#reminder that being gay is still considered spectacle

[lostryu]

i need gay rights because literally not a single self-proclaimed cis/het 'ally' understands the alienating experience that comes with being the only gay person in the workplace.

i am a gnc butch lesbian. i use he/him pronouns. when i came out to my manager regarding my pronouns (i had been an open lesbian since the moment of my hire), she told me that she supported me, but she could not enforce or ask our clients to use the correct pronouns for me. she told me it was something i would have to learn to deal with. she never uses the correct pronouns for me unless a person from a different department (who also happens to be LGBT+) is present. she is our HR in addition to manager.

none of my coworkers in my department ever remember to use my pronouns. if i remind them, they go over the top with the "im sorry's" and the "im still learning" and "you know i try my hardest's!" and "i swear im not homophobic!", it has been over 6 months since i came out. if i say nothing, they continue to use she/her (unless that other lgbt+ person from the other department is present, then they miraculously get it right).

sometimes they call me 'girl'. they always flounder and correct to "man-boy-uh youknowwhatimeanright". they laugh it off. they never bother to ask what terms i am comfortable with, or if i even cared in the first place. they don't care about my gender, they never bother to ask. somehow the subject gets changed every time i try to tell them, or set a boundary.

once in a while in a slow shift, the conversation will hop to our dating lives. somehow, it always jumps to how men suck and how dating a woman must be so much easier. they wish they could be gay and not straight. every time, they'll stare at me expectantly, like i am an animal at the zoo. no matter what i say, positive or negative, i must be lying. i cannot be that happy in my relationship, or if i have any issues, they must be minor. if i say 'why don't you try dating a girl then' to their remarks, they'll laugh, say something like "there is no way i possibly could" with that special tone of disguised disgust.

i am a prop, at work. they tell me about how much they love their kids. how they could bring anyone home and they wouldn't care. "they could be black, brown, or purple," they'll say "it could be a woman or a man! I support gay rights!" Then they will talk about how hungry they are, and how they will be going to Chick Fil a for the 4th time this week. 'as a treat'. it is thursday. they talk about going to Hobby Lobby again for christmas decorations, or another sale. sometimes i think i can taste blood.

its june. they talk about the pride parade and how excited they are to see the queens and their 'funny costumes'. they talk about how fun it is to go and watch, how they like the free things the corporations hand out. they don't want to bring their younger kids though. they're not old enough. they do not know that the first pride was a riot. they do not know what happened during the AIDS crisis, how many died. they don't really care when i try to tell them, they'd rather focus on the fun parts of the parade. the spectacle.

i wear a pronoun pin, to make it easier. still somehow no one can get my pronouns right. a client notices it. commends me for "being brave" and "coming out." she never uses my correct pronouns. i stopped wearing the pin after the 11th person asked me if my name on my name tag was my real one, and after the 45th person went out of their way to use incorrect pronouns every sentence. my manager, the HR, did not care.

i need gay rights, but somehow everything got resolved when they allowed us to marry in 2015. to our allies, the work is done. somehow i am left more alone than when we started.

#lost.txt #lesbian loneliness #like idk how to describe it but it sure is loneliness and alienation #somewhat of a vent post #like yes we have made it so far #but our 'allies' have grown very complacent #in their own support and ideology #reminder that being gay is still considered spectacle

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Begrudging Allies (Aaron Hotchner x Trans!Male!Reader)

Summary: Aaron and Y/N's marriage is suitable enough, given that Aaron secretly loves men and Y/N secretly is a man. When the one year anniversary of their amicable nuptials brings forth correspondence from their estranged families, Aaron takes the opportunity to potentially make something more out of their arrangement.

AN: This is one of my entries to the "Enemies 2 Lovers" challenge set by @imagining-in-the-margins​ on Tumblr!

Reader is trans male and uses he/him pronouns. 

WC: 2.4k words

Content Warning: References to era appropriate homophobia/transphobia but nothing actually mentioned. Two dumb fucking gay men trying to flirt.

Photo Credit // Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N L/N were served breakfast together every day they were in the house together. They sat not at opposite ends, but the seat left adjacent to them. That way, they did not have to look at each other whilst they ate. Breakfast was the only meal with which they shared each other’s company. Why make it unbearable first thing in the morning? They read the morning paper - and any post - while eating. Only the scrape of their plates and muted chewing was to be heard before the chairs scraped across the floorboards and both men departed.

Today they both received a note from the L/N household back in their old country.

“I assume your letter reads the same as mine,” Y/N dropped his beside his plate before pushing it further away.

Hotchner raised his eye from the headline that had been mildly entertaining him, “It does.”

In cursive flicks, the usual complaints of their emigration had reached his eyes not moments prior. The closing of his family’s letter however broached a new request: a photograph of the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary, specifically a recreation. The ungrateful bunch, the only remaining wedding photographs of the wedding were in their hands.

“I don’t have the dress,” Y/N scoffed and looked aside. Even from this end of the table, Aaron could see that he was trying to mask his tears from the dawn. The wedding day was the culmination of their greatest shames.

At least Aaron had tried to make the best of it, but there was no relief for Y/N until they were in their separate chambers and free from all betrothment attire.

“Suppose we should arrange for a fitting. Though how we’re going to do that without arousing any suspicion here is beyond me.” “Perhaps we can go north, find a seamstress and a wigmaker there.”

Aaron did not patronise Y/N by pretending he understood his plight. He himself had never pictured himself with a wife; worse was that Y/N had never pictured himself to be a wife.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remain a woman?” He had said after Y/N had confessed during their third arranged rendezvous.

With venom spitting from each syllable, Y/N’s reply was one that he remembered vividly: “I was never a woman to start with.”

They were not friends, they barely spoke, but the enemy of the enemy is a friend. This sentiment made Y/N a begrudging ally.

However it did not make the occasions they had to pretend to be a happily wedded couple any simpler. Y/N did look most becoming in white, but Aaron knew that there was no worse day for Y/N than that day in the church. Any reminder was like a stake through the heart.

“I’ll arrange for the fitting,” Aaron quietly volunteered.

Y/N was quick with a brusque reply, “I can organise my own affairs.”

“Of course, but perhaps it would lighten your load if I took on those responsibilities.” Aaron paused as Y/N pushed aside his breakfast plate, his eggs now making his stomach turn. He used his newspaper as a shield, “And as your husband, I give you permission to dress how you please.”

Y/N blinked then nodded. He did not ever say thank you. That was his problem, Y/N, too proud. Too nervous to admit that he had been graciously allowed to exist like this because of his marriage to Aaron. As if that was ever any part of their agreement, both of them had blackmail worthy material. Y/N just seemed to forget that, or at least he was not the type of individual to dangle Aaron’s secrets before him like a carrot on a stick. Why Y/N thought that Aaron was that type though, he had some idea.

“A member of the bar?” was the response Aaron got from Y/N, disgust thinly veiled, upon their first chaperoned walk through the L/N estate. It must have seemed contradictory later down the line, to be a protector of the laws that criminalised his very own existence. It was not as uncommon as Y/N believed however, and there were much worse laws to break between trials than being attracted to men.

A man of his word, Aaron prepared for a fitting in the comfort of their own home. A friend of theirs was a tailor; accommodations were no economic issue. Of course, this friend did not know either of their secrets, but other than that, he was a companion who would be greeted warmly into their home.

Y/N watched the tailor from the chaise whilst pretending to be interested in a book. His eye would raise itself to see each adjustment made to Aaron’s wedding suit, which he had surprisingly kept – folded in a box at the farthest corner of the house. Then Y/N would go back to the page and reread the top few lines. Every time, Aaron would pretend not to notice. But the jiggle of Y/N’s knee, the absence of progression through the book’s narrative, taught him that Y/N was anticipating this fitting with something more positive than last time.

“All done, thank you, Aaron!” “Y/N, your turn.”

His book snapped shut and Y/N stepped up to the podium. Aaron swapped places with him without acting out the role of an aloof reader. As expected his expression was well disguised as neutral, but Aaron’s practice in law gifted him with a pair of spectacles into the soul. Y/N’s glee of the tape measure taking in his proportions was masked so that only his eyes smiled. Once or twice, the corner of his mouth ticked up, only to iron its creases out when the tailor moved into his eyeline. When asked what colour he would consider, Y/N mulled deliciously his options before selecting a gentle blue. His fingers were cautious but as soon as they touched the royal fabric offered, they fanned out and welcomed it for his new suit.

From the moment they broke apart, his hands were restless. Ticking against his teacup or tapping against his legs were two of their new favourite hobbies. Even when the suit arrived, Y/N could not keep himself still. His beautiful face was scrunched up in the mirror as he attempted for a third time to make the right knot in his cravat. The photographer was waiting for them downstairs.

Aaron sighed and knocked one knuckle to the door, “Allow me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I can do it myself.”

“I know. But this knot will look better.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror, before Y/N turned around and released his tie. His chin pointed parallel to the carpet. His neck was still so as not to drop the breath he was holding. Aaron flicked with the tip of the cravat as his hands slotted it through, his focus on the column of Y/N’s throat, because meeting his gaze now was an impossible feat. They were too close for that. He bent the stalks of his collar into place then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. But that was not at all what he really regarded.

He cleared his throat, “There.”

As Aaron removed his hands, Y/N spun to face his reflection head on. “Adequate. You’ll have to teach me that one.”

Finally, they greeted their photographer, who had set up his camera in their garden. It was a lovely day, not to be wasted inside. At least that’s what the photographer said as he unceremoniously ushered them into place and posed them to his liking. There was no instruction for how to position their faces so Aaron kept his the same as their original wedding portrait.

His plan for relaxed facial features hit a bump in the road. As the photographer ducked beneath his sheet, Y/N snorted. His hand was quick to follow and it clapped over his mouth. The photographer emerged with concerned curiosity. A strand of his combover was standing on end.

“My apologies, there was a tickle in my throat.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head, his feet scuffing one inch’s worth of dirt before he regained composure.

The photographer tried again. Aaron could see, in the corner of his eye, that Y/N’s corners of his mouth weighed down to prevent a break but it was unsuccessful.

“Do forgive me,” He said, his voice quivering, “I remembered a jest from last week. It isn’t even worth the laughter it brings.”

Despite his detractions, Y/N kept guffawing to himself as the photographer kept dodging about his cloth and camera. It spilled from between his pressed lips like an overflowing goblet. Aaron had not heard such delight before. He would describe it as infectious if the joy in Y/N’s notes was comparable to a plague. No, this was intoxicating, a mead he would heartily drink until he too was giddy on the stuff. Y/N, clutching Aaron’s arm to stay standing, almost stumbled as Aaron bent over with equally bashful laughter.

“It would possibly suit you better if you sat,” said the photographer through a faux smile. He then ushered over to one of the benches, the one amidst the tulips, before he wrangled with his camera after them.

Seated on the cool marble, Aaron kept a few inches between himself and Y/N. Their hands took that space but waited to hold hands. Y/N was still shaking but his smile was minute now, replaced by mild embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said. But there was a twitch in his voice, a breath that indicated otherwise.

“No, not at all,” whispered Aaron, his head tilted against the invisible line between them.

Y/N turned, his nose pushing their boundary and almost brushing against Aaron’s cheek when he too turned to face him.

“At long last, we agree.”

Y/N’s lips betrayed him again. A bubble of laughter popped between them, letting out the smallest of smiles. Yet it shone through with such luminosity that it almost outdid the flash of the bulb as their photograph was taken. There was delight at the absence of the melancholy pose that a long exposure wedding portrait promised. Oh, the wonders of new technology.

As was with his new suit, Y/N practically waited by the door for the photographs. His hands were beyond ravenous for them by the time they arrived. They snatched at the envelope and tore with as much care as he could muster, his voice catching in the roof of his mouth as he called for Aaron.

On the chaise together, their knees were brought in close to rest the papers upon. Their faces looked as though they were carved into the paper with charcoal, smudged by an artist’s thumb. That radiant smile among it all was the centre of the photograph. Aaron noted the distance between them was mirrored in their past selves as they sifted through their options.

Then Y/N held aloft the ones for their respective families, “Sit with me while I pen the reply.”

Aaron was not usually welcome in Y/N’s study. Yet, as he pulled up a walnut wood chair with red velvet seat beside the bureau, behind Y/N’s matching one, he felt like he was in place. With anticipation, he watched the most passive aggressive comments that had ever been put to paper. All bar one was spun from Y/N’s inspiration. Aaron had but one to add and it took some convincing for Y/N to put it in his family’s correspondence – he was writing since his writing was far neater. Even so, there were a few loops of the ‘l’s that slanted when Y/N was particularly amused by something that Aaron had commented on.

“There,” Y/N said as he closed the second of two envelopes with crimson wax. As he lifted the seal, he spoke quieter, “Just a thought, nothing more, but I almost wish I could see their faces. Only the first second though.” The seal was placed in his drawer and the letters were left in the centre of the desk while one remaining photograph was selected by Y/N, “I want to keep this. In the drawing room.”

Aaron’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, “You do?”

Y/N nodded once with finality, his broad smile returning, “It’s the first time I was myself in a long time, the best I’ve ever looked! Besides, I am your husband and I say it will stand above the fireplace by the end of the week – once I find a suitable frame.”

He held it up, squinting to imagine what frame might work best with the décor. His chair itching to be closer, Hotch leant over and cupped his hand over Y/N’s so that he could see the photograph too. It stayed there, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Hotchner could have sworn that Y/N’s back slacked and swayed to the right an inch, almost resting against his shoulder beside Aaron’s.

Y/N’s quiet voice was back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You do not have to say thank you.”

“When are you going to stop telling me what to do?”

There was no accusation in it; it was asked as simply as one would ask for another napkin. But Aaron did not quite know how to answer.

“I don’t mean to come across as a drill sergeant,” He said softly.

“Aaron,” Y/N lowered their hands but kept them together beside his lap, “You don’t have to worry about me and what I’m going to do, just like I don’t have to worry about you.”

And what Aaron thought about being ignorant of an answer before, that became a lie. Aaron wanted to worry about Y/N, and he did worry. Not for himself or his identity being exposed, but because he did care for his husband. He didn’t want to worry or have Y/N be worried about control in their home. They should exist as equals, not in blackmail but in respect. Maybe one day, in love.

Aaron settled instead for: “My apologies. And I thank you too. It was the first time I was myself as well.”

Y/N blinked, then avoided his stare. It was a revelation therefore when he laced his fingers with Aaron’s for the briefest of squeeze and replied, “No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure.”

Then the bell tinkled for breakfast and the two men were up on their feet. Y/N was in the dining room first. He sat two away from the head of the table this time. With enough care to drag his chair loudly across the floor, Aaron mirrored that seating, dragging his cutlery and crockery into place. As they were served, Y/N swiped the newspaper before his husband could with a smirk hidden behind the pages. Hotchner poured his coffee and smiled into the brew. He was, for once, thoroughly glad that they had breakfast together.

----> ----> ----> ----> ---->

Tagging

Aaron Hotchner fics: @averyhotchner​

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #r: male #r: trans male #wc: 2k+ #my writing

[aotopmha]

Attack on Titan Series Thoughts

I've been mulling over Attack on Titan's ending and how I'd rate the whole story from all kinds of angles and I've reached the conclusion that above all else, the ending is really fucking annoying.

A great or a terrible ending would help me make my mind up much more easily.

If it's great, it's great. If it's terrible it's a good story with a terrible ending.

But instead, it is a mixed bag: there are things about it I like a lot and things about it I don't like.

It is a very common belief that the ending is paramount to a story's quality, but I've found that this is not really true for me. My favourite anime ever pretty much doesn't even have a proper ending. My needs for an ending basically encompass some sort of sense of closure and that's about it.

Especially longer-running series often either make the journey worth it just by being as long as they are (so a pretty generic ending is okay) or fall off in quality long before they are done. But AoT is neither of these for me.

AoT in this sense is complicated for me because I can't decide whether the ending impacted the quality of the story or not depending on which aspect of the ending I focus on.

Some details make it immensely satisfying to me and some details sour it a little bit.

I think right now the good and bad things balance out so in general nothing changes about how I view the story overall.

In basics, I really like the emotional core of Attack on Titan, but I've always found it flawed on the technical level.

I'd give the story a 10 just for how much it emotionally engaged me and made me care. This story is the reason why I started this blog and I became active talking about media in the first place.

For a time I was losing the sense of fun of being a fan: people just became really hostile when discussing stuff.

But this past week or so has been incredible in my inbox, reminding me of the highs of being a fan, with so many wonderful messages.

Other stories have made me more angry, made me cry more or laugh more, but AoT made me feel the biggest spectrum of feelings.

No other story has made me do this, at most I only became a member of various forums as a random member; I didn't create a blog with the aim to talk about one.

From a technical level, I would give it a 6-7 depending on the section of the story.

The foreshadowing for various twists is pretty loose from start to finish, there is a bunch of redundant scenes all over the story and the pacing can be really uneven. It is not nearly as *well-crafted* of a story in my eyes as I see people praise it to be.

The art is a pretty huge mess at points, too.

I think sometimes the fact that this is the author's very first actual long-running story very much shines through. I think only a beginner would dare to employ historical imagery as bluntly as Isayama did, too, for example.

But to me the emotional core is magical.

The average of these two aspects, emotional and technical, would be around 8-8.5.

But at the same time, when I finished that last chapter I felt like I couldn't rate it and this has rarely happened to me.

I've kind of slowly distanced myself from number ratings in general because consuming media is a very emotional and personal thing and exploring it via positives and negatives feels much more apt.

From that perspective, I think the story is incredibly emotionally intelligent and understands humanity really well.

Stemming from that in turn, I think themes are the strongest aspect of the story next to characters. While I think the story faltered in a some instances when it came to characters, I think the themes mostly stood tall all the way through.

I think it ended up giving answers to and looping back to ideas it started with: seeing the good in the cruel world, facing humanity's unending desire for conflict and need to survive, living without regrets, learning to see the world in more complex shades of gray rather than black and whites and learning to do the right thing when needed.

As a mystery box, it does answer pretty much all of the big mysteries of the story and I think I don't really take issue with any of the big answers except maybe one very specific one. The numerous twists throughout the story range from absolutely genius to fairly typical. Again, the foreshadowing gets a lot of praise when it comes to this story, but I think a lot of the story actually isn't planned. Isayama just uses some details in clever ways to make it seem like it was planned.

I think that is a skill in itself that never gets nearly enough credit, but in the end, I think that is the weakest part of the story along with the world itself.

I like the walls themselves and I really like some of the Titan designs, but other than that I never had much interest in the world of AoT on its own. It always has to be connected to characters or themes for me to care. The crystal cave, time sand dunes and certain Titan skeleton are the most interesting settings in the story for me in that sense.

I think it does also fall in the pit of some pretty frustrating dark fantasy tropes, most specifically with a certain blonde female character who had one of the best character arcs in the story that was kind of just thrown under the bus.

It can't quite escape the pitfalls of that genre and it just so happens to be my favourite genre of story, so I constantly see excessive shock value rape, forced pregnancy and gay erasure happen in stories that I think are great otherwise. It's frustrating.

I hoped AoT would be better than that because for so long it was, but it didn't end up being as such.

But at the same time, I think most of its female cast still ended up being pretty great and did some pretty fun archetype-defying stuff. It's a pretty strange dichotomy. It is actually much better than most dark fantasy, but not quite there yet.

This is actually true for the male cast, too, I think. It does some fun playing around with all of the character archetypes.

The story's action scenes are thrilling and some of the action setpieces are really memorable. The final arc really shines in that sense to me. As a horror spectacle it is especially excellent.

Despite sometimes coming across as narmy/unintentionally funny, it still somehow manages to make the Titans a credible threat and this is true throughout the entire story, for different, evolving reasons.

I think the Titans have become iconic for a reason and never lost the luster throughout any of the story.

Along with that, my final point is that it is one of the few stories that sets up a kill 'em all setting that actually kills major characters with substantial focus and commits to it. It also doesn't kill too many characters where no character ever gets to actually develop.

So, considering all of what I listed above, what would my general thoughts be?

I think it still is a story worth checking out.

Personally I obviously love the story as a whole.

But I think any fan of dark fantasy/sci-fi could get a bunch of entertainment out of it: above all I think it is an extremely digestable series.

It's sometimes a very dense read, but I never felt it was a "hard" read. It's a very dark story with a lot of horrible things happening, but I never felt it was difficult to get through even in its darkest of moments.

My favourite characters ended up being Gabi, Reiner, Eren, Pieck, Armin and Annie. Zeke and Hange get a shoutout, too.

My favourite chapters ended up being 71, 82, 100, 122, 131 and 137.

Who are you guys' favourite characters and what are your favourite chapters and why?

Send me an ask explaining why for fun! (Or ask me for my reasonings?)

#Attack on Titan #Shingeki no Kyojin #AoT 139 #SnK 139 #AoT manga #SnK manga #AoT #SnK #Eren #Mikasa #Armin #Levi #Eren Jaeger #Eren Yeager #Mikasa Ackermann #Armin Arlert #Levi Ackermann #Reiner Braun #Reiner #Annie #Annie Leonhardt #Colossal Titan #Bertholt Hoover #Bertholdt Hoover #Hange #Hange Zoe

[stillness-in-green]

Spinaraki Week Level 2, Day Four: Control | Edge

A return to a scenario I brainstormed up last time with/for @codenamesazanka: the “Shigaraki and Spinner Karma Houdini their way out the end of the series and run off to be vigilantes in BNHA!Macau” AU.  That and, “Shigaraki’s hanging onto Mr. Compress’s quirk while he lays low,” is all the context you really need for this, but if you want more, it’s here.

Of course, back in August, there was still a lot we didn’t know yet about Shigaraki and vestiges...

(Content Notes: sleep paralysis, some body horror, AFO being Too Close.)

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

“So how are things going with you?” Compress asks him, the wind snapping so loud in his coat that he has to raise his voice to be heard over it.  Somehow his hat doesn’t blow off, though, despite the fact that they’re having this conversation on top of New Oumun’s high-speed monorail.  “Putting me to good use, I trust?”

Shigaraki sits sprawled across the roof of the train car, watching the buildings blur past, old alternating with new.  It’s too bright out, but that’s how Compress’s dreams usually are—all vivid colors and frivolous moving parts to distract from what’s going on below the surface.

He shrugs in answer.  “Used you to help us jump a high roller in his own suite last week.  Threw all his chips out the window when we were done.  We figured it’s what you would have wanted.”

Compress laughs, twirling his cane.  “I hope you saved enough for a lobster dinner.  I would have considered that an important component of my evening.”

“Would’ve had to pay for dry cleaning first,” Shigaraki replies, the smile tugging at his face still feeling strange after all this time.

“Ah, yes, the spectacle of you in a dress suit.  You—”  

Shigaraki looks up when the vestige breaks off with a hum of dissatisfaction.  “What?”

Compress tells him, “Hold on.”

Movement in the corner of his eye, something broad-chested but quick, and then the cane’s hitting him dead in the chest.  Pushed over the side, he plummets, catching just a glimpse of the form as it jumps after him.  Overhead, the train flickers by, light rebounding off the windows, the sound of it a high, sibilant humming.

There’s a flash of black; the wind dies.  

In the dark, the whistling movement of the monorail transitions to the long, even sweeping of a blade over a whetstone.  There’s a familiar heavy sensation in his chest.  Shigaraki’s eyes flick open.

Sensei.  Ass planted on Shigaraki’s chest like it’s just the nearest patch of clean ground available to sit on.  The weight burns, clips his breath short.  Sensei looks down at him, head wreathed in smoke that doesn’t quite cover the edges of his hair, the brightness in his eyes.  He smiles—a fitful, twitching little quirk of his lips like he’s trying not to laugh at something—and raises one finger to his mouth.

Get out, Shigaraki tries to tell him, but his lips won’t move.  Sensei just reaches down and brushes at his hair, combing disarrayed strands out of his eyes.  The boundaries of the room throb in time with his depressed heart rate.  The cool rasping of metal on stone continues unabated.

Shigaraki’s body pulls up into a sitting position.  His head swims with vertigo.  Sensei’s sitting behind him now, chest to his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders. The edge of the cologne he used to wear back before All Might collapsed his skull worms its way into Shigaraki’s nostrils, warm musk and a hint of sage.

“A little walkabout, Tomura,” he breathes.  A gnat in Tomura’s ear, one he can’t lift an arm to swat at.  “For old time’s sake.”

Get out.  Shigaraki’s eyes burn; his shallow breathing stays regular, level, even through the rising of frantic anger in his throat.  His heartbeat roars low in his ears, rattling through the walls of their tiny apartment like a tidal wave about to make landfall.

All For One stands him up, tugging his loose shirt into place from where it got twisted around in his sleep.  His heart pounds harder, but still so damn slow; dull clouds of red afterimage drift around the ceiling as his arms stretch up, fingers kneading at empty air.

Sensei fists his hand in Tomura’s shirt—his flesh twists in the grasp; he can’t breathe—and pulls him forward, and finally the whetstone sound scratches to a halt.

“Shigaraki?”  Surrounded in knives and polishing cloths, Spinner looks up at him from the low table in front of the couch, his favorite katana fallen still mid-stroke halfway across the stone.

“Be it ever so humble, hmm?” Sensei asks, his tone amused as his glance takes in the peeling paint, the uneven floor, the clutter.  Shigaraki’s eyes move away from Spinner and over to the window.  “Ah, Tomura; what to do with you?”

Let me go, old man!  You lose this every time!  He tries to force his eyes closed, to focus, but between All For One and the damn sleep paralysis, he’s apparently not authorized for use of his muscles right now.  As his feet walk him over to the window, the smells of the city spin free association images across his vision—the tired smile on the woman running the gai daan jai stall on the corner; Spinner working polish into his and Toga’s blades in their downtime during those weeks against Machia; Sensei sitting down beside him in his old bed and rubbing his shoulder until he could move again, winding a supportive arm around his back as he shook through the remnants of panic afterward.

In the distance, the casino towers climb over everything, obelisks stamped black against the sunset, periodically caught in the sweeping beam of their own spotlights.  Sensei leans in from behind him, fingers knitting together over the top of Shigaraki’s head, elbows on his shoulders, and sighs appreciatively. The vibrations of it buzz through him in a steady thrum.

“We should be up there, you know,” All For One says.  “And that’s just for a start.”

Spinner says something behind him, specific words muffled by the blood rushing in Shigaraki’s ears.

The feel of the sword resting on the side of his neck is a lot clearer.

All For One chuckles, and Sensei slides his arm down Shigaraki’s clavicle, fingers hooking in beneath skin and bone, flesh melting into flesh.  He pivots them around to meet Spinner’s stare, steady at the other end of an outstretched sword-arm the apartment only barely has room for.

“Still so dedicated, Iguchi-kun,” All For One drawls, the grin stretching wide to show teeth.  “But are you really satisfied with the one you chose to follow just scraping by in a place like this?”

Like the Doc’s lab was any better, Shigaraki thinks at him with all the vitriol he can muster. The katana isn’t quite turned all the way in, the flat of the metal cold and grounding, its freshly honed edge just a reminder of a promise.  

“We have our own kitchen and enough space to curtain off the bedroom.  That’s luxurious compared to how some people here live,” Spinner answers, curt anger in his eyes.

“But fear, too,” Sensei says, easy bordering on idle even as All For One is responding using Shigaraki’s tongue, Shigaraki’s mouth.  Sensei’s broad fingertips trail one at a time over Shigaraki’s ribcage, and if Shigaraki couldn’t breathe before, he barely wants to now, trying to keep his lungs from so much as brushing up against those probing hands even as pain starts to clang between his temples.  “He’s never been able to hide how afraid of us he is.”

And that’s not even worth arguing with.  Shigaraki stares into Spinner’s eyes—the anger, yeah, the fear, sure, but there’s awareness there, too, because they talked about this before, and Spinner knows what he’s doing, beyond just keeping himself out of grabbing distance.

Spinner’s mouth moves, and the motion of it doesn’t match what Shigaraki hears—“Shigaraki, you got this?”—but it’s what his eyes are saying anyway as the edge of the blade turns in.

It’s barely anything, hardly even enough to raise the white line of a papercut, much less draw any blood. But, hyper-aware of his locked-up body, Shigaraki latches onto it, the impossibly fine variegation of the blade pattern pressing into his skin with as much clarity as Spinner’s open hand, the scales a rough, insistent comfort.

He reaches up and closes his good hand around the bare blade.  Pain, sweet and hot and real, scores his palm and the insides of his fingers, and there’s a tsk of annoyance from Sensei as All For One falls away under the sudden sensation of slick wetness oozing past his knuckles.

Spinner catches him as his knees give out and the sword clatters to the floor.

“Shit,” Spinner breathes, and, “Let me see.”  He lowers them down to the ground, one arm clutching Shigaraki tight around the waist.  With his other hand, he gingerly turns Shigaraki’s palm towards the light.

“S’fine,” Shigaraki mumbles, rubbing at his face with his left hand.  He’s trembling, which is annoying, but typical of coming out of a sleep paralysis spell—all that strain he was putting on muscles that couldn’t respond right until just now.  The pain’s already fading, his regeneration kicking in just like it was designed to.

Spinner watches the wounds close up anyway, and conspicuously exhales once they do.

“He still talking?” he asks in an undertone, knitting their fingers together and dropping their hands back into their laps.  His thumb rubs absently over Shigaraki’s knuckle, claw scratching across his skin.

“Nah,” Shigaraki answers, tucking his head up into the curve of Spinner’s neck.  “He’s pretty quiet these days.”

“Not quiet enough,” comes the grumble, and Shigaraki huffs in agreement.  They sit that way for another minute, quiet as the noise of the city carries on around them.  Shigaraki breathes it in, lets it ground him—as he’s been finding for the last couple years, the more he’s got to ground him, the better.  Wanting to tear down everything doesn’t give you a very stable foundation to fight for control from—go figure.

Finally, as the first moth finds its way in to start fluttering around the lamp, he straightens up, tugging free of Spinner’s hands.  His partner gives him a plaintive look, at which Shigaraki grins.

“Scum of the city’s not gonna off themselves, Spinner.”

Spinner shakes his head, but he’s already fighting off a grin himself.  “Yeah, yeah.  Let me clean my sword off and I’ll be good to go.”

#spinarakiweeklevel2 #shigaraki tomura #iguchi shuuichi #spinner bnha #all for one #afo bnha #boku no hero academia #my writing #ficcing #bnha manga spoilers

[qqueenofhades]

Top 3 things I loved about Deus Vult: 1. All the historical and cultural details and how neatly they tied into and elevated the story, without it feeling like heavy handed exposition or scoring points for accuracy. 2. How you showed how awful the crusades, and war in general, are, but without the sense of "hurr durr ye olden days were all terrible", but instead contrasting things like the time Yusuf spent with his mother, or their time together in Constantinople, versus what the crusades... 1/2

2/2... did to those places, and the people - the bit that really hit me was the introduction to Phil, and his propensity for screaming like he's never been fed in his life, and then seeing him lying in the street - that hurt bruh. 3. The whole idea, best exemplified in Nicky & Quynh's conversation that hundreds of years of pain and loss and heartbreak don't have to turn you into a grimdark (tm) angsty tool, but instead it's an endless series of chances to do the right thing... 

3/2 And even if that right thing isn't guiding humanity to this wonderful utopia, but just standing up for what is good and right, and speaking for them as has no voices. But yeah, whole thing was incredible and I really really loved it and thanks for writing it 

Ahaha, I did change the title slightly, to Deo Volente, as a commenter kindly reminded me that (because they ruin everything) white supremacists and the alt-right have co-opted the other version of the phrase for their Nazi crusades fantasia, and I obviously did not want any confusion or misunderstanding with that. “Deo volente” means the same thing in Latin, just a slightly different version of the phrase (”God willing” vs “God wills it.”) So yes, sigh. White supremacists: still the worst.

Anyway, I’m so happy that you enjoyed it so much, and this comment is delightful to me because it picks up on many of the things that I personally enjoyed about this fic (as I said, possibly the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written). I’ve had so many lovely comments on AO3 raving over the history, that either they knew some of it already or they’re learning so much of it, and as an early career academic who’s struggling with the job market and feeling useless that I currently can’t do professionally what I’m good at: really,you have NO IDEA how much it truly warms my heart to have people tell me that I’m teaching them something real and valuable (and in the course of gay historical romance enemies to lovers Feelings, which we all have to admit has to be a pretty painless way to do it?) Obviously, anybody who has spent two seconds on my blog knows that I have Strong Opinions on the “hurr durr ye olden days were all terrible” thing, and there was never any chance that was happening. Instead, I very much wanted to do exactly as you say: creating these moments of beauty and wonder and magic, showing how happy they were in places like Constantinople, and then what the crusades ultimately did to those beautiful things, and how it got turned and twisted into something so awful (and frankly, was pretty awful to start with). Obviously this is VERY relevant to what’s going on right now, and the entire “War on Terror,” and.... yes. It’s very relevant to the arc and themes of the whole story and especially post-9/11.

(And yes, Phil. That whole latter third of the chapter during the sacking of Constantinople, as noted, just gives me a lot of emotions. It’s fine.)

And I ended up LOVING Nicky and Quynh’s relationship (and hurting myself deeply as a result). Obviously we never see them together in canon, we just hear Nicky (and Joe) explaining what happened to her, and that whole conversation is deeply poignant in that we KNOW what’s going to happen to Quynh. She’s going to face an even worse kind of totally dehumanizing and insanity-causing experience, she’s going to be put in the position of whether to completely turn her back on everything she loved and swear herself to revenge, and her expressing that fear that she wouldn’t be strong enough to resist that temptation, that she might BECOME a monster, is... ouch. (Where is my sequel goddammit I need the Quynh Reunion and the feelings not just with Andy but Nicky and Joe /gnaws own arm off.) And obviously Nicky being the world’s biggest romantic as usual and talking about how he didn’t even consider giving into revenge long-term because Joe was there, and he always knew that was worth more. In other news, I hate them.

ALSO YES, the idea that you CAN take pain and it can make you kinder, that we all have a choice as to how to respond to all the bad things happening around us (even if not on the same scale/long-term view as the immortals). We’ve all learned that by how utterly much of a shitshow 2020 is for everyone, and I think a lot about the lesson that,  unlike every single Grimdark Fantasy (tm) and Macho Post Apocalyptic Fantasy Where Only The Strong Survive, we can become better even in the face of total darkness, and in fact, it’s the only way forward to any kind of future for anyone. The so-called “strong” are throwing fits over being forced to wear face masks in a pandemic and sitting on their hands while America descends into fascism, while in places like Portland, we have middle-aged mothers in bicycle helmets standing in a human chain to protect BLM protestors from the literal American Gestapo. So after Joe and Nicky try to fix everything permanently from on high with the Sixth Crusade, and then that doesn’t work, they have to reckon with the fact that like everyone else’s, their lives are going to be a series of choices, of small steps, of making things better where they can, and accepting that that will not be forever, rather than just doing it once and thinking that will work forever. They likewise can’t blame ordinary people for not living long enough to see the same things that they do, and they have to understand that they’ll see it crumble over and over, and still hold onto their goodness and desire to do the right thing, and.... yes.

They can’t just work with the kings and sultans and powerful people of the world and try to think that that’s the solution (as Nicky says during their conversation in Malta in chapter 5). They have to stand with the little people, the powerless, the people who aren’t going to get paid attention to in any of these wars, and do what they can, when they can, even in the face of total horror (as is the case with Joe in chapter 6). I really LOVE the movie (and love it more with every rewatch) for so totally demolishing the idea that a) superheroes can only Fix Big Things and b) that being kind even in the smallest and anonymous ways doesn’t ultimately matter. Because it DOES. We’ve all justifiably bagged on Marvel for totally giving into hollow CGI spectacle rather than any kind of authentic conflict that feels personal and constant manufactured conflict between the characters, and on GOT for “everyone is secretly awful and no good deed goes unpunished,” and I really, truly love the fact that the core message of The Old Guard is to do good for the most vulnerable among us, and that it DOES make a difference. Because there are so, so many of the usual tired tropes and cliches that they could have done, and they didn’t. It’s optimistic and hopeful and makes a statement about moral good without being saccharine; it doesn’t feel like we’re being force-fed some Disneyfied version of good and evil, but rather that the good can exist with, and ultimately overcome, even the worst evil. So that was a theme I also wanted to explore in the fic, with both the beauty and the pain, and obviously I also emotioned over that.

Just. Gah. Anyway. I had feelings about that story. Thanks for giving me a chance to talk about some of them.

#the old guard meta #tobsjpalfrey #ask #dvla asks

[metalandmagi]

Summer 2020 Anime Worth Watching!

Apparently it’s time for the summer anime season, even though it feels like time is meaningless at this point. But somehow, there are still new shows coming out, so if you’re looking for something to watch when you’re stuck at home, here’s a list of the first impressions I got from this season. I don’t really know if it’s going to be worth it, considering how the spring season delayed so much, but here we are. 

As always, not all of these are available on Crunchyroll, but I’ll put a * next to the ones that are.

And if you’re looking for a bit more variety, I have lists for 2019 and the rest of this year’s seasons too...because remember when there was good anime being released instead of just everything being an ecchi or a second season?

2019 master list

My master list for every season of 2020 anime

New Shows!

*The God of High School: An over the top action anime consisting of one big tournament arc! It follows a group of teenagers competing in the epic “god of high school” martial arts tournament to determine the best fighter in the country. Following in the footsteps of Tower of God, this is the newest “crunchyroll original” that is being adapted from a South Korean webcomic. You can tell from the first episode that this will be a spectacle with crazy characters and lots of wild action and humor!

Great Pretender: When a Japanese con man pickpockets the wrong person, he ends up hopping on a plane to Los Angeles and getting wrapped up in a scheme with a sassy Frenchman named Laurent...who basically runs the mafia. There’s humor, there’s plot, there’s great characters, and it’s kinda gay. It’s an exciting original anime from studio Wit, so the animation is bursting with character, and both the music and the general vibe remind me a lot of Baccano or even Lupin III. And since it takes place in America with several foreign characters, there's hilarious English and accent shenanigans abound! The bad news is it’s still in Netflix jail, so if you want to watch it legally you’re kinda stuck for now. 

Japan Sinks 2020: A giant earthquake hits Japan, and a family must cope with the mayhem together. Because what the hell else could possibly go wrong this year? This is a new series (based on a novel) made by Masaaki Yuasa, the guy behind Ride Your Wave and Walk On Girl, if that tells you anything about the style of this anime. I’ve only watched the first two episodes so far, but I heard it goes from being a gripping realistic disaster series to a balls to the wall adventure. To be honest, disaster shows/movies freak me out, and this one is pretty devastating so far, which is a testament to how well it's made. But I appreciate that they include glimmers of hope when they’re needed. The best moments are the quiet ones that focus on the actual people and the narration that juxtaposes the time periods. There’s so much atmosphere, and the music really enhances the experience. And it’s all out on Netflix now, with a dub and a sub!

Deca-Dence: When humanity has been pushed to the edge of extinction by monsters called the Gadoll, the rest of civilization is forced to live in enormous mobile fortresses and send groups out to battle the unknown monsters. So basically like Mortal Engines but the fortresses can turn themselves into giant fists and punch the monsters. We follow a girl named Natsume who wants to be one of the soldiers who fight the Gadoll, but she is constantly rejected because of her prosthetic arm. So she ends up with five years of cleaning duty supervised by a stern but mysterious badass named Kaburagi. I honestly don’t care at all about the plot of the anime, because for me the characters are what drives everything, and these character dynamics are great. I’m not going to say it’s the most original story, but I think it’s fun so far. 

*Rent-a-Girlfriend: A typical harem/romance anime that follows the world’s most annoying protagonist named Kazuya. After Kazuya is dumped by his first girlfriend, he seeks out a rental girlfriend out of self pity….BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT’S A REAL SERVICE THAT EXISTS IN JAPAN?! Like you can actually rent moms/dads/girlfriends/boyfriends and so on. Anyway, his fake girlfriend is the picture of anime waifu perfection...until Kazuya starts being his typical asshole self and she reveals her true nature of being an absolute sass master who don’t take no shit from no boring ass main character. Shenanigans happen and the two of them end up having to pretend they are in a real relationship. And I’m just calling it now...Kazuya’s grandma is the real best girl of the series. If you want a harem that’s actually funny and doesn’t mind roasting the protagonist, give this one a shot. Although I wish this were just a straight up romance instead of a harem because there is no way in hell that any girl, let alone more than one would want actually to date this guy. 

Next Seasons and Continuations!

*Fruits Basket 2019 (Season 2): Thank goodness Fruits Basket wasn’t delayed or cancelled last season because sometimes I feel like it was the only thing getting me through the spring. I’ve ranted about how good it is enough by now. If it can’t brighten your year, then nothing will. Just watch it if you haven’t already. 

*Re:ZERO-Starting Life in Another World (Season 2): Subaru is still trapped in another world, and he’s still as angsty as ever, but that’s not going to stop him from constantly putting himself through hell when he keeps dying horribly every time he needs to reset the timeline! There are mysterious new villains, nobody knows who Rem is (again) and I think there’s a plot somewhere under all the suffer porn. Seriously though, this show is pretty cool (even if I was two years late to the party). It’s one of the most interesting isekai anime I’ve ever seen, and it feels like it’s acting as a deconstruction of the genre, kinda like how Madoka Magica is for magical girl anime...both shows certainly have enough crying. The story is weird but interesting, the world building is cool, the villains (and sometimes the heroes) are batshit crazy to watch, and I like its moments of humor. 

No Guns Life (season 2): The story of Juzo, the hard boiled detective who plays by his own rules continues in the second season of No Guns Life. In case you missed the first season, this is a mystery/action anime that feels like an old noir film had a cyberpunk baby. There’s underground conspiracies, there’s interesting side characters, and...oh yeah the main character has a gun for a head. That’s right. we came to see a bara detective with a literal gun for a face, but we stayed for the world building and mysterious plots!

*Fire Force (Season 2): I’m going to be honest here, I really didn’t know if I should include this one or not. I have a major love hate relationship with Fire Force, but I figured there may be other people out there who would like it more than I do. So in case you missed the first season, this show follows a group of firefighters who puts out fires caused by spontaneous combustion using a mixture of guns and super powers. It was created by Atsushi Ōkubo, aka the guy who made Soul Eater. So it’s bound to be amazing right?

Not necessarily. Strap in for this one lads. 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed with this show overall. Its main characters just aren’t that interesting most of the time, it can’t decide on what kind of show it wants to be, and so much of it just dragged for a good part of the series. I don’t know if it was a problem of pacing or if the plot was just that uninteresting for a while. The first couple episodes set up a very unique plot, filled with intriguing moral dilemmas. And then it proceeded to abandon everything interesting in favor of badly timed fan-service. It just couldn’t strike the balance that Soul Eater had between its humor and its sincerity. If they wanted to make an ecchi show, they should have just made one instead of inserting the same overplayed scenarios into every episode. I don’t care if a show has fan-service as long as it fits the tone, or if it only has certain episodes dedicated to playing up the humor. But Fire Force has a habit of just inserting it wherever it wants regardless of what’s actually happening in the episode. Also, some of the humor revolves around one of the main female characters who has a really messed up self image because she’s slightly more muscular, and not a tiny delicate flower like some of the other girls. Not going to pretend that doesn’t bug me. 

But that doesn’t mean there is nothing good about it! If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t have finished the first season, and I wouldn’t be including this one. So far, the second season has actually been funny because it made the first episode more like filler, instead of cramming in too much plot all at once. And to the surprise of no one, the animation is absolutely god tier. I wish it was being used for something other than clumsy fan-service, but it’s still really something to see. The world building is super creative and 100% my aesthetic, and there were a couple side characters I really loved later in the series (Benimaru). And I did like the twists and turns the series took later in the season when it actually focused on the conspiracy behind the fire force and the cult. When it follows the mysteries it sets up, it’s more fun to watch. Who would have thought? 

TLDR: There’s good stuff and there’s bad stuff. This show is really something you have to watch for yourself to decide if it’s going to be worth it. I’m going to at least try the second season, because I want to see where this goes, but it’s on thin ice. 

Honorable Mentions

Isekai edition! Both of these came out last season, but I hadn’t mentioned them when I made my spring list. But they’re both getting dubs now so I’m still counting them.

*My Next Life as a Villainess- All Routes Lead to Doom!: A twist on the isekai genre where our main protagonist wakes up as a character in her favorite otome game...only to find that she’s actually the bitchy rival side character who ends up either dead or exiled in every route of the game. So naturally she does everything she can to prevent this by becoming a sweet and caring supporting character...who inadvertently makes every single other character in the game fall in love with her. I ignored this show for the first few episodes because I need another isekai in the world like I need a hole in the head, but after hearing everyone rave about it, I caught up with it in no time. It’s a fun take on the otome game tropes, and it manages to be funny and sweet while not committing to any particular pairing.

*Ascendance of a Bookworm (Season 2): That’s right, it’s another isekai where an adult is reincarnated into the body of a child in a fantasy world. But this time, it’s a nerdy girl whose entire purpose in life revolves around reading books (can relate). However, when our main character Mine is thrust into this fantasy world, she quickly realizes that this particular fantasy setting is a little too...medieval  for her tastes...meaning a family of commoners like hers would have no clue how to read and books are only meant for rich people or the church. So of course Mine has to figure out how to either get her hands on some books or make them herself. This is a super cute show that I waited a long time to finally watch, and since the second season is finally being dubbed I wanted to shout it out. It’s just a wholesome isekai version of Dr. Stone. There’s no real action, but it’s a relaxing watch if nothing else. 

Well, there you have it. Hopefully nothing else gets delayed or cancelled because it’s pretty slim pickings as it is. And before anyone asks, I didn’t include GIBIATE because I thought it was a massive disappointment that somehow made a time travel horror anime plot boring. There’s also My Teen Romantic Comedy Snafu, but it’s been 5 years since I watched the other seasons and don’t remember anything about it. But there’s that too in case anyone is a fan of the series and didn’t know it got another season. 

See you next season…if the world is still here by then?

#anime recommendations #2020 anime worth watching #ascendence of a bookworm #my next life as a villaines #fire force #no guns life #re:zero #fruits basket 2019 #fruits basket #rent-a-girlfriend #deca-dence #japan sinks 2020 #great pretender #the god of high school

[og-danny-dorito]

Hannibal Lecter Headcanons

(my gay ass over here thirsting over a godamned cannibal, why did god create this walking disaster of horniness and unbridled depression)

S F W :

- as you may know, Hannibal Lecter is a man no short of expectations, a walking spectacle of perfection itself on the surface but a complicated being underneath to test the limits of what a monster really means

- he smokes

- while he's not an avid chain smoker he does do it every once in a while, like after killing someone who was particularly difficult or pondering something that requires deep thought

- he understands if you don't smoke or don't want to have him smoking around you, he'd rather be polite than give into whatever desire he's feeling. he can't stand the shitty ones though, they're just nasty

- he's had a lot of lovers in his life, but he only remembers vividly the few that did not try to change some of his habits out of fear

- he doesn't feel much emotion at all, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel

- although he may not admit it, he wants to be accepted by whoever he cares for over all else. this can tie back to his sister, although he barely feels it since when he was a very young man, not long after her death. he'd rather feel needed, wanted really. but this is only felt in certain moments, such as sitting in silence in a room with someone or watching their movements as they do basic actions that's can entail deeper meanings

- he's very, very good at body language and how to interpret it (obviously) and how to deal with social situations

- as a physiologist he's seen a lot of different mental cases, states of mind, viewpoints, problems, etc. and so being in a relationship with someone who might have something along those lines is literally not a problem (i mean he technically fell in love with will so-)

- I mean it's his job, so he knows how to calm down someone having a panic attack in no time, but if it'ssomeone closer to him he may have a moment of concern before dealing with it accordingly

- feelings aren't exactly something he's used to, for the most part so it'll freak him out a little if he finds himself caring for someone fairly easily. of course he still feels, it's just not as intense as it used to be. it's partially why he “slips” easily when there's a particular event with someone he genuinely cares about, leaving him in a slightly shocked state of acting upon instinct before treating it like anything else

- he's very self controlled, both physically and mentally

- I headcanon that when he was a teenager/young adult (watch Hannibal Rising to get what I mean) he was much less in control of what he felt in that moment. for instance, crying when Lady Murasaki told him to forgive the men he was intending to kill. it must've hurt to have someone so close to him be so disgusted with him like that

- this can also mean that he only feels afflicted emotionally by those he's very close to. lovers not really, but people he considers as those he needs to be up to a particular standard to outside of the realm of decency? it hurts when you look at him like you're scared of him, dissaproving of what he's doing as if you're negating his efforts

- he cares about you, only you

- seriously, there's not much he genuinely cares about enough to want to keep safe for all eternity, but you're his everything. you're not just some fucktoy, you're a person, a mind, and he wants to control and watch you tick like a clock he intends to take apart and rebuild. seriously, he just wants you to love him as much as he loves you

- it's very likely that you were kidnapped against your will

- he doesn't want a partner he can control, or minipulate easily without a serious challenge. he's not much of a sadist, but he'd like to see you strain under whatever kindof inflictions he's dealing mentally. he wants to see you resist, try to fight back. it's no time any fun to dissect something that's fragile and weak

- like Michael Myers (Aka: 100% That Bitch) he wants someone strong and full of courage, someone he can see fighting for the innocent or fighting to protect something till the end of the line. your courage is what really gets to him, the fact that you won't let anyone run over you regardless of who they are

- your fighting spirit also gets him just a little bit exited when you talk back to him or snap at him when he's angry with you just an fyi

- anyway back to the less horny shit

- this may seem off topic but do you remember when deadpool’s creator said he was “pansexual” by giving a really bad definition for it and lowkey seeming kindof ignorant on what being pansexual is?

- Hannibal is sort of like that pansexual, but think of him as only liking someone when it's convenient. usually he only pretends to be romantically interested in someone because it gains him the upper hand, both males and females, but down to his core he's probably not capable of falling in love with someone unless he seriously, genuinely means it. so far this has only been males and females (cough cough lady murasaki, will graham, etc. cough cough)

- for him to genuinely love someone you need to first love him platonically, actually giving off the feeling of really caring for his wellbeing, even if he does eat people. unless he doesn't really like you prior to having you love him, he'll end up finding himself drawn to you

- it's very rare that he'll love someone first, but in the instance he does it'll probably end in a Stockholm Syndrome sort of thing where you end up loving him eventually. it's kindof dogmatic, but I mean that's just how it is. he's an intelligent psychopath with an understand of humans’ brain patterns. do you really not expect him to use that to his advantage?

- if you do expect it tho and you're still into that then you may just be a horny bastard dude idk what to tell u

- phsycially id suspect that he'd want someone who physically is weaker than him. it's a reminder of sorts, that he still has power over you no matter what. if you're shorter he's definitely into that too but this doesn't mean he isn't into beefcakes

- tbh, he kindof likes a rugged sort of look on someone. while he does like to feel powerful, he also enjoys being able to have a worthy opponent. scars are also fascinating to him. to him it's almost like art, precious and unique in their own way. plus, he himself said they were reminders of the past, so they must have good stories attached to them

- oOO ppl in suits are nice too. like godam dude if you walk up wearing a nice suit looking all clean cut n shit there's a 100% chance you're getting rawed before you can even walk out the door

- in his free time, he'd rather spend time with you above all else. simply having you in the room is nice for him, regardless of how busy he is. if he's working he'd prefer you on his lap or sitting right next to him

- physical affection is something he's actually pretty damn good with, considering his hand is almost always on you. you can think of this as one of his Jedi mind tricks to let you know you're his, but he's kindof shy about it in public the first time

- but his shyness changes once he sees that if his hand isn't directly on you people...gawk at you. and he HATES that

- you'll feel a sudden hand fly to your waist, pulling you closer as he seems not to even register what he's doing. you squeak

- “h-hey! What was that for?”

- “Should I have asked permission first, or do you like the roughness?”

- “Is this because that guy was looking at me too much?”

- “...are you implying that I'm jealous?”

- “Oh my god-”

- yeah, he’ll deny it when asked if he's being jealous, but he is. he's very, very jealous and very very possessive. of course he's already pretty well composed, and he's a master at hiding his facial expressions, but that doesn't mean he won't quirk a brow or exhale slowly if you're being provoked in any way shape or form. expect the person who was annoying you to be gone. but don't worry about their suspicious dissapearence, instead sit down and have dinner! he's serving a nice pot pie with some Brussels sprouts and whatever other side dish you want! where'd the meat come from? that's not important, just relax

- he's sure he made the person more exquisite now that you actually enjoy them without having to talk to them

- oh! he obviously does most of the cooking, but if you can cook he's definitely up to critique and give you advice. of course you can only use his cuts of meat, and he'd much rather help you with cooking than let you do all the work. domestically he's the perfect partner since he's already fairly good at living on his own, and prefers to take care of others rather than get taken care of

- idealy he'd like to go out to a nice place to eat for a date, or just spending some time alone with you in front of the fire is fine with him. as long as you're near him. he dislikes places where there's too many people or just not a good area of town to be in in the first place, but honestly he's always been inclined to things that reek of upper class or fancy themes

- he loves to spoil you too, buying you nice things or nice clothes and making you wear them almost all the time. he doesn't really expect anything in return, but if you can't figure out a gift that's within your paycheck you can always make him something or pay him in - EHEM - other ways (you know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

- although it's kindof sad, he's got a lot of ptsd from when he was a child. of course he's not open to talking about it, but just staying with him when he has a nightmare or placing your hands on his waist when he's in that state will calm him down in no time, although it's very rare 

- he'd never hurt you, but he can grow a bit distant at times when he's particularly angry. if your relationship is more manipulative, he might resort to mental abuse as a way to keep you in line. but it's unlikely you'll even be living for very long if that's what your relationship is

- hannibal’s a man of few words, so he may not say I love you very often. he means it though when he does, although it's hard to get out the first time

- he's a one of a kind lover outside of the whole killing people thing, so once you actually get used to his cannibalistic ways and meet all his standards so as not to hurt you, expect to be treated like a queen/king that even outshines the greatest nobles. you are his, and it will take divine intervention from Satan himself to keep you apart as far as he's concerned

#hannibal lecter #hannibal #Hannibal 2013 #silence of the lambs #movies books #headcanons #hannibal Lecter headcanons #hannibal the cannibal #hannibal headcanons #horror #horror movies #horror shows #horror headcanons

[intim3ate]

Kinktober Day 2 - Underwear | Dave/John [Homestuck]

Dave Strider visits John Egbert. John Egbert answers the door in his underwear. Dave Strider makes a bad decision. But that bad decision may actually turn out to be the best decision of his life.

Second Kinktober fic. I... just really like DaveJohn and I guess that never stopped being a thing. It is kinda wild that I’m writing Homestuck in 2019, though.

Writing Dave was really fun. I super got into his rambling. 

Fair warning: this was based on a joke I came up with for myself. Dave time travelling to jack off and not get caught? Um, yes pls.

Not a commission, but I’m doing kinktober commissions all month! Info can be found here. Please check it out!

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Patreon | Leave a Tip?

------

Sometimes John forgets that Dave isn't straight.

Even after that long, excruciatingly bad talk they’d had years ago, and all the excruciatingly awkward talks and reminders since, John still hasn’t quite gotten a grasp on his best friend’s sexuality. He still tends to think in terms of gay-straight-nothing-in-between, which… isn't exactly ideal most of the time.

Except sometimes it totally is.

Sometimes, John forgetting that Dave is not-a-heterosexual is the greatest blessing a man could ever be cursed with. It means that, on occasion, John would do things without thinking, like change a shirt he spilled his drink all over right in front of Dave, or put an arm around his best friend when he’s really excited about something, or grab his hand to show him something cool, or not care about sharing a bed when they end up having an impromptu sleepover. It’s great because it means Dave can enjoy John going all stupid sexy Egbert on him and perv on his best friend and John won’t even realize. On that front, at least, life is good. Sometimes.

Other times, it’s incredibly inconvenient. Like right now, for instance.

Dave stands outside John's house, hands in his pockets as he waits for the door to swing open and John to smile at him with that adorable buck-toothed grin of his. He hears motion from inside the house, which means John is around and didn’t forget about their hangout plans, but as usual it seems like the goof spent his time dicking around with fake arms and magic chests and shit instead of getting ready.  

"Just a minute!" John calls from inside. Dave hears the pounding of feet rushing down the stairs, and then suddenly the telltale click of the doorknob turning..

The door swings open. Dave’s mouth goes dry.

"Hey! Sorry about that,” John says, the smile Dave had so looking forward to seeing going completely unseen due to his eyes being drawn… elsewhere. “I'll just be a sec. Come on in though, make yourself at home!"

Dave doesn't trust his voice not to crack, so he doesn't say anything; he just nods, cool as a cucumber, cool as a corpse six feet under arctic ice, cool as a penguin's ballsack. Wait, do penguins even have those?

Who fucking cares about penguins , Dave thinks to himself as he watches John Egbert run up the stairs completely naked but for the silky pair of hip-snuggling, ass-framing, rump-hugging pair of boxer-briefs he has on.

Fuck.

Dave looks helplessly up the stairs after John, trying in vain to get the image of his best friend's perfect ass (framed by what is quite possibly the sexiest pair of men's underwear Dave has ever seen) out of his mind. Since when does John go for the fancy stuff? Where are his stupidly dorky and distinctly unsexy goofball slime boxers? Have his hot mom's luxurious lifestyle choices finally rubbed off on him?

Oh, god. Did she pick those out for him?

Dave bites down on the inside of his cheek almost hard enough to draw blood in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the mental image of John and Jane trying on underwear together. Jane twirls her finger to tell John to turn around, and he does, and she makes a comment about how they match the bra and panties she has on and no, no, no, bad, do not think about your best friend and his foxy as hell mother half-naked together--

He can't stop it. Sure, he can shut the thought down, but the damage is already done. He's uncomfortably aroused, dick already half-hard and starting to pitch a tent in his jeans. The timing couldn’t be worse; he can still hear John upstairs, moving around, and fuck Dave no stop thinking about his ass swaying in those stupid gorgeous unreasonably sexy boxers--

He's just beginning to debate his options (get the fuck out of here or get the fuck out of here ) when a noise catches his attention. From somewhere next to him a door clicks open; Dave turns to see who else could possibly be in John's house right now, and...

"Oh hell no," he says, the moment he comes face-to-face with himself. " Fuck no. No way. Fuck this, this isn’t happening, I’m not--"

"Sorry man," Other-Dave says. "You know how it is."

No, he doesn’t. “No, I don’t,” Dave insists, but the denial only lasts about half a second. Deep down he really does know exactly how it is. “We swore off time travel for good, remember? When was the last time we even -- or I even, I guess, since obviously you just did it so you could hide in there and, what, jerk off to my -- our --  best friend’s completely delectable ass?” He cuts himself off, catches himself. “No, wait, I mean--”

“God I really did say that then, huh. Rose is right; just can’t stop with these freudian slips, can I, it’s like a freshly-waxed floor all up in here but nobody put out the sign--”

“Just forget about me saying that, okay, because neither of us needs to keep thinking about John’s sexy, I mean, uh, not sexy -- his really really un- sexy ass--”

“Agreed, or it’s gonna be bonertown all over again--”

Dave stops monologuing and stares at his future self like he’d stepped in a particularly gross-looking pile of ecto-slime. “Fuck, dude. I don’t know how either one of us ever could have thought, or will think, the term ‘bonertown’ is cool.”

Future-Dave shrugs. “Hey man, I’m just repeating what I heard myself say an hour ago, cut me some slack.”

“Okay yeah, fair, but my point still stands: after today we’re officially retiring the whole time travel thing, and for real this time, and also the word ‘bonertown’ is officially out of both our vocabulary.”

“Sweet, glad we got that one all figured out.”

“Right.” Dave offers himself a fist-bump and future-him takes him up on it. Their knuckles only just brush when they hear the door open upstairs and the quick, haphazard footsteps of John Egbert on the landing heading for the stairs. “Sorry about that Dave, I’m all good now!” “Shit.” Future-Dave grabs Present-Dave by the shoulders and attempts to shove him into the study. “Don’t let him see you! And, uh…” He glances over his shoulder at John coming down the stairs, and Present-Dave temporarily stops struggling to follow his gaze.

Damn . He swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry again at the sight of John tugging his shirt on over his head as he comes down the stairs. Is that a goddamn treasure trail ?

“Have fun,” Future-Dave says, and with one last shove, Present-Dave tumbles into the bathroom and lands flat on his ass. The door clicks shut in front of him.

Dave rubs his injured rump indignantly, and for a second considers getting up and opening the door, but he stops himself when John begins to speak. “Didn’t mean to make you wait,” he says, voice muffled through the door. “I wasn’t expecting you to get here so early. Guess I just took a little too long in the shower…”

“Ffffffuck,” Dave whispers to himself. He leans against the door and lets the back of his head thump against it, eyes slipping shut as he attempts to take stock of whatever the hell just happened. He can’t, though, because that last little TMI-tidbit forces images of John in the shower jump to his mind totally unbidden.

What could have been taking him so long in the shower? Was he just taking his time washing his hair? Was he shaving? Singing? Or was he just really careful to make sure he washed himself everywhere ?  

Dave bites his lip. He considers fighting himself for a second, fighting the thoughts of John lathering up under the water and getting himself nice and soapy just for the suds to slough off his skin and wash away down the drain, but he figures that there’s no point. He’s already here, might as well make use of the time he’s apparently bought himself.

So Dave gives in. He breathes in deeply and lets himself imagine John washing himself, lifting his stupidly toned arms to scrub under them, lowering them and crisscrossing them over his chest to lather them up. He imagines John bending over to scrub his legs, lifting one to make sure he gets the soles of his feet.

Dave imagines he’s watching John do all this from behind so that this way he can get a front-row seat to the beautiful spectacle of John’s perfect ass, but then he changes angles again when John straightens up a bit. Now he watches from the side -- no, the front -- no, three-quarter view -- as John reaches between his legs and lifts his dick to...

No, okay, that’s enough of that, the washcloth is gone and John is just straight-up touching himself. He wraps his hands around the base of his dick with both hands and slowly tugs upward, starting off nice and slow so Dave can get a good look. He bites his lip with his big dumb adorable buck teeth and moves his hands faster, unwilling to be patient with himself when nobody’s around to see him. Well, Dave is around to see him, but in this fantasy, John thinks he’s alone. It feels more natural that way.

Dave doesn’t stop to linger on the thought of how natural it would be for him to be peeping on John’s alone time, but again, it’s his fantasy, so whatever he says goes.

John leans against the shower wall and his breathing comes out heavy. He keeps jerking himself off, faster now, the water easing the slide of his hand (one hand now; the other one is at his neck, squeezing it and massaging it gently because Dave knows that the Heir of Breath has a deliciously ironic asphyxiation fetish). It moves up and down over his dick rapidly; he thumbs at the head on every upstroke, and damn if the way he sighs at that isn’t the hottest thing Dave’s ever not-heard.

John’s probably getting close now. No, Dave decides. He definitely is.

Dave shimmies out of his jeans and swallows a groan at the relief of his dick finally having room to breathe. He cups it in one hand and begins to rub it a little, massage it just like John was in his fantasy, just to get it used to -- oh, no, that feels really good actually, to hell with easing into it. He slips his hand into his boxers and goes right for the head, squeezing it and running his thumb over it, again just like John.

“Yeah,” Dave breathes, imagining it’s John whispering instead. Fantasy-John bites down even harder on his lip to try and muffle his cry when he comes -- no, fuck that, he opens his mouth wide and tosses his head back and groans the sexiest strangled groan Dave can imagine. John comes in his hand, but he keeps on stroking even after he’s done, and Dave wonders if he’s going to go for a second orgasm, but he decides that’s a bit too much for now and skips ahead to the next part.

John is in his bedroom now, clad in nothing but a towel and his glasses. He’s still damp from the shower, hair dripping a little bit as he walks over to his dresser to pick out something to wear. No, fuck the towel; John drops it and stands there completely naked, once again allowing Dave another look at his perfect ass.

“Nice,” Dave mumbles under his breath. He jerks himself a little faster.

Meanwhile, John rummages through his dresser. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, which Dave will freely admit to himself is probably pointless in this scenario, but he really likes the way John’s nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow when he’s focused on something, so it stays. John is a man on a mission, and he will not stop until he’s found what he’s looking for.

A-ha! John says as he pulls out the same pair of gorgeous silk blue boxer-briefs Dave had seen him wearing earlier.

He grins to himself and squeezes a little harder. Now they’re getting to the good stuff.

Dave sucks in a shallow breath through his nose as he watches the John in his imagination put the underwear on. Just like before, it hugs his ass, accentuates the curve of it in all the right ways. And when he turns around, oh . That is a nice little bulge John’s got going on in the front there.

Dave licks his lips. Yeah, he’s pretty sure that’s what he wants now. He pictures himself opening the door to John’s room and entering it, eyes locked on John’s behind his shades.

Dave? John asks. What are you doing here?

I think you know, Dave answers, and it’s so fucking cheesy, but nobody’s here to critique his dialogue, no matter how much he knows Rose would want to and oh god no he stops that train of thought before it can even leave the station.

You were taking too long to get ready, so I thought I’d see what was holding you up , Dave says instead, and yeah, that’s better. He walks forward to meet John and reaches out to touch his hips, sliding his hands over them. He makes no move to hide how openly he’s staring at John’s dick. In fact, he makes it even more obvious: Dave licks his lips, both in his fantasy and in real life.

Right, I forgot how impatient you could be. John’s gaze turns sly; his voice lowers an octave. Well? Are you satisfied, then?

Not even close. Dave leans in and presses his lips to John’s, and John kisses him back hungrily, wrapping his arms around Dave’s shoulders and tangling them in his hair. He pulls his friend close, so close Dave doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to escape. Which is fine; he doesn’t think he wants to.

When John pulls away, his tongue still hangs halfway out of his mouth, a thin line of saliva connecting it to Dave’s. He smirks, eyes half-lidded, and in the real world Dave almost chokes. He claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise and jerks himself off faster. Fuck, he could probably get off to that look alone.

But that’s not what he wants. He wants more. Wants it all.

“Fuck me, John Egbert,” Dave says, both aloud and in his dream.

And John does.

John yanks Dave to him by the collar, fisting his fingers in it and pulling hard. He crashes their lips together and pulls Dave down on top of him to straddle his lap, and Dave goes readily, grinding himself down on John’s--

He pauses. Opens his eyes. Thinks for a second and comes to a decision. This isn’t going to feel nearly as good if he doesn’t go all the way, he figures, so Dave shimmies out of his boxers and sits on the floor of the study completely naked from the waist down.

Welp.

He glances at the desk a moment, wondering if he should raid the drawers for lube, but figures there's almost a zero percent chance of there being any and he doesn't want to distract himself from his fantasy for too long anyway, so he pops two fingers into his mouth and sucks on them, imagining instead that they're John's fingers. In his imagination, John leans back on the bed as Dave sucks, pushing his fingers in deeper and deeper, but never forcing them too far. John is considerate, but even his patience has its limits.

Dave pulls his fingers out of his mouth and reaches underneath himself. He takes a deep breath and pushes one finger inside himself, then the other, surprised at how easily they go in despite the poor choice of lubricant. Dave doesn't want to think about how or why he’s so loose already or what that says about him, so he doesn't.

He returns to his fantasy. Now he's sitting on John's lap, impaled on his best friend’s thick, wet cock. John is still wearing the underwear, but he's slid it down enough he could pull his dick free over the waistband. It can't be comfortable, but it's so, so damn hot. That's John, though: always willing to go the extra mile for a friend.

Is this what you want, Dave? John asks, and Dave nods frantically, a whispered litany of "yes, yes, yes " spilling from his lips as he thrusts his fingers into himself and jacks off faster and harder than he had been before. The John in his daydream laughs.

I don't think it is! he says. I think you want more than that.

"Fuck, Egbert, you're balls deep inside my ass and plowing me like your own personal sex farm, what more could I possibly want?"

John grins and lifts Dave up, grabbing him beneath his thighs and hefting him into the air. He lifts and drops Dave on his cock a few more times for good measure, and Dave clings to him like a lifeline. John giggles -- fucking giggles -- and turns around to throw Dave on the bed. Somehow, he never fully slips out, and Dave is both impressed and on the verge of desperate horny tears at the thought.

Once they're in a more comfortable position, John leans over Dave and brackets him with an arm on each side of his head. Dave looks up at him and is met with what is perhaps the sexiest expression he's ever seen: John, looking like he's half a breath away from losing himself completely, eyes narrow and sweat dripping from his temples, a sultry grin spreading over his lips as he says, Is that better, Dave?

"Fuuuuck yes," Dave hisses. He bucks his hips forward into his hands, thrashes back against his fingers. He's so goddamn close.

Good boy , John says. A shiver and a whimper simultaneously tear through Dave as he realizes that he did not realize how badly he wanted to hear John call him a good boy. His good boy.

Dave takes in deep, ragged breaths through his nose as he imagines John leaning down to kiss him. It's messy -- John would be a sloppy as fuck kisser, Dave just knows it -- but that just makes it better, because it means that when John pulls away Dave can lick his lips and still taste him lingering there.

He can’t stop himself: he moans. “Fuck, John …”

"Huh?"

Dave’s eyes fly open. His hand moves from his dick to his mouth in record time to stop himself making any more noise, because that was John Egbert’s real, actual voice . All the white noise from the other room pauses; Dave hadn't even realized he could hear music playing from the living room until now. “What was that?”

Dave stays silent, waiting. Waiting...

He hears himself answer John through the wall. “Nothing, it's just, uh, y’know…”

He doesn’t hear the no doubt weak-ass excuse his future self gives to cover up for this atrocious blunder, because Dave’s brain is suddenly filled with the full realization that John is, in fact, only one room away from him, which means that if he isn't careful, he could get caught. John could hear him jacking off in the study and come looking for him.

The risk, the daring, the audacity of it all hits Dave like a ton of bricks and, buoyed by the thrill of trying not to get caught, he  goes back to jacking himself off. He doesn't bother with that fantasy anymorel he just thinks about John walking in on him from the other room, seeing him with a hand on his dick and two fingers up his ass, and saying You know, if that's what you wanted, you could have just asked...

Dave bites down on his tongue to stop himself crying out as he comes. He doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life -- not alone, anyway -- and it screams through his body like a banshee, deafening him and whiting out his vision until there's no longer anything left of himself to release.

It takes a while for him to catch his breath, to come back down from his high, but when he does, Dave takes quick stock of himself: he's a mess, sweaty and sticky with cum, his hair all ruffled at the back and his shirt riding up his chest. He doesn't even care, though, because he's just had the best goddamn sex fantasy and solo orgasm of his life, and it was with the target of said fantasy sitting in the next room over, none the wiser.

Yeah. He's going to be jacking it to this memory for a long-ass time.

He tucks that thought away for later and pulls up his sylladex to fetch a clean towel. Dave tidies himself up, recaptchalogues the towel, and pulls out his trusty timetables.

"Didn't think I'd ever be using these again," he mumbles to himself. Then, with a knowing smirk, he spins them and jumps back in time, back to the moment his past self knocks on the door.

"Fuckin' worth it."

#homestuck #davejohn #johndave #john egbert #dave strider #r: e #fanfic #kinktober

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia: Chapter 13

Raw and unedited (especially until I get Chapters 14-16 written to upload along with it), but I finished the 1st draft tonight and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Especially with switching to some new protagonists. Chapters 0-12 can be found here:

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 13: Takuma Sero Makes a Show of It

If there was one thing Takuma Sero liked about living in the dorms, it was the sense of privacy. Sure, there were fifteen other people living in the dorms, three others on his floor, but compared to his home, that was nothing.  Between his parents, his three younger brothers, and baby sister, there was always somebody trying to butt into whatever he was doing.  At least on his floor, all he had was his best bro Kenta Sato. Daisuke Shoji simply kept his head down and Takiyo Aoyama had made it clear early on he had no interest in “whatever nonsense you two are getting up to.”

As if trying to become the next internet sensations was nonsense.

Which reminded him… he really ought to check their hit counter.  With Kirishima-Bakugo out of the cafeteria yesterday, he’d actually been free to host a new round of “Will Sato Eat It?” without fear of being exploded or having her tear his arms off.  He was actually pretty certain she wouldn’t do the last part.  Their parents had been friends for decades and he was on reasonably good terms with her most of the time.  But yesterday had been pretty impressive as far as the game went. Kenta had eaten a soup bowl, a baseball, a rock, and a tire that someone had somehow managed to get into the cafeteria.

Kenta’s dad had broken it up after that, with a threat to report their antics to Aizawa if they kept doing it.  And Kenta had gotten a talking to from his dad later on about irresponsible Quirk use and making a spectacle of himself.   At least the elder Sato had learned the futility of trying to rat them out to Takuma’s parents.  His mom was one of the most Instagram-famous Pro-Heroes in the business.  She actively encouraged his aspirations.  His dad was just vaguely puzzled by the whole thing and just let his mom take the lead.

Checking the video upload, he found that the hit counter was already in the thousands.  Wisely, he opted not to look at the comments.   It was like his mom always said, “Never read the comments.”   Sure, you got a validation high from some of it, but there were way too many trolls and mudslingers to make it worth it.

Takuma broke into a grin. “Yeah, we’re gonna be famous. Just you see.  Heroes and entertainment sensations.”

He checked the time and found he still had nearly an hour before class.  Plenty of time to finish getting ready.  There was also the matter of homework he hadn’t quite completed, but he could probably copy the answers from somebody, at least enough to squeak by. Math was going to be the death of him. He understood numbers well enough, but once you started getting letters involved with numbers, his brain just refused to track any of it.  It had nearly sunk his entrance exam score, but he’d managed to just barely pass that. A good practical exam score had done wonders for making up the difference.

Twenty minutes later, he was out of his room and ready to go.  He did not have the world’s most developed fashion sense (much to the regret of Kimiko Ojiro, his other best friend, who had declared him “the worst gay best friend ever”), but he had an entertainer’s sense for showmanship in his appearance.  He spotted Kenta coming out of his room and gave him a double finger guns.

“Sixty-five hundred hits in less than twenty-four hours, my man!”

“All right!” Kenta said, giving him a fist bump.  “That’s twice as many as the last video!”   He let out a burp and clutched his stomach.

“You okay, man?” Takuma asked.

Kenta shook his head and burped again.  “Heartburn and indigestion.  Dad says just because I can get anything doesn’t mean I should.”  He grinned, thick lips pulling back to reveal his perfectly white teeth.  “But I say it’s a small price to pay for being famous.”

“More famous in your case,” Takuma told him.  Kenta was already a good bit famous from all the times he appeared in pictures and his stories on his father’s “Food and Family” blog. According to his mom, it was crazy popular with single moms.

Kenta waved it off. “That’s really Dad’s thing.  This is ours!”

Takuma was about to begin discussions of the plans for their next video when he was distracted by the sight of Daisuke Shoji walking back to his rooms, clearly having come from the showers.  The six-armed boy was only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, his silver hair still damp, and a small about of moisture still visible on the muscles of his arms and abs.  He nodded politely to Takuma and Kenta on his way back to his room.  Takuma kept watching until Shoji’s door closed.

His trace was broken by Kenta giving him a small shove.  “You okay there, bud?  Kind of went away for a little while?”

He sighed.  “Why are the hot ones always straight?”

Kenta gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  “Hey, there’s lots of other guys at U.A.  You’ll find somebody.  Or you could always try online dating?”

Takuma made a face. “I’m not that desperate.”

Anything further was interrupted by his and Kenta’s phones buzzing.  Both checked and he saw they had identical texts from the school’s emergency alert system.

Homeroom has been cancelled.  All first-year students should report to the Gran Torino Memorial Auditorium at 0800.

Kenta gave him a curious look.

“Don’t look at me, man,” he said quickly.  “I haven’t broken any rules that would cause a grade level assembly.”

“This school year,” Kenta said.  “I still can’t believe the time you…”

“Don’t remind me.  I’m still barely out of being grounded for that.”

“I think that was the first time I ever actually saw your parents punish you.”

“Oh, would you look at the time, we should really be getting to the Auditorium!”

***

“Any idea what this is about, Takuma?” Kimiko asked. He assumed she was looking at him, but honestly, even after having known her all his life, it was hard to tell.

He shook his head. “Beats the heck out of me.”

All around, the other seats in the Auditorium were filling up with the first year students.  There were the three Heroics classes, three General Ed classes, three Support classes, and three Business and Management classes.   Sixteen students each in the Heroics, twenty in each of the others, for one hundred eight students total left the auditorium about half full.  

Down on the stage, he could see the majority of the teaching staff.  There were the three Heroics Homeroom teachers, Aizawa, Super Ball, and Battle Fist.  There was Power Loader, the aging director of the Support courses.  Word around campus was that he was considering retirement after experiencing the Iida Twins.  And there was FireFox, their math teacher; Hawkeye, their English teacher; Figure Sk8, the dark-haired daughter of the Twins and Izumi’s uncle and aunt, who taught their Science classes; Palette, the paint-themed Art History teacher; and Hopper, Tokoyami’s uncle and their Literature teacher.  There Hound Dog, the school counselor, Vice-Principal Midnight, and even Kenta’s dad.   He also spotted Doctor Izumi sitting with her husband, Kota, the Rescue Hero and Rescue Instructor called Water Spout (or, at his mom embarrassingly always referred to him, “the first man to see me naked”) There was also All Might, and several teachers he didn’t know, who he presumed taught some of the classes taken by the other courses.  Whatever this was about, they were taking it very seriously.

And slowly approaching the podium, leaning heavily on his cane, was Principal Nezu.  Takuma wasn’t sure if he was a rat or a bear or possibly some kind of creature from Australia (or was it Austria?  Whichever one had the kangaroos.  Those were real, right?), but he understood that the old animal was crazy smart.  He’d guided U.A. through some of its roughest years and managed to still come out on top.

“I am sorry to interrupt your usual class schedule,” Nezu began.  “I know your studies are of great importance to you all.  But after the events of the last few days, both here at our school and elsewhere, we have been made aware of events which you all deserve to know.  The Center for Quirk Research is expected to make a statement later this morning, but we thought it might be best if comes from us.”

He took in a breath and continued.  “The CQR has discovered, working in conjunction with several Pro-Heroes, the existence of a virus which causes the victim to lose control of their Quirk.  It appears the Quirk is… man made.”

Any side conversations that had been going on were immediately silenced.

Nezu went on.  “After an as yet unknown incubation period, it causes a power-flare up during which time the user’s Quirk will activate out of their control.  This lack of control appears to last an indefinite amount of time, but appears to be a onetime flare up.  Unfortunately, even as the number of cases are growing, information is scarce.  There appear to be no obvious early symptoms and we are unsure how the virus is being transmitted. At this time, it appears that only Emitter and Transformation type Quirks are effected.”

A ripple went through the crowd as the full impact of the Principal’s statement took effect. Anything that could do that is dangerous indeed.  From the time they were young, they’d always been taught about the importance of controlling their Quirks.  And now something could just take that away…

“That’s…   that’s not good,” Takuma said.  Absently, he rubbed the patches on his right hand where his Acid Tape came from.  His Quirk was technically a Mutation type, since he had slightly different physical structures to allow for it.  But his mom was an Emitter type, so were many of his friends.  So were a lot of people out there in the world.  And there were lots of people out there with really powerful Quirks.   What if somebody like Ground Zero or Deku caught this thing?

“We’re… we’re okay,” he heard Kimiko say.  “Not… not like I can get more invisible.”

“Hey,” Kenta said, “it’s gonna be okay.  People’re smart.  They’ll get this figured out.”  Kenta’s dad was an Emitter type too, he recalled, even if Kenta’s own Quirk was a very minor Mutant type.

Nezu continued, “We are able to run tests for the virus and will be doing screening following this assembly.  However, as there are no tell-tale symptoms prior to manifestation, we urge you to talk to your teachers or Doctor Izumi should you have any concerns.  We will be doing everything we can to protect you, which includes providing you as with much of your usual structure as possible. Classes, including Heroics courses, will continue as normal.  Rest assured, everyone is doing everything they can to get to the bottom of this. But at this point, cases are isolated and sporadic.  We advise caution, but there is no need to panic.”

Takuma made it a point to never take life seriously.  But for once, that didn’t seem like such a good idea.

***

“You heard what the Principal said,” Aizawa said, after they had returned to the classroom.  “The moment you feel anything out of the ordinary or even suspect that something might be wrong, I expect you to tell me or another teacher.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mister Aizawa,” the class said, nearly as one.

“Good,” Aizawa said. “Now, we are going to proceed as normally as possible.  Which means we have a little bit of business to settle.  Choose a class representative.  I don’t care how.”   He zipped himself into his sleeping bag and disappeared behind his desk.

“Well,” Midoriya said, “I think we should probably vote on it?”

“I vote Toshi!” Shota Shinso cried out.

“Toshi,” Asuka Tokoyami agreed.

“I’ve got to go with Midoriya too,” Isamu Haimawari said.

“Toshi has my vote as well,” Izumi Todoroki added.

“Guys… Shouldn’t this be a secret ballot?” Midoriya asked quickly.

“Too late now,” Takuma said. “Besides, I think we all know you’re gonna win it.”

As much as he loved the spotlight, he loathed responsibility.  Better Midoriya than him any day.  Besides, it would take away from his own pursuits.  And Midoriya really was good at taking charge and helping people who needed it.  Guy wanted to help the whole world, even more than the average Hero-in-Training.

“Personally, I think moi would be best,” Takiyo Aoyama said.

“Oh, give it up, Frenchie,” Mika Mineta told him.  “Midoriya’s definitely the best shot at this.”

“I fear I must agree with the rest,” Akaya Koda told Aoyama.  She really seemed to be one of the few people who could stand the arrogant blond for more than a few minutes.  She must have had the patience of a saint.

“Going with Midoriya here too,” Kenta said.

“Yep, me too,” Chihiro Kaminari added.  “And Tokoyami for vice-rep while we’re at it.”

“I like those ideas!” Kimiko said.  “Both of them!”

“Makes sense to me,” Shoji said.

“This is highly against protocol,” Tensei Iida said.  “But I cannot argue with the consensus either.”

“My younger brother is correct,” Sora Iida said.  “I agree with the conclusions drawn.”

“You really must stop using that qualifier!  I am only younger by three minutes!”

“It is scientifically accurate!  Do you dispute this?”

“It is needlessly semantic, and yet I cannot argue with the precision!”

“If I agree, will it shut them up?” Katsumi Kirishima-Bakugo asked.

Motion was carried. Midoriya and Tokoyami were their class reps.

Takuma belatedly realized that probably gave them some kind of power of his and Kenta’s antics, but that was their problem, not his.  Besides, it was worth it to see Aoyama pout.

***

“Hua-whah!” Even though Takuma had practiced swinging from building to building by using his Acid Tape many times with his dad, doing it always made him feel like his stomach was going to flop out of his mouth.  It didn’t help that his Quirk was more complicated than his dad’s.   The elder Sero only had to think about shooting out his Tape until it hit something.  Takuma’s Acid Tape meant that he had to be continually concentrating both on dispensing more tape and on maintaining the properties.  Since he could make it anything from slick to sticky to acidic, that meant he had to do a lot more concentrating.  And doing that while ten stories up made it all the more problematic.

Even if it was supposed to be a simple Heroics exercise in cityscape navigation.  All they had to do was make it from one end of the faux-cityscape as quickly as they could.  For quite a few, like Kimiko, Kenta, or Koda, there wasn’t much more they could do than run as fast as they could.  Others were doing a much more impressive job.  Midoriya was bouncing with leaps that were easily carrying him, the Iida Twins were blasting through the air, and Haimawari was zipping through the streets. And somehow, Kirishima-Bakugo had gotten herself up on the rooftops and was parkouring herself through the course.

Takuma let himself go flying through the air for a moment, before shooting out another strand of Acid Tape.  It stuck to the fire escape and as he began to swing, he could feel something go wrong. With a sickening sound of tearing metal, the piece of the fire escape he had snagged with his tape snapped and broke, sending him falling!

He shot out another strand of Acid Tape, trying to save himself, but instead of snagging a lower portion of the fire escape, it melted right through it.  He’d made it too acidic!  He was gonna die!  He was never gonna reach a million followers!  Involuntarily, he felt his eyes close.

And just as suddenly, powerful arms caught him and he was rising.  So he was dead then, and the angels were carrying him away.  Good-bye world, he only regretted that he not let more of you gaze upon his awesomeness…

“Are you all right, Sero?” a voice asked.  “I was afraid I would not be able to match your falling speed without causing you injury, but I believe I was able to calculate something close enough…”

An angel who apparently sounded just like Tensei Iida.  He chanced opening his eyes and the first thing he saw was himself, reflected in the chest plate of Iida’s costume.  Looking up, he saw a silver helmet.  Definitely Iida.  Which meant he wasn’t dead?  He was alive! He could still get that million followers!

“Sero?” Iida repeated. “Are you all right?”  He slowly started reducing power in his jets, letting them drift downward.

Oh, right.  He needed to answer his rescuing angel’s questions. “Oh, ah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, finding himself stumbling over his words.  “You really saved my ass, there, Iida.  Thanks.”

“Of course,” Iida said. “As your friend and classmate, not to mention as an aspiring Hero, it is my duty.”

“Well, right now, you’re my hero, Iida.”

Inwardly, he groaned. Was he really saying something that stupid?   Apparently, he was.  At least Kimiko and Kenta weren’t there to hear it.  They’d never let him hear the end of it.

***

The Iida Twins could be found in the Common Room, pouring over blueprints.  Usually, the Twins spent whatever free time they had in the Support Workshop, but according to Sora, Power Loader had kicked them out under out under threat of unspecified punishment, all because they had “accidentally used too much power and caused a few small explosions and fires.”  So the two had returned to the dorms instead to work on what they could.

Takuma, Kenta, and Kimiko peered from around the corner at them.

“This is a really dumb idea,” Takuma said.  “And I know all about dumb ideas.”

“If you were doing this for me,” Kenta said, “you’d be making your “good idea” face.  The one that always means it’s something that’s going to get us in trouble.”

“Besides,” Kimiko said, “this is for romance!  We’ve got to! You’re cute, he’s hot, you’re pink, he’s got pink hair, I’m gonna call you Pinky-Squared!”

“We don’t even know if he likes guys!  He could be into girls!  Or machines! I’m gonna make a fool of myself!”

Kimiko slapped him upside the head.  “That’s loser talk!”

“You want us to film it?” Kenta asked.  “You’re good in front of a camera.”

Takuma went a paler shade of pink.  “…No. Definitely not.  I do not need this preserved for posterity if it all goes south.”

“Look, this is the most romantic thing to happen since school started,” Kimiko told him.  “So you are not chickening out now!  Kenta and I are going to get Sora out of the room and you are going to ask Tensei out! Do you understand!?”

How someone whose face he couldn’t see could have such an intense glare, he didn’t know, but her tone suggested that there was no arguing with her.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s do this!”

***

I can’t do this!

With Sora out of the room (he was so stressed he literally could not remember what excuse Kenta and Kimiko had used to get her out of there and he had seen it literally seconds ago), Takuma was free to make his move.  His smooth move.  His ever so smooth move.  He was the king of smooth.

He was not smooth.

As casually as he could, he approached the table where Tensei was still working.  “Oh, ah, hey, Iida,” he said.   “Ah, thanks again for saving me like that.  Pretty sure I was on my way to being a pile of pink goo.”

“The fall was not nearly enough to reduce you to goo,” Iida said, looking up from his blueprints.  “But it would have been very messy all the same. I am happy I was able to prevent that.”

He rubbed the back of his head.  “Yeah, well, either way, I appreciate it.”   He frowned, trying to think of how best to proceed.  “So, uh, what are you working on?”

A very crazed (and very attractive) grin spread its way across Tensei’s face.  “Modifications to Sora’s and my Hero costumes.  After training yesterday, we came up with several potential ideas to improve performance and work with our Quirks, such as a more adjustable wing system and potential storage for emergency supplies of apple and grape juice.”

“And that exploded?”

“Oh, no,” Iida said.  “That was the idea for a capture-weapon to add as an additional support item.  We may have made the propulsion element a little too strong.  Power Loader apparently believed that we would benefit from some time away.  But I do not see how we can improve our designs to their fullest without practical, hands on work.  And we cannot do that if we are banned from the workshop for a week.”

“That sucks, man,” Takuma agreed.  It’d be like someone telling him he couldn’t upload stuff to the ‘net.  A guy had to have a passion, after all.  “But, ah, I guess that means you’re gonna have some free time?”

Iida frowned.  “Unfortunately, yes.  There is only so much we can do without the space to put theory into practice.”

Okay, it was now or never.   He could be brave!  He had this!

…He didn’t have this!

He had this!

He didn’t have this!

He had this!

“So, um…,” he said, “if you’re gonna have the free time…  maybe you’dlikespendingsomeofitwithmesomewhere?”

Iida blinked.  “I… don’t think I caught that, Sero.”

He took a deep breath. “I was thinking, if you were gonna have free time anyway… maybe you’d want to spend some of it with me? Somewhere?  Like a date?”

Iida’s eyes widened in surprise and for once, it looked like he was at a loss for words.  “I… I would like that very much, Sero.”

He had this!

#their hero academia #my hero academia #fan fic #My writing #fan fiction

[lenjaminmacbuttons]

tl;dr: I’m staying alive.

(image source)

Earlier this week, a student fell from the fourth floor of the BYU N. Eldon Tanner Building in what was later confirmed as a suicide attempt. She was taken to the emergency room in critical condition, and today it was released that she died in the hospital.

The entire campus is shaken. Long, heavy conversations on the topic have been the focus of several of my class periods. Faculty and other students are fervently reminding of and encouraging toward the many mental health and counseling options available to help us (but that, apparently, weren’t enough to save this student). For me, it’s been a jarring catalyst forcing me to examine my own experiences and relationships with suicide--the deaths of people around me, and the thoughts and ideation I’ve personally had.

I don’t know who this student was. I probably never met her--I might have passed her on campus, maybe even exchanged a “hello” or “i like your shirt!” something; I don’t know. But her death has struck me much harder and more directly than any other, even though I can think of three different people who I knew much better who have committed suicide in my life.

The first person who always comes to my mind with this topic is Katira, a girl I knew from church back in Wisconsin before we moved. Katira was sort of an enigma to me; she was several years older and thus, I thought, much cooler than me, in an intimidating way. She gave deep, insightful answers in Sunday School classes, and she had gorgeous hair and great fashion sense. Her best friend and her older sister were cool in a more friendly way, joking around and sometimes reaching out to awkward twelve-year-old me as mentors. But whenever I interacted with Katira, I honestly remember her being kind of rude. My mom found out about her death through Facebook after we moved (if I’m remembering correctly), and when she told me, I didn’t know how to react.

 A little while before that, it was Kaitlin, a classmate in my middle school orchestra class. Katilin and I both played violin, and for a few weeks we were stand partners, sitting next to each other and sharing sheet music. But we didn’t talk much, and never became friends, though she did have a bit of a special place in my mind. The day the teacher told us she’d committed suicide, he spent the rest of the class period locked alone in his office and had us all practice our music independently. For the final concert, we were playing a sweet little song titled “Lullaby”, and it was dedicated to her. My family moved away before the school year ended, though, and so I wasn’t able to participate in the performance. 

Then there was Jasmine. I didn’t really know Jasmine any better than Katira or Kaitlin, but she was much more important to me. She was a sophomore (I think) when I was a senior, and apparently she had noticed me in theater or something while we were both in the school-wide play, and one day she snuck a piece of paper into my coat pocket with a note saying she thought I was cool and wanted to get to know me better. I was (still am) really confused by it, but I thought “what’s the harm” and she sat with me and my brother at lunch once or twice, and we exchanged emails. Finally, through email, she confessed that she had wanted to get to know me because she had a crush on me.

I panicked. I felt like I barely knew her, I didn’t (still don’t!) have any idea how to deal with people liking me, I was in the just-barely-baby-steps stage of being confident in being gay, I had no clue what I should do. So I reacted in probably the worst way possible: I ghosted her. I never responded to her email. When I saw her in the hallway, I pretended I didn’t. I avoided all possible contact. I think that I was hoping that eventually she’d confront me and I’d be forced to respond directly, or that somehow I’d magically figure out the perfect thing to say, but I never got the chance. And I never would: a few months later, after the school play was over, I learned that she’d died.

Hers was the only of these deaths I was able to really cry over. To this day I still struggle with the guilt, while simultaneously feeling incredibly self-centered to think that I had any sort of really important role in her life. Regardless, I know I did the wrong thing, and I could have helped her if I’d been honest and up front about my feelings--maybe I wouldn’t have been able to save her life, but I definitely could have helped ease her suffering in the meantime. 

But this total stranger has made me more thoughtful than any of these. This student’s death has been especially personal to me because she did exactly what I thought about doing every time I was in the Tanner Building. 

My thoughts of suicide are frequent, but passive and impulsive--based not on actual desire to stop living or to hurt myself, but on the idea of drama and tragic, aesthetic poetry. The Tanner Building is classy and open and tall, with grand windows and fancy fountains and glossy floors, and with lots of easy places to jump from. I wasn’t in there often, but every time I was I’d walk along the bridges and balconies and glance down at the floor far below and think “gosh, how would it feel to fall that far? It would be so easy to just climb over this little railing. How exciting would that be? How scary and cool? Just lift your leg up and then sit up on the edge, and then swoosh--”

And then splat.

I have no idea how Katira or Kaitlin or Jasmine died, but I am intimately familiar with what this student did. I know what might have been going through her head; I have an idea of why she might have chosen to do it that way. And now I know exactly what would have happened if I had followed through on that impulse.

Sometimes when I thought about suicide, I considered how people would react when they found out. I imagined some hapless rando seeing me and screaming and calling 911. I pictured my parents solemnly sitting my siblings down at the dinner table to tell them, and the littles cry and the older kids are silent or incredulous. I composed a little note in my head for my coworkers telling them thanks for all their help and happiness. And they’re all sad, but eventually move on. And maybe that one first person who found me is traumatized for a while, but they didn’t even know me, so they move on, and everyone’s fine in the end and I’m not responsible for anyone being permanently messed up or anything.

But I was wrong. I know now how people react when this happens--they’re all affected. This is something that’s going to last a long time, throughout the entire campus, and even beyond--all the friends and family, everyone who visits, everyone who comes in contact with graduates in the workforce. The Tanner Building was closed for the rest of the day after the girl fell, and students expressed that it would be hard for them to go back to classes there now. It’d be hard to sit back in the desk where they were when they heard her hit the ground, or to walk through the doors where they saw the paramedics. One thing I often consider when I think about killing myself is doing so super publicly--gotta get that attention somehow, right? And everyone who didn’t know me will just be like “wow, that’s crazy, the world is so messed up. On to the next news article about some horrific tragedy!”

The thing I’ve been neglecting is that humans as a whole aren’t like that. They take things to heart. They find connections and they empathize. No tragedy is isolated; every sadness felt by a human being is felt by humankind. No suicide is ever a failure of the victim--it’s a failure of humankind, of every individual, every institution, every societal convention that drove someone to want nothing but a way out. And so we all feel that death, and we all feel that guilt, and we all either sink into ourselves or reach out to each other in quiet promises, “We can’t let this happen again. We have to do more to stop this.” This is true for this stranger, and it was true for Katira and it was true for Kaitlin and it was true for Jasmine. The only difference is that now I’m old enough and wise enough to understand it.

My first reaction when I heard the news of this student was bitterness, almost envy. Any dramatic spectacle I could do now would be seen as an imitation of her. Sure, I didn’t have to do it exactly the same way--I could drown in that cool little pool thing by the Museum of Art with all the statues around it, or I could hang from that big beautiful tree by the Richards Building, or I could fall from any other of the plentiful bridges and balconies around campus--but the effect would be the same. The effect on the campus, on the community, on the world, would be the same.

I can’t do that now, because she’s done it first--and I know how it would turn out. And I cannot let it happen again.

So now I’m making promises. I will not let this happen again--at least, not to me. I refuse to be responsible for another tragedy. I will not be responsible for even one more individual feeling the way I do now. In those moments where thoughts of wonderful-things-to-live-for and goals-to-still-look-forward-to fall short, I will have my memory and my pledge: I will not let this happen again.

#talkyllama #byu tanner building #i dont know if that's a thing here but i know it's a hashtag on twitter so might as well #a lot of this has been. a long time coming. a lot of it i've never shared with anyone before #feels weird #feels good though. feels good to be open about it #feels good to write about it #and to come to better conclusions and convictions than before through the writing #a good reminder of why i chose to be a writer in the first place #lol though this is ridiculously long if u actually read the whole thing you're a ledge #hm. now ive got my heart will go on stuck in my head for some reason #like it's true...my heart Will go on..... #i just copied this into a google doc and it's three full pages long #almost 1700 words #if it were still november it'd be a daily nano win heyo #but yeah. tl;dr im stayin alive

[saigontimemd]

It’s National Coming Out Day and I Forgot But I Guess I’m Posting About It Now

I’ve known I was bisexual since late middle school, and accepted it since high school. Saying ‘I’m bisexual’ right now doesn’t feel particularly heavy, mostly because I’ve just lived with it for so long; me stating as much isn’t a ‘coming out’ so much as it is like putting on a shirt that says ‘in case you forgot.’ I hope that everyone can come to the same point I am where it’s just a casual part of the tapestry that makes up who I am.

I know I’ve had it easy. I’m a 6-foot-tall white male with a naturally linebacker-ish build, and I pass for straight well enough that literally only one of my non-hetero friends wasn’t surprised when I told them I was bi. The few times I’ve been earnestly called ‘faggot’ or the like to my face when I was younger, I was thorough enough in my response that I wasn’t called that again, but I know that wasn’t an option for most other people like me. I’ve been lucky, as far as getting by in a society that still mostly views LGBTQ+ folks on scale of ‘entertaining spectacle’ to ‘doom-heralding abomination,’ and I try to remind myself of that every day.

Sometimes I still feel like an outsider. I was homeschooled up until 8th grade, but when (and where) I entered the school system, there was no sense of community. In a public school in South Carolina, everybody was in an armored closet, so to speak. A few people were brave enough to be out - or at least to not deny an accusation - but everyone else saw how hard life was for them. Even when I transferred to an art school, where pretty much everyone was out in one way or another, I still felt like I was dipping my toes in the pool. For the first time in my life, all these longings that I’d had to confine to the dark and indulge in dark corners backstage when the music wing was empty were finally free. I was overwhelmed, and as a result, I didn’t make the best of my time. Then The Depression showed up and I pretty much cut off all contact with the outside world for almost a decade. These past five or so years have been the first time in a really long time that I’ve had actual real life friends, let alone LGBTQ+ friends. I feel like I’ve missed so much, like I’m ignorant of ‘gay culture’ or what-have-you. I made an awkward joke a month ago about something I didn’t know and it’s still eating me. It’s probably just my anxiety and general feelings of inadequacy rearing up, trying to cut me off from the world again. Nothing new, honestly.

I didn’t mean for this to get so self-pitying. I’ll try to pivot.

A few years ago, one of my sister’s students wanted to interview me for a project he was doing about defining masculinity. I had no idea why he wanted my opinion, but he did. Since then, I’ve been thinking more and more about my own masculinity, my own...’male-ness?’ Realizing more and more that I’ve just accepted my role as a dude as default. I’ve got the equipment, so I just always assumed. It’s not that I’m unhappy as a guy - I’ve got several transgender friends, and the misery, confusion, and sense of being lost they experienced before transitioning, before even realizing they needed to transition, is nothing like the...I don’t know, casual ambiguity that I’m feeling. I don’t know if what I feel about myself is indicative of something or what it could be indicating. I hate my body hair, particularly on my face, and how it feels and looks on me. I’ve always wanted long, beautiful hair, and the last few years I’ve seized on the opportunity to actually grow it out. I’m seriously considering getting my ears pierced, and doing so so that I can wear long, dangly gothic things, not little diamond studs. I get an unnameable positive feeling when certain things happen - it’s not arousal, it’s not amusement, it’s not relief, it’s some sort of happy feeling, some sort of joy - when I get mistaken for a woman from the back, or when I get my nails painted, or when I put on makeup.

I don’t know what any of it means. I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what to do about it. I guess I’m coming out about that ambiguity, that I’m feeling less and less necessarily attached to the ‘male’ label. I still like males though. And females. Hell, five seconds on the porn blog that I’m DEFINITELY not linking here could tell you that.

I’m a bisexual something, that’s for sure. Happy Coming Out Day.

#lgbtq #national coming out day

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff’s Best of 2017

WARNING: I’d like to thank everybody who was here for me when times were low. Thank you, take care out there, and enjoy.

Cartoons; the one thing that I will continuously watch until I go blind. 2017 was an emotional handful and an exhausting trudge, can’t deny that, and I’m counting down the best cartoons/animations I’ve seen and loved this year in no particular order. Only two rules, no sneak previews of future projects (sorry to Unikitty and Hideo Kojima). Here we go....

10. HANAZUKI: FULL OF TREASURES

This was a sleeper hit tbh. The fact all the episodes were free on Youtube blew my mind, but having a well structured story with a lovely cold space color palette, actually relatable characters, and a sinister undertones below its tender, colorful charm to be as a nice headliner to when Friendship is Magic came back in spring. It was an inviting start for the year, and with the guy behind Motorcity and Superjail taking the helm and having two more seasons being produced, Hanazuki is something I find is in good hands come 2018.

9. LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA

Four long years. I waited FOUR long goddamn years...and fuck me was it worth it. A spectacle is what I can call Little Witch Academia. Almost every episode dazzled me with its stage made bravado and confidence that always made me say, “Okay. Let’s make it til’ the next week”. Even when things got serious, LWA knew how to have fun and make the most of its concept. There is a sense of predictability sometimes, but the series would still throw you some good curve balls to never lose your interest. What did lose my interest was Netflix’s sorry excuse of a dub. The movies: fine. But Netflix, try that again, with any other anime, and I will rip your nuts off.

8. Now I might be cheating here since it’s not a cartoon, but shit it might as well have been

CUPHEAD

The effort that went into this is phenomenal, beyond the many other games of the year no doubt. While not everything is animated, I could tell they were cutting corners in some areas, the frame BY frame animated enemies, bosses, and effects made this one of the most visually colorful and alive games to date, next to Mario Odyssey. Not only was this game a frustrating yet joyous romp to start and finish, but the music and art flawlessly channeled the essence of a time where the word “cartoon” was only starting to make good progress. My favorite character would have to be Satan King Dice, whom is an animated homage to great musician and composer Cab Calloway. His stache, his clothing, even his Cheshire grin captured the cool, jazzy vibe Calloway always provided in his performances. He and his fight was the highlight of Cuphead for me and I hope this game, if a sequel isn’t possible, is well remembered for its unexpected excellence in how a video game can look.

7. CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS/L-EGGO BATMAN

Faithful is what I can describe these two. Captain Underpants was just an awesome book to elementary schooler me, but to see a well animated, well written movie about a dude in his underwear was nothing short of a simple yet powerful masterpiece. As for Batman, this is one of the three truest DC and Batman movies around this time, and it has a gay undertone with Batman and the Joker’s relationship (how can you not pull that off, Suicide Squad?). While not a big fan of lego myself, The Lego Movie put my faith WB making another one equally as good, and they did not disappoint. It’s a shame it got snubbed at the Golden Globes, it deserves the award more than the Boss Baby. Plus it had a Superman that didn’t bore me while having a terrible CGI lip job that’s only made worse by his two way dick nose....

Justice League costed 300,000,000 dollars.............

6. DANGER & EGGS

To me, this series felt like one of the few steps forward the world took to make the LGBT+ community feel more welcome and inspired in public outlets; a small step, but progressive none the less. It is a colorful and lively action comedy, a first to be created by a transgender person, where you can see a non-binary character, a pride fest, diverse background characters of orientation and ethnicity, and it feels like they are a part of the world and not footnotes that states that you should respect queer, bi, ace, and so on based on a say so. It’s a show don’t tell type of series and it brightened my summer before I had to remind myself that college exists and is expecting me.

5. TANGLED: THE SERIES

*ring ring* “Hello?” Ye, Disney? How fucking dare you?

My hype for this was undoubtful. I love Tangled the movie, I consider it one of my favorite 2010 disney flics beside Wreck it Ralph and Moana. And when the art style was up for a preview for this (?), I just sat and waited until it finally premiered and damn. I never stopped loving it, but it is until episode 16 where the series starts to hit high note after high note with the direction it’s going for the story. The fact that this all takes place not long after the movie makes the thought where Eugene and Rapunzel finally get married feels all the more earned. It’s working its way to a happily ever after, I adore this show, and this makes me appreciate Frozen a bit more for how far that’s fallen in the world after its one year of fame. Seriously, Gigantic had to get chopped, but Olaf can still live? Give me a break, Disney.

“Sir, I understand your enthusiasm....but this is Domino’s.” Then I will have the 5.99 large with Salchicha and pepperoncini with a liter sprite on delivery.

4. MADE IN ABYSS

This was so beautiful, so awesome, and much better than...

I wasted my life and I cannot say that I will ever reclaim that time proactively again the Anime

Made in Abyss is like Hunter x Hunter except Gon’s more booksmart and Kilua’s a timid robot. The bond between Riko and Reg was a fucking dynamic and heartfelt where Riko’s helps build Reg up and Reg kept Riko and himself safe with his bodily arsenal. That and this series has the best world building where they not only give the low down on almost everything about the titular abyss, but the atmospheric environments and the designs of the inhabiting creatures made this a unique world to want to explore myself. It knew what to show, and knew what to share. When things got serious, I actually tensed up at the thought of shit truly going down; they knew how to soften the terror while maniacally instill fear in us for the safety of the traveling kids. I want to recommend this link to an awesome breakdown of how great Made in Abyss was. However, as it seems that a season two has gone down the abyss as well, and I’m afraid it can’t come back up.

3. LET’S BE HEROES!!

Is it safe to call this the M.U.G.E.N. of cartoons? Just an all up mashup of stuff I love in a Saturday morning? Campy, action, and laid back, this is something I can be sober or grab some kush and I would be enjoy the show just the same. They even have references you might not have ever heard of, but might like the search. OK KO’s a popcorn cartoon, it’s not for everybody, but it established itself well into the modern CN era when Adventure Time finally has to move on. 

2. SAMURAI JACK

Getting this out of the way: episode 6 toiled the final season of Samurai Jack for me. Not gonna go into detail, but if that episode was remade, I would have been more satisfied looking back. However, that does not stop me from saying this is how a revival should be, this is how a reboot should work, THIS is how you can bring nostalgia back. Samurai Jack was great back then, but this season, wrapping up the loose plight of our boy trying to get back to the past and defeat the demon Aku, was satisfactory to many fans. Even those who’ve never heard or remember Jack could just enjoy this as a dynamic mini-series; it gives you context of what happened before without having to recap the original plot of it. For non fans, it’s mostly about an ageless samurai, longing to return to his own time, stuck in the future for over 50 years to the point of losing his honor and his mind. It’s a binge worthy 10 episode season, originally intended to be a movie, and aside from polar opinionated finale, this made Samurai Jack feel great to love again.

1. TRUE AND THE RAINBOW KINGDOM

This is a personal choice from me because 2017 was an honest to god terrible year for me; nothing but turmoil, season to season, and the struggle to cope with that despair in a way I felt actually could help. However, this small series here boosted my spirits because even with it being a show for little kids that I originally wanted to watch as a joke, the competent, enthusiastic spirit it had just moved me in a way that cartoons that I love for eons could only try to do on a whim. It’s not the best made cartoon, it’s not something I sincerely recommend to you all, but it helped me realize that the best thing about life is finding and seeking things that don’t just distract you from the hard and testing times reality puts on you, but gives you a moment of honest bliss and happiness that can influence your outlook on looking forward to better things because things like this, cartoons like this, CAN make you feel better. 

*sniff* Which is why, the actual cartoon of the year....

1. is STEVEN U., BABY!

Just kidding, guys! You will NEVER win, Steven!

TEEN TITANS GO! WINS IT AGAIN, BABYYYY! ONCE AGAIN BABY (i don’t even like it no more...), YOUR NEW FAVORITE SHOW (i don’t even fucking like it no...) RISES TO THE TO-

But Steven Universe in Space, though. That’s when it’ll be great again.

#best of 2017 #cartoons #anime #animation #Good Stuff #cartoon network #reviews #long post #ok ko #Samurai jack #Hanazuki #Little witch academia #danger & eggs #tangled the series #captain underpants #Lego batman #Cuphead #Made in abyss #true and the rainbow kingdom #TTG #SU #Roy Macintosh #awesome #ye

[aion-rsa]

The Prom: Ranking Every Song in the Movie Musical Soundtrack From Worst to Best

https://ift.tt/3mbeEmh

The 2018 Broadway musical The Prom has always had a somewhat shaky premise, combining a quartet of narcissistic Broadway stars (Meryl Streep, James Corden, Nicole Kidman, and Andrew Rannells) looking for a way to be relevant again with a lesbian couple’s (Jo Ellen Pellman and Ariana DeBose) simple wish to attend their prom in Edgewater, Indiana. The two threads collide when the prom gets blown up into a civil rights issue. However, the stage show reconciled these seemingly disparate elements into a heartwarming tale of self-acceptance for all involved: straight or gay, closeted or out, aging star or varsity cheerleader.

Ryan Murphy’s film adaptation for Netflix, by contrast, is less successful. The awkward space between these two stories is more pronounced, with the Broadway portions plagued by puzzling lighting and editing choices. Combine that with some truly head-scratching casting among three of the four adults, and it distracts from the intent of basically half the soundtrack.

However, when it comes to all things prom-related, the adaptation is nearly as strong as its Broadway predecessor, and in some places utilizes cinematic elements to surpass the original versions of key musical numbers. With that in mind, we’re ranking all 19 songs from worst to best, keeping in mind that the rankings would likely have turned out differently had we been considering the musical itself.

19. Barry is Going to Prom

James Corden was disastrously miscast as gay actor Barry, who removed himself from his parents’ lives as a teenager before they could cast him out, yet is still clearly in need of closure. One can never shake the feeling of watching this straight actor put on queer identity as an ill-fitting suit; there’s more than one “did I just hear that right?” moment of him lisping his way through a scene.

He brings that disingenuously effeminate energy to Barry’s big number, “Barry is Going to Prom,” and tarnishes what should be a triumphant showstopper. Not surprisingly, Corden in a silver-and-aqua tux mincing through a fantasy sequence is so much less compelling than original star Brooks Ashmanskas belting in his pajamas.

18. Simply Love

The second of the two end credits songs seems to be a rejected number for Barry’s reunion with his estranged mother while also advocating for Emma. Despite the feeling Corden tries to infuse into it, emotionally it’s empty. The only thing saving it from rock bottom on this list is that there are no accompanying visuals.

17. The Acceptance Song

The first sign that the Broadway crew have overestimated their star power is when their big “rally” in Emma’s honor gets booked… at the halftime show of the local monster truck rally. They try to sing a song about acceptance, but neither they nor the monster truck enthusiasts are equipped to give or receive the message. It’s a forgettable song, but that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?

16. Wear Your Crown

The first end credits song is so overproduced that I had to look up who sang it—turns out it’s the entire cast, their voices blended into one unnatural warble. The only thing that saves it is that they do the musical credits thing where they match the names with the performances (here, it’s them posing at the prom with superlatives), so you can remember who you did or didn’t like all over again.

15. Zazz

As solo numbers go, this is not Nicole Kidman’s best; but then again, can anything really top Moulin Rouge!? Perennial chorus girl Angie’s ode to making yourself a star is meant to evoke Bob Fosse and Chicago, but winds up resembling a mere shadow of that brilliance. And, unlike how Kidman breaks our hearts with “Come What May,” this ditty could have been sung by anyone.

14. Changing Lives

As opening numbers go, this one doesn’t rank very high, in part because it has to do so much heavy lifting for the less obvious half of The Prom’s premise: Dee Dee (Meryl Streep, unconvincing at the start) and Barry watch their Eleanor Roosevelt musical close on opening night because they are too self-involved to authentically inhabit these historical figures.

Scrolling Twitter’s trending topics for a “cause” that will reverse their PR disaster, they find Emma and automatically decide that they can and will change her small-town baby gay life. With all that exposition, the song’s actual message—that actors and art can change people’s lives—gets lost. What is fun is intercutting the post-show glow with footage of Dee Dee and Barry in costume as Eleanor and FDR on-stage in what feels like a parody of Hamilton.

13. It’s Not About Me

This is a peppier, more on-the-nose version of “Changing Lives,” yet it strikes a bunch of discordant notes, like Dee Dee and co. sweeping into the PTA meeting to rally for Emma but really turn the spotlight on themselves. It’s too much cringe, too early in the story; and worst of all, Streep simply doesn’t seem to be having fun. Instead she looks like she has to force this number out to get on to the more compelling stuff.

12. Changing Lives (Reprise)

The reprise ranks higher than its predecessor because there’s just enough of an ironic twist to signal to the audience that we’re immediately poking fun at these self-obsessed Broadway stars. The line “We’re gonna help that little lesbian / Whether she likes it or not” is unexpectedly hilarious, though the CGI Times Square backdrop is tough to swallow.

11. We Look to You

Perhaps it’s not surprising that all of the songs about the saving power of art are clumped in the same section of the ranking. Perhaps that element of the show translated better to the literal stage, but in the movie these sequences are garish and don’t fit alongside the sweet, straightforward conflict that Emma and Alyssa face.

Read more

Movies

Best Meryl Streep Musical Performances (Including The Prom!)

By David Crow

Movies

Best Movie Musicals of the 21st Century

By David Crow

This number does try to bridge that divide, however, with Keegan-Michael Key’s straight ally Principal Hawkins tenderly serenading Dee Dee with memories of her performing. Yet through no fault of his own, they still seem an oddly matched pair, which dampens the romantic effect of the song.

10. Unruly Heart

As Emma’s big number, delivered via humble strumming on YouTube that goes viral by tugging the heartstrings of LGBTQ teens everywhere, “Unruly Heart” felt as if it should have ranked higher. There’s a fun effect of Emma’s bed spinning, making the confines of her room seem bigger as her message spreads to millions of people; it also looks like something out of a Broadway show. But one is left with the feeling that this should be a tearjerker for where it exists in the story. This is likely the biggest casualty of the stage-to-screen adaptation.

9. The Lady’s Improving

This is Streep in her musical element, bringing to mind a mix of the whimsy of “Money, Money, Money” and the yearning of “Mamma Mia.” It’s also got that sharp cleverness that’s all too rare in the Broadway portion of this story, with Dee Dee resurrecting her starring role for a one-afternoon-only, private performance for Hawkins. Wouldn’t you know it, this unapologetic preying on his nostalgic fandom for a fictional character is what actually sells their oddball relationship.

8. Alyssa Greene

DeBose’s bitter defense of staying in the closet starts out as the seemingly low-stakes complaints of a straight-A student afraid to step out of line. But as Alyssa’s refrains keep returning to her mother (Kerry Washington)—complete with flashbacks of earnest Washington playing the helicopter-mom to a tee—it becomes achingly clear just how committed Mrs. Greene is to making her daughter’s life not be “difficult,” at least by her metrics. It’s also clear how much Alyssa feels she owes her.

Read more

Movies

Best 11 Classic Movie Musicals

By David Crow

Movies

Hamilton Cast Reflect on Backlash and Criticism of Musical

By David Crow

The best part is that this impassioned “I wish” song is not enough to win back Emma’s trust, and actually leads to their breakup instead. Emotional vulnerability, met with stakes-raising conflict! We love to see it.

7. It’s Time to Dance

Sure, it’s the triumphant final number, but it’s also so much spectacle (mostly with the ensemble’s too-cool-for-school dancing) that it’s difficult to focus on the emotional underpinnings. Reprisals of motifs like “Dance with You” (look ahead) and “Unruly Heart” buoy it up, and of course so does Emma and Alyssa’s big kiss. But this feels like the big shiny denouement as opposed to the less polished but more poignant songs that will stick with you longer.

6. Tonight Belongs to You (Reprise)

Just as “Changing Lives (Reprise)” recontextualizes its predecessor, the reprise of “Tonight Belongs to You” twists the knife: After being humiliated by the school-wide prank of the fake prom, Emma tortures herself with one last reminder that tonight was always about the “normal” kids. It’s the heartbreaking complement to her stalwart sense of self in “Just Breathe” (see below), with Emma confronting the truth that even if she loves herself, her peers and their parents don’t.

5. Love Thy Neighbor

Without a doubt, Rannells makes this song more charming than it has any right to be. You couldn’t have found a better choice than the Book of Mormon alum to point out the hypocrisy in cherry-picking which religious rules to follow. And unlike a lot of The Prom’s other attempts to shoehorn Broadway culture into this small town, the Godspell vibe of “Love Thy Neighbor” expertly gets through to these closed-minded classmates. If Rannells were teaching drama and the Bible to teens like this, it’d go a long way toward bridging that empathy gap.

4. Just Breathe

Pellman is earnestly wonderful even in songs that are duds, but this is the perfect introduction. “Note to self: Don’t be gay in Indiana” tells you everything you need to know about how lovely Emma is: wry and self-assured, secure in both her own identity and in who she loves, even if she has to protect that secret for Alyssa.

Read more

Culture

How Disney Saved Musicals for a New Generation

By David Crow

Movies

The Top 25 Best Disney Songs from the Renaissance Era

By David Crow and 1 other

Yet this inner monologue of a song is relatable to all adolescents who don’t quite fit into high school’s damning constraints, a keen reminder to just breathe and move past the moment, looking ahead to a place or hopefully someday a world in which they won’t be the odd person out.

3. You Happened

This bubbly number seemingly shouldn’t rank so high in the list, yet it’s the most authentic aspect of the story it’s depicting: Teenagers acting out the epic love stories they’ve seen in film and yes, on the stage, playacting at adult declarations of devotion.

Read more

Movies

Happiest Season: The Problem With Harper’s Treatment of Abby and Riley

By Delia Harrington

Movies

New Netflix Christmas Movies in 2020 Ranked from Best to Worst

By Delia Harrington

It’s the classic promposal that teens have swooned over from Laguna Beach to TikTok, but one-upped through boy-band choreography and a built-in chorus of high schoolers crooning “Youuuu happened!” like it’s the big love confession from When Harry Met Sally. Yet these over-the-top promposals don’t hold a candle to…

2. Dance with You

Emma and Alyssa’s sweet anthem has the sweeping strains of a classic love song—old-Hollywood romance that reflects their simple wish to not be symbols of a movement, but to get the same quintessential high school experience as their straight classmates. It’s also one that benefits from the movie expanding the scope of a song, with the young lovers walking hand-in-hand through their empty school and waltzing under ethereally lit pink trees. Every time the motif recurs in later songs (hitting different notes each time), it conjures that same swell of emotion.

1. Tonight Belongs to You

The fact that this song attained number-one despite Corden’s bad performance overshadowing the first verses is a testament to its infectious joy, and to the frankly incredible layers of emotion contained within.

Beneath the giddy veneer of getting ready for prom, there are so many darker aspects: Barry strong-arming poor Emma into a femme makeover in an attempt to live vicariously through the prom he never had. Cheerleaders Shelby and Kaylee singing “One thing’s universal / Life’s no dress rehearsal” as they step into identical limos in their cookie-cutter cul de sac, as if they could ever fathom an experience outside of their own. This entire song claims that the night is about Emma, but it’s about everyone but her, and that is so uncomfortably truthful.

And then… the moment Emma steps into the gym to find that the entire school played a cruel trick on her. Her peers singing as if they’re in the same boat as her, as they sail on to their real prom, leaving her the humiliation of entering the empty school gym, encapsulates the brutality of high school in a single song. They’ve turned the supposedly empowering Act I finale into the ultimate villain song. The Prom is uneven overall, but as enduring musical songs go, “Tonight Belongs to You” takes the crown.

But as with all things prom, every vote counts. How would you rank the songs from Netflix’s The Prom?

The Prom is now streaming on Netflix.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The post The Prom: Ranking Every Song in the Movie Musical Soundtrack From Worst to Best appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3mdb2Ac

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Katana Maidens, Episodes 22-24

In which the end is okay at last, I state my case why I think this show must have been planned for a single cours initially, and I pinpoint how the whole thing was likely intended to work.

Path to the End

At this point, I think I’ve made it pretty clear that the second half of Katana Maidens just doesn’t work for me. I don’t get why it needs to exist, I don’t get why it makes the choices it does, and I don’t get why it adds nothing of value to my appreciation of the show that justifies it continuing after episode 12. With all that considered, the most I could ask of the finale was that it be alright. Not salvage the mess that’s come before, because that would be impossible, but give me enough of the flashy spectacle this show’s capable of that it doesn’t outright suck to get through. And honestly, I can at least say it achieved that; now that we’re no longer stuck wading through the waist-deep mud of the second half’s plot, the final battle’s able to take off and just be a fun reminder of how cool it was watching these CG character models clash blades at mach 10. It’s not as propulsive and creative as the first half’s finale, and the final six-on-one smackdown isn’t as kinetically staged as the one in episode 12, but considering the absolute dearth of worthwhile moments in the previous nine episodes, it’s enough to carry my exhausted bones over the finish line. Plus, there’s even a strong emotional heft for the first time in forever, with Kanami’s desire to save Hiyori leading to a remarkably powerful understated breakdown in episode 22. There’s something quietly touching about such a positive character letting all her repressed fear and sorrow out not in a wail of grief, but an exhale of silent tears.

It also helps that these episodes decide to cut the middleman out and finally dive headfirst into being Gay As Shit(tm). Look, I was already plenty on board with Kanami and Hiyori’s tender connection, and Hiyori’s bemused relief at hearing Kanami’s voice pulling her out of the darkness was such a killer girlfriend move, but then even freaking Tagitsu described them as a “couple of lovebirds” and, well, let’s just say I always appreciate it when subtlety goes out the window in these situations. And then we get some absolutely killer hand-holding action from the two of them, and they come back from the netherworld holding hands back to back in a beautiful swirl of cherry blossoms... yeah, that’s the good shit. Never let it be said that I don’t give credit where credit is due, and Kanami and Hiyori’s relationship, when allowed to prosper free of bullshit, has been a constant blessing throughout this bumpy ride. If nothing else, I’m glad Katana Maidens gave them their due in the end.

Why, Why, WHY?

But all the lukewarm praise I could give these final three episodes still has to carry that inevitable asterisk that it was not worth sitting through the second half of the show to get here. It’s not enough to compensate from the boredom, the pointlessness, the utter waste of time that Katana Maidens became after Yukari was defeated. For the life of me, I don’t understand why this was a two cours show; with just a little editing, twelve or thirteen episodes would have been the perfect length for the amount of story this show had to tell. And if I’m being honest, part of me thinks this was supposed to be a single-coursthe  show at first. The more I think back on it, the more plausible it seems that this story wasn’t written with a full twenty four episodes in mind. Why?

Because the final episode of Katana Maidens feels like it was supposed to have come right after episode 12.

Think about it for a second. The whole concept of episode 24 is that Kanami and Hiyori are trapped in the netherworld after both sacrificing part of their lives for that Netherworld Strike super-power, but this isn’t the first time they’ve done that strike. That’s how they finished off Evil Yukari back in episode 12, wasn’t it? This finale is trying to wring angst and plot motion out of Kanami taking on half of Hiyori’s burden, but she already made that sacrifice twelve fucking episodes ago, and Katana Maidens is acting like that never even happened! In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the entire second half of this show has acted like that first Netherworld Strike never happened. Kanami and Hiyori just came straight back from it, there was no angst over them lopping half their lifespan off, and it’s just generally been a complete non-issue. It’s like the second half completely struck that moment from canon, because the emotional logic of the final episode only makes sense if it takes place after the first time Kanami makes that sacrifice for Hiyori. But place this final episode after episode 12 and suddenly, everything makes sense! Kanami and Hiyori both reconnect with their mothers after spending twelve episodes considering how fate’s brought them together in their parents’ legacy, they accept the mutual burden of that first cyclical sacrifice because it actually would have been the first time they did that attack, they bid farewell to their pasts as they move into the future, and they reach logical emotional conclusions to the arcs they were traveling on. Cut out episodes 13 to 23, reshuffle a few plot-specific moments, and you’er got yourself a well-structured, perfectly satisfactory 13 episode show that doesn’t last a second longer than it needs to and comfortably says everything it needs to say.

Scattered Pieces

See? Doesn’t that make the most sense? Doesn’t that sound like a show structure that someone would actually come up with within that episode limit? That’s why I can’t help but think that Katana Maidens must have been meant as a single-cours show at some point; the emotional arc of the story is actually really clear, but the eleven episodes from the end of the clash with Yukari to the Netherworld mother-daughter reunion are nothing but shoddily constructed, lazily planned filler that contribute nothing to the show’s greater tapestry and could have been cut without losing anything. It feels like the team making it were planning for twelve or thirteen episodes, but they suddenly got the orders to double its length and had to scramble to rush out a second half just to meet the deadline. I obviously can’t prove anything, but that’s the only scenario that makes sense to me, because otherwise I don’t understand why this second half even exists at all. And that sucks, because I actually really like that final episode! I like the way it brings closure to Hiyori and Kanami, their last moments getting to know their parents (”I don’t want to picture it. Not with that guy.”) and bidding farewell to this life that’s no longer part of them, getting a chance to hang out as one massive extended family one last time! If I saw this episode directly after episode 12, it would have felt like the perfect conclusion. It would have felt like the natural epilogue for a story that just delivered one hell of an entertaining climax, and I would have had nothing to complain about.

Instead of getting this ending after a satisfying action ride, though, we get it after eleven pointless, meandering episodes of soul-sucking nothing. And now that I’ve gotten another taste of the show Katana Maidens used to be, it’s even more obvious how superfluous and ill-considered this entire second half was. It’s been nothing but meaningless filler that spins its wheels lifelessly, churning out half-baked concepts and not bothering to put any thought into how they all fit together. Instead of thoughtful explorations of tradition and Shinto undertones, we get hackneyed exposition dumps that try to pin a laughable redemption arc onto a literal Evil Goddess because she’s just so looooonely, guuuuuuys! Instead of clear character arcs, we get characters like Taketsu being wasted in pointless heel-turns that don’t even amount to anything in the end. Seriously, Taketsu still being evil after Sayaka left her had absolutely no meaning whatsoever; she didn’t contribute to the plot, she didn’t undergo any meaningful change, and Tagitsu just cast her aside anyway, which finally forces her to undergo some laughably rushed growth that rationally should have already happened. I honestly feel bad for her, considering how utterly this second half wasted her, especially since the only significant thing she’s done in twelve episodes is be an excuse for Yomi to spill her backstory right before dying, because this show just can’t stop killing characters at the exact moment we actually start caring about them. There’s no thought put into any of this; its only purpose is to kill time by spinning its wheels until we can finally get to the conclusion we already should’ve gotten to. What an utter goddamn waste.

Odds and Ends

-”Are you okay, Kaoru? Do you have a fever?” pfft

-”Yes! Demon, devil, Yuzuki-senpai!” “W-was I that bad?” Man, I miss when the adults were this charming on the regular.

-”The office snacks have really improved lately.” I’d complain about holding a slumber party in the middle of the apocalypse, but honestly, this is much more like the Katana Maidens I fell in love with.

-”I brought... some more... batteries.” Rui’s great, y’all.

-...what’s going on with the armor lagging out? Is that just a visual glitch or is that supposed to mean something?

-I do like this kinda sketchy kid’s book style in the netherworld. It really does feel like a plane of fading spiritual energy,

-”We should get stronger too. Together.” hrrrrrrrg THAT’S REAL GAY GUYS

And that’s finally done, thank god. Expect my closing thoughts later tonight, and then let’s move onto something far more worthwhile.

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #katana maidens #toji no miko

[jordynwritesandresearches]

Lit Review Draft 1

What Is the Correlation Between Sexuality and Music Taste?

Sexuality, Presentation, and Music

Presentation and aesthetic is regarded as an important aspect of belonging within groups, and the perception of sexuality groups is no different in this regard. Certain behaviors, appearances, names, voices, and more are frequently considered to belong to specific genders or sexualities, no matter how true that assumption may actually be. While these assumptions may affect the groups that gravitate towards these aspects of personal presentation, they definitely affect which groups gravitate away. Young, straight men seem to easily fall into this avoidant group, especially in situations where they believe they are being judged by male peers (Abramo, 2011). Abramo’s observations with high-school aged boys seemed to show an assumption among young straight men that having certain presentations in music, like using the head voice or singing softer lyrics, imply damaged or abnormal masculinity, and cause them to become defensive to avoid the ridicule of being assumed as not heteronormative.

On the opposite end of aesthetic, many music artists intentionally evoke queer presentation as a method of performance, whether they are queer or not. Artists like The Scissor Sisters utilize the colorful, purposefully overblown aesthetic of camp to express queer narratives and experiences through both their music and their bodies. Rappers like Jwl B reveal their entire body on stage, and through doing so show the real form of queer bodies, not the idealized and pornographic images of performers often edited or circulated beyond the control of the original person. Especially for non-straight performers, taking charge of their own bodies and aesthetic and pushing them away from heteronormative expectations is an important part of the declaration of the unique queer experience (Miller, 2011).

Aesthetics that are attributed to minority or marginalized groups are important to music creators and consumers, both in terms of identifying groups that are close to your own identification and in terms of designating groups which heteronormative individuals are afraid to engage with for fear of their own sexuality being questioned. This divide by aesthetic may point to a correlation between members of certain sexualities and creators and music in certain genres.

 The History of Sexuality Aesthetic of Music Creators and Performers

While individuals of minority sexualities and gender presentations have existed so long as to have explicit reference made to them in ancient myth and art, serious and anti-homophobic scholarly thought into the presence of queer artists in music and theatre was not even starting to be normalized until the late 1970s, aided by the flagship article Britten and Grimes published in the Musical Times. Author Brett breaks down the opera Peter Grimes musically, stylistically, and in story, pointing out a queer narrative of rejection and fear of discovery stemming from both the main character and the author himself. Though the article is short and refrains from even mentioning homosexuality until nearly the last page, it still features a strong and unflinching depiction of the fear of discovery felt by gay creators and the rejection they experience upon coming out. The aesthetic of queer creators in the time of the second World War was a quiet language, disguised beneath other factors but still desperate to be recognized by those who would understand the fear and shame that being gay carried in their society (Brett, 1977).

The history of feminism’s rise goes hand-in-hand with the rise of queer theory and the fight for acceptance. While Brett penned one of the first scholarly articles to take non-straight identity seriously in music theory, queer and feminist creators had already long begun the fight to be seen and not dismissed in music, striking out boldly. The Stonewall Riots sparked an emergence into the public conscious of women led and lesbian-feminist bands, record labels, and production companies, and disco was born as the voice of gay liberation, especially for gay people of color (Brett, Wood, and Hubbs, 2012). The 1980s saw a period of silencing of gay musicians and aesthetic, which then re-emerged with a vengeance with the rise of urgent anti-AIDS activism, and saw kick-back in the form of forcible outings of musicians in the 1990s (Brett, Wood, and Hubbs, 2012). Even into the modern day, queer and feminine aesthetic is degraded in popular media, even as it advocates true acceptance beyond the music industry.

The history of sexuality presentation and aesthetic in music is one of rebellion and advocacy. When who you are is seen as lesser, it is easy to gravitate towards spaces which display people like you and acceptance for your identity. It is possible that the history of queer acceptance and rebellion among certain genres could carry into the modern day, leading to genres with more queer representation among their musicians and listeners.

 Sexuality Among Listeners and the Public

There is certainly a precedence for the idea that certain individuals would be drawn to certain music, for sound and artist and aesthetic. Marketing tactics targeted at music-listening audiences have found it highly effective to hone in on fans of specific artists for political, social, and commercial messages (Waldrip, 2017). With artists holding such influential positions, the identity and sexuality of artists could quite easily influence both their audience and the spaces which their audience inhabits, and having an artist vocally identify with a minority sexuality could certainly normalize the existence of that sexuality among their audience.

The lens of sexuality and presentation itself, especially in regards to music, also changes drastically based on the space it is present in, even among queer spaces. Queer bar spaces, for example, are led by a sense of erotic sexuality, and their queer aesthetic is thus far more sexualized compared to queer choral music spaces (Miyake, 2013). Queer music spaces being eroticized, even in research, is not very surprising when the fight for rights for all sexualities is one based around the spectrum of expressing sexual attraction. However, queer musical aesthetic extends outside of specifically gay and lesbian musical spaces as well, creating communities that become forces of activism and reminders of community support for queer individuals (Miyake, 2013).

As well as looking at groups of people of certain sexualities to try and discern leanings towards certain genres, it’s possible to look at fans of certain genres and try to discern leanings towards certain sexualities. It’s even possible for the fans themselves to be the ones doing this. Discussion among pop music fans especially leans into queer aesthetic and queer-friendly spaces, generating in-jokes and assumptions that participating members are not heterosexual (r/popheads, 2019). Even participating heterosexual individuals express a fear of being considered more homosexual or less masculine by admitting to participating in the genre. Discussion like this in these spaces also opens up the idea that, instead of actually having a majority population of a certain sexuality, individuals are instead scared to speak up if they do not fit the stereotype of the community for fear of being othered and outcast (r/popheads, 2019).

 Music, Sexuality, and Correlation

The general consensus of my sources seems to lead towards the idea that music has been important to the history of expression of queer individuals, and such individuals who create music have done so both from inside the closet in many genres and by creating their own genres through explicit use of non-heteronormative practices and aesthetics. The idea that genres heavily influenced by queer individuals and aesthetic could still contain higher representation of minority sexualities is highly worth considering, but so is the idea that such histories have not truly shaped the medium, but only a stereotype of the medium in the eyes of a heteronormative-aligned public. What remains absolutely inarguable is this; queer and feminist music history is integral to the shaping of our modern day music culture, not just in the pop music scene.

Bibliography-

Brett, P. (1977). “Britten and Grimes.” The Musical Times, 118(1618), 995-1000. doi: 10.2307/959289

Brett, P., Wood, E., & Hubbs, N.  (2012, July 10). “Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer music.” Grove Music Online. Retrieved 29 Sep. 2019, from https://www-oxfordmusiconline-com.du.idm.oclc.org/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-1002224712.

Joseph Michael Abramo (2011). “Queering informal pedagogy: sexuality and popular music in school.” Music Education Research, 13:4, 465-477, DOI:10.1080/14613808.2011.632084

Miyake, E. (2013, March 3). Understanding Music and Sexuality through Ethnography: Dialogues between Queer Studies and Music. Transposition, (3). doi: 10.4000/transposition.150

r/popheads (2019, August 1) Is there a correlation between sexual orientation and music taste?. Retrieved from https://www.reddit.com/r/popheads/comments/ckmit8/is_there_a_correlation_between_sexual_orientation/.

Waldrip, R. (2017, November 30). We Are What We Listen To: How Music Makes Our Identity. Retrieved from https://www.martechadvisor.com/articles/data-management/we-are-what-we-listen-to-how-music-makes-our-identity/.

Miller, J. (2011). Spectacle and Sexuality: Music, Clothes and Queer Bodies. In Fashion and Music (pp. 131–154). Oxford: Berg. Retrieved October 07 2019, from http://dx.doi.org.du.idm.oclc.org/10.2752/9781472504418/Miller0009

#lit review #draft1 #god i hope this is coherent

[ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash]

A good night’s sleep

prompt: “If my parents found out about this they’d go ballistic”

In this one, Draco can’t sleep, and decides to go to the room of requirement to see if anything there can calm him down, only to get the feeling that he’s being followed.

Word count: 1510

its gay, hooray!

Blaize was snoring.

He did this every night, sounds like thunder coming from someone who, overall, seemed to have a similar temper to it. So when Draco became his roommate, he generally wasn’t surprised that he could wake up the entire room with just one breath.

This didn’t bother Draco, he could sleep through anything, through a storm, through a fight, probably even through a fire (and whilst he was proud of that, it didn’t make it any less dangerous).

And despite the fact that he usually could sleep, tonight he didn’t want to, not here at least.

He missed home.

He missed his room, which smelt usually like musty books and hot tea, and occasionally candle wax.

He missed his bed, with soft wool sheets which kept him completely warm day in and day out. He missed his mother.

He missed how, if he ever had a nightmare, she would know, as if she were directly linked to him, and would be in his room in 5 minutes at most, comforting him and bringing him to the kitchen, making him a hot chocolate to calm him down, and eventually taking him back up and tucking him in. He didn’t care that he was 16, it was comforting, something he dearly needed at the moment.

He even missed his father funnily enough.

Whilst he appeared cold and secluded to all others, he was actually quite warm when he wanted to be.

He missed walking into a room to see his mother and father dancing to a cauldron full of hot strong love, and seeing his father lean in and whisper something in his mother's ear, only to have her giggle and lean into his chest.

These moments were rare, but they were the ones he missed, and loved, the most out of all of them.

Pulling him out of his thoughts, he hears a clock chime 11 in the common room, with small bells ringing melodiously and softly, reminding him hour after hour that he was still not home.

He pulled the blanket off him.

Swinging his legs around, they hung off the bed, socks barely too big for his feet, just gently sliding a little, almost as if urging him to move.

His feet gently touched the cold stone beneath them, letting the cold filter into his entire body, making him shiver.

He padded towards the common room door, pushing it open slightly, looking around the corridor, and then slipping through silently, and slinking from wall to wall, eyes searching for any sign of mrs norris, or worse, Filtch.

He swore he heard someone behind him, but every time he turned, no one was there, only the feeling of being watched, and the imaginary sound of someone’s breath being suppressed.

When he finally made it to the seventh floor, he felt a sense of relief as the carved door came into view, slowly forming to his will and welcoming him as an old friend would.

As the door creaked open, Draco felt himself relax, and ducked through the door, letting it close behind him with a final thud.

Walking into the room, Draco smiled.

The walls were covered, corner to corner, in books.

There were different texts from Merlin’s theorems, to Dumbledore's 12 cures of dragon pox.  It had fiction and fact, muggle and magic, and family books which had been passed down from generations, and yet the room had it.

A bed lay in the corner of the room, with familiar knitted sheets of green, and red, ushering someone to them, making the bed look even more inviting than usual.

The desk in the centre of the room lay tidy, with all of the writing utensils perfectly organised, should they need to be used.

The skylight (which Draco was surprised the room could replicate due to them not being on the castle's top floor, but hey, it was magic) had a beautiful pattern moulded into it, with the family name; Malfoy, at the centre of the piece.

Gold leaves circled and enhances small figures who danced, rose and fell on the glass portrait, and a warm glow encased the room and bathed Draco’s face in a peaceful light, making his entire body relax at the feeling of home.

The gentle gliding of the dust onto the floor made the entire environment seem more, slow, and serene, compared to the extreme buzz of everyday life at hogwarts, the filled corridors and the continuous stream of words from excited 1st years to bored 7th years.

Draco took in a long, deep breath, before letting go, and allowing his entire body relax.

Not only did the room look like it, but it felt like home, through and through.

A gasp came from the door of the room.

Draco turned quickly to see a mirage, a ripple in the air, the a pair of feet appearing, legs, a body, and a head with a lightning scar and pair of circular wire spectacles.

“Potter.”

It wasn’t harsh, like Harry had expected, but soft, and rather vulnerable if he was completely honest. His eyes were calmer than usual, not sharp and accusing, but almost like a puppy, completely innocent and gentle.

“Draco, I’m really sorry, I was up and I saw you and I wanted to make sure you were ok so-”

“Its alright,” Draco didn’t seem to be angry, he didn’t even seem to be bothered, he seemed more relaxed than ever and completely at ease.

Harry let out a breath, and rubbed his hands on his pajama bottoms, wiping off the cold sweat that had formed in his palms, and on the tips of his fingers, making his hands clammy.

Now that he was standing in full view of Draco, he had become hyper aware of the lack of a shirt. Not Draco’s lack of shirt, but Harry’s. In his will to get out of the hot dorm, he had thrown on his invisibility cloak but neglected a shirt, why should he need one, he was invisible.

A blush was making its way up Draco’s neck, in stark contrast to the pale peach of his skin, noticing this fact too, and tried to look away from his chest, into his green eyes.

“Erm, Potter?” Harry looked up, “You’re not wearing a shirt.”

Harry shuffled awkwardly on the balls of his feet.

Trying to avoid the subject at hand he looked around the room, seeing the several Slytherin posters and scarves, as well as a stuffed toy which seemed to be in the shape of a dragon, resting on the pillow at the end of the bed.

“What is this place?”

Draco sighed.

“My room,” a complete silence followed.

“So I’m-”

“Yup,” Draco cut him off, gliding towards the bed and sitting at the foot of it, patting the space next to him.

Harry gave a little giggle before a snort made its way through his lips. Draco tilted his head confused.

“You’re inviting me to bed with you?”

Draco’s blush went a darker shade of pink, now almost glowing in the soft light of the room.

“If my parents found out about this they’d go ballistic,” he replied, shaking his head slightly, “Sure Potter, whatever floats your boat.”

Harry gave one more giggle before walking towards the bed and sitting next to Draco.

“So,” He paused, looking up at Draco, “Why did the room show you your bedroom?”

Draco looked at Harry, seeing nothing but genuine interest in his eyes.

“Do you ever get homesick here, miss your family or your room?” Harry shook his head, the only time that he ever got sick was when he was surrounded by his blood relatives, people that he could never consider family, now or in a milion years.

“Well, I do. At home I don’t have to act a certain way and I can just relax, without having to worry about being hated. I don’t sleep here, I just miss my room.” His head was hung in, shame? Harry hadn’t ever seen Draco so emotional and willing to talk to him, it was surprising to say the least.

They sat in silence, staring at one of the bookcases, each of them thinking of different things, but appreciating the mutual presence of the other, Harry finally having relaxed in the unfamiliar, but oddly comforting room which surrounded him.

He heard Draco’s breathing begin to slow, before feeling a small weight on his shoulder. Harry tensed at the random touch, but eventually relaxed, and let his own head fall onto Draco’s white hair, and let himself sleep peacefully.

Of course, when they both woke up, they denied it, but that had been the best nights sleep either of them had ever had. And though they tried to deny it to themselves, they knew that they were good for each other.

They met up again, and again and again in the room of requirement, sometimes talking about themselves, or sometimes talking about their friends, but it would always end in the same way, a good night's sleep.

#drarry #drarry fanfiction #draco x harry #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy