Tumgik
#to terms with who you are in the moment while knowing sort of bittersweetly that it will likely be a lifelong journey to fully accept it
piosplayhouse · 11 months
Text
I've said this before but I think one of the reasons scum villain occupies such a unique niche of queer representation is because it's one that interrogates society's expectations on gender and sexuality, but within a world where there's no strict ramifications for queerness. Instead the expectations and constraints on queerness are carried solely through Shen Yuan's internalized issues, which are so deeply set they motivate many of his decisions within the book, but aren't enforced by any direct outside forces in PIDW. It's a great critique on how the effects of internalization can persist even when someone isn't in an environment where they're being directly oppressed, and how it can take years and years to unpack and unlearn.
1K notes · View notes
romanapologist · 4 years
Text
“Half Full” - Moceit Fic
Content/warnings: referenced past manipulation, alcohol, a lot of discussion of things the sides have done wrong, but none of them are intended as unsympathetic. they have done some b a d stuff but they’re learning and we love them all yknow?? (namely warnings for virgil being overprotective/lashing out, and me being on my bullshit anti-roceit agenda)
Notes: You all know I’m not a writer, but I had a thought about a?? Characterization for Janus?? Which as I reread this is kind of very OOC, but idk I just thought it was neat, and I do go crazy for moceit hurt/comfort.
Finding the moral side crying in the middle of the night was, all things considered, not too surprising. After all, Janus knew every time Patton lied about his happiness. However, he had suspected to find him with loud, messy sobs. With a tin of cookies almost finished. Not with a bottle of wine and a blank, tear-tracked face.
He didn’t even seem to notice Janus’ entrance until he cleared his throat.
“Oh,” Patton uttered, gaze flicking to the other side. His face didn’t gain any clarity of expression. He just started putting away the wine and finished off his glass, making moves to leave. “Sorry.”
Janus took a moment to hide his shock at the scene, and at Patton’s reaction to him. (What, had he thought the moral side would come running into his arms for comfort? He was being ridiculous.)
“Give that here, you imbecile,” Janus said, taking the bottle from Patton’s hands and pouring himself a glass. There was no bite behind his words, at least not in a meaningful way. He’d lost his edge. “So, you’re just up for fun, I assume?”
“Hm,” Patton failed to respond. “Are you going to stay up?”
“I’m sure I’ll be back to bed in a moment.”
“That sounds like a lie.”
“How out-of-character that would be for me,” Janus smiled.
Patton half-smiled back. “You wanna watch something?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“A documentary on Greek philosophers.”
Janus frowned at the dry film Patton pulled up. “You think you’ll enjoy this?”
“I think it’ll be boring as fuck,” he said, casually. Janus turned to him in mild shock, while he simply yawned. “But Logan wanted me to watch it. Maybe it’ll be more interesting with you.”
Janus nodded, careful to hide his smile behind his glass.
•••
The movie was, as Patton had so eloquently predicted, boring as fuck. Also, quite hazy by the end, due to all the wine. They had been quiet near the beginning, but by the end they were talking over everything in hushed whispers and even a laugh from Patton, every so often.
The next day, when Janus walked in on breakfast, he swore Patton’s smile changed. From a brittle, stiff form--forced in the tense atmosphere--to something more relaxed. Relieved.
“Oh, hiya, Janus! There’s a seat here if you wanna stay,” Patton patted the chair beside him.
Janus stayed.
•••
“...Janus is right.”
“Of course,” Virgil scoffed.
It was the first whole group discussion they’d had since the… wedding fiasco. And while Virgil didn’t seem surprised by Patton’s words, Janus most certainly was.
“Obviously, I am. I knew you would agree, Patton,” Janus lied.
Patton was too preoccupied to do anymore than hum at Janus’ statement, all concerned glances over at Roman. Ugh, Roman. Still all mopey after the last video, he was currently staring determinedly at the floor. Him and Patton should have let all of that go by now--the past was the past. Hadn’t they learnt about moving on?
“Are you sure, Patton?” Thomas asked. “I’ve always gone to this event before. And, I’ve always made it through--”
Patton shook his head. “You know there will be family members there who don’t respect you. And who choose not to learn. I know I’ve always been the one to say they deserve your love anyway, but… I don’t know if they do.”
All of the sides stood in shock for a moment. Janus schooled away a proud look. 
Logan was the first to speak, slowly nodding. “...Yes, well, Patton does bring up an interesting point. Thomas, you tend to give people the ‘benefit-of-the-doubt’, which can be a good thing, and has led to you improving relationships in the past. However, if the other people are actively refusing to learn, no progress can ever be made. And so the effort would be for naught.”
In no time flat, Thomas was coming to his big realization about not owing certain people certain things, yada yada yada, doing the outro, yada yada yada. Janus was about to sink out, with that new, odd, and decidedly wonderful vindication that he was right, when--
“Deceit, wait.”
Janus sighed, audibly, and made sure to put on his most sardonic smile. “Yes, Virgil?”
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“You’ll have to be a little more specific, dear.”
“Don’t--” Virgil grit his teeth and huffed out a breath. “With Patton, I mean.”
“Hm. Really, Virgil, I wish I knew what you were referring to, but--”
“Oh, cut the bullshit!” He finally snapped. “I don’t know what you’ve been playing at with him, if you think you really like him, but you’re just gonna do to him what you did to Roman.” 
Janus cringed at that, though he tried not to. Virgil knew just how to get to him. “Well. Thank you for this conversation, Virgil. I’ll be considering it deeply,” he said sarcastically, before sinking out. Though, it wasn’t as much of a lie as he would have liked.
•••
“Janus? What are you doing?”
Patton had found him pacing around the living room. And he hadn’t even had enough time to mask his aggravated expression when the moral side entered.
“Dishes,” he replied sourly.
“Right,” Patton said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I’ve used that one enough to see through it.” He joked, smiling bittersweetly. It was such a sincere look he was giving, so ready to comfort. Janus wasn’t used to it. Whether the ‘it’ was sincerity or comfort he couldn’t say.
“It’s just--I don’t see why I should have to apologize to him,” Janus spat out.
Patton came over to the couch, motioning for Janus to join him. He did.
“Virgil?” Patton asked. Janus looked away. “...Ah. Roman.”
“He shouldn't have laughed at my name!”
“Yes,” Patton nodded slowly. “We've all done things we shouldn’t’ve.”
“...Are you implying something?”
Patton raised a brow. “Calling two sides evil for the price of one?”
“Oh, please,” Janus scoffed. “You’ve always thought Remus was evil.”
“...Yes. And I’m learning why that’s wrong,” he admitted.
That gave Janus a pause, but he quickly disregarded his surprise. “Well, I already reminded you, Roman started it.”
“No, he didn’t.” Patton looked away. He took a deep breath in, silent for a beat too long. “...I did. A long time ago.”
Janus narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I told him he was dishonorable to side with you. That treating you as more than a villain was evil.” Each word sounded like it pained him. Each a confession, although Janus had been witness to all of it. “It’s all always been my fault.” Tears silently began to fall down his cheeks. He blinked, as if to somehow subtly dispel them, but they only fell harder. 
And, oh.
Oh no.
Janus really didn’t want to do this next part.
It would be so easy to let Patton believe that. He could even comfort the side, tell him he was forgiven, help him through--all without revealing anything. 
Save himself. It was what he was built for.
“Patton… it wasn’t all your fault, per say.” Patton glanced up at him, confused, and it was his turn to look away. “I quite blatantly flattered Roman. I manipulated him, used him--whatever you want to call it. All because I wanted his favor in... that case.”
“Well, I already knew--”
“Except, it wasn’t just that case,” Janus rushed out before he could lose his nerve. “It started when I first revealed myself to Thomas, remember? Really, I just wanted to test the waters, at first. See what I could get away with, and who I could get away with it with.”
Patton had a blank look as he sorted through his memory. “ ‘Love the outfit, Roman,’” he finally quoted.
“...Indeed,” Janus sighed. “It became clear that Roman would be the easiest to get to. Which makes sense from his need-of-praise mixed with lack-of-praise. And he is the romantic side. And I just knew, one day it would be useful if he was…somewhat biased, so if…”
“If you and him were a little… friendly?” Patton finished, sadly. Disappointedly. 
Janus nodded. Then, quickly, he rushed to add, “I mean, nothing that bad! I didn’t kiss him. We were never dating. I just may have implied--”
Patton’s face changed from disappointed, then. To something else. Something worse.“Right. No. Of course,” Patton said. “Not that bad at all.”
That lie from Patton’s tongue ached in Janus’s chest for the rest of the day.
***
Remus wasn’t in their side of the mindscape when Janus returned to it. Which he didn’t make too much of, sulking around and rewatching Good Place episodes, until Remus skipped in covered in… blood? No. Much more unusual--red paint.
“What have you been up to then, hm?” Janus asked, as polite as he was disinterested.
“Painting with Pat! Drawing with Daddy! Look!” He shoved a messy, still drying canvas in Janus’s arms. It was a finger painting of mutilated arm, rather tame for him, but perhaps that was because he made it with--
“Patton?”
“That’s what I said! Geez, who stole your ears? Oh, wait, was it me? That sounds like me. But, of course, it doesn’t sound like anything to you!” He cackled.
“I still have my ears, you gremlin,” he hissed. “But you’re right, there’s nothing for me to be surprised about, since you and Patton are on such great terms.”
“Exactly!” Remus confirmed. “Wow, you heard about it quick, JJ! It was just this afternoon, he came up with those pouty puppy eyes, gushing apologies, asking me to be his wittle fwiend~” he batted his eyelashes mockingly. Heat rose in Janus’s chest at that, and he almost lept to defend Patton, embarrassingly, but luckily Remus continued before he could. 
“Which, was kinda stupid; guy made it sound like he had committed war crimes against me or some shit. Like, yeah, dude was a dick to me; I was a dick to him. That was meant to be our whole dynamic! Now whenever I scare him--what?--I’ll feel guilty, who wants that?! I liked being enemies. But maybe I’ll like being friends more.” He shrugged. “Time will tell, right? That’s a great idea, actually. I’m gonna go make some clocks that just scream every hour. Oo, or every minute! Yeah, that. Seeya, Janny Fanny!”
Janus gaped, left uncomprehending, while Remus sped off.
He tried to imagine it--Remus. With Patton. Chatting, smiling, joking. Remus would, of course, be able to bring much more reckless fun to the father figure than he might otherwise go for. Patton might enjoy some of Remus’s more childish humor. In an odd, backwards way they made a sort of sense.
The image made Janus’s blood boil. He should have been pleased for them. He knew that, but it didn’t help. And--what? Had Janus thought he was special? Fancied himself the singular, blessed demon chosen by an angel? Patton’s new bestest buddy?
No. He should’ve known that was never on the table. As it turned out, Patton was simply being polite to everyone now. That didn’t mean Janus had changed in his mind. It didn’t mean Janus had changed at all.
He was a villain. He had been going about this all wrong, trying to be more than he was made for. He needed to remember that.
***
“How the tables table, huh?”
“That is how the phrase goes,” Janus remarked dryly as Patton took a seat by him. Janus offered him the wine bottle, but he put a hand up and shook his head. 
“Well, at least I’m not crying,” Janus sneered. 
“No, wouldn’t want to ruin your dignity like me, right?” Patton half-joked. Half-joke, half-smile, half-truth. Nothing Patton did went full way. “Wanna talk about it?”
Janus scoffed, and went back to nursing his drink.
“Right,” Patton frowned. “Listen--Janus, I wanted to apologize. ...Again,” he added, with a half-laugh. Half-laugh, half-hurt. Whatever. “I shouldn’t have gotten so judgmental earlier. Morality and judgement tend to go hand in hand, even when they shouldn’t. And I got defensive on Roman’s behalf too,” he admitted. Janus grit his teeth, glaring at the wooden counter. Defensive over Roman. Friends with Remus. “Look--I’ve done bad stuff too. I had no place to judge you now, when it’s clear you have now learned.”
Janus laughed, suddenly, bitterly, at that. “Oh, have I, now?” 
Patton blinked, tilting his head. “...Yes?”
Janus rolled his eyes, and downed the end of his glass. “Listen, Morality, I’m not like you. I don’t need to go on some learning spree, down the path of beautiful ethics and self-improvement. I’m not meant to be a little, lovely side. Maybe learning my name made you forget; I’m Deceit.You heard Thomas yourself--I’m a flaw. So, I don’t do guilt. I don’t plan on too much learning. And I definitely won’t be spewing out apologies, like some sides I know,” he bit out each word. He wanted to make Patton leave. Maybe cry. Make him realize what Janus really was. But he just sat there with that stupid, sincere, concerned gaze.
“I’m not built for it!” Janus continued, growing more frantic at the lack of reaction. “...I can’t.”
Janus shoved his hand to his mouth in an attempt to cover the first sob, but it was too late. Soon his shoulders were shaking, his head in his hands, breaths unsteady. There were warm arms around his back, pulling him against a cardigan-clad chest, soothing whispers in his ears. He realized his hat had been taken off as he felt fingers run through his hair. 
“Janus,” Patton began softly, moving back slightly so that Janus could meet his eyes. “That sounded like a lot of lies to me.”
Janus shook his head firmly, fumbling to pull his gloves off and put his hands up. “Patton, I swear, that is the truth!”
Patton looked at him for a long moment. Then, he reached his hands out, and slowly took Janus’s. Janus let him. “You can lie to yourself, you know,” he said softly.
Janus’s eyes burned, and he had to force himself not to spill over the edge again. He was hyper-aware of their contact, now. The warmth of Patton’s skin against his was intoxicating.
Patton looked down at their hands too. He squeezed them lightly, a 3 beat pattern. “They’re so cold,” he frowned.
“Are they, now?” Janus aimed for sarcastic, but it came out unsteady. 
“Mhm.”
They were quiet for a long time. Unmoving. As if a word, a breath, could break them apart. 
“I’ll apologize,” Janus said finally.
“To Roman?”
“...Yes,” Janus agreed. “And to you.”
“What for?”
Janus looked down at their intertwined hands, waited for Patton to follow his gaze. “The things I want.”
“Oh,” Patton breathed. He rubbed his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand. “I… don’t think the things we want are so different anymore.”
“Hm.” Janus let go of Patton’s grip, just for a moment, in order to pull the other closer. Patton melted in his grip immediately, head laying on his shoulder. Janus returned the embrace. “Maybe not.”
112 notes · View notes
Text
Writing Questionnaire
Hello people, it’s been a while. I was tagged by the delightful @natsora in this one ! I tag @stories-of-arani, @kiranwearsscienceblues, @autodiscothings and @bronzeagelove if you haven’t done it and feel like doing this.
Short stories, novels, or poems?
I like all three, I have slowly warmed up to short stories over the years, and now I really appreciate this form as well.
What genre do you prefer reading?
I kinda prefer nonfiction like essays or autobiographies, and literary fiction. It’s been a while since I read a scifi or fantasy book that really managed to caught my attention, mind and heart (which is a shame).
What genre do you prefer writing?
I recently discovered I had a crack for realism, as in the french literary movement, of bringing out the mundane out of the extraordinary. It might seem super counter-intuitive, but I really feel like we get to touch the absurd and the heartfelt out of the human experience when we bring it down to just... living, and what it costs, and what it does to us. But that’s more for the general feeling; in terms of genre, I really like to write scifi, literary and horror/thriller.
Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?
I do both, and it totally depends. I write short stories with very few preparation and I mostly pants them, but novels require more planning to remain coherent.
What music do you listen to while writing?
What goes with the scene. It can be indie rock, it can be soundtracks, it can be dark electro. Or, when I’m very very tired and need to hold the night writing, I can even turn to the unglory of eurodance and hardbass so I can bounce around as I write in absolute shame and agony.
Fave books/movies?
For the movies, I think my heart will forever go to the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which amazed me with new things to discover in storytelling, sound design, cinematography and much more every time I’ve seen it again since my first viewing at age 8.
For books, I’m not sure I could pick a favorite one, because let’s be real folks -I skipped reading a lot those past few years. So I’m going to go with Drawing Blood by Molly Crabapple, which is a fantastic autobiography that talks about politics from the 2000′s and later (the Occupy Wall Street movement, Greece, etc), the burlesque stage of New York, her life and self discovery as an artist and an activist, and fueled me with a fire to do things that matter. It’s maybe not my favorite book, but it’s the one that shook me the most those past few years.
Any current WIPs?
I have 3-ish at the moment.
Halfway Home is obviously the big one. I haven’t posted an update on this for the longest time, but I’ve been very busy doing anything but working on it, but I’m slowly carving the final outline. So much has changed you guys. I’m finally embracing structure a little bit more, and I think it does good to the story. 4 years on this bitch, still a mess. I really love it, but I’m starting to tire, not gonna lie. Still, I really need to get it out in 2019, because after I’ll be too much of a boring adult with regular income to do it justice.
I also have another project, for an original novel. I have the global outline already, and even though I need to research and polish a few details, I’m amazed at how fast it came together and how crisp the story is. It’s a major departure from the messy slug that is Halfway Home, and I even have good hopes to get it published someday. But I’m not getting to it before finishing Halfway Home, otherwise I’m afraid I will never find it in me to get back to the pain of it.
Then I have a short novel horror collection, in french. I have three quarters of the first novel, which might be the weirdest thing I ever wrote, about parasites and showers and green beans. It’s called “Gant de Toilette” (washcloth? I think it’s the correct translation), and I don’t even know.
If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?
Black top with long sleeves, black shorts, stockings and high heels, which is my standard everyday thing when I go out. Maybe my chainsaw necklace, even though I lost it recently :(
Create a character description for yourself:
She becomes colder the closer you get. Not much, but there is a flicker in the soul, the muscle tension -what was warmth and rageful empathy now comes with an afterthought, a plastic film maybe. You wonder if it’s egotic, if it’s dissociation, if anything before was ever true or meaningful, but you don’t ask, because if you ask, you suspect she wouldn’t know what to reply. After all, she lives within, so what does she know of herself.
(agreed, this is maybe not the most flattering portrait I could have made))
Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?
I’m inspired by people I know, and I do incorporate parts of how I perceive them in my writing, but I don’t think I would straight-up pluck out someone I know from real life and put them in my story. It would feel wrong to me, and kind of uninteresting too.
Are you kill-happy with characters?
Hmmm good question. I think I am, like I enjoy killing off characters in meaningul ways and crafting the situation around, but it really depends on the WIP and whether it calls for it or not.
Coffee or tea while writing?
Both. Not at the same time, obviously, but I alternate. Cappuccino is also awesome.
Slow or fast writer?
Fast when I do write, which has not been extremely often lately.
Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?
.Everywhere really, since inspiration is but a patchwork of stuff we get to experience. Dreams are a big one; some of my most vibrants ideas come from dreams. Otherwise, reflexions on poeple, anxieties about the world and personal experiences are what drives me most of the time.
If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?
A low nobility in that subplot that isn’t going anywhere but still seems desperate to make a point.
Most fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche?
I think I just love the weird family of outcasts trope way too much for it to be reasonable, and I hate unnecessary romance or family links revealed to actualize characters’ relationships, because I feel like it often cheapen things or flatten them.
Fave scenes to write?
Two characters bonding bittersweetly. I can’t find any other way to describe that sort of scenes and I apologize.
Most productive time of day for writing?
Night. No question asked.
Reason for writing?
Self discovery, a way to make sense of the world, a way to speak to others with deeper layers than speech alone, and for the made up character my mind feels obliged to.
6 notes · View notes
bellamybb · 6 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Jason retweeted this article: https://www.mythconception.net/single-post/2018/05/01/REVIEW-The-100---Episode-501---Eden
i read the whole thing and 1) the author is an amazing writer, the way they articulate the words - i just can’t. it was beautiful. 2) i was surprised that while they spoke about ships - i don’t think they had shipper goggles on. yes, they ship bellarke. no, they don’t ship b//cho - but when you read the article it doesn’t feel too pushy with ships.
here’s the specific echo / clarke / bellamy information i’m talking about..
“Equally, I was so glad to see that it was Echo teaching her. This ride was going to be an absolute hell spell for her given what she’d done before hitching a lift to space. And in a lot of ways, it would be easy to think that much of the Azgeda way of life – fighting and brawling as they did – might be rendered useless here in this new confine. But no. Deadly as they were on the ground, they’re helping another character to find a new lease on life, in the air, and I really loved the poetry of that. Of course, in talking about Echo, we can’t avoid the fact that things have shifted enormously between her and Bellamy too.
Okay, okay, okay, I know. I’m not the biggest fan of this relationship either. Nor have I ever have been, really. But by the same token, reality and realistic expectations tailored to the world that affects them, are still key players in this scenario. Call it intuition – call it whatever you will – but it’s been pretty clear that at some point, Bellamy and Echo were going to find some common ground to work out their issues and their chemistry alike. And hate is a hard thing to hold on to in close quarters for years at a time.
And it is important to note, I think, the chemistry these two characters have always had in one way or another, even since that first introduction in Mount Weather. Is it necessarily the healthiest chemistry all the time? Well no. Obviously. We’ve seen that demonstrated more than once. But much like Clarke down on the ground, in Echo we see that same idea being examined, in some ways: the idea that once you pass into a new realm of who you are meant to be at any given point of your life, it is impossible to go back to the person you were. You have to go forward. In Echo’s case, her entire world is gone. And the one person who would understand better than most how much that experience has changed and affected her, is naturally going to be the one she fought hardest with, in battling for that world’s survival. Them becoming lovers? Well, it sort of felt inevitable once they were up in space, and while some might view it as predictable storytelling (and others still, view it as a little incendiary) to me it felt bittersweetly realistic. This was going to happen whether the audience wanted it or not, and who knows but that it may have actually helped these characters heal a little in themselves after the torment they’ve endured.
Either way, of all the hills to die on, fandom, this ain’t one.
Because indeed, it’s important to remember where these characters are when we first met them again. Ask yourself what that moment was saying about them. Echo, we remember, was in the fight. Raven was learning. Monty was caretaking. Harper was supporting. Emori was constructively contributing. Murphy? John seems finally to be facing a few of his demons.
But Bellamy. He is still looking down.
Still.
Do not underestimate the power of that moment.
Think about it. More than six years have passed in a world where he thinks Clarke is dead. Six years he’s had to mourn her in a way that meant he let go, came to terms with the sacrifices they all made, and reset his focus to life on the ship. He’s had time. But he’s still looking down. It reminded me oddly of that line in Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. The one Rochester uses when he’s trying to convince Jane that there is something bigger at play between them.
I have a strange feeling with regard to you, he says. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly.
For all those people who would argue against the idea that Clarke and Bellamy are the endgame of the greater world of this story, I look back at moments like this – moments they share, without even needing to be in the same space – that gives me faith that their arc will still come full circle in the end. I refuse to feel gaslit, when the reality is that maybe it’s just a lesson in patience: something I think we could all learn to cultivate a little more of.
I think the big thing I’m trying to say here though – particularly in the case of Bellamy, Echo and Clarke – is that it is still such early days. There’s still so much we don’t know; the one thing we do know, though, is that they’re worth sticking with until whatever end, comes.”
Tumblr media
aka - blarke is end game. fear not! 
186 notes · View notes