn’t going to do it in front of Jessica or with Jack right down the hall. Derek was acutely aware of the heat in Jessica’s glare but he avoided it long enough to make his departure.

“Derek,” Hotch asked, leaning out into the hallway. “If you had no intention of going, why did you stop by? You could have called.”

Derek smiled like the answer was obvious. “I wanted to see you in your tux.”

When Hotch came back in and shut the door, he stood there a moment collecting himself. Barefoot, in a tux he never wanted to wear going to a party he didn’t want to attend in the first place, it was a little too much. He needed a second to find his composure. Jessica stood in the kitchen and watched her friend’s heart break in real time.

“Let me go home and get a dress,” she said, already grabbing her purse. “I’m sure I have something in my closet that’ll work. Lord knows you’ve put me through enough of your mom’s parties over the years.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know. But you can’t go alone and I'm a damn good date. Best back-up option on the market.”

“Thanks Jess,” he said quietly, wondering if it was too late to back out. He looked down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes in the carpet, and sighed miserably. He was going to need a lot of Tylenol to get through this night. "You've never been just a back-up, though."

"I know, but thank you for saying so."

(x)

“I’m sorry, I thought you were smart,” Penelope said loudly, announcing her presence as she walked right into Derek’s house without knocking. She had a key, after all. She was in charge of walking and feeding Clooney when the team were out of town, and if this wasn’t a perfectly good reason to use her damn key privileges then she didn’t know what the point even was in having them. “What are you thinking?”

“What?” he asked, clearly exhausted. He didn’t even sit up, just stayed laid out like a starfish on the couch, one leg thrown up over the back with an ice pack on his sore knee while the other was tucked beneath a rumpled blanket. He’d been half watching television and half zoning out. He looked broken, and under normal circumstances she wouldn’t even press. She would ask him if he needed anything and take care of him, but she couldn’t do that. Not right now. Not while he was sabotaging something pure and good and beautiful because he was scared of taking a leap.

“You just let him go to that party all by himself?”

“I wouldn’t be any fun tonight. My knee hurts, my head hurts, I’m in a shitty mood...he’ll have a better time without me.”

“No he won’t. He doesn’t go to those things. You know how many of those invitations he gets and he asks me to reply with some bullshit where he sends his regrets about being flattered by the invitation but not being able to make it? Constantly. Like, almost every day someone wants him to come somewhere. Brush elbows with someone. Sometimes the names make me want to puke. But he was going because he asked you to come with him, you idiot.”

“Mama...please…how’d you know anyway?”

“Because, you idiot, Jessica is going to go as his date now and he needed someone to stay home with Jack so she called me. Don’t you dare mama please me, Derek Morgan. Don’t you dare. I have thirty minutes to convince you that you’ve made a big mistake before I have to go hang out with a second grader all night.” She was already rifling through his kitchen, trying to find something to make him for dinner. Something that would perk him up. There was still hope. Poke some Tylenol down his throat (she knew Hotch practically ran on the stuff, he’d probably eaten a hand full for dinner that night too) and then push him out the door, that was the plan. She wasn’t in the mood to lose this fight.

“What do you want me to do? I’m exhausted. I’m not in the partying mood.”

“Did you ever consider why he wanted to take you? That his mom is going to be there? That he’s proud of you? I don’t think he’s exactly out to any of these people...and he wanted you on his arm…”

“I’m not exactly out either,” he reminded her. Not at work, anyway. Not that it was a big concern or something he was hiding, he just didn’t like to mix business with pleasure. Which was where a lot of this sudden crushing anxiety was coming from. He’d done so well never dating anyone he worked with, never even looking twice at anyone who stepped foot in Quantico. He’d been so damn disciplined...and then Hotch looked at him one day and he couldn’t help himself. He’d invited him out for a singles night Valentine’s Day dinner and realized he’d fallen right into feelings he had no intention of having.

“Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You coulda fooled me,” she said, sticking her hands in his face and presenting him with pills and water. “Here.”

“You don’t think I already took any?”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Cut from the same stubborn cloth, both of you.”

Derek swallowed the pills and downed the whole water before talking, buying himself some time. Sure, his knee was sore but it was always kind of sore. That was just what happened when you blew it out so young – it didn’t usually slow him down. It wasn’t that, it was just a convenient excuse. “I think he’s making a mistake,” Derek said finally, reaching out to turn the television off. “Taking me to this party, putting us out there...it’s gonna trash his career. And his mom is what, some rich white old lady from the South. Old money, which probably means..." He didn't want to say that out loud, that was too harsh. He didn't know a damn thing about Hotch's family's money and possibly he was being presumptuous and cruel, but he would have to ask at some point if he was going to live with himself. That was so far from the point right now, though. "You think she wants a gay son dating a black man from the mean streets of Chicago?”

“Oh, baby…” she said, crouching beside him and hugging his head. Kissing him over and over, leaving little lipstick marks all over. “Sweet, sweet stupid man. You are silly. He’s not worried. You know he’s already thought through every angle of this scenario and he wants to do it. Are you worried about your career?”

“I don’t give a shit about my career. I’ve got plenty of other options, I’m not gonna put my career over a good thing.”

“Okay, then it’s rally cap time. Because if you don’t go to this party, you might not get another opportunity. You might burn this good thing to the ground. You feel me sugar?”

“I do,” he replied, defeated. Was that what he was doing? Burning it to the ground? Trying to force Hotch to end it so he didn’t have to? Cutting the cord before they got in too deep? He’d always been that way, it was his signature. He’d rather be dumped than do the dumping, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d pulled every one of the strings along the way. Was he pulling the strings now? When he didn’t really want it to end? When he was really just scared that Hotch hadn’t fully thought out what he was getting into? What kind of damaged goods he was taking on? “What if I show up and he’s changed his mind? Come to his senses?”

“That man has never lost his senses. It isn’t in his nature. Now get up and put on that tux, I need to see you in it before you go meet your future husband at the White House.”

(x)

Jessica made good on her offer and found a dress that was still in its bag in the back of her closet. It was a size smaller than she would have liked, fit her less like a glove and more like sausage casing. She felt like a pot of mashed potatoes stuffed into a surgical glove, soft and poochy in places that she never had been before. Getting older, succumbing to gravity. "I need to start going to the gym," she muttered, pushing her hair up on top of her head in some sort of haphazard updo that she'd learned once and utilized her entire life. Effortless glamor, that's what her mom called it. She did another turn in front of the mirror and smiled - the sausage casing didn't look half bad, really. It was sparkly and slinky and black, a little too long but nothing a pair of heels wouldn't fix right up. All in all she was going to consider it a success considering that she hadn't been in anything but pajamas or work clothes in months.

Upon her return, the first thing out of Hotch's mouth was that she looked beautiful. The worst part was, she knew he meant it sincerely which made her feel awful about how she'd been thinking about herself since squeezing into the dress. “You’re dating a man, what do you know?” was her snippy response as she shifted painfully in her heels. The heels he told her weren’t necessary, that she could wear flats and still look gorgeous. He just smiled and nodded, accepting her dig.

“True,” he replied, “but my point is still valid.” He kept her on his arm, kept her close to him. She was a shield for him as much as he was for her. He was good at these parties and settled right in to the role he was expected to play, but he still hated them. Small talk had never come naturally to him, it was a challenge and he learned it reluctantly but managed to become an expert in the art after a while.

“I thought you were divorced,” a man said, approaching them with a small plate of food, a salmon crostini in his mouth. Jessica did her best not to pull a face but she was always shocked at how these people behaved. You would think they’d have a little more class, not speak with their mouths full, but it simply wasn’t the case. Not even at the White House. Hotch raised his chin a little and Jessica squeezed his arm reassuringly. She knew the drill. This was the easy part, the smiling and playing along like she wanted to be here. She would have made a hell of a wife for any of the politicians if she had ever wanted to settle down. But she didn’t. Not even a little bit. The little family she’d made for herself was plenty.

“This is my ex-wife’s sister,” Hotch replied confidently. They’ve done this before. “She’s a good sport.”

“Has to be, coming to one of these parties. Especially with you.”

Jessica’s eyebrow shot up and Hotch let out a soft chuckle. The man didn’t miss her hesitation.

“No offense to Hotchner,” he said, backtracking a little. “You’re just in the spotlight when you’re around this guy. He’s no wallflower. Everyone here wants a shot at his attention. You came with the Prom King.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, as if that made it clear. She had noticed, she’d always known. He may not ever seek the spotlight but it always finds him anyway, and his particular brand of power was enchanting to everyone. She just felt bad for him, though, because he wanted to share the spotlight with Derek tonight. He’d had big plans for how the night would look and now he was stuck with her, playing their silly little teenage games, joking under their breath about the ridiculous things they saw.

“Champagne?” a waitress asked and Hotch looked at Jess and nodded his head. He wasn’t drinking, not with the headache he’s been battling all week, she she grabbed a flute happily. The waitress offered it to him again and he politely declined.

“It’s not business hours Hotchner, lighten up,” Axelrod said, taking a flute and offering it to him like he couldn’t resist it now. Hotch smiled and handed the flute to Jessica who took it gladly. She needed all of the alcohol she could get at this point.

“I’m driving,” was his reply, because it was easier than admitting that he’d been plagued with chronic migraines since an explosion years ago, and that the medication he had to take since Foyet’s attack didn’t exactly play nice with alcohol either. He’d had a beer with Derek and Penelope two nights ago and fought vertigo that made him sick to his stomach for hours after. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his time at this party.

“Straight as an arrow,” Axelrod huffed. Jess smirked. Straight as an arrow, gay as fuck. That was what she wanted to say, but she just offered him her flute as a cheers and sipped, the bubbles going up her nose instantly. She hated champagne.

“Let’s dance,” she said, turning to Hotch suddenly bored of Axelrod’s conversation. She couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her or with Hotch, maybe both. Hotch nodded and Axelrod reacheed out to take Jessica’s empty flutes from her. Definitely flirting, she thought to herself, and she would probably not say no if he asked her to dance, but she was going to have some fun. Slowly she walked away, slinking beside Hotch to the dance floor to join the other very drunk politicians and spouses as they danced badly to live Christmas music. They fit together effortlessly, it wasn’t hard to see why they worked. He leads, she follows, they smile and make sarcastic little quips about the song or the party. They communicated easily without words, and to anyone looking they probably looked like they’d been married for a century.

“Axelrod...he’s the NSA guy, right?”

“Right,” Hotch replied, sliding them easily through the foxy like it was second nature. Step, step, sway. Step, step turn, dip. Jessica always loved being dipped, the way gravity left her and she was held by nothing more than Hotch’s hand at the small of her back. She tilted her head back and smiled at Axelrod as he watched them with a little jealousy in his eyes. Step, step, sway. Step, step, twirl. She felt like a princess, his arm high above her, her hair flying around her face in loosely pinned curls. He’d taken years of ballroom dancing classes with Haley. He sort of liked the fact that no one would ever expect it, that people probably assumed he had no rhythm. Surprising people was fun and Jessica...well just loved to dance. All kinds of dance. She didn’t like to be still, her body needed constant motion.

As the song slowly drifted from one into another, something Christmas music did effortlessly, Hotch felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Jessica’s eyes lit up, she didn’t even try to mask the surprise on her face that melted into a huge smile.

“May I cut in?” Derek asked, and Hotch felt his stomach drop. The breath hitched in his chest and he felt suddenly lightheaded. She searched his features for his reply before he turned and she released her grip on his waist. Penelope had told her she was going to try, but Jessica wasn’t holding her breath. Derek was stubborn, and he really did look bad. She didn’t hold it against him, not really. But he looked better, and god that tux...she wanted to dance close to him first. She controlled herself, though. This time.

“It’s about time you showed up,” she said casually, like they’d planned it. Like he hadn’t broken Hotch’s heart and walked out the door. Derek nodded and smiled.

“Sorry. Sometimes it takes me a while.”

“Well, you’re here now. That’s what’s important. I’m going to go get another drink and see if Mr. Axelrod wants to take me on a trip around the floor…” she said confidently. Hotch smiled at her, wondering how he got so lucky. What he ever did to have her in his life.

“I expect you’ll find him waiting for you near the chocolate fountain,” he replied coolly.

She nodded, her blonde curls falling around her face. “Perfect. Decimating that fountain was on my list for the night anyway.”

Hotch turned to Derek and smirked. “She’s never been able to resist chocolate. I knew I would eventually lose her to the fountain.”

Derek wanted to reply with something witty but he was so overcome with how handsome Hotch looked and how stupid he was to decide staying home was on the table that he couldn’t seem to form the right words. He felt so stupid, so so stupid. He was in love and being scared was not a good reason to do what he did.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice rich and sonorous as he took Hotch by the hand. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot. Can you forgive me?”

“No, it’s alright. It was unfair of me to put you on the spot like this tonight. I’m not upset and you don’t need to apologize.”

“I wanted this too, Aaron. I wanted it so bad, and when I finally got it...I got scared that I’d lose it. Sometimes it’s easier to cut and run before getting in too deep than it is to lose something so...good.”

Hotch slid effortlessly into the role of lead on the floor, Derek following his every move. He could feel people’s eyes on them while they stepped and swayed just as easily as Hotch had with Jessica. Hotch was showing off a little and Derek was no slouch, he managed to follow with minimal effort. Being so close to Hotch was all it took to be comfortable. He rested his cheek against Hotch’s, relished the warmth and the scrape of his evening stubble. “You better want more than a couple dates with me, Aaron, because I’m in too deep now.”

“I do,” Hotch whispered, breathing in the scent of Derek.

“Who’s going to say something first?” Derek was still worried. Not about Hotch, but about everyone else. He could feel eyes on them. No one stopped dancing, no one said a word, but he could feel it anyway. Stolen glances, little knowing smiles.

“Most likely Axelrod,” Hotch replied. “And then my mother.”

“Where is she anyway?”

“Dancing with Senator Kramer near the Christmas tree,” he said without looking. He could feel her wherever she was. Derek glanced and smiled at her, a move that she took as an invitation. As if Grace Hotchner needed an invitation.

“She’s watching,” he said and Hotch nodded.

“I know.”

“Does she know about us?”

“She does. It was my mother that insisted I bring you tonight. I told her it would be cruel of me to invite you to a party this boring and she said the only way to make these parties less boring is to bring fun people.”

“She said that?”

“She did. She’s not actually the cold fish I make her out to be, we just have a complicated relationship.”

As the song came to an end, Hotch took Derek by the arm and led him to where his mother and Senator Kramer were dancing. Axelrod would talk to them, Hotch knew it, but he was otherwise occupied by Jessica and he was going to take the initiative and give the first dibs to his mother. She deserved it. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her son coming near and quietly left the Senator in her wake, approaching them with a smile.

“I thought perhaps I scared you off,” she said, eyeing Derek warmly. Hotch was the spitting image of her. Taller, by just a hair, but thin and pointy and a little scary. “I can only imagine the stories he tells people. And when I saw him walk in with Jessica Brooks, well...a mind does wander.”

“It took me a little too long to come to my senses. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hotchner,” Derek said, taking her hand and kissing it gently. He wasn’t going to offer any excuses. Hotch smiled, a flush rising in his cheeks.

“And you, Agent Morgan.” She waited on her son to interject, but Derek took the lead. He was starting to warm up, become comfortable, find his confidence.

“Please call me Derek,” he offered and she nodded, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin.

“And you may call me Grace.”

Hotch and Senator Kramer made eye contact briefly, amused at having been forgotten. Hotch was fine with it, fine with his mother and Derek making each other’s acquaintance, but the Senator seemed a little put out. He stepped in, leaned around Hotch and grabbed Grace’s eye contact for just a moment. Long enough to ask if she would like another drink anyway. “I’d kill for a strong manhattan,” she moaned, practically wilting at the thought.

“Hey, that’s my drink,” Derek replied casually, switching quickly into flirt mode. “Aaron prefers an old fashioned.”

“Aaron and his bourbon. Some things never change. The stories I could tell you…” her voice drifted off and she looked at her son pointedly, a little smirk dancing on her bright red lips. Derek couldn’t get over how alike they looked with their hawk eyes and aquiline noses, the smirk that made them look a little scary. It was the same, and he wondered if Sean looked like their father. That wasn’t a question he was too keen on asking. “Don’t let this prim and proper facade fool you. He’s a rebel under all of that expensive silk.”

“Senator, I’ll join you at the bar,” Hotch muttered, leaving his mother and Derek to visit and dance. She was going to tell Derek stories that he would rather not stand around and listen to, stories he’d rather not hear at all. He’d already lived them once and that was plenty. There were countless mistakes he’d made growing up and his mother had cataloged them all with precision. She never had much occasion to share them with Haley, she’d been there for many of them in person, but with Derek...well, the possibilities for his humiliation and shame were endless.

Derek held her gently and they swayed beside the Christmas tree with its glittering lights and great red and green and gold decorations. Velvet ribbons tied into perfect bows, shiny balls you could see a thousand reflections in, rocking horses and angels and elves gilded and nestled into the needles of the tree. It was unbearably tall, brightly lit and covered in such ornate decadence that it hurt to look at it too long. Hotch turned back to watch while waiting at the bar. Derek was smiling, laughing easily while his mother spoke, her pristine brow knit in concentration as she recalled story after story.

“How long have you and Agent Morgan been seeing one another right under all of our noses?” Senator Kramer asked, his hands in his pockets. He, too, was watching them dance but with his interest in a different place altogether.

“Long enough,” Hotch replied with a smirk. The Senator nodded and ordered the four of them drinks before Hotch could get a word in. He had no plan to let anyone in on the secrets of their relationship. Being visible was one thing, but he was still intent on maintaining privacy.

“Kudos to you. I’ve always been of the mind that things get too messy when you involve yourself with co-workers, but then you don’t strike me as a messy kind of guy. In spite of our recent struggles with your department, you seem to run a pretty tight ship. Your crew is a little wild and you manage it better than most.”

“My house is in order,” Hotch replied coolly ,”and my crew are among the best in their field. It isn’t hard.” The Senator nodded in agreement. Despite the hearing regarding Ian Doyle, he’d had no reason to concern himself with the BAU prior to the investigation into their conduct. Now of course, he had to keep a close watch on them, but with Hotch back on US soil and Doyle six feet under...things were quiet. He wasn’t really sure what Strauss was always barking about – they may do things a little unorthodox, but then wasn’t that why they were put together in the first place? Still, he was fascinated by them in some way. Didn’t mind being tasked with keeping an eye on them.

“I believe you. So, how many people here knew prior to tonight?”

Hotch glanced around and scanned the crowd, made a show of checking out everyone. “Two,” he said confidently. The Senator laughed heartily, lifting his drink to his lips.

“Your mother and the woman you brought as your date and then ditched when Agent Morgan showed up?”

Hotch nodded, smiling. He was holding a drink for himself and one for Derek, but he had no intention of consuming it. He would have to find Jessica and see if she wanted to take it off of his hands. The problem would be finding her, she could get herself into all sorts of situations quickly. Trouble found her and she’d never been one to turn away from it. For all he knew she was smoking a joint in the women’s bathroom or climbing the limbs of the Christmas tree. She was a wild card.

“Your mother is a hell of a woman.” the Senator said, picking Grace’s drink up too. He wasn’t quite finished with her yet.

“Be careful Senator,” Hotch warned. “Many people here might say I’m scary, and I’m sure you can imagine she played a rather large role in that.”

“Apple didn’t fall far from the tree?”

“Not far, no.”

The Senator smiled. “I do enjoy a challenge. Merry Christmas Hotch.”

“Merry Christmas Senator.”

(x)

Hotch had been at the party hours now, which was longer than he’d ever bothered in the past. His normal routine involved showing up fashionably late, making the rounds, collecting a few favors (while offering none if he could help it) and bowing out before anyone got too drunk. There was a line he never liked to cross, sides of people he preferred not to see. It kept him sane at work, he allowed him to keep trusting these people. Himself, he would carry around the same drink all night so no one would try to get him liquored up, he would smile and play nice and then disappear. The key to a successful party, he knew, was not to overstay your welcome or usefulness. You never wanted to be the one people talked about the next day.

But he knew, as he danced with Derek, that he would be the one people talked about the next day this time. He knew it and he stayed anyway, because Derek came and he wasn’t about to waste that.

“What happened to your knee?” Hotch asked, noting the gentle limp every few steps. Mostly when they stepped to the left and turned. He stifled a yawn, exhausted. His head hurt. But chest to chest, cheek to cheek, none of it really made him want to go anywhere.

“I ran the master gunner course three times today,” was Derek’s groaning reply. “Any of these guys get picked for SWAT, my faith in the system is gone.”

“What was your time?”

“Fourty-eight fourty. Why?”

Hotch smiled and Derek didn’t like that look one bit. In fact, he hated it.

“What? Why?” he asked again.

“Nothing. Just that I ran it two weeks ago at fourty-eight thirty-seven.”

Derek groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Man. I just said my knee was all jacked up…”

“Before you started? Or after doing it three times in a row? Sounds like an excuse to me.”

“I’ve never made an excuse in my life. You wanna try me? Give me a week. My knee stops hurting, we get JJ to proctor the course for us...I’ll kick your ass.”

“Are you asking me out on another date?”

“Guess I am.”

(x)

Lying in bed at Hotch’s apartment, Derek a little drunk and Hotch so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, they both played the night over and over in their minds. Derek decided he would stay the night after all, he couldn’t just cut and run after the party, he felt too good, too high on adrenaline. Penelope had taken Jack over to his house so they could be with Clooney and the two of them could have the rest of the night to themselves. The pounding in Hotch’s head had quieted considerably and he found himself nearly asleep while Derek was buzzing, wide awake, his thoughts rushing a mile a minute. They were out now. Together and out, not just at the FBI but at the damn White House. Their pictures would be everywhere by morning. He could hardly wrap his mind around the magnitude of the night.

“You really did that…” he mused, staring up at the ceiling and Hotch hummed from somewhere beneath the blankets.

“What?”

“Took me to the damn White House Christmas Party and danced with me…right in front of everyone...”

“And kissed you,” Hotch reminded him, yawning and curling around Derek. “Don’t forget that part.”

“How could I?”

“What made you change your mind about coming?”

Derek let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. “Penelope talked some sense into me.”

“Smart woman.”

“Yeah, she is...I’m sorry I almost screwed it all up. I was really nervous about tonight and it made my bad day at work seem so much worse than it was. If she hadn’t come over and yelled at me I woulda really messed up everything.”

Hotch smiled sweetly and kissed Derek’s warm skin, the soft space between ribs, the mound of his shoulder, anywhere he could reach with minimal effort. “It’s okay. You came."

“What do you think tomorrow’s gonna be like? Word spreads fast.”

Hotch hummed low and sweet, smiling and dusting lazy kisses over Derek’s chest. He couldn’t stop himself now. He was tired, delirious, and in this state he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. This was still all so new, them sleeping in the same bed, them kissing for any reason and no reason. It was all new and yet it felt comfortable and worn. “Intense.”

“Yeah. Probably right. Maybe we’ll get a case…” Taking Hotch’s lead, he began slowly dragging his fingers up the ridges of Hotch’s spine, trailing down then up again, flooding his skin with goosebumps. “I’m not tired…”

“You’re not?”

“Not even a little…” He was fishing, and Hotch...well he was damn tired, but he could hardly say no, not now. Slowly, he reached up and touched Derek’s chin, tilting it toward him and kissing him on the lips. Derek could feel his smile there and couldn’t help the way his whole body shifted into position expectantly, wanting, almost desperate.

“Mmm...wanna fool around a little?” Hotch asked, rocking his hips against Derek’s, letting one hand slide down his spine until it rested against the curve of his tailbone.

“Thought you'd never ask.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #hotch x morgan #hotch/morgan #criminal minds fanfiction

[ktempestbradford]

Content Moderation Isn't As Hard As They Say

Another issue from the Atlantic article on Substack that bears discussing is this bit:

Moderating online content is notoriously tricky. Amid the ongoing crisis in Israel and Gaza, Amnesty International recently condemned social-media companies’ failure to curb a burst of anti-Semitic and Islamophobic speech, at the same time that it criticized those companies for “over-broad censorship” of content from Palestinian and pro-Palestinian accounts—which has made sharing information and views from inside Gaza more difficult. When tech platforms are quick to banish posters, partisans of all stripes have an incentive to accuse their opponents of being extremists in an effort to silence them. But when platforms are too permissive, they risk being overrun by bigots, harassers, and other bad-faith actors who drive away other users, as evidenced by the rapid erosion of Twitter, now X, under Musk. In a post earlier this year, a Substack co-founder, Hamish McKenzie, implied that his company’s business model would largely obviate the need for content moderation. “We give communities on Substack the tools to establish their own norms and set their own terms of engagement rather than have all that handed down to them by a central authority,” he wrote. But even a platform that takes an expansive view of free speech will inevitably find itself making judgments about what to take down and what to keep up—as Substack’s own terms of service attest. ... Ultimately, the First Amendment gives publications and platforms in the United States the right to publish almost anything they want. But the same First Amendment also gives them the right to refuse to allow their platform to be used for anything they don’t want to publish or host.

I don't agree that moderating online content is "tricky" in the way that the article writer posits it. Even that first example is presented as if it's somehow talking out of both sides of one's mouth to condemn social media companies for allowing anti-Semitic and Islamophobic speech while suppressing pro-Palestinian posts and accounts. What?

And that bit about partisans using a network's propensity to use the banhammer as a tool to silence their opponents is indeed a thing, but is only effective if the network's banning "policies" (used very loosely here) are vague and mostly run by bots. It can even be a problem when humans get involved in the moderation if said humans don't truly understand what they're looking at or they have been trained improperly.

Back in 2017 ProPublica published a deep dive into what people who are tasked with reviewing flagged content are trained to see as appropriate or not. It wasn't a pretty picture.

There's also the part about language and cultural understanding. If a platform outsources their content moderation to a country where they can get that labor for "cheap", the individuals reviewing the content may not know English well enough to spot a problem or know the culture of the post origin well enough to understand dog whistles or even outright bigotry if it's not on the list given to them of what's not acceptable.

For issues at the scale of Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and other very large networks, the main solution is and has always been money. Money to pay people inside of a country or culture to review the materials. Money to train them properly. Money to support the mental health tolls this work takes on people. You know what companies hate to do? Spend money on stuff that isn't CEO pay.

But let's be real here: the ultimate problem in content moderation isn't that it's tricky, it's that corporate owned networks aren't willing to take an ethical stand on things like what constitutes racism, sexism, homophobia, or any other true bigotry. They're also not willing to take a stand against ideas like "reverse racism" or "reverse sexism" and similar. You won't see them saying: Those reverse isms aren't a real thing and we won't tolerate that crap around here.

You can't create a moderation policy that covers every tiny detail of what is and isn't okay and what words are and aren't okay and such granular stuff as that. You can have a code of ethics and a morality that prioritizes harm reduction, especially for marginalized groups. Not so ironically, I've seen these kinds of policies most when looking at various Mastodon instances suggested to me and others. Here's a good example.

Yes, I know that scale is a huge factor here and I don't discount it. Scale doesn't mean this kind of moderation is impossible, just more difficult or costly as things grow. Yet it's not difficult to take a stand and say: We don't want white supremacists or Nazis on our platform, period. As The Atlantic points out, platforms and social networks have a First Amendment right to do that.

The Substack CEOs? Aren't willing.

#Substack #content moderation #terms of service #ethics #morality #tw: Nazis #tw: white supremacists #long post

[atlasaur]

a trans miyano rant / a bit of a character analysis

sometimes i think that canonically trans miyano wouldn't make sense but actually the more i think about it and relate it to my own experience being trans, it TOTALLY works.

he's insecure abt people thinking he looks feminine, though, it didn't start that way, just over time the more people told him that, the more insecure he got about it. when i first came out, i kinda didn’t care how people saw me, if they thought i looked like a girl, it didn’t bother me much in the start, but just like miyano, as time went by, it bothered me more and more.

and that insecurity started in middle school for him, so it is totally possible he started transitioning socially around that time and passed almost well enough for people to believe he was a boy, but to the point some people were still confused and thought he looked feminine.

now i thought it didn't make total sense with the fact that he does actively hide BL from his family be he's scared of what they’ll think, because he’d have no reason to be worried if they already accepted that he was trans and let him start transitioning socially, but it also doesn’t entirely specify why he hides it, it’s only vaguely implied when he tells sasaki that some people can be “weird about that sort of thing,” but he didn't really say his parents specifically were that way, it was only loosely implied, so it could just be because the material isn't exactly family friendly all the time and that's why he doesn't talk about it or read it around them.

(side note: for the sake of my own projecting, we're gonna pretend japan isn't as transphobic as it is and that it isn’t incredibly difficult to transition there, even just with basic things such as changing your name is nearly impossible without many other steps, but we can pretend that’s not the case for the sake of fiction and my headcanons, ty)

this would make his insecurities about dating sasaki make so much sense too aside from what's already given and his internalised homophobia and such

a major reason that he was reluctant was because he wasn't even sure sasaki was into guys, and so he thought that maybe he just liked him because miyano looks "feminine". that on top of the internalized homophobia.

that was the other thing that made me iffy about it, was the fact that miyano clearly does struggle with internalized homophobia, and why would he if he was trans? etc. but the more i thought about it, the more i think that it honestly can make sense even if he is trans. he could very much still kind of have the mind set that "being a guy means i have to like girls, and if i like a guy i might as well be a straight girl" and it could tie in to some internalized transphobia as well.

anyways concludes this little rant, do with it as you will!! if you disagree and don’t have anything nice or constructive to say, just leave. i hope i have recruited more trans miyano believers, that is all for now.

#sasakiandmiyano #miyano yoshikazu #trans miyano #trans man #lgbtq #lgbt fiction #bl manga #sasaki to miyano #sasaki and miyano #character analysis #random rant #i’m totally projecting #don’t worry about it #anime #i love gay ppl #gay

[decoloraa]

Please look at me - Chapter two

Chapter one | [read on ao3]

Relationships: Casther Wilk/Val Beauxclaire

Tags: sharing a bed, fluff and angst, misunderstandings, friends to ?

Warnings: (vague) descriptions of drowning, internalized homophobia

Chapter 2: The elephant in the room

It has been three years ever since Val came to fort Briggs to work as a doctor. They had been years of challenges, opportunities to learn and lessons on failure and loss. Being the one in charge of saving hundreds of lives every year wasn’t easy, especially since one problem waited after the other.

With the Ishvalan conflict raging in the east causing hundreds of people injuries, the medical supply chain didn't leave much to spare for the fort. But the cruelty of the North didn't care for plays of power the military started in the east. Soldiers here got injured too and Val was dreading the day he couldn't give proper treatment because his storage ran empty. Circumstances that made his already difficult job even more challenging.

To counter the shortage Val resided in more traditional medicine. After all, if there was something they didn't run short on here in the mountains it was nature and plants. Using herbs and plants for treatment definitely was something Val wasn't used to, but after reading through many books and gaining some experience he got quite confident in his skills. It wasn't perfect, but they had been able to handle it this way.

As he was treating a soldier the other day, someone serving under Buccaneer who made it very clear how uncomfortable his flu made him feel, he checked his storage in horror. He ran out of thyme, as well as sage.

"You're kidding me..", Val cursed under his breath.

His issue wasn’t a problem for the patient’s health, although the soldier wasn't pleased with Val’s solution of drinking tea and sleeping it out. The problem laid in a different matter.

One glance out of the window made his frown deepen even further. Snow. Everywhere.

"Of course there's snow out there, we're in the middle of the fucking Briggs winter. What did you expect?", he whispered to himself. Val exhaled deeply, massaging his temples. He could already feel a headache coming.

Val's situation was problematic for multiple reasons and finding the herbs wasn't one of them. They were robust and could survive the deepest colds, so getting more would be manageable. The problem was everything else.

In the past Val had given patrols instructions on which herbs he needed and on their many strolls they managed to provide him with replenishments. But they were soldiers, they were nowhere near to experts on plants. More than often he received wrong herbs because they weren't able to tell apart different shapes of leaves.

With the snow outside they wouldn’t have a clue. Which meant he would have to search for himself.

Fine. He could live with that.

The Briggs mountains were a dangerous place, even without the possibility of running into Drachman soldiers. Wolves, Bears pausing their hibernation and other wonders of nature were enough of a threat that Olivier wouldn't allow him to go on his own (not like he was crazy enough to do it). He had to take at least one soldier with him.

And this is where the problem laid.

And that’s the root of the problem. "Normally".

Ever since he started to gather herbs by himself, he had always taken Casther with him. As his friend Val didn't mind his companionship and his skills made him as much a fitting protector as his powers were useful at detecting where they had to look. Once Casther knew what to look for, he effortlessly found the necessary herbs by following their scent. Unlike other soldiers who had joined Val, Casther also knew when to leave Val in peace.

Normally it would make everything easier if Val asked him to come along.

"Your hands.. they're soft."

Some weeks have passed since what Val had called "the incident". Although the description could be seen as debatable. It was the day Casther had sat in the medical room after getting injured again, just for Val to patch him up. And even though weeks have passed, Val still remembered everything vividly.

Casther’s warm hands on his cheek. Hands that felt comforting despite being covered in small scars and calloused. His golden gaze pierced through Val as if they saw something Val didn't. He could still remember how his heart seemed to beat dangerously slow as Casther's face came closer to his, how his breath came to a halt.

Do you remember the feeling when you go from a warm place into the harsh cold within a matter of seconds? Some people like to go ice bathing, they go to a lake just to dive into the freezing water. However in this case they leave their slightly warm clothing because they choose to.

No, imagine being in front of a fireplace, being warm and cozy, just to fall deep into the frozen shut lake without any warning.

It's this exact feeling that Val can't forget either. It's what he felt after he leaned into Casther’s lips. When he felt that warmth that always seemed to form in his chest whenever he talked to him, spreading through him like a little flame. In the very moment that the warmth started to lure him in, he could feel something pulling him into the depths of a frozen lake.

He still remembered the fear that spread through him, nearly paralyzed him. And he kept seeing Casther’s hurt eyes in front of him. But the pull was too strong, Val's fear too great. So Val pushed him away. Like he always did whenever he could feel the warmth starting to set, whenever he could feel the cold crawling up his spine. Like he always did when he grew close to someone.

Ever since that day they hadn’t spoken a word. A few times Casther tried to meet his gaze and tried to approach him, but Val had always looked away. What else was he supposed to do? Meet his eyes? After what happened? Val felt confused, torn. And most importantly: He felt like a coward.

And now the coward was supposed to ask Casther to help him? Hell no.

Val had pledged his urgent request to Miles and asked him to send someone else to join the doctor. Standing around and looking out for a bear and some Drachmans, that's something any Briggs soldier could manage, right?

"We're quite short staffed currently and I'm afraid I need every man for watch duty. I need to give you at least three soldiers if I don't want Olivier to rip off my head for sending her doctor into the wild. But if I send him with you, both I and Olivier are able to sleep at night. This is a rather odd request anyways, why would you ask for someone else? You two get along well after all," Miles had answered him with his usual cold professionalism.

So it was only because Olivier apparently saw him as a child who needed someone to look after him (or maybe because of the mess Val caused himself) that he found himself in the very same situation he didn’t want to end up in.

This headache was getting worse.

"Better if we go left now. Ahead there's a bear's sleeping spot. But I think after that it's not far, the smell is getting stronger", Casther nodded towards some trees.

He raised his hand to point a few meters up.

"See that? My guess is that we'll find something up there", he looked at Val for a second just to quickly turn around. With big steps Casther began walking their new route.

Val scanned the landscape they were heading towards.

"A cliff, great. It's the perfect height to throw myself off. Just what I needed to escape from this mess," Val whispered sarcastically. His deep frown didn't seem to help his growing headache.

They had been walking for more than half an hour. Snow, stones, trees, repeat. The mundane landscape should've been the most irritating thing on this little trip, but luckily the agonizing silence between them made things even more unbearable than the cold. Val shivered.

Ever since they had left the fort, none of them had said a single word. Sometimes Casther would explain where he suggested to go, but that was nothing compared to his usual chatter.

Normally he would’ve started antics about his missions or cracked the most ludicrous jokes. Val always enjoyed them, his stupid stories. Whether they were made up or not, he liked listening to them.

Now they dragged themselves through the snow in silence. Any other day Val wouldn’t mind the silence. But now it pierced through his chest and pulled him closer to the ground.

The ground started to rise slightly as they started walking up a hill. Every now and then Casther glanced over his shoulders to make sure wolves hadn't attacked Val. The doctor frowned. If he was in Casther’s place, he would simply let the wolves take care of him. At least he would make a better meal than a friend.

"A friend? Is that all he is to you?" Val could hear Olivier's words as if she was walking right next to him. He didn't know how long they had talked about what happened, but he remembers how Olivier seemed to understand exactly what was going on.

He looked at the gray haired man in front of him. The man he couldn't stand when they first arrived here, the person he slowly became friends with and now called his best friend.

Friends.

Is that what he wanted from him? Or was he just too scared to ask for more, too scared to allow himself to have more?

Val could feel the cold crawling up his spine again, running into his gut and forming into a heavy ball. He could feel something at the back of his head screaming, but he tried to ignore it.

"- Val?" Val perked up at the sound of his name and looked into Casther’s confused face.

"What?" Val heard himself croaking. He had been so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the other man had come to a halt.

"I said this is the place," Casther turned around completely to face him. "Is everything all right?"

Golden eyes searched him with concern. Warm and comforting they pierced through him and Val could feel himself being dropped into the cold sea again.

He had to leave. He had to get away from him. Away from this confusing but warm feeling that fought against the cold shouts at the back of his head.

"Good, I'll be looking over there then", Val stated as he hurried into the opposite direction of where Casther was standing.

"Wait-", Casther shouted after him. But Val couldn't hear him. All he heard was his heart beating in his chest.

"Thyme. Dark tiny leaves that grow right out of the little stem", Val started reciting the herb's description to force his mind to think of something else.

Like his life depended on it he started searching the snowy ground for the little plant. But his heart wouldn't stop racing. So he widened the distance to the other man even further.

"Hey, don't go too far-", Casther desperately shouted after him. But Val hardly registered his words.

"Pines. Thyme often grows close to pines", he eagerly searched the trees surrounding him.

A few meters up ahead he saw what he was looking for. Without thinking he marched through the snow. Just get far away. Think of something else, don't mind the racing heart and the unpleasant cold. Don't mind the person shouting at you from behind.

In his effort to escape the uncomfortable situation the doctor hadn't noticed the clearing in the middle of the dense forest. He hadn't registered the smoothly placed snow in front of him. But the moment Val stepped forward, he realized.

"There's a small lake somewhere around here. It's probably covered in snow, so please be careful."

Casther's words echoed through his mind, as he heard the sound of ice cracking. But before Val knew, he could feel his body colliding with icy water. And suddenly he could feel nothing but the cold that surrounded him. Only this time it wasn't like the one he felt in his gut.

It was all around him. Dark. Empty.

His mind, his body, they were begging to scream.

But he felt paralyzed by the cold.

#miles pls read the room #also Val had 'the talk' with Olivier and she basically said 'dude just kiss him it's not that hard' #me dropping fma bits to remind everyone that my ocs indeed have something to do with fma #slow burn #friends to lovers #fma ocs #fma briggs #friends to more #fic #Casther and Val #oc writing #gay mlm #oc Val Beauxclaire #oc Casther Wilk

[biblicalhorror]

Leighton was polite in asking to take the photo down though? It was escalated because Alicia was dismissive in wanting to take it down thinking it not a big deal. Even if taking it down wasn't because a person is closeted or they just wanted to keep private by not having post of their stuff or themselves on social media, the considerate thing would of been to take it off out of respect for your partner.

And I have been in a position of dating a Leighton, so yeah there a bit of bias on my part. For me it would be naive to think your ex won't see that blast especially with the intention of all caps and siren emojis, that was extra and immature. Go ahead and heal and prioritize yourself, but she didn't needed to kick a person down who's already laying on the floor crying.

The closeted girl I dated I told her we were in different stages of our lives but I hope you find people to help you out of the closet one day. Really no sense in escalating her guilt and fear, making her the bad person who's pushing you back in the closet. That just petty and unnecessary, compounding your own problems on to someone who clearly hurting on their own. I thought maybe since Alicia was part of the women center she would of been more tactful in her approach of a closeted person? But I guess that is difficult when your feelings are involved. So maybe in season 3 they can re-address the closet situation and see Alicia's growth.

Tatum and Alicia were both beneficial and also a lesson for Leighton in the lesbian dating world. All inwhich would lead her to date Willow in the end because she's the best lesbian in Essex (kidding.. well not really Willow is the best :P).

No, I absolutely agree! I'm really hoping they show us more of how Alicia has grown and matured as well, rather than making it solely something that Leighton needed to get past. There were definitely better ways to handle it and I think the show has done a good job overall with showing both of these characters' real flaws and insecurities through their actions.

We can agree to disagree on how tactfully Leighton handled the bag situation. Maybe I'm biased because I can't be arsed to keep track of what designer bags look like, but like. It's a bag. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal. Lots of people have those bags, especially at a school like Essex, and it's unlikely someone following Alicia on Instagram would have 1) known what kind of bag it was and 2) connected that to Leighton specifically and 3) cared enough about the people involved to try and spread it around. It makes sense that it would FEEL like a big deal to Leighton, who is putting all of this pressure on herself to hide and not take one tiny step out of the closet for her own protection. But I also get why someone coming at you with all of this urgency and anxiety about a bag being in the background of your selfie would feel less about them and more about you, especially when that person has been snobby and elitist since you've known them and very much makes it known they don't want to be seen with you. Unfortunately, the photo scene didn't happen in a vacuum, and I'm sure Leighton's classism and internalized homophobia had already chipped away a bit at Alicia's self esteem before anything blew up. It wasn't solely about her being closeted.

Because Leighton wasn't JUST ashamed of Alicia because they were dating. Alicia represented the "type" of gay person she had been taught to avoid in her conservative upbringing: loud, brash, confrontational, "unrefined" (read: poor), nonwhite, etc. That's why she ultimately needed to date someone like Tatum to figure out that she doesn't need to bargain away her true desires by dating exactly the type of girl her parents would be most okay with her ending up with. She likes that Alicia pushes her to grow, and I think Leighton does the same for Alicia as well, even if we havent gotten to see that quite as intimately as we have with the main cast. If Alicia wants to affect change, she needs to be okay with holding herself back sometimes and showing more grace in tense situations, which is something Leighton obviously excels at. I hope we see more of them growing together and learning from each other.

And yes 100% agree that Willow is the best, lol. I personally think she's too chill and laid back for Leighton, but I could be persuaded. I'm really hoping we get a full-fledged arc of some kind for her next season. I also hope we get to see Whitney REALLY kiss a girl one of these days 🤞

#the sex lives of college girls #slocg spoilers #leighton x alicia #leighton murray #alicia slocg

[coralillough]

The bisexual experience is fundamentally different from the gay or lesbian experience. I knew I was into boys as soon as I understood the concept of romance. I knew it was acceptable and encouraged for me to have crushes on boys my entire childhood, and my crushes were genuine. I could cry over how a boy I liked seemed indifferent to me, and I could get dizzyingly nervous to say "hi" to him at school.

I came to terms with my bisexuality during puberty, when my best friend and I fell hard for each other. It was a very difficult internal and social struggle, even when our group of friends prided ourselves on our support for same-sex attraction. I would have long, lonely anxiety attacks because I was convinced that something was wrong with me, that I was disgusting and criminal for feeling the way I did about her. Ultimately, we confessed our feelings for each other at four in the morning and stayed together for two and a half years. I've had other female partners besides her, too, and I'll always be ready and willing to find another if (every fate and goddess forbid it) my current relationship were to end.

But same-sex attraction wasn't my sole experience with sexuality. I didn't have to feel like I was "wrong" or "broken" from the start because I wasn't ever interested in any of the boys I ever met. I didn't have to feign a liking the boys that other girls ranked as the most attractive just to blend in and stuff back those feelings of "wrongness." I didn't have to have the fight with myself over a sole attraction to the opposite sex. I didn't have to face my family, my peers, my society, or my future as a homosexual.

My boyfriend of five years didn't come to terms with his genuine attraction to the same sex for twenty years of his life, and now, it might not ever affect him in any meaningful way. He's been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to present as heterosexual for his entire life.

Niether of us may ever have to face our families, our communities, our careers, or any government institutions as same-sex-attracted people. Nobody gets to choose who they love, but he and I get to choose to stay together and make our relationship last, instead of facing the possibility of navigating life with same-sex attraction. Many other bisexuals get the same choice, and we know that they often choose heterosexual marriages. To take it further, we know that many bisexuals never face the internalized homophobia that prevents them from seeing same-sex relationships as equally whole as opposite-sex ones. I think many people who believe that homosexuality is a choice are bisexual themselves.

Homosexual people never, ever truly have the same opportunity to turn away from their own same-sex attraction. There might be "beards" and marriages for the sake of conformity (as history has always shown), but no homosexual man or woman can have a wholly fulfilling sexual, romantic, companionate relationship with an opposite-sex partner. To suggest otherwise is homophobic, as it implies that homosexual people should be able to change or disregard their own sexuality.

People rarely say that bisexuals have the same experiences with sexuality as heterosexuals, because we know that same-sex attraction can greatly impact bisexuals; so why would we say that bisexuals and homosexuals have the same experiences?

We need solidarity because homophobia impacts all of us, but our experiences are not the same, and it's really important to recognize that. It emphasizes exactly how important liberation and marriage equality is for homosexual people, because they do not have the same options for conformity that bisexual people do.

#bisexuals and homosexuals have all kinds of different issues compared to each other #terfs please interact #bisexuality #homosexuality #lgb #lgb solidarity

[litterateur97]

Okay so... For the ask game: What do you think of the LxLight ship? Is it worth shipping or their relationship in the story is more interesting than the ship itself? I mean, as enemies.

I rate it a solid 5.

The thing about Lawlight is that I understand its appeal, really I do, but it was so everywhere all the time from the moment I joined the fandom, and I had interest in other ships that didn't get as much attention (or really any at all), that I became bored of it pretty quickly.

When I first joined the fandom I was pretty neutral towards the ship, but by the time I was 14 I kinda hated the ship because I was sick of seeing it everywhere. I wanted to see LxMisa, MelloxMatt, RayexNaomi, LxNaomi, MelloxNear, MelloxHalle, MisaxTakada, and MisaxRem. And while there was stuff out there for those pairings, there was just so much more of LxLight. While it wasn't too hard to find stuff for MelloxMatt and MelloxNear, well, let's just back then people were oddly fond of using homophobic slurs in gay fanfiction, and that made me very uncomfortable.

And that was a big trope in a lot of LxLight fanfics as well. Light would have a lot of internalized homophobia and some fics really liked to throw those slurs out. I remember struggling with that with Zukka and NaruSasu fics back then too, so reading gay fanfics in general was just kinda tough back then. I faced enough homophobia in the real world, I wasn't too interested in reading about it in fiction.

But the fanart, the FANART, was magnificent. Beautifully horny. And a lot of times artists loved to make fun of Light and I LOVE making fun of Light. And the two do look good together, I can't lie. And I understand enough of the appeal of enemies to lovers that I understand that the two have good chemistry.

But that's kinda it. They're hot together, but I really can't see the two forming a true emotional connection. Based on their personalities and their expression of hatred towards one another, I really don't see any romantic attraction between them. A lot of that has to do with how I interpret each character.

First we have L, and as I've said before, first and foremost I see him as a liar. It's kinda hard for me to gage when he was being genuine and when he was just fucking around or trying to get ahead in the case. In my personal interpretation, I think he is a bisexual man who tries to repress his sexuality because it doesn't really benefit him to acknowledge it. He is too focused on his career, on the challenges he faces, to engage in any kind of meaningful relationship, physical or romantic or platonic. His only true connection seems to be Watari, although I do think he genuinely held a lot of respect for Soichiro. But I think he would view most relationships as useless unless he could benefit from them in some major way.

I think he acknowledges that both Misa and Light are attractive, but that doesn't really matter to him. He probably doesn't think he can get with either of them to manipulate the case the way he wants, so it's not really worth thinking too much about it. And aside from that, I think L genuinely hated Light. I think for the first time in his life he saw someone who reminded him of himself, someone who could have fit into his world, and then that person became the worst serial killer on the planet. And I think L holds a lot of resentment towards Light for that. Maybe if Light hadn't become Kira, then L would have respected him more, but I think he would have still had some resentment towards Light for having such a perfect looking life. Light was always going to be his rival, and I think L's too much of an ass to truly get along with someone he's competing against.

And then you have Light. Light is difficult because he's two different people in the story of Death Note. He's the perfect honors student who is kinda bored of life, and then he's Kira. As the perfect honors student, I think it could be argued that Light was gay with no intentions of acting on those feelings out of fear of ruining his perfect image. I think Light had sexual feelings, but I think he was aromantic. Even when he recognized Misa as pretty and told himself not to fall for her, that moment felt more like he was acknowledging that she was aesthetically pleasing and charming and that others would fall for that, but he was better than others so he wouldn't fall for it. He never shows any real interest in dating, not when he's just perfect honors student Light. He also just like doesn't seem to have any interest in the people around him in general, especially when he's not Kira. I don't think Light even had any friends. And sure he says he cares about others, but when do you actually see him do anything for someone else? Sure he says they have to save Misa and go after Yotsuba Kira, but I think that was because he knew it was the right thing to do, not so much because he actually cared about doing it. He often seems to do what others expect of him, but it's hard to tell if he actually cares about those things.

To put it simply, Light is written as a sociopath. Now personally, I don't believe sociopaths exist in real life and I think it's messed up to call real people that, but when it comes to fictional characters, well those guys aren't real and they are written to fit certain ideas the author holds, and I think Light is Ohba's idea of a sociopath. He puts on the front of caring about others, but he doesn't seem to really care about anyone except maybe his family sometimes, but even then he was willing to let every last one of them die to pursue his New World. So it's hard for me to picture Light with anyone romantically. The way he was written made it seem to me like he was incapable of romantic love. Or possibly any love at all. But I definitely think he was obsessed with L, especially after L died, and I think that could have come from his repressed sexuality.

But as Kira, Light strikes me as both aromantic and asexual. And I want to make clear that I don't think there's anything wrong with being asexual or aromantic and I don't think Light is good representation for that group, it's just that I notice Light doesn't seem to focus on sex or love at all in comparison to characters like L and Misa who do say sexual and romantic things. Especially as Kira, his focus just seems to be on building his New World, not on getting any ass or true love. And when he notices he can manipulate the women who fawn over him, he does it, but he still doesn't seem to be thinking of sex. He manipulates them with romantic words, or his idea of what's romantic probably based on what he's seen on TV and in movies. And he seems to think that's enough to keep these women loyal to him and doesn't explore any further than that. (It worked because Ohba wrote women terribly in the series.) And not once does it occur to him to try and take that same manipulative approach with L, a man who he clearly sees as "deviant," a man who has been labeled as such by others like Misa, and a man who did not deny it. But Light doesn't try to seduce L as Kira like he did women. He seemed closer to making moves on L with his memory wiped than he did as Kira. Which is interesting to see with his character, it's almost like his focus on becoming God just took away his libido or something.

Now is the ship worth shipping, you ask? Sure. The fanfics are very well written, there's lots of beautiful fanart, and there's even good doujinshi of the pairing. I think that makes it worth shipping, even if I don't think the pairing would ever be canon. But whether or not something is canon shouldn't be included in the decision to ship it in my opinion. As long as you like the pairing, yes, it's worth shipping. Even if Light is asexual and aromantic, the dynamic he holds with L is interesting, and you can still ship it.

Is their relationship in the story more interesting than the ship itself? Yeah, I would say so. Personally I love when there's two characters who just fucking hate each other's guts and there's nothing more to it than that. I think the rivalry between them is great and I don't need anything to happen between the characters sexually or romantically to be invested when the two of them are in a scene together.

But it is fun sometimes to read the fanfics, to look at the fanart, or to randomly throw him into a LxMisa story.

TL;DR: I'm not too invested in Lawlight like I am other ships. I think it's hot, but I don't see any potential for anything beyond physical relations. I think the two hated each other in canon and their personalities make them a bad match. But I think it's still worth shipping, even if I think their canon relationship is more interesting.

#ask game #ask response #thanks for asking! #my death note opinions

[wahlpaper]

We Are Totally Normal Review

We Are Totally Normal by Naomi Kanakia

CW: Underage Heavy Drinking, Microaggressions, Manipulative Behavior, Depiction of Sex Between Minors, Homophobia, Queer-phobia, Internalized Queer-phobia, Drug Use, Sexism, Ableism, Importance of Social Status, Toxic Masculinity

3.5/5

I discovered this book when looking for Jewish YA books to read next, but I was misled by the faulty algorithm in Google searching. I fell for it because the author's name is Naomi, a common Jewish name. This is not a Jewish book, but it is queer! It certainly wasn't my favorite, and the audiobook had its own problems, but I believe the controversy surrounding it is a bit harsh. I think people were judging the book for the wrong reasons. Yet, I don't believe I would recommend this book to most people.

We Are Totally Normal is about Nandan, a Desi teen in California who is figuring himself out and making mistakes while doing so. He sees the world of high school in a sociological way. The school's elite are "The 99" and everyone has a role in the school and each other's lives. Everyone values different things, which Nadan uses to his advantage. He desires close friendships with the girls in his life, to be seen as indistinguishable from them. He also wants a relationship with Dave, a cute nerdy boy on the fringes of “The 99”. Unfortunately for both Dave and Nandan, Nandan has no idea what his queer identity is or if he even has one.

I was not very far into the book when I realized it wasn't going to be Jewish, so I started looking for reviews online to see if that was true. While there, I discovered that people have some very heated opinions about the book and the characters. This, more than anything, compelled me to read the whole book. I wanted to have my own take added into the mix. Those that have negative feelings towards the book as a whole can be forgiven, but I believe those that took their issues with the characters out on the book are misguided. Many found Nandan to be manipulative, annoying, and not worthy of Dave. They also found the popular girl, Avani, to have no redeeming qualities and that it didn't make sense for Nandan to defend her. I personally don't think that characters have to be good or likable for a book to be well written. I also think that focusing on the faults of a few characters distracted reviewers from the fact that all the characters were flawed (outside of Nandan's mom).

Interviews with the author (linked at the bottom) prove that Kanakia didn't want a clean teen romance. The messiness, uncertainty, and lack of cuteness was intended. I didn't fault We Are Totally Normal for any of these things. However, I still didn't like the book very much. I truly wanted to, but neither the story nor the audiobook were kind to the reader. The audiobook was poorly balanced in terms of sound, especially for a shorter book like this. I struggled to hear Dave and couldn't turn the sound down soon enough for Nandan or his friend Mari. The story felt unresolved in the end and it was difficult to keep some of the characters straight. I also felt that the running gag's pay off was anticlimactic. These are the reasons I rated this book a 3.5/5.

Overall, I don't think this book is terrible or worthy of controversy, but you can probably skip it in favor of one of the author interviews below. Naomi Kanakia is a joy and learning what went into the book behind the scenes was nice. If you do choose to read We Are Totally Normal, keep in mind that it was never intended to be a sweet romance.

Written Interview: https://thenerddaily.com/rahul-kanakia-author-interview/

Video Interview: https://itgetsbetter.org/blog/kanakia/

#we are totally normal #kanakia #bookblogger #queer books #book blog #queer characters #questioning #audiobooks #contemporary fiction #ya novel #book review #asian mc #asian love interest #asian representation

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER XI

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter X | Chapter XI | Chapter XII

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing, homophobia

WORD COUNT: 7.6k+

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

That night, Yeonjun closed the door to his chambers with a sigh. It was unusually quiet in his room, and the silence made him feel even more unsettled. Not even bothering to take off his boots, he trudged towards the bed and sat down, crossing his legs. He rubbed his forehead, conflicted.

Yeonjun's was loyal. That was one of his best qualities. He was loyal, and unwavering, and always stuck by his allies. It was what he was always admired for, and he prided himself on this trait. This was why Yeonjun was good. He did things without question, without complaint, and he did them well. He always did. Without fail. So why was he struggling this time?

Yeonjun squeezed his eyes tight, scrunching up the sheets into his fists. Everything was just so confusing. He took a deep breath, and tried to unclench his hands from the bedsheets. He'd start from the beginning. The beginning of this whole mess. Maybe then it'd make sense.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

On the night of the Crown Handing, Yeonjun stepped out of the carriage, looking up at the Gojongja palace. It was grand, there was no doubt about it. He gave a small grin. Big castle, lots of people. This would be easy. He made his way up the palace steps, and walked through the large double doors to the ballroom. The grin spread further across his face. This was going to be so easy.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Easy? It looked like there were some complications regarding that matter, but that wasn't going to change anything for him. Though lots of unexpected events had happened during the Crown Handing, which had momentarily thrown Yeonjun off. However, after some discussion with his superior, it was decided that things would still go ahead as planned. And so, here he was, standing in his little corner away from everyone else.

He stared at the rest of the ballroom, bored, tapping his fingers mindlessly against a marble column. It was the second month of revels (month! It had been two months !), and Yeonjun’s patience was wearing thin.He was surprised by how long coronation celebrations were lasting. Was it because there was a new clan on the throne? He didn't know, but it was becoming tiring. He'd been told to make the proposition towards the end of the celebration period, but the celebrations had been going on for days with no sign of stopping. Yeonjun swirled the wine in its glass, looking at the King's Corner which was separated from the rest of the ballroom by a thick lace veil. He sighed, putting down the glass. Whatever . He'd have to do it sooner or later, and he might as well do it now just in case revels ended abruptly. And so, he straightened his uniform, and made his way to the King's Corner.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Kang Taehyun. Yeonjun had been told to be cautious around the Kang, since he was notorious for his quick wit and shrewd observations. Yeonjun thought back to the Crown Handing. It was unusual. The youngest Kang had been named the heir, and yet somehow a whole new clan had managed to ascend to the throne. And Kang Taehyun had played a part in it. A rather large part. But, it wasn't Yeonjun's job to worry about what clan was on the throne. He had a different job.

“Why has your monarch not come to discuss this herself?” Kang Taehyun asked, and Yeonjun saw his hand coming to rest on the sword by his hip. “Why send a representative?”

Yeonjun gazed at him, eyes piercing. The vizier's face remained expressionless, and after a beat, the Aruyeonan toned down his glare. He knew his eyes were unnerving – though amber eyes were becoming increasingly common, they were still rare – but the vizier didn't seem to be unsettled by them at all. Yeonjun blinked lazily, and gave a laugh.

"Will you always let your vizier speak for you?" he asked King Beomgyu. The King gave a not-so-subtle glare to the vizier standing by his side. Yeonjun took a mental note of the hostile look. This could be interesting.

Eventually, Yeonjun managed to convince the King to agree to an alliance. Well, he'd managed to convince the King to consider, and that was as good as done in his book. Part one: complete. Next was the more difficult, more lengthy part two.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Walking out of the Discussion and Tactics room after meeting with Kang Taehyun, Yeonjun felt a sense of satisfaction settle over him. The vizier had agreed to all of Aruyeo's terms. Every single one, and hadn’t seemed dissatisfied with them at all. Queen Erajin sure had a way of manipulating her words to make it seem as if Gojongja would benefit the most. He glanced back, and saw the vizier coming out of the room, and seemed to put something into his pocket. The satisfaction faded from Yeonjun’s face. He’d forgotten about that. He’d forgotten about the thing he’d put in the room. Taehyun wouldn’t know what it was, anyway… right? He shook his head, shrugging. The device was Aruyeonan: no one in Gojongja would know what it was. Yeonjun walked away, humming.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun laughed, looking fondly at Beomgyu. It was odd. He'd initially planned to find out information about the court, but he'd ended up befriending the King. Beomgyu was a couple of years younger than him, and was, frankly, adorable. Yeonjun watched as he pouted, trying to focus on the target. His stance looked good, but the moment he released the arrow, Yeonjun could tell it wouldn’t go anywhere near the target. He chuckled and turned to his own target, drawing and releasing his own arrow with barely a glance to where it landed. Beside him, Beomgyu clapped, and he grinned before playfully bowing.

“I did say I was a master at archery,” he said. He smiled as the young king began rambling excitedly. This was going well.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun followed Taehyun down the hallways, trying to get the vizier’s attention.

“So… Taehyun? Kang? Grand Vizier? What do I call you?” Yeonjun watched as Taehyun, now in the Palace Library, bent down to search for a book. He internally panicked when he realised which section of the library they were in. Magical Objects. He found out?

“Okay, so Sir Taehyun…” Yeonjun trailed off, his focus becoming undone. Why was he here again? He heard Taehyun click his tongue irritatedly, standing up to look at him.

“Was there anything else you needed?” he asked, annoyance clear in his tone.

Taehyun obviously wasn’t in the mood. And Yeonjun knew that he’d be able to get nothing out of the vizier in the state he was in.

After apologising for disturbing Taehyun, Yeonjun left, telling himself he’d try again later.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Nimbly, he passed through the halls, skipping past windows before he reached a set of doors. Yeonjun pushed them open and yawned, stretching his arms wide. He grinned. He was glad that he’d managed to acquire and memorise a floorplan of the Gojongja palace before he came, because he’d ended up just where he’d wanted to go. It was morning, and very few people were out and about. Striding down the path, he whistled to himself as he walked into the forest.

“Hmm…. this should do it.”

Yeonjun walked through the forest and came upon a clearing. It was sectioned off from the rest of the forest by a ring of trees, and you wouldn’t be able to see it unless you were explicitly looking for it. Perfect. Just to make sure, Yeonjun looked around before he reached into his pocket to pick up the device. He threw it into the air, and the marble spread open to reveal a hologram of a person.

Yeonjun beamed. “Hueningkai! My little bro!”

The hologram, or Hueningkai, laughed. “Yeonjun! My big bro! How do you like this new marble?”

“It’s so epic,” Yeonjun said, smiling. “You’re a bit blurry, but it’s still so cool. You made this? By yourself?”

Hueningkai laughed again. “You sound surprised. All the marbles are things I made by myself. This one’s a prototype. I wasn’t sure it would work properly, but looks like it does.”

“How does alchemy have anything to do with this though?” Yeonjun asked curiously.

“It has everything to do with it. It’s the chemicals and magic which help make this possible. But anyway, we don’t have that much time. How are things going?”

“It’s going well. The people here are nicer than I thought. Especially Beomgyu. He’s so excitable and bubbly and naive, it’s cute. It’s funny how he can’t do standing archery but he’s amazing on horseback, and how he’s so good at fencing but trips over his own feet a lot.”

“Beomgyu?” Hueningkai’s eyes lit up. “You mean the Beomgyu who came to Aruyeo three years ago and was really nice to me?”

Yeonjun smiled. “Yes, that Beomgyu. Didn’t I tell you? He’s the king now.”

Hueningkai clapped his hands happily. “How is he like? Does he remember you? Does he remember me?”

“He doesn’t remember me, because I was away on a mission, remember? But he does remember you.” Yeonjun laughed endearingly as Hueningkai smiled widely. “Yeah, I get why you became friends with Beomgyu. He’s so much like you.”

“He is, isn’t he? But anyway, I didn’t mean Beomgyu. I meant the mission.”

“O- oh. Yeah. It’s… going. Ish. Like I said, he’s naive. Beomgyu opens up really easily. The servants here are loyal, but will relax if they think you’re just making small talk. Oh–the marble you told me to put into the Discussion and Tactics room? I think Taehyun found it.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “But he won’t know what it is, right?”

“I hope so,” Yeonjun sighed. “By the way, which one is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What does the marble do?”

“Oh, that one’s also a prototype. It’s an eavesdropper combined with a data collector. It’s one of the only hybrids I’ve made.”

Yeojun frowned. “So then what’s the trinitrotoluene doing in there?”

“For it to self-destruct,” Hueningkai explained. “If anyone tries to pierce the glass, it’ll explode.”

“Ah. So that no one will be able to access the data apart from you?” Hueningkai nodded. “Smart. But… will it be okay, now that it’s not in the Discussion and Tactics room?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Hueningkai dismissed. “All we needed were records that Gojongja agreed to our terms. It’ll be fine for now, until we have to retrieve it. Do you know where it is?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Yeonjun sighed. “The last I saw, Taehyun had it, but I’m not sure where it is now.”

“That’s fine. We’ll get to it when we get to it.” Through the hologram, Yeonjun saw Hueningkai sit down on a chair. “So do you know specifically what you’re looking for?”

“Um, not really. It’s just the general things I’m usually told to look for. When I’ve gotten enough, I’ll report back, then they’ll tell me if I need to find more. That’s how it always is.” Yeonjun folded his arms, leaning on his other leg. “How are things with you? Doing anything interesting?”

Hueningkai’s eyes lit up. “In fact, I am! You know how seers often have crystal gazing balls?”

“No way,” Yeonjun gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth. “Don’t tell me you found a way to make them!”

Hueningkai laughed happily. “God, no! But close! It’s like a looking-glass thing. It can help you see what’s happening somewhere else at that exact moment. So it can’t see the future, but it can see present events.”

“How does that work?”

“I need some part of that person’s DNA to do it,” Hueningkai explained. “Like a hair or a drop of saliva. Then, I can use it to see what they are doing.” He frowned. “At least, theoretically I can. Right now, all it shows me are their feet.”

Yeonjun snorted, and Hueningkai gave an embarrassed smile. Yeonjun was going to say something else, but then twig snapped. Yeonjun turned around, startled. “Sorry Hyuka, but I think someone’s here. Gotta go, talk to you later!” Yeonjun quickly waved a hand through the hologram, making it flicker and disappear. He looked around, trying to find the culprit of the noise. Then, a horse stepped through the trees, and bent down to graze under a birch. Its pale red scales reflected the sun, and Yeonjun startled slightly at its odd appearance, but quickly relaxed.

“Hey there,” he said softly, approaching it. “You’re a right beauty, aren’t you?” The horse looked up, and watched calmly as Yeonjun approached. “Should I take you back? Perhaps.” He stroked the horse’s muzzle, making sure it was calm, before swinging his leg over its back. “Maybe I’ll show Beomgyu this place too. He might like it.”

As he was riding back, it didn’t even cross his mind that he’d wanted to show Beomgyu the clearing purely because he wanted to see the king smile.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun watched as Taehyun swiftly began to eat, completely ignoring his presence. He pursed his lips in irritation. The vizier was a tough nut to crack. What might break his shell? Yeonjun thought back to that afternoon, when Taehyun had sarcastically mentioned Beomgyu going on a date. Ah. Beomgyu.

“Sir?”

Taehyun looked up at him, annoyed, swallowing a mouthful of food.

“Forgive me for seeming rude, but… why is it that you don’t seem to like anyone at all?”

Yeonjun watched his face carefully, and saw Taehyun’s facial features become just a little more guarded.

“Well,” he began slowly. “You never know who you can trust.” Taehyun looked up at Yeonjun. “Some people just aren’t… trustworthy.”

He’s not onto me, is he? Yeonjun smiled mildly. “I understand that. But with people you know, why is it that you still don’t like them?”

Taehyun’s face became a little more weary, and he set down his cutlery. “You’re talking about Beomgyu, aren’t you? In his case, I suppose… just because you know someone well doesn’t mean you like them.”

“But judging by how Beomgyu talked, you did like him for a time?” Yeonjun startled a little as the cutlery clattered out of Taehyun’s hands, onto the ceramic plate.

“Don’t speak of such things like that,” Taehyun said in a quiet, fierce voice. Yeonjun’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He’d forgotten how homophobic Gojongja were. “And just because we used to be friends doesn’t mean we’re friends now. Things change.”

Yeonjun, after composing himself, nodded thoughtfully. He now knew a little about how Taehyun worked. He was a true Gojongja citizen. A smart one at that. He won’t like to have his mistakes pointed out to him, will he…?

“You do know that the whole business of Beomgyu being King is odd, don’t you? Especially since I can gather that you two are enemies. Additionally, on the day of the Crown Handing it almost looked like you’d planned to make Beomgyu king.”

Yeonjun watched Taehyun carefully, and was rewarded when the vizier looked up at him sharply. He smiled inwardly, and calmly turned to his food. “I’m just saying what it looked like.” Yeonjun took a big bite out of his meal, ignoring Taehyun’s piercing stare. The vizier was obviously shaken by the comment. As he chewed, Yeonjun thought about his own words. Perhaps the observation he’d made had some truth in it. Had Taehyun planned to let Beomgyu take the throne? Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Taehyun sipped his drink worriedly. Kang Taehyun… you’re an interesting one. Are you hiding anything else?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun looked around, scratching his head. “I swear I’ve been here before,” he muttered. “Did I take a wrong turn?” He spun on his heel, staring at the tapestry behind him. “How could I have ended up here?”

“Excuse me? Sir?”

Yeonjun turned around to see a small servant girl looking up at him.

“If you don’t mind, are you lost?”

Yeonjun blinked, and gave a small chuckle. “Yes, it appears I am.” He looked around at the many corridors. “I am very lost.”

The girl beamed. “Oh, that’s okay! This is a very big palace, so it’s understandable. When I first came, I became lost many times too. Where is it that you want to go?”

“His Greatness’ room, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! I’ll take you there.”

Yeonjun followed the girl down the hallways silently. They eventually stopped by a door.

“Here we are! I will be on my way now.” The girl bowed, and was about to walk away when Yeonjun called out to her.

“Wait… how old are you?”

“I am eleven, sir.”

“Eleven?! You’re a foreigner, aren’t you? How did you end up working in Gojongja?”

“I fled here with my younger sister. We come from a country which is currently in the middle of a war, and came here because we heard that Gojongja would welcome us.”

“Gojongja? Not Aruyeo?”

“Yes, sir. Gojongja is the place most welcoming of foreigners. To me, it is the kindest of all the Four Kingdoms. Though Aruyeo accept many sexualities, Gojongja accept people from anywhere. They are generous, and kind, and though they may not win every battle like Aruyeo do, they are still strong. I have even come to consider Gojongja my home.” The girl smiled. “The people here are among the nicest I have ever met.”

Yeonjun stood there, before nodding his head slowly. “Well, Gojongja truly is a nice place.”

“It is. I love it with all of my heart.”

Yeonjun bowed his head. “You may leave now.”

“Of course. Have a nice day, sir!” The girl gave another grin, and skipped down the hallway. Yeonjun watched her go. Suddenly, for the first time ever, a small doubt crept its way into his mind. Your Supreme Highness… how can I do such a thing to people like this?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun knocked on the door, and stepped inside. He was taken aback when he registered this was not His Greatness’ room. Yeonjun checked the plaque on the door, and groaned inwardly. The Great Room? Seriously? He looked around and took in the bookshelf taking up one wall, the grand piano in the middle of the room, and the students standing in rows. A music room. Who the hell names their music room ‘The Great Room’?

“Oh! Lord Yeonjun from Aruyeo, am I correct?” the woman smiled pleasantly. “Would you like to stay and watch our music lesson?”

Yeonjun stammered. “I… uh…” He shrugged. “Alright.”

“Wonderful!” The lady clapped her hands happily, and gestured to a seat. “Here, you can have a seat here. Now class, let’s sing again from the top!”

She went over to the grand piano standing in the middle of the room, and began playing. The children sang along to the piano, and the sweet melody washed over Yeonjun. He took in the harmonies, the chorus of voices, the gentle chords of the piano.

Suddenly, a wave of sadness engulfed him. The woman’s piano playing reminded him of Hueningkai. All he could think about was how much Hueningkai loved to play the piano, nimble fingers dancing happily over the keys, coaxing beautiful melodies from even the crankiest pianos. Hueningkai, who was so innocent and painfully optimistic. Hueningkai, who was kind and generous even when the world was not kind and generous to him. Hueningkai, who had only ever wanted to be happy.

Yeonjun blinked, fast, and acknowledged that the song was coming to an end. He clapped politely, a small smile on his face. All these children… so youthful and naive. They reminded him so much of Hueningkai it hurt.

He looked away, out the window. Hueningkai… do you think we’re doing the right thing?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Oh, let me help you with that!”

Yeonjun looked up as a young stable boy came rushing up to him, taking some of the horse brushes out of the Aruyeonan’s hands. He looked up, and smiled brightly at Yeonjun.

“It looked like you were having some trouble there, sir! Have you just come back from riding?”

Yeonjun was slightly startled by how kind and friendly the stable boy was being. “I… yes, I have. I was just cleaning up the horse.”

“That’s good, sir,” the stable boy said conversationally, walking with Yeonjun back to the stables. “Most Lords ‘round here, they don’t care ‘bout the horses’ wellbeing. They think it’s up to stable boys like me to keep ‘em clean. Nice to see someone is looking after their horse after they’ve finished riding.”

They arrived at the stable, and the boy helped Yeonjun put the equipment away into the box. He straightened, and gestured to the full bucket of dirty water in Yeonjun’s arms. “Would you like me to take that for you?”

“I- uh, if you want.”

The young boy beamed and took the bucket. “I’ll show you where it ought to be put, if you’d like.”

Yeonjun followed the stable boy silently, rather overwhelmed by his brightness. It was strange. This boy was working such a taxing, gruelling task, looking after horses which were apparently not treated very well by the Lords, and yet he managed to smile and walk with a spring in his step.

“You’re the Aruyeonan, aren’t you?” the boy said brightly, looking up at Yeonjun.

“Y- yes, yes I am.”

“We heard you’re here to form an alliance.” He smiled widely, revealing gappy teeth. “That would be nice. Gojongja have been independent for so long… I wonder what it’s like to have an alliance, to have someone else to support you when you struggle to support yourself, and to be there to support someone when they are stuck. It’s like a friendship, isn’t it? You help each other out.”

Yeonjun decided not to comment on that. The boy’s view on an alliance was a rather childish, innocent one, but Yeonjun didn’t want to tarnish it with cynical truths. “I suppose it is,” he said finally. “You said you’d like an alliance?”

“Yeah! Like I said, Gojongja have been pretty solitary. And I mean, solitude is nice, ‘cause then no one can backstab us or anything, but in an alliance, they’re bound to be trustworthy, right? It’s all about trusting each other. Like a friendship!”

Yeonjun smiled weakly. “Yeah… right…”

Suddenly, the boy’s eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh gosh, I just realised I’ve been rambling again! The stable-master always told me off for rambling. I’m so sorry.” He bowed several times. Yeonjun blinked, feeling a little shocked.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” Still the boy’s head remained bowed, so Yeonjun crouched down to look him in the eye. “Don’t apologise for sharing your thoughts,” he said firmly. “Never apologise for speaking out. You are entitled to your own opinion, and you have that right.” He quirked a small grin. “But maybe don’t discuss politics with every Lord you meet. Most of them won’t like it.” The stable boy’s eyes were still wide, but he gave Yeonjun a smile.

“Alright, thank you Mr Aruyeonan!” There was a yell in the distance, and he jumped. “That’s the stable master! I'd better get going! See you, Mr Aruyeonan!”

Yeonjun watched the young boy race back to the stables, and the smile died from his lips. He thought back to what he’d said. “An alliance is like a friendship…?” He shook his head. “No, no it’s not. It’s not. It’s more political and professional than that.” He began to walk back to the palace. Though he tried to dismiss the child’s words, they rang in his head, and an uncomfortable coil settled in the pit of his stomach. “No, he’s young. Don’t think about it, Yeonjun…”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

As these days increased, and Yeonjun grew to know the Gojongja court better and better, the feeling of uneasiness grew. Generally with his missions, he’d always have a specific task in mind, but this time, the topic he'd been given was so broad. Initially, he’d been nervous with having such an ambiguous subject, but now he was nervous because something didn’t feel right. One night, he decided enough was enough. He needed to properly think.

The next morning, he awoke early, letter in hand, when he crossed paths with Beomgyu.

“Your Greatness!” Yeonjun bowed. “You’re up early?”

“Good morning, Yeonjun! And yes, I am! We are to have a revel today, to tell the people about the alliance.” The King took in Yeonjun’s appearance, and tilted his head. “What are you doing up so early? You look like you’re dressed to go somewhere.”

“I want to deliver a letter,” Yeonjun said, showing the envelope for emphasis. “I’m going to deliver it myself, though. This person is someone… who prefers if I come in person.”

“Alright. How will you get there?” Beomgyu took in Yeonjun’s leather gloves, and tall black boots. “You’re riding? All the way to Aruyeo?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yeonjun said sheepishly.

“Of course not!” Beomgyu grinned. “I’d offer to let one of our messengers take it for you, but you look adamant about delivering it yourself. Take Orion. He’s most capable of going long-distance.”

Yeonjun bowed. “Thank you, Your Greatness. Good luck with your revel!”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Riding through the streets of Aruyeo, the people immediately parted to let Yeonjun through. They didn’t question the strange horse and just let him pass. Everyone knew Yeonjun and who he worked for. He thundered through the city, straight towards the castle.

Once Orion had been taken to the Aruyeonan stables - “Handle him carefully, he’s a rare breed, and from Gojongja” - Yeonjun made his way through the hallways, until he was standing in front of a familiar door. He’d barely knocked before it was flung open, the face which greeted him beaming brightly.

“Yeonjun!”

Hueningkai threw his arms around Yeonjun, and the elder laughed, ruffling Hueningkai’s hair. “Kai! How have you been?”

Hueningkai extracted himself, and pulled Yeonjun inside, closing the door firmly behind him. “Oh, you know,” he said, shrugging. “Same old, same old. Make explosives. Make marbles. Find a new chemical combination. Repeat. I haven’t been out of this room since you left, so don’t worry.”

Yeonjun smiled fondly, ruffling Hueningkai’s hair again. “You’re okay, right? No one said anything?”

“No one’s dared to say anything to me in over twelve years,” Hueningkai said, smiling. “It shocked them all when we suddenly rose in the ranks of the Queen’s favour.”

Yeonjun looked sadly at Hueningkai. “I’m sorry we had to go to such extreme measures. It was the only way, you know that right?”

“I’m fine, Yeonjun. It’s okay. But tell me, why are you here? When we talked last night, you were very vague. What’s going on?”

Yeonjun’s face grew grave. “The people in Gojongja are… too nice. But not in like, a suspicious way. They’re just genuinely nice. Everything they do is just so good. I don’t know… I just feel like something isn’t right.”

“What, in Gojongja?”

“No, no. Here. In Aruyeo. In court.”

Hueningkai tilted his head. “I’m not following.”

“It’s just…” Yeonjun bit his lip. “It’s hard to explain. Here in Aruyeo, the atmosphere is… more suffocating, I guess? For me. There are so many secrets within this court, so many lies and half-truths. Hell, we’re one of the secrets. It just feels so stifling. I could feel it as soon as I set foot inside the castle. In Gojongja, though… it just feels a lot lighter. There’s so much trust within their court. I- I can’t explain properly, but when you’re there, it’s so obvious. I wish you could come.”

“Then I will.”

“What?”

“I’ll come. You’re a good people-reader, Yeonjun, but I want to see this for myself. We don’t want to jump to conclusions.” Hueningkai had gotten up, and was rummaging through his drawers for something. He pulled out a large glass ball, smiling proudly. It looked like a huge bubble, and was about the size of a beach ball. “In here are the bare minimum of provisions I packed for myself, if ever the time came when I’d need to leave quickly. I’ve got sand, rock samples, and all sorts of other things which I need to make my marbles.”

Yeonjun gaped in shock. The ball looked completely empty, but he had no doubt about what Hueningkai had said. “Wh… what? How? What chemical combination did you use this time?”

“It’s one my clan taught me,” Hueningkai said. “I was just bored one day and messing around with the chemicals, but then my hands seemed to know what to do almost immediately.”

Yeonjun whistled, impressed. “Benefits of having alchemy as an ability, right? That’s freaky, but so cool.”

Hueningkai flinched at the word ‘freaky’, and Yeonjun’s face quickly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Hyuka, I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Hueningkai muttered. He gave a small smile, and tapped the ball. “I need to make a few adjustments though. Do you wanna rest? I have no doubt you rode all the way from Gojongja to here.”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Yeonjun admitted. “...Alright. Just a few hours. We need to go soon if we want to get there by sundown. Wake me up when it's time, okay?”

Yeonjun stumbled over to the bed, and as soon as his head touched the pillow, he was fast asleep. Hueningkai watched over his sleeping form, and gently ruffled the elder’s hair.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Yeonjun. If it wasn’t for me, we could lead normal lives. We wouldn’t have to be spies.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The first time Yeonjun had been due to leave for Gojongja, he and Hueningkai had spent many hours poring over the blueprints they’d managed to acquire of Gojongja’s Palace. Their skilful memorisation came in handy at that moment. Hueningkai, under the cover of darkness, managed to slip through the hallways to the room which Yeonjun was staying in, barely bumping into anything on his way. Yeonjun took the longer way round, and as he walked past the ballroom, he gasped. There was so much glass all over the floor, and some small fires were burning through ivy tendrils. He hurried past, conscious of the muddy footprints he was leaving behind. What had happened?

As he rounded a corner, he saw Taehyun standing in the middle of the corridor.

“Sir Taehyun!”

Taehyun turned around, not bothering to hide the frustration on his face.

“I saw all the glass in the ballroom,” Yeonjun said, coming up to the vizier. “And there’s a lot of blood, and some fire. What happened?”

As soon as those words left Yeonjun’s mouth, he knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. Taehyun’s face darkened even further. His mouth twisted into a frown, and he spoke in a sarcastic, annoyed tone.

“Well the announcement went fine. What do you think happened?”

Yeonjun almost backed away from the vizier’s menacing glare.

“Just go to your chambers. Don’t interfere.”

Yeonjun hesitated. He would have been fooled by the vizier’s vicious tone, but there was something decidedly off about it. Behind Taehyun’s fierce mask, he could see how scared and shocked he was. He wanted to reach out and ask him what was wrong, ask him if he was okay. But, deciding that Taehyun was far too emotional to appreciate his help, he bowed, and walked away.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Hueningkai hummed, tapping the wall. “Doesn’t seem to be much of a bright atmosphere here in Gojongja.”

“You came at the wrong time,” Yeonjun sighed. “The people found out about the alliance in the worst way possible, apparently. So things aren’t going too great right now.” He looked over at Hueningkai. “Are you okay? I just realised it’s probably really boring for you to be here all alone.”

“You worry too much,” Hueningkai dismissed. “I’m fine. We’ll be staying here for a while, right?”

“Yeah. Until things calm down, and the alliance fully takes place, we’ll be in Aruyeo.”

“Okay.” Hueningkai chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Okay. And I'll have to stay in this room, right?"

"Yeah. They don't know you're here, so it's best for you to not leave." Yeonjun sat down in the chair next to Hueningkai. He rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache which was on its way. Hueningkai silently wrapped his arms around the elder, pulling him into a hug.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The following days, Yeonjun stayed in his room as much as he could. Once, when he had gone out for some fresh air, he’d returned to find his room empty. He’d panicked. A few hours later, though, Hueningkai showed up.

“Hueningkai! Where were you?”

Hueningkai looked at Yeonjun apologetically, seeing the angry and worried look on the elder’s face. “Sorry. I should have told you earlier. I’m building a room.”

“A what?”

“Down there.” Hueningkai pointed to the wall beside the bed. “I’m building a secret room where I can do my experiments without bothering you.”

Yeonjun breathed a sigh of relief. “So long as no one catches you. But please tell me before you do something like that! I literally had a heart attack when I saw you were missing.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a spy, just like you are. I know how to handle myself.”

“That won’t stop me from worrying about you.” Yeonjun ruffled the younger’s hair. “Hueningkai, I know you haven’t been out much, but… you can feel the difference, right?”

The younger hesitated, but nodded his head. “Yeah. I kinda see what you meant. Even though everyone is really stressed and busy here in Gojongja, it doesn’t feel suffocating. It made me realise how stifling the court is back at home.”

“Right?” Yeonjun agreed. “And also, the people here are so nice.”

Hueningkai gazed out into the distance. “I want to be able to see Beomgyu… it’s been ages.”

Yeonjun patted the younger’s shoulder consolingly. “He’ll probably freak if he finds you in the palace, unfortunately, since you’re not meant to be here. Plus, the vizier is super scary and will most likely kick us out before you can even say ‘hi’.”

Hueningkai smiled. “Sir Taehyun is that intimidating, huh?”

Yeonjun fake-shivered. “You have no idea. But still, I’m determined to befriend him.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

It was late at night. Yeonjun, having trouble sleeping, decided to walk around the palace until he grew tired. His mind was still plagued with the usual troubles, worried about whether he was doing the right thing. He was passing the palace gymnasiums when he heard the familiar swish of a sword being swung in the air. Under one of the gymnasium doors, light streamed out and Yeonjun could make out a long shadow, practising by themselves. He opened the door a sliver to see Taehyun, sparring with the air. His face was slick with sweat, and his breaths came out in laboured pants, yet he still continued to spar. From where he was, Yeonjun could see how his face was scrunched up in concentration, and he winced as he noticed how white his knuckles were around the hilt of the sword.

He didn’t know how, but suddenly he’d grabbed one of the practice swords from the racks and was standing in front of Taehyun, silently sparring with him. Yeonjun registered the look of surprise on the vizier’s face but ignored it, wordlessly pushing him to work harder.

Neither of them said a word. There were no words needed. Yeonjun noticed with some approval that Taehyun’s grip had corrected itself, and his stance looked firmer than before. However, it was no match for Yeonjun’s spy-trained skills, and eventually, with Taehyun being too tired out to notice, Yeonjun managed to bring the blunt edge of his sword up to the vizier’s neck. Both of them were panting heavily. Then, Taehyun spoke.

“I yield.”

Yeonjun stared at him, before registering his words and dropping his blade. He gave a small grin. “You did good.”

Taehyun abruptly turned away from him, walking over to the water table. “Why are you here?”

Yeonjun followed him, giving an explanation as to why he was there. It was made of half-truths, since he didn’t want to give anything away about what he was actually doing. He took a big gulp of water and set down the glass, shaking his head in fake disappointment. “You were so stressed that you were tensing up your wrists far too much.” Yeonjun saw as Taehyun’s eyebrow twitched irritatedly. Even in his worn-out state, the vizier still hated his mistakes pointed out to him.

“And was it because I was stressed?”

“Yeah.” Yeonjun poured himself another glass of water. “When you actually spar, your technique is crazy good.” Taehyun didn’t say anything for a few moments, and his face gave nothing away. Yeonjun worried he’d overstepped some line, and set down his glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you. You haven’t wanted to see me in the hallways, so I don’t know why I thought it’d be alright to see you while you were sparring. If you want, I can go now.”

Yeonjun was turning away when Taehyun suddenly spoke.

“Your technique is really good. The Falcon Twist - I haven’t seen someone perform it that well before.”

Yeonjun felt a swell of pride, and looked back with a grin. Taehyun continued talking, looking a little nervous.

“Also, the way you attack is so fast. And when you defend, as well.”

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile wider, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. He walked back to the vizier, and held out his hand. A peace offering. “Want me to teach you?”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

They kept up the routine for several more days. At night, Yeonjun would always come down to find Taehyun already deep in the middle of practice, and the two would just spar wordlessly until they took their first break. From then on, they'd discuss tactics, techniques, and how to improve their strategies. With time, their discussions gradually moved towards more personal things, and Taehyun began to open up more. He told Yeonjun of his worries about being the Grand Vizier, and the stress and toll it was taking on him.

When Yeonjun returned to his room one night after sparring with Taehyun, flopping onto the bed, Hueningkai made an observation.

"I think you're genuinely trying to befriend this Kang Taehyun."

Yeonjun turned his head, facing the younger. "About that. I think I'm going to stop with this mission."

Hueningkai, who had been focused on building a house of cards, suddenly stood up, knocking the fragile structure over. "Are you crazy?! If she finds out, she's gonna kill you!"

"I know. But I'm trusting my gut here. Before, I felt no remorse doing these things to other Kingdoms, but here… even just thinking of betraying these people makes me feel sick. I just can't do it." He thought to the foreign servant girl who spoke of Gojongja with such love in her eyes. He thought to the young children, singing and learning music without a care in the world. He thought to the young stable boy, bright-eyed and talkative, who had seemed to see nothing but the good things in life. Lastly, he thought of Taehyun and Beomgyu, who spoke of their Kingdom with such love and passion, who were such truly good people that they made him doubt everything in the first place. Closing his eyes, he brought his hands to his face. “I just can’t.”

Hueningkai looked scandalised. "I don't believe it! How good must a person be to make you want to stop? You've been a fervent ally of Queen Erajin for more than a decade. Who could break this loyalty?"

Yeonjun sat up. "Wait– I’ll show you. Tomorrow night, come down with me. I can’t show you everything, but I can show you the one who made the most difference. You can hide in the shadows. Then you’ll see just how good they are. Then you'll see what kind of person Taehyun is."

.・゜-: ✧ :-

That following night, Yeonjun pushed open the doors to find Taehyun in a rather different position.

“Sup,” he said, and Taehyun opened his eyes, unfolding himself from the yoga position he’d been in.

“Hello. I decided to do a bit of stretching today.”

Yeonjun kicked off his boots, and saw Hueningkai standing in a hidden alcove. The younger crouched down and gave Yeonjun a thumbs up. He looked back to Taehyun. “Do you have a routine in mind?”

And just like that, the two settled into their silent routine. They both did their own stretches in their own time, relishing the silence between them. It was all quiet, until Taehyun spoke.

“Everything is so fucking stressful right now.”

Yeonjun, head upside down, quirked an eyebrow. We’re going straight to the confiding, are we? Yeonjun listened as Taehyun ranted out his worries, detailing everything and how it was affecting people. He didn’t talk, didn’t interrupt; he just listened silently, letting Taehyun speak for as long as he needed to.

Taehyun sighed, and sat back. “I really care about these people. Beomgyu said we shouldn’t employ the military, but I think we should. The people won’t fight against them, I know it; it’s just to scare them and deter them from rebelling. But every time I try to explain that to Beomgyu, he won’t listen.”

“Then do it.”

“Huh?”

Yeonjun was feeling Taehyun’s confusion at that moment too. He didn’t know why he spoke. But now that he had, he couldn’t stop. He tilted his head. “Do you think it’s a dumb decision? The one that Beomgyu made.”

Taehyun’s face twisted in confusion, unsure where this was headed. “Uh… not really? I can see why he might not want to use force. But he didn’t see that it’s just to scare them.”

Yeonjun sighed. Taehyun always took things too seriously! “Answer the question in a proper way. I’m tryna help you here.”

“Okay…?” Taehyun said, confused. “In that case… yeah. It’s a dumb decision.”

Yeonjun grinned. “Okay, so you can just say that Beomgyu made a decision, but because it’s a stupid-ass decision, you’ve decided to ignore it.”

Taehyun blinked. Yeonjun could see the gears turning inside his brain. A smile spread across the vizier’s face. “I like your thinking.” He scrambled up onto his feet, tugging on his boots. “I gotta go inform the Head General! Bye!”

Yeonjun smiled as the vizier rushed out of the gymnasium, then he remembered Hueningkai. He looked back.

“So? Do you get what I mean?”

Hueningkai came out of the shadows to slowly sit down beside Yeonjun. “I do,” he said. “Yeonjun… I think you’re right. Let’s change sides.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Now that Hueningkai had agreed with him, Yeonjun felt more sure than ever. He spent his time actually befriending Taehyun, instead of ‘befriending’ him to earn his trust. Though there were still secrets, Yeonjun was determined to eventually clear them away.

“Hey Taehyun?”

“Hm?”

"Do you… do you remember, about four days before the revel? I requested you come visit for some bonding time?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry about that. I wasn't in a good mood."

"It's fine. I just…" Yeonjun hesitated. Should I tell him now? Or should I wait? "Let me know when you properly trust me, okay?"

Taehyun blinked, but smiled. "Alright. I will.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Yeonjun!”

Yeonjun turned around, and his face melted into a grin as he saw Taehyun approach.

“How are you?”

“I’m doing good. Have you talked with the Head General yet?”

“That’s actually where I’m headed,” Taehyun replied. “They don’t have a lot of time, but I’m going to meet with a representative who’ll figure out when we can sit down and talk.”

“Nice!” Yeonjun grinned. “How will Beomgyu react?”

“He’ll probably flip if he finds out,” Taehyun admitted. “But he just really cares about the people. Hopefully he can see that this won’t harm them.”

“Fingers crossed, then!”

“Yup. Fingers crossed.” Taehyun paused, as if he’d remembered something. “Oh yeah. I don’t know if it’s too soon, but…” Taehyun reached out a hand and patted Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I trust you. Properly.” He gave a small grin to the Aruyeonan, and walked away. Yeonjun blinked as the vizier turned the corner, and a smile spread across his face but quickly died. He’d just spotted someone in the distance. He squinted, but the person was already gone. Was that…? He shook his head. It couldn’t have been. He was just seeing things. Yeonjun looked back the way Taehyun had come, and his stomach filled with nerves.

“He trusts me now,” Yeonjun murmured to himself. “It’s now or never.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

That brought them back to that day. Yeonjun sighed, looking up at the ceiling. The soft pads of feet alerted him to Hueningkai’s presence.

“Sir Yoongi is in Gojongja now.”

Hueningkai paused. Even in the darkness, Yeonjun could see his eyes widen. Yeonjun spoke again.

“He’s their Antiquarian.”

“You mean… my Sir Yoongi? The mentor Sir Yoongi, who taught spies alchemy?” Hueningkai asked. “The one who disappeared years ago?”

“The very same one.” Yeonjun pulled a pillow over his face and sighed into it. “He knew, Hueningkai. He knew something was wrong with Gojongja, even before we did.”

Hueningkai was silent. “He’s lived in Aruyeo for a very long time. He probably noticed the changes.”

“That’s what he said. He said he could feel the changes in the atmosphere.” Yeonjun peeked under the pillow. “Also, he’s figured out it was you who made that marble. The one I planted in the Discussion and Tactics room.”

“Oh, that marble… he won’t be able to figure it out what it does though. To examine it, he’ll need to break the glass, which he knows will make the marble explode. He won’t try it. Don't worry about that.” They were silent for several moments. Hueningkai looked over at Yeonjun. “Yeonjun… maybe we should tell Taehyun. He said he trusts you, and even if his trust isn’t enough, we should tell him before someone else does.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Yeonjun took the pillow away from his face, and Hueningkai promptly snatched it and hugged it to his chest. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. Definitely.” Yeonjun sighed, nestling into the blankets. “I just hope he doesn’t hate us by the end of it…”

#court of lies #taehyun #txt taehyun #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #txt #txt taegyu #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt post #txt imagines #txt imagine #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together

[larktb-archive]

Whenever I go to block a racist I've been seeing a post that claims that revolutions dont work and peaceful protests do.

These are the examples said post uses:

These are all fucking terrible examples to use and I'm gonna go in order of worse to best which isn't saying much.

Women of Liberia Mass Action for Peace

Yes this did in fact end the civil war. But no one denied that peaceful protests can make momentary symbolic changes such as ending a war or gaining a country its independence. This does often happen and you can list off dozens of countries wherein there has been a peaceful response to violence which has seemingly brought about an end to that violence I should know this because after all I come from the best known example of that happening aside from India (and I'll come back to my home country eventually). The problem with saying this is that it ignores the aftermath of the "peace" and whether or not it made enough of a difference in peoples lives for it to matter; even though external visible violence has been quelled, other covert forms of violence stay in place.

Liberia is a good example of this because of one major issue in Liberia: Corruption. Millions of USD are lost every year due to members of the government pocketing the money for themselves to the extent where, according to Transparency International, Liberia is 137 out of 180 and 53% of public service users had paid a bribe within the year of 2019. Interestingly enough the OP of that post calls China and Cuba corrupt despite the fact that Cuba is 60th and China is 80th. But I guess what happens after the revolutions is successful only matters when you're talking about places you dislike.

This corruption has lead to protests in 2019 and 2020, wherein police used tear gas to disperse peaceful protesters. Something to note is the minister of informations accusation of the protests being caused by outside elite forces. Rings a bell but I'm not sure from where.

Now one of the reasons Liberia is so corrupt is because of the lack of punishment against the main actors of the civil war, in spite of the trc listing out 100+ perpetrators and recommending that they be dealt with.

Then president, Ellen Sirleaf Johnson, was on this list and has admitted that she backed the civil war. She went on to win a Nobel Peace Prize.

Jasmine Revolution

Around 79% of people in post revolution Tunisia think the country is "going in the wrong direction", 29% of people would not vote with 48% not knowing who they would vote for, 81% said they don't feel close to a political party, 57% said they aren't interested at all in elections, only 20% believed elections would be free and fair, 45% said they disapprove of the current president, 71% said the government isn't addressing the needs of the youth, 50% of people said the government struggles with preventing political violence and I could go on and on.

But this is only 1 study with a very small sample size so by itself it's not a lot.

But when you compound that with a corruption index of 74, an unemployment rate of 15% (compared to Vietnam and Cubas horrible 3% rate and Chinas 6% rate), ~100,000 skilled workers leaving the country and a slowly increasing number of asylum applicants leads me to think that the data is not unfounded.

Suicide and murder rates also increased after the revolution, with cases of self immolation increasing threefold, such as with the case of Abderrazak Zorgui, who's death sparked protests which turned violent after the police were sent in to quell them.

At least 800 Tunisians went to fight for Isil and that's only counting those who came back from Syria. For comparison 900 returned to Turkey and 760 returned to Saudi Arabia.

Much like Liberia there has not been any justice, with the government instead introducing a law granting amnesty to former members of the dictatorship in Tunisia. A constitutional court was supposed to be set up in 2014 to speed up this process. 6 years on it still hasnt been set up.

Rose Revolution

Now this one is interesting. Georgia has a corruption ranking of 44, its unemployment rate of 11%, although higher than the corrupt, evil nations of Cuba and Vietnam isn't terrible and its Gini Coefficient is 36.4 which is pretty average.

So what's wrong with this one?

Well for starters four years after the Rose Revolution, Georgian protestors once again took to the capital to protest against the increasing amount of power, President Saakashvili, who led the Rose Revolution, was gaining.

To be more specific in 2004, legislation was passed to give him the right to dissolve parliament and in 2006 local elections were manipulated so that the government would dominate local legislatures.

And what's that? The president of Georgia blamed outside Russian influence on the protests and sent in police with tear gas and water cannons? That seems weirdly familiar familiar. Where have I heard that one before.

Here is a quote from a leader of a peaceful revolution after peaceful protests against him took place: "Everyone has the right to express disagreement in a democratic country. But the authorities will never allow destabilisation and chaos".

Interesting how after he was put in power, suddenly peaceful protest is the work of Moscow and needs to be controlled by police. Funny that. But this is totally a successful revolution guys!

And how many protests happened after this one? 3, not including the anti-homophobia protest. I think if you need to protest against the government every few years to the point where people keep calling each new protest, the Rose Revolution 2.0, your 1st revolution wasn't that successful.

Womans Suffrage

But before I talk about the relatively well off post-Soviet nations let's just do a assessment of the absolutely dumb as fuck idea that the Suffragists were more effective than the Suffragetes despite the Suffragists making no progress in the 40 years they existed prior to the branching off of the Suffragettes.

Now some historians do agree that the Suffragettes more violent methods did begin to turn men away from granting womens suffrage during their later years. Less concrete is the idea that this outweighs the net positive they had on the movement for womens suffrage.

In fact heres a contemporary source from 1906 praising the suffragette movement:

"I hope the more old-fashioned suffragists will stand by them. In my opinion, far from having injured the movement, [the Suffragettes] have done more during the last 12 months to bring it within the region of practical politics than we have been able to accomplish in the same number of years"

Who said that? Millicent Fawcett? Oh clearly she's just biased towards suffragettes?

But even if I gave evidence that the Suffragettes were indeed more effective than the Suffragists, you could easily find an opposing argument and vice versa. Ww1 happened and in the end that swift change of culture is what gave women their rights to vote (or at least the wealthy).

What can be argued is the historical reasons of why the Suffragettes became even more violent in 2nd decade of the 20th century leading to more guerrilla warfare like tactics being deployed such as arson.

Black Friday happened. Was a protests against the government caused by then Prime Minister Asquith, reneging his promise to put a bill granting womens suffrage through parliament. This protest started off as peaceful and ended up with women being physically and sexually assaulted by the police and counterprotesters with there being accusations of plain clothes police officers inciting this violence. Do I even have to say it?

In order to avoid further molestation, the Suffragettes stopped doing large gatherings with each other and went "underground" so to speak getting more and more violent.

What we should recall is the fact that prior to this Emmeline Pankhurst told the Suffragettes to stop all operations and renewed them after this traumatic event.

Prior to the suffragettes emergence the fight for women's rights had been by in large ignored by the public and it was only after their emergence that this became an issue in the forefront of the public's mind.

For a more nuanced view:

"Viewing the militant movement from the second half of the twentieth century, it is difficult to argue that violence does not ‘pay off’.   [The history of independence of the colonies, and Civil Rights campaigns in the USA shows that violence can succeed.]   It may be that suffragette violence after 1912 fell between two stools, being inadequate to force the government but sufficiently destructive to antagonise public opinion.  This writer [i.e. Constance Rover] is of the opinion that, as the events turned out, militant tactics helped the women's suffrage movement until 1912, but after that date were harmful.   This does not mean that militancy was necessarily a foolish policy.   With hindsight, one can conclude that militancy failed in the last two years before the war, but with the experience of rebellion we have had since, one cannot conclude that militant tactics are an unsuccessful means of obtaining an objective such as enfranchisement..."

- Constance Rover 1967.

I use the quote in specific because it calls the civil rights movement violent. And was written a year prior to the end of the movement. It's almost as if the movement has been whitewashed by liberals to be a completely non-violent effort or something.

Singing Revolution and Velvet Revolution

I'm putting both of these together as these states are all former Soviet nations who have became arguably more successful than others like Moldova, Bulgaria and the aforementioned Georgia.

Now in the post-Soviet Baltic states, there are a large list of things i could talk about. The high suicide rates, the mass exodus leading to a quarter of the population in each nation leaving them, the large amount of people at risk of poverty, high incarceration rates, the gutting of labour laws, the rise of anti-semitism and the glorification of Nazis within their societies all come to mind. Some of these also apply to Czechia and Slovakia.

I could talk about specific events such as the Gorilla scandal, the murder Jan of Kuciak literally everything concerning Czech prime minister Babiš and the large proportion of Soviet Nostalgia in both Czechia and Slovakia (1/3 in the former and 1/2 in the latter).

I could mention protests that have taken place after these revolutions leading to the usage of rubber bullets and tear gas to disperse protesters who were acting non-violently. But I'd be repeating myself so I'm leaving it at that.

"But Lilly" you might say, "that doesn't necessarily disprove OPs point that these protests were successful, they did after all achieve their goals of 'political revolution/ending war/gaining womens suffrage".

And that's true. But...

TL;DR

OP used these as examples to contrast against so called failed violent revolutions with OP using violent revolutions like Vietnam, Haiti, Cuba, China, the USSR and the French Revolution as examples of failed revolutions. Anyone with a brain knows these revolutions absolutely succeeded in their short term goals of political change. There is no Tsar anymore, Cuba and Vietnam are still socialist, the aristocracy of france were decapitated, Haitians arent slaves and China has no emperor.

So where does the problem with these revolutions lie? Well according to OP:

... of course as we've just seen the so called successful peaceful revolutions are also poverty-ridden, corrupt and unstable with problems years later so what's the actual difference? There is none (aside from the historical revisionism of socialist states but that's beside the point), it's just hypocrisy and an incredibly silly gotcha to those currently arguing for violent protest.

I could continue and talk about how Haiti collapsed because of sanctions from racist countries who wanted to punish Haiti for fighting against their white masters, how Vietnam was practically always in war throughout the 20th century and how its stabilized since the end of the Viet-Khmer war, how Cuba infinitely improved the lives of all Cubans and was far more humanitarian than any western nation at the time, how the USSR and communist China turned Russia and China from poor feudal states to economic powerhouses which were far more equal in nature than the US.

But this post is way too long and I don't want to have to read through another dozen sources written by anti-communists liberals again.

Edit: the conclusion didnt save properly (thanks tumblr)

To end I'll say that the major problem with non-violent protests that is shared by every single one of these examples (apart from womens rights) is the lack of punishment towards those who caused the problems the people were protesting against. This means that said people can become president or a member of the government without any impediment and those people continue to be corrupt. From Ellen Sirleaf Johnson to Mikheil Saakashvili to the Tunisian government to Andrej Babiš. On the other hand violent revolution makes sure that those who war complicit in the crimes of the past are not able to usher in the crimes of the future, even if others eventually do.

The thing about that is progress has still been made, and even if they begin to reverse some of the gains that had been made they cant reverse all of them. With non-violent revolutions there is no change except for the ways that those in power step on the working class being more covert than overt.

You can decide which you prefer.

#lillypad.txt #long post #like really long post

[lesbian-ed]

Hi, is it normal to struggle with the image of your future life changing as you're questioning and coming to terms with your sexuality ? I feel like the more I deep dive into my subconscious, the more I feel like running back home and just wait for this imaginary unique guy that's gonna change everything and make this "plan" that's been put into my mind a long time ago come true. I shouldn't naturally feel this anxious if it wasn't threatening me.. right ?

This is normal, because of internalized homophobia, and because clearly you grew up with some expectations, and it makes sense you’d like to live up to them.

It’s not easy to be gay, it’s especially not easy to be a lesbian.  Women suffer for being gender non conforming, we have a very strict set of rules which is expected of us since we’re kids. So yes, it is, unfortunately, very common for lesbians to wish they could be straight, and even to try and live as straight women. Our comp het tag is proof enough...

However, I strongly doubt that life will be fulfilling or even safe for you. You can make your plans come true with a woman, and you’ll be much happier in your relationships and your personal life, even if society still makes your life hard with homophobia and misogyny. 

There is no unique, perfect guy. The men in your life are as they are, and you’re clearly not into them, so what makes you think there’s anyone different? Have you met or even heard of any perfect guy like this??? I highly doubt it. 

Girl, love yourself. Even if being a lesbian can be difficult, there is freedom in only loving women, there is freedom in taking your life into your own hands and loving who you love. Give yourself time, give yourself the chance to be your truest self. And if in the future you still think this isn’t for you... No one can stop you. I just sincerely do not imagine that any woman could be happier with a man than another woman. Only women love women the way women do. 

/Mod A 

#compulsory heterosexuality #internalized lesbophobia #mod A #answered asks #Anon