#/he's been in a permanent state of stress and Survival More since he was a little kid

[harbingerofwhump]

I love you SoC artists and writers who don't feel the need to make Kaz "ugly" in their work

I love you SoC artists and writers who let Kaz be seen as attractive by characters other than just his close friends in their work

I love you SoC fans who don't just brush off and dismiss the idea of Kaz being considered Hot with regard to his physical appearance

I love you people who let the visibly disabled character be seen as attractive and desirable (without fetishizing or objectifying or having it be "in spite of xyz" or "attractive.... for someone who's xyz")

[sergeantsporks]

How/Why did your ocs become immortal? How long have they all been alive, and how do they feel about their immortality?

So, Caelan and Kore are both magicians. Magic in my universe automatically comes with a free immortality guarantee. With that being said! Kore was an alchemist looking for the secret to eternal life, and she discovered it. Her magic hadn't kicked in yet, so she wasn't immortal at the time, but when she took her own serum to test if it worked on humans, it IMMEDIATELY set off all her magic all at once. Along with turning her immortal and giving her access to magical power, the stress of all that magic hitting her at once turned some of her hair permanently white.

Sylvia, however, is the outlier of the two. She is a 100% bona-fide normal human with not a magical bone in her body. However, she ticked off an ancient sorceress who cursed her to immortality when she was roughly 30 (actual number 27, but that's very arbitrary)

Caelan Jr. and Sylvia were both born sometime in the 6th century AD, about 15 years apart from each other (Caelan's older in terms of years, but he's eternally 17)

Caelan's magic kicked in to save his life from disease. Sylvia's immortality, as earlier stated, came as a curse.

Kore was born much earlier, sometime a bit before Alexander the Great in Greece.

Caelan is pretty fond of his immortality. Teenagers tend to think they're unkillable, and in his case, that's true (he can still be cast into a state worse than death though, so. Be careful, dude)! He LOVES that he has enough time to try everything the world has to offer. The one thing he's not SUPER fond of is how he's stuck at 17, because adults tend to treat him like a kid. Which he is, but he's also a super responsible immortal being who raised a whole child, thank you very much

Kore has a more nuanced view on her immortality. On the one hand, she MADE her own immortality (sort of), so she's very proud of that feat. And being immortal gave her the chance to finish the other side of her work; figuring out how to take immortality away. With that being said, she was trapped in a tree for about 8 or 9 centuries, which was none too fun. And one of the reasons she was figuring out immortality was because she was sick of magicians/gods stepping all over mortals and she wanted a way to fight back and kill them. So for her, immortality and magic at large are both a boon and a very dangerous curse

Despite the fact that her immortality was cast as a curse, Sylvia's learned to see it as a good thing. For her, immortality gives her the chance to help people she otherwise couldn't help. She becomes a field medic during WW1 because she, unlike others, can survive the chlorine and mustard gas. Even if it wrecks her health for eternity, she thinks it's worth it to save lives. For the first century or so, though, she DESPISES her immortality, since it means all of her loved ones (sans Caelan) got old and died without her. She and Wolf had JUST cleared how they felt about each other, and now she can't be with him, and that tears her up for a long while. She always remains a little stuck in the past, mourning the loss of the life she would have had without the curse.

[butch-reidentified]

if someone is on death row, they deserve whatever method is used to kill them. some prisoner is traumatized? i'm sure the family and friends of whoever he killed or raped are far more traumatized. stop giving sympathy to these losers.

ok fascist 🤷 let the state do whatever they want, there's a brilliant idea

my post you're butthurt about - which you clearly didn't actually read before sending this lmfao - actually included multiple quotes from the victim's family (who's also the perpetrator's family since the prisoner was paid by the dad to kill the mom), so you're real stupid for this in context. especially since the son said he found witnessing the execution traumatic. if you care so much about the victim's family being traumatized, that should concern you.

you're also real stupid for tryna come at me with this point as a survivor of multiple violent crimes, including some where people I personally knew were murdered. maybe I have a better grasp on this than you 🤷

the perpetrator of the most violent crime I survived (Pulse Nightclub mass shooting in 2016) died at Pulse. His death did not prevent me or anyone else from suffering the consequences of the trauma. I am connected with mass violence survivors all over North America. we have an annual gathering, during which we always end up discussing trauma healing and justice, and one thing we talk about both at in-person events and in the online group is the difference between the perpetrator being killed at the scene, being executed after the fact, or still being alive. while there are many nuanced issues with all of these scenarios, those of us whose perpetrators died on the scene feel a distinct lack of closure/justice. the only survivors I know who have issue with their perpetrator's imprisonment are the Thurston survivors, whose shooter, sentenced to 111 years w/ no possibility of parole, is constantly filing new appeals which obviously causes a lot of stress and anxiety for them.

But it's important to note the ocean of difference between a mass shooter and an impoverished man who accepted money to kill someone and regretted it forever, despite being forgiven by the victim's family. Plus, someone remorseful isn't constantly trying to evade any justice whatsoever.

you pro-state-managed-retaliatory-murder fascists love to act like anyone who objects is somehow anti-victim, but if you ever once listened to actual victims and victims' family/friends, they almost always despise ppl like you.

trusting the state to determine who should be violently murdered is literally a core tenet of fascism. every fascist government in history relied on state-managed executions to obtain and stay in power.

the USA "justice system" (what a joke) insists that it's about REHABILITATION, justice, keeping people safe. Which one of those was achieved with this execution? Let's take an honest look:

Rehabilitation had clearly been achieved beforehand, but executing a rehabilitated person and never letting them interact with society makes rehabilitation pretty meaningless.

Keeping people safe has a strong relationship with #1, rehabilitation. There are 2 ways to keep people safe from an individual: rehabilitate the individual (which, again, this person was) or remove them from society permanently. The 2nd is achieved with locking them up for life. Where is the necessity for execution? Especially in a situation where the person being executed never came up with the idea to kill or had any desire/urge to kill - it was only ever about money for him. This is still obviously inexcusable, but it's hard to see how he's as dangerous or twisted as someone who WANTS to kill or thinks of killing as a solution to a problem.

Justice is a synonym for "fairness," both of which are inherently subjective. When we talk about "justice" for victims/their loved ones, we often mean "revenge," but this is very rarely what those left behind want - and it's pure assumption to assume the victim would want this either. In a typical homicide case, this is assumed to mean the killer getting life in prison or put to death; kill-for-hire is and should be less black & white, and cases like this one where the hired party was not a "career assassin," but was convinced to commit an atrocity by someone else only to instantly regret it for the rest of their life, we must take a variety of factors into account. How have we as a society and our government failed someone so spectacularly that they've ended up so desperate to earn some money that they accept an offer to kill for it? Is someone in that position an inherently bad person? How much responsibility should the government take for allowing its people to live in extreme poverty? How much responsibility does the hired killer bear vs how much responsibility should be placed on the hirer who made the original decision to facilitate ending someone's life? What do the surviving loved ones think justice looks like? Do we even ask them before sentencing someone? Who gets to decide when justice has been served? Does achieving justice help the living people who have been affected by the crime in any measurable way?

EDIT: btw rape isn't a capital crime like p much anywhere. maybe nowhere, I'm not sure but I've never heard of a rapist being executed for it, only women who kill their rapists

[cryptid-called-ash]

Well… I did it… I made the Jeff x Michael au

I’m calling it Pit Guard au, takes place post-pizza sim but pre-pizzaplex

Basic premise is Michael offers to help Jeff fix up and run the old pizzeria, and Jeff isn’t about to turn down the funds and guidance. But everything comes with a price.

TW for heavy scaring

Michael design for the au, Jeff coming soon

Design and characterization explanation under cut

Michael survives the pizza sim fire unintentionally, I’m not explaining how in detail so pick your own poison

Inherited Afton robotics, which he turned into a state-of-the-art tech company. he also manages to reacquire Fazbear entertainment, but that’s way later.

Looks like he’s in his early thirties, is actually in his late fifties.

Almost completely healed from the whole ennard thing, but it permanently altered his body. He has dozens of scars from where the endo tore its way out of his skin.

The scar over his left eye is from Foxy’s hook, when he’d been doing maintenance on a breaker boxes and foxy caught him unawares. He practically sprinted back to the office and only finished fixing the breaker after 6am.

The one across his face is from FTfoxy knocking him out on night 3 of sister location. Made the springlock scene on night 4 much more stressful bc he’s actively bleeding and we all know you can’t get springlocks wet.

As per the running joke, the scooper dumped a shit ton of remnant into his emptied out body so he wouldn’t die. Which he technically didn’t but he’s definitely not human anymore.

Eyes glow; hair is completely white; blood is discoloured; skin is very pale and semi translucent; had fangs; and, oh yeah, needs to consume living blood to maintain the insane amount of remnant inside of him (the remnant won’t kill him if he doesn’t drink, but the sheer amount of pain he’d be in isn’t worth not drinking). So yeah, Michael is basically a remnant vampire instead of a remnant zombie now.

You can probably see what the price for his help is. Cue gay hijinks.

Very flirty and mildly unhinged personality, uses humour and flirting to mask his pretty serious depression and ptsd.

Death/remnant related memory issues. He remembers major events (Evan’s death, bite of 87, Lizzy’s death, etc) but everything else before his death is hazy at best. So he doesn’t actually recognize Oswald’s dad/freddy mask bully (who I’m calling Simon) at all. But Simon absolutely recognizes Michael and, oh boy, does it give him a heart attack to drop Oz off at Jeff’s only to run smack into his old friend who he hasn’t seen since 1985.

Speaking of Oswald, he ends up seeing Michael and Jeff as weird uncles. Both are surprisingly good with kids.

Michael can relate to Oz’s situation with pit trap (with pittrap being his actual father and all) and is more than happy to comfort Oz when needed.

Is a little vain and does a lot to maintain his appearance (daily workouts, extensive hair care, 8-step skincare routine, etc), being a literal decaying zombie really fucked him up.

Is 4am, gonna go sleep now 👍

[redrascal1]

Kylo Ren..and where he came from

Okay, I’ve been reading an  article on how abuse shapes a person...I was reading about Emily Bronte’s infamous anti hero Heathcliff, but here we have some fascinating quotes which could also apply to Kylo.

the hero could be a victim or a perpetrator or both, and how does abuse affect his personality and attitudes towards himself and the society he lives in. Besides, the victim may develop anxiety or post-traumatic stress disorder, and may suffer permanent physical or emotional damage and that of course will make a deep scar in the hero’s psyche which will turn him into either an angel or a devil. 

Now, obsessed fans such as those on the JCF, despise those who love Adam’s conflicted ‘villain’ for many reasons, one being they see his unhappy childhood and the subsequent events that caused Ben’s ‘fall’ as ‘demonising’ the OT cast. I have said repeatedly on this site why it doesn’t, so I don’t need to go into detail of why I believe that, but what I want to explore here is how their very human mistakes led to their son/nephew being essentially driven into the arms of a predator who had been waiting in the wings since his birth.

This is one interesting comment (statement by the WHO in 1999):

Child abuse or maltreatment constitutes all forms of physical and/or emotional ill treatment, sexual abuse, neglect or negligent treatment or commercial or other exploitation, resulting in actual or potential harm to the child’s health, survival, development or dignity in the context of a relationship of responsibility, trust or power.

Han, Leia and Luke never physically abused Ben. But the above article states that abuse isn’t always physical or sexual. It can be psychological. And sadly, Ben suffered more than a hint of psychological abuse from his family. The TLJ novelisation mentions how he overheard his parents talking about his ‘potential’ for darkness. Han himself said there was always ‘too much Vader’ in him. Leia chose her career as an escape from her worries, Han spent his time enjoying himself on the Falcon; both spent far too much time with Poe Dameron, or Greer Sonnel, whilst ignoring his own child. And as we all know...he was sent to train with Luke at a very young age, despite having no choice in the matter.

Snoke naturally fed his insecurities about whether or not his family wanted him - and Luke’s fatal mistake the night the temple burned was what truly sealed Ben’s fate. He fled to Snoke who had cultivated his need for a ‘father figure’, and as we saw both in TLJ and the Kylo Ren stand alone comic, Snoke was physically abusive to him, as well as psychological.

Snoke turned Ben to the dark side, but his family set him upon that path, by allowing the scars of their experience with Vader to affect how they saw their child and nephew. Ironically TROS, which tried to satisfy obsessive OT character fans, only made them seem ten times worse than TFA and TROS...instead of coming across as damaged humans who loved their child and nephew but were scarred by their past, TROS made both Luke AND Leia into unfeeling icons rather than human beings, who happily accepted yet another unfeeling icon as a replacement for their broken damaged ‘blood heir’. Ben never enjoyed what Rey did, a blessing from Luke and lots of hugs plus one on one training from his mother. 

Instead, he was cast aside, ignored and forgotten, having to rely on a made up memory of his father to ‘do the right thing’ and save the ‘more important’ person - the girl his family had chosen as his substitute and almost killed him.

Ultimately, like Bronte’s Heathcliff, Ben Solo never stood a chance. Like Heathcliff, there could be no happy ending for him.

 He was unwanted from the very beginning.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

(〇o〇；): What is their body language like when they are stressed? Do they try and hide the fact that they are stressed? How do they recover from said stress?

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀���� 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄

(〇o〇；): What is their body language like when they are stressed? Do they try and hide the fact that they are stressed? How do they recover from said stress?

━━ I have detailed Robin's nervous behavior here but I think its important to recognize that this is how I'm differing the two feelings of nervousness and stress because they are closely related but they're not the same.

Stress is a continued feeling of mental/emotional discomfort as a result of some mishap or anticipated event which triggers the emotion. This generally comes with long term consequences, mental and physical, that can become permanent. Stress alters neural dynamics and precipitates disorders that shape personality traits involving negative affectivity. Nervousness is the state of mind arising out of anxiety and stress which elicit negative behavior patterns; it is one of many reactions that can come from these feelings and is usually fleeting without permanent consequences.

Now that we have that out of the way Robin has a few different ways in which stress affects him; and it is (mostly) all able to be hidden away. Due to growing up in Zaun Robin has had to train himself since childhood to be able to separate the trigger from the emotion afterward; he doesn't directly react to anything and however he does react in that situation is a decision. He can read people like a book and knows exactly what expressions to make and words to say - so he keeps all of his feelings hidden. He doesn't want to shoot himself in the foot by showing any indication of personal weakness, the less the person knows about him, the more he has the upper hand. He's rarely interested in people, at least in the long haul, and this really helps him play with them. Vulnerability is weird, it's basically like giving your enemies ammo to shoot you with - but again when at any point in his life he's personally been "vulnerable" with someone, it's typically pre-planned to workout in his favor and get their trust.

Is this entire thing a huge stress response from his childhood? Oh yeah.

And because of this I don't think Robin will ever be able to "recover" from that stress - it's part of him and has been part of him since the moment he breathed Zaun's rancid air in. His mind has been changed and forced into this survival tactic to cope with the reality of his environment and eventually he doubled down on it once his family was lost. Clinically he's chronically stressed but will never be able to recognize it and will get annoyed with anyone who points it out - all except Abel. Shockingly Abel is the one "person" in the entire world that Robin can just ... emote around without repercussions due to the Faustian bargain between both of them.

Granted now even that safe place it gone.

Robin has a few physical indications that he does utilize when indicating that he's deep in thought though, since he doesn't show any direct stress reactions, so if your muse notices this congratulations they've managed to intrigue him (even if its only for a short while). He stims in quite a few ways, he is often seen twirling parts of his hair, particularly this piece, its the same across every universe he is in:

Another thing he does is tut or lick the cut in his lip, its become a very bad habit for him but he can't seem to stop doing it. He pulls his gloves tight, fiddles with his earring, and readjusts his cuffs too - he likes to keep his hands busy.

[unicornbeck]

I love big dogs, and Cabal sounds like the most amazing companion. Hail the traveler.

This story reminded me of our cat, South Dakota, with whom I had a similar bond and experience. Southie was a foster kitten. We raised multiple litters over the years for our local rescue, On Angels’ Wings, a wonderful group that has saved more lives than I can count.

Southie’s mom Delaware had three surviving kittens in our house within 24 hours of when she came to us, North Dakota, South Dakota, and Montana (Northie, Southie, and Monty.)

We gave them all states’ names because themed litters make it easier to remember and keep track.

The other 3 were healthy, but Southie had a pretty significant heart murmur, and so even after his mum and brothers were ready to go get adopted, he stayed with us while the rescue tried to figure out what to do. It was right at the beginning of Covid when he went from foster to adoptee. My 9 year old grey and white cat, Eddie, died the weekend that Illinois shut down due to the coronavirus. It was March of 2020, and my husband, ever the prepper, had had us home for a week already when every vet in the state, even the emergency vets, closed up.

Eddie, who was on permanent steroids for a skin condition, had no immune system to fight off the illness that ravaged him, and he passed that first, awful weekend when it already felt like the world was ending.

Eddie was my cat, my son since kittenhood, and I was gutted. I made the unilateral decision that very weekend that Southie must stay with us; the idea of losing him so soon after Eddie was more than I could bear.

God bless my tolerant husband for not arguing. The number of cats stayed constant (I think at that time, we had 5).

I called the rescue, who was trying to put together a fundraiser for the $500 scan to visualize Southie’s heart, and told them not to bother. I adopted him and dropped off the check and paperwork. And for 2 years, he was my hilarious, flirty, shy companion. It was a real privilege when he would seek me out to sit on my lap.

He loved watching Bob Ross with me, trying to catch that dancing paintbrush as is would scritch across the screen. Our TV was one of his favorite pastimes. I found hours of content of birds eating at feeders or flitting about in the shade of trees. He loved TV.

He would play with our other cats, chasing and wrestling, rocketing down the hall and shooting up to the top of the climbers in our family room in a wild scramble that sounded like if O’Hare airport put cleats made of pushpins on all of the landing planes.

I would call to him or sing to him (Data’s theme from “The Goonies” soundtrack) and from across the room, when I had his attention, I would wiggle my fingers at him, and he would writhe and stand on his head at me, as if he simultaneously couldn’t handle the “symbolic petting” as we called it, and also would literally combust if he couldn’t get enough of it.

He was one of the funniest, silliest cats I’ve ever known. So shy, but so, so flirty.

He didn’t know that he had a congenital heart condition. He didn’t know that his prognosis was short and fairly brutal.

Eventually I found a place that could do the ultrasound he needed for diagnosis for under $500, and we got it done when we started noticing occasional fatigue.

It wasn’t good. The highest risk was that he might throw a clot and expire very suddenly, and very painfully. But there were medications we could give that might stave that off, might prolong his quality of life. We tried, although I think it stressed him out as much as it helped him.

One night, a few scant weeks into my new job in 2022, we came home, having been out to one of the first social functions we’d attended since Covid lockdowns began. We’d been gone all day, and I wasn’t used to it. I collapsed on the couch to unwind, while loving husband trailed off down the hall to flop onto the bed and do his relaxing there.

It was maybe 45 minutes later when he came to interrupt what I was watching. He made me pause it and I got really irritated— we’d been social all day, and we’re both of us introverts. All I wanted was to decompress.

Something in his expression stopped me then, and that familiar, sick dread stole over me.

Southie had been doing poorly for a couple of weeks, but he had seemed to be improving in the last couple of days. He’d been curled up on a chair in the bedroom where husband was reading when suddenly he gave the most horrendous shriek. His tail exploded into bottlebrush fluff, and he lay gasping, panting, wild-eyed, for less than a minute before it was over. My husband spoke softly to him and petted him gently, but there was no time. In a matter of seconds, Southie was gone.

It was painful and terrifying, and I should have been there. I was his, his person, his warm lap, his scritching fingers under the chin and behind the ears. I should have been there for him. I could at least have been a warm familiar smell, touch, voice, as his world exploded in violence and quickly fell dark.

It may sound melodramatic or self-important, but to my dying day, not being there will be one of my deepest regrets.

Anyway, that’s the story of Southie: a wonderful, sweet, silly shy cat, gone too soon, but ever in our hearts. And yes, in that last photo, that is indeed a tissue he shredded because… Because.

Hi Neil!! I hope you’re doing well! I was wondering how your dog is doing, too. I think of him as we not too long ago hit a month of the good news of Good Omens being renewed for a season 3. He has indeed brought me good luck so far in 2024. 😊

As a side note, I am very grateful to see GO continue. In Aziraphale’s story I see my own struggle with the religion I was raised with and trying to heal and find love while still desperately wanting to be “good” as measured by someone else’s arbitrary standard. Hopefully he and I both get healing and love in the end. Thank you for telling his story. He and the GO universe as a whole mean a great deal to me. Take care!!

He's wonderful.

Here are some pictures from this morning.

[callivich]

Gallavich Enemies to Lovers Prompts 🤬…🥰

Prompts for fics, headcanons, or discussion, art, etc. Interpret these however you like and feel free to use them as just a jumping off point, you don’t have to stick to the exact prompt! If any fics like any of these have already been written, please feel free to recommend them to me!

A murder, years ago, now a cold case is the one case that Detective Ian Gallagher has never been able to solve. When the family hire a private detective, Mickey Milkovich, to look into the case, Ian is shocked and upset - after all, if he can’t solve the case there’s no way some random PI will be able to. Mickey criticises Ian’s work and although they both want the same thing - to find the killer - they find it impossible to work together. That is until Ian crashes Mickey’s nighttime stakeout of the suspect and they spend an evening together.

It’s stressful enough being a parolee starting a new job but the added pressure of competing with another parolee for the permanent position fucking sucks. After a one month probationary period, their boss will choose either Ian or Mickey. It’s competitive from the start - Ian is desperate to be chosen to put his criminal past behind him and help support his family, Mickey is determined to make a fresh start with a legal job and leave his family and his past behind him. They both see the other one as standing in the way of a better future, but perhaps what they need is not the job but each other….

Ian hates his shitty janitor job, especially since someone has been drawing graffiti murals on the university walls which creates even more work for him. His boss makes him take overtime to remove them. Mickey is pissed someone keeps destroying his work. What happens when Mickey runs into Ian getting rid of his latest piece?

It’s a bad idea, Ian knows this….but money is tight (as always) and when he figures out that Mickey and Iggy are running a successful scam he can’t help but steal the idea. Lip thinks it’s great and goes along with it until he figures out Ian stole the idea from the Milkovichs. Does he have a death wish?! They just hope that Mickey and Iggy don’t realise but, of course, they do…..

Mickey is drafted into fight for his Kingdom’s army. Well fuck that, he’s not going to get killed because some dumbass king wants to invade another land. So at the first chance he gets, he sneaks off into the wild and dangerous forest, determined to take his chances in there. Meanwhile, Ian signs up to defend his Kingdom from the incoming knights but when he is surrounded and outnumbered by the enemy, he makes a tactical retreat into the nearby forest. What happens when two knights from opposing sides meet in the deep, dark depths of the forest? Will they learn to work together to survive?

Ian has earned the quarterly sales bonus twice in a row at the sex shop where he works. He’s friendly, knowledgable and non-judgemental and the customers love him. Then a new guy joins - he’s brash, judgemental but seemingly knowledgable about most things they sell (even though Ian can’t believe that Mickey has really tried all those big dildos he says he has…). And he’s taking customers away from Ian and he can’t figure out why people seem to think Mickey is funny rather than rude. They both want the next bonus for sales and are going to do everything they can to get it….

Mickey is being transported across state lines by an FBI agent, Ian. He’s been arrested for something he didn’t do. He’s innocent but no one seems to believe him. And there’s no way this guy will either so what’s the point in even telling him his story? Ian should be accompanied by another agent but when a big storm hits and the airports are closed, he’s forced to drive with this criminal alone. He assumes this guy is guilty, so he doesn’t think anything of being blunt and dismissive with him. But as they travel and bicker…Mickey’s story starts to come out and Ian can’t help thinking that there’s something in Mickey’s case that doesn’t add up….Maybe he is innocent?

Mickey has been held back a year so now he’s in the same class as his sister. It’s sucks but Terry’s forcing him to go to school to keep the CPS happy. He’s stuck sitting behind Mandy and her brand new boyfriend, Ian. And there’s definitely something weird going on there - she comes home crying one day and telling Mickey to get Ian but then a couple of hours later, before he and his brothers can even find this guy, she’s calling them off and telling him that she and Ian are together. Whatever. At least Ian seems to be good at school so Mickey can cheat off him. When one teacher notices, Ian blames Mickey and gets him into trouble. Well fuck that, if Mickey’s getting detention then so is Ian - so he tells the teacher that Ian’s been letting him cheat. And now they’re stuck with a months worth of detention together.

When Ian’s roommate, Mandy, drops the news out of the blue that she’s moving in with her boyfriend, he’s shocked. He can’t afford the rent by himself but Mandy promises to sort it. Ian spends the whole day at work worrying about finding a new roommate or getting kicked out. When he gets home, he finds that Mandy has moved in her brother, Mickey. Meanwhile, Mickey is pissed because Mandy said it was a one bedroom apartment but it’s not and now he has to share with some guy. They’re both annoyed and perhaps they should be annoyed at Mandy, but they’re taking out their frustrations on each other. Things are not off to a good start….

Mandy sets her brother and her friend up on a blind date. But it turns out to be the date from hell - they are both in bad moods after having shitty days, it rains on the way to the bar so they get soaked, they get propositioned for a threesome by a creep, and both of them keep accidentally insulting each other. They end up having a full blown argument before they go their separate ways. But what happens when they keep running in to each other - at their workplaces, at the grocery store, on dates with other people - it seems like the universe wants them to be together….

Mickey has never heard a more terrifying phrase than “mandatory team building scavenger hunt”. Why the fuck does he have to do team building for his shitty job as a security guard at Old Army? He’d just not turn up but his manager hates him and he’s pretty sure they’d tell his parole officer. Ian on the other hand, while not being very excited is hopeful he’ll get partnered with the new gay guy. He’s not bright so the conversation will be lacking but he’s very hot. However, his hopes are dashed when he’s partnered with the grumpy, rude security guard, Mickey. Ian thinks Mickey hates him and Mickey thinks Ian is judging him for being a parolee. But when they’re stuck together for a whole weekend….things begin to change….

What if things happened in a different order in s1? What if before Mickey and his brothers can even find Ian to beat him up, Mickey is taken into juvie? What if Ian also ends up in juvie because of the stolen car? So Mickey and Ian end up sharing the same cell. Things are tense to say the least. Mandy has warned Mickey that Ian is now her boyfriend and he better be nice to him. Doesn’t stop Ian and Mickey arguing though - constantly. They both can’t wait to get out and away from each other….but as time goes on, things start to change between them.

Ian is the author of a YA book about growing up gay and poor on the South Side. He mixes true details from his teenage years with fictional events to create a bestseller. The antagonist is based on the local thug, Mickey, who used to steal from the Kash and Grab and threaten to beat up Lip. Ian didn’t have much interaction with him apart from this but he felt like a character based on him would make a great villain. So he makes up the character ‘Mikey’ complete with knuckle tatts and a lack of personal hygiene. He doesn’t feel too bad about using a real person as a basis because, after all, what are the chances Mickey would ever read this? Well, he’s right the chances are low to zero. But Mandy, who always had a crush on Ian, does and can’t help noticing the similarities between Mikey and her brother. When Mickey hears about this from her and reads the book, he makes it his mission to track down Ian and tell him exactly how he feels about being portrayed like this.

Mickey is the reigning champion of the local South Side fight club. No one can beat him and as the potential cash prize rises higher and higher, Ian decides to take a chance and join the fight club. He’ll have to work his way up through fights to get the chance to beat Mickey but he’s fairly sure he can do it. Mickey meanwhile is using his visits to the Kash and Grab to not only steal but make fun of Ian for even trying in the first place. As Ian wins more fights and gets closer to his chance to fight Mickey, the tension between them begins to grow….

Ian wants to know who keeps destroying his perfectly set up ROTC training course in the abandoned building. So he keeps leaving notes, each getting more and more threatening. Mickey wants to know who the dork is who keeps setting up a stupid-ass assault course in his private space and leaving hilariously unthreatening notes. So, one day, he hangs around until he sees that dumbass Gallagher kid with the red hair. Oh, this’ll be fun. Mickey doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to do, but he knows he’s gotta fuck with Gallagher and his precious setup.

Light magic users and dark magic users are natural enemies. Everyone knows this. It explains why the Gallaghers and the Milkovichs have always stayed away from each other and why Ian hates when he sees any of them, especially Mickey, around the neighbourhood. But when Ian catches Mickey using magic to steal from the Kash and Grab, he’s surprised to realise that Mickey’s magic isn’t as dark as he thought….in fact, it seems like Mickey is secretly using light magic.

It’s not something he should be doing, but Ian is exhausted after his EMT shift so he takes a nap in the back of his ambulance, falling into a deep sleep. Mickey, after the worst fight he’s ever had with Terry, is on the run from his father. Panicked and not thinking clearly, he steals an ambulance and drives, not knowing where he’s going but determined to get as far away from Chicago as possible. When Ian wakes he thinks he’s been kidnapped, while Mickey gets angry that Ian was ‘hiding’ in the back. Soon they find themselves in a stolen ambulance that breaks down in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

Ian and Mickey’s security business is going well. It’s successful and legitimate and they even have a brand new van to do their pickups in. No more stolen ambulances for them! But when they get in a head on collision with a drunk driver, they both end up in hospital with amnesia. The last thing both of them remember is Mandy sending Mickey to beat up Ian. How will they deal with ten years of missing memories and the fact that they are married to each other, living in an apartment on the West Side and running their own business when the only thing they clearly remember is being teenage enemies?

All the Gallaghers have worked in the diner since they’ve been able to, it’s their family business and the siblings have kept it going despite all the chaos Frank and Monica have caused. But when Frank goes too far and gets into serious debt with Terry Milkovich, the only way out is to give him the business. Uninterested in doing anything but get the profits, Terry sends his son, Mickey, into manage everything on a day to day basis. Much to the anger of all of the Gallagher siblings but especially Ian who instantly clashes with Mickey.

[mistralxsoul]

Flynn was a bit grateful that Yuri seemed to revert back to normal for the time being. Flynn did want to talk more with Yuri about everything but at the dinner table in front of Karol, and to some extent Repede, was not the place to do so. So when Yuri returned and began to pass around the drinks and serve the food, Flynn allowed him to continue on as normal. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched his friend, the nostalgia of the situation hitting him at full force. How many times had Yuri and Flynn sat at a table together with the children back in the Lower Quarter? Simply just living life together before things got so complicated? Flynn would never regret the path he took, though he was certain that there were some things he would gladly do differently. But he knew that Yuri also never regretted the path he took. 

But if he had the choice to go back to those times for at least a day? He would probably take it, no hesitation. 

“You’re not as bad anymore.” Karol decides, after a long moment of thought. “It’s just that you and Judy like fighting too much and the monsters are tougher to fight now without the Blastia and you guys stress me out sometimes.” 

Flynn laughed a bit at Karol’s pout as he let his eyes dart back over to meet Yuri’s. “To be fair, we’ve been fighting monsters since long before we had our Bodhi Blastia. So it’s not impossible for us. It’s just an adjustment…” 

“You only say that just cause you like fighting too, Flynn!” Karol exclaims, shoving a spoonful of the pork stew into his mouth with a huff, only to flinch back when it burns his tongue. “Ow– Ow– Too Hot–” 

“Hey, let it cool first. It won’t run away before you can eat it.” Flynn snorted, shaking his head. It seemed even the boss of a guild could be impatient when it came to eating food. He remembered all of the times he had likely done the same growing up. 

As Flynn waited for his own bowl to cool, he paused to consider Yuri’s question. He could feel the earlier stress begin to slip back into his shoulders as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “The Noble Quarter is finding every reason in the world to complain about the cold but they’re fine.” He glanced over the topic of the Noble Quarter so quickly that he was sure it was obvious that he didn’t really feel like talking about them at the moment. Which worked out just fine, because he was certain Yuri couldn’t care less about the Noble Quarter either.

“Master Ioder has put a plan in place to start building a new water filtering system, that’s true.” Flynn’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m backing it as much as possible but the Council… they’re fighting it for some ungodly reason. Stating it’s a waste of resources. But if we can get past them, we’ll be good to get that project started.” 

Flynn could never understand the politics of these kinds of situations. Water should be a basic human right and yet the Council kept trying to argue that the citizens would survive without it. That was exactly how people got sick. Flynn, and Yuri, would know that from experience. He really didn’t want to have to go down the sympathy route in order to appeal to the council but it was starting to seem like he would have to write an entire book on the reasons why having non filtered water was dangerous.

“...In slightly better news, the inn in the Lower Quarter was approved for a remodel. That’ll likely be started in a couple of months. The innkeeper still has your room in tact, Yuri, so if you decide to come by, you can collect your things long enough for the remodel. If not, I suppose I can do it for you and just hold whatever’s left over there in my room for the time being.” He admittedly found himself visiting that room whenever he had the time to do so. To just help dust it and have it ready for Yuri if he were to drop by surprise. He wanted to have a place waiting for Yuri to return to if he wanted to, after all. 

Not permanently, of course but… He figured it would be a nice gesture at any rate.

He was at least able to let out a short, amused breath at Karol's reaction. "No Karol, it wasn't literally a deep dark secret." Sometimes the kid could be so unaware, just trudging along as any child would. It was easy to forget sometimes that he still had that side of him, but honestly, it was better that he did. A kid his age had already seen too much. He didn't need to mature for his age more than he did. He needed to put a hold on that and enjoy what was life of his childhood.

When he switched to grabbing their drinks, he pointedly took longer than usual. Flynn was talking to Karol instead of him on purpose - Yuri could tell what he was doing. Could tell he was trying to level this out for Yuri who didn't know what to say in this situation. He was grateful for it though, because thinking on it now, he hadn't ever really had time to properly address emotion himself. His life hadn't had time to pause for a while now since they had gotten rid of the blastia. There had scarcely been moments he could reserve for himself.

But he wasn't going to risk ruining a perfectly good dinner with two of his most important people - even less so when it wasn't something that happened regularly. It wasn't Karol's fault - it wasn't anyone's fault really. It was just a chunk of complicated feelings in a person who struggled to work them out. Putting other people first outside of basic survival had always been his priority. It was only once that was settled in the moment that he gave himself a thought.

Sometimes Karol and Judith had to almost literally pull him out to hang out with them as just people and not just as a guild. Ever since he'd left Zaphias in the first place, he'd gotten used to not really slowing down. In a way, he was almost afraid of slowing down - that once he did so, he'd fall right back to his old routines and hardly be assed to do anything. Things were better now and he was mostly out of that low, depressive state, but he damn near feared that if he stopped being everywhere all at once now that he would just end up regressing right back to where he started.

Maybe he wouldn't, but he didn't want to take the chance. It occurred to him as he picked up the drinks, three in his hands and arms instead of the usual two, that he still had the instinct of carrying multiple drinks at once. He'd done it plenty with the orphans in the Lower Quarter, but that part of him had never seemed to leave him. That... had probably been the best point of his life, actually. Before the feeling of uselessness hit, and before the time he and Flynn had started to grow apart. If Flynn was open to stopping that from ever happening again, Yuri would fight for it not to.

So he took a deep breath and gave himself a moment to adjust. He just had to switch back and not think about that stuff. Well, that was the initial intention... but it took a minute to process when he returned to the two of them and saw Karol listening with interest while Flynn had his attention on him. At this point Karol was basically an orphan Yuri had taken in regardless of the more literal circumstance of Karol effectively taking him in.

It was like seeing something from years ago - Yuri preparing the table and seeing Flynn engaging the orphans back at Zaphias. They had always worked as a team in that way, and even if Karol amount to only one, for a second he could have forgotten they weren't still the older kids at the orphanage looking out for their collective younger siblings. Those kids... had all grown up now. Some of them were adults now, and some would be getting damn close.

Right. Rebooting brain. He was not still a fifteen year old orphan in the Lower Quarter.

As he set the drinks down on the table in each of their spots, he half raised an eyebrow at Karol's statement. "I can't still be that bad about it, can I? I mean sure, I rush in first if something is time sensitive, but I'd like to think I'm not as bad as I was. I might have been scolded so much for that that it might finally have sunk in." Yeah, everyone could serve themselves, but having more than two people in the room usually kicked his instincts in and he was already filling the other bowls before his own.

Actually sitting down though was somewhat relieving. Guild business aside, the past week was busier just trying to deal with the other guilds trying to figure themselves out still, finding new ways to handle old blastia functions, making sure people were getting back on track... Natz had even visited only days ago to check on Dahngrest and keep up with relations to prevent them from falling back into any tension. Sometimes Yuri's input was requested, but thankfully most of the people around him recognized he didn't want to be seen as an authority figure. Changing things for the better was fine, but he still preferred to be an average citizen when it came down to it.

"What about the people in Zaphias?" He directed his attention back to Flynn. "Are they getting by okay still without the blastia? I had heard something from Raven about them wanting to try a new water filtering system in the Lower Quarter, but I don't know if they've progressed beyond just talks of it."

[morsking]

is shirou a mary sue? the guy is universally well liked, cooks like a pro at 17, has the most op power from all fate (and arguably one of the most cool powers on media), nothing ever happens to him on the true/canon path of each route, he does many stupid things but no one cares 5 minutes later, other times like in salter vs rider he is just a tactical genius out of nowhere

he is not.

shirou is well-liked but he isn't particularly popular. he is known at school for being helpful and handy but otherwise not that many people are aching to get to know him or involve him in their lives. most people only know shirou very superficially. he is not sought after as a person, only as a handy man. there's a really neat scene at the beginning of hf1 where people are talking about shirou in the dojo and see that while he's earnest, hard-working, and talented, he's a bit odd and intense and that makes him a little difficult to approach casually. the only people who really like him are those who sit down and actually spend time with him. apart from the heroines of the story with whom he has time to develop a romantic bond, you don't see other girls falling head over heels for him. in fact, in hollow ataraxia the homurahara trio and mitsuzuri are quick to write him off as someone they are vehemently not interested in romantically whatsoever.

he only cooks like a pro because he had to teach himself to cook since he was 8. it's vital to understand that since kiritsugu became increasingly disabled and was utterly incapable of living as a normal human being, shirou was forced to grow up well before he was ready to take care of his adoptive father. he learned to cook, do the dishes, do the laundry, and clean the house because there were no other real adults in the house. shirou's domestic usefulness didn't come out of nowhere, it's a set of skills he took on out of necessity and came at the expense of his emotional growth.

shirou's power also isn't op. it's stated multiple times in the story how difficult it is for him to tap into it. he's not a natural mage with strong magical circuits, and neither does he have any real "useful" magical alignments that would make it easy for him to use conventional magecraft. every training session shirou has is a life-threatening act where he pushes his body and mind to the utmost limit for the low chance he might succeed at strengthening or projecting something. whenever he grabs hold of an ability that elevates his combat skills, it's either a) done with saber's help in the fate route, b) acquired as his soul inherits experience from his proximity to archer in ubw and receiving mana from rin, or c) obtained at the expense of the integrity of his mind and body as archer's arm starts to supplant his existence in heaven's feel. and even then, there's limits to what he can trace and project. he can't trace divine constructs normally as seen with ea, and his projections eat through his mana. think about what happens in heaven's feel too. every time he projects something with archer's arm he leaps closer to death because he can't handle the strain.

to say nothing ever happens to him in canon is also disingenuous. he doesn't die in a permanent sense, but take a moment to consider the amount of mental and physical pain he suffers that forces him to confront something about himself and change. did "nothing" happen when he faced gilgamesh and heracles with saber? is growing closer to her to find the best way to help her assert her personhood "nothing"? did "nothing" happen when he fought archer? is realizing the truth of your ideals and grasping the resolve to realize them anyway in a healthier and more self-aware manner "nothing"? did "nothing" happen when he fought heracles, saber alter, and kotomine? is saving your loved ones and claiming your life as your own after years of not seeing yourself as a human being to protect those dear to you so they too learn to love and accept themselves "nothing"?

take a moment to consider in what ways shirou is stupid that aren't contradicted by him being smart in others. shirou is socially inept and utterly incapable of asking for help because he is a traumatized teenager who doesn't know what a normal life is. he has few friends. he survived a fire. he is constantly trying to make up for being unable to rescue anyone in the calamity that destroyed his childhood. he constantly jumps in front of danger to save others for that very reason and refuses help because he doesn't want others to get hurt because of him until he learns to overcome that fear of being destroyed and seeing others be destroyed. he is dumb at being a person because he's never let himself be one. he is smart in a fight because he's at least been able to process his stress and trauma in a way that helps him rationalize his way out of a crisis.

i feel the need to stress that a protagonist having special qualities fit for the narrative isn't them being a mary sue. it's them simply being a main character with agency, a main character that is engaging and interesting. how boring do you think shirou and the story would be if he was really a shit-ass mcnobody with no talents, personality, qualities, or meaningful connections to the setting? he'd be no different from every other harem protag the cishet male audience can use as a self-insert. he is supposed to subvert ideas of masculinity by being domestic. he challenges conventional ideas of heroism by showing how his ideals are flawed and how important it is that he self-actualize.

shirou faces consequences for his inaction and inexperience multiple times too. saber gets frustrated because he won't (tell her why he really won't) fight and that causes a rift in their relationship he must fix with honesty and mutual understanding. shirou's inability to protect himself from hypnotic suggestion gets him kidnapped by caster and forces archer to rescue him, and in turn their shared stubbornness elevates their conflict to deadly levels until they're forced to fight to work out their differences. heaven's feel shows you how his unwillingness to forsake who he is to properly scold sakura and save her makes the situation worse when sakura loses faith that shirou will keep his promise to her until he decides he will fulfill it for both their sakes. people do care! saber cares when her master doesn't see eye to eye with her! rin cares that shirou is too willing to throw away his own life for others! archer cares that he is at risk of becoming that which archer can't forgive himself for being! sakura cares because seeing the man she loves come home bruised and bloodied every night is wrong! illya cares because he is her only true family! rider cares because if shirou can't be sakura's ally then she's as good as dead! everyone cares because shirou has to learn to care too, and he does!

i'm going to ask you to try to engage with media without trying to uncover flaws under rigid standards like this because all it does is keep you from properly understanding what is being shown to you. you cannot hope to judge a story and its characters for all their flaws or merits if this is how you approach things.

[no-shxt-sherl]

late night banter

AN I’ve started writing this short imagine a few months ago and finally found the motivation to finish it. I hope you like it.

Summary Corpse’s significant other had a bad day that lead to a spa-session with lots of fluff.

Warnings fluff. lots of fluff (i think)

______________________________________________________________

The days in quarantine seem to be longer than normal. It’s like time is no longer passing in its regular pace. I’ve been up and about all day and work just hasn’t been treating me well today. On my way home I decided that I would treat myself today and call it a selfcare-day. Making some final purchases on my way, my face began to light up a bit more as I neared the all familiar apartment complex. As I was walking into our shared apartment, I could already hear my boyfriend talking in the next room. He is playing video games with his friends and I usually make it a habit to not disturb them. I’m just dropping my bag on the counter and kick of my shoes. Feeling more at ease, I go into the kitchen to make me some tea and to check my socials for anything new going on.

After a few minutes, my tea is ready to serve.

“Babe, is that you?”, he shouts.

“Yeah, it’s me, Bubs!”, I shout back over my right shoulder.

I slightly grin when I hear his soothing voice. That man is my kryptonite, my comfort person. As I’m putting sugar in my tea, I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist from behind. He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck and I simply lay my head back against his and close my eyes.

“I missed ya”, he speaks into my neck while embracing me tighter. I place my hands on his and begin to draw small circles.

“I missed you more, bubs”, I answered with my eyes still closed.

We stayed in this position for a few minutes and my mood was getting better and better. His hugs work like a stress reliever. I can literally feel the weight falling off my shoulders as I fully relax into his touch.

Feeling stripped of the negative energy that surrounded me before, I turn around in his embrace and sling my arms around his neck. Still smiling, I look into his eyes and admire his beautiful features. I reach one of my hands into his slightly curly hair and pull him down to me, so that our lips connect in a sweet movement. He rearranges his hands on my waist to my lower back and pulls me into him even more. Smiling into the kiss, he begins to shower me with sweet little pecks to my lips and the rest of my face. With an even bigger smile on my face, I welcome the swarm of butterflies back into my stomach and try to playfully escape his lips’ attack. It is sheer unbelievable how I still feel the same as when we first met. He is just meant to be with me and I with him.

“Is your game already over?”, I ask him as I lay my head back to look into his eyes again.

“No, we’re having a pee break just now”, he says still holding me tight.

“You should go back then before they’re wondering where you have wandered off to, bubs”

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll survive. You’re more important”, he answers while taking my face into his hands and planting another kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes and smile into his soft touch. Lifting my own hands up, I place them on his. With my eyes still closed, I grab his hands and bring them down between us. I look at him again and see the worry in his eyes. He was starting to get anxious. With my thumbs, I draw small circles on the back of his hands while holding up our eye contact, trying to reassure him.

“Don’t worry about me. I was going to the bathroom anyways to have a little selfcare-session. Just go back to your game. I’ll be okay. I promise”

I reach up to give him one more kiss to convince him to just go back to his friends and then try to walk away from him. As I was about to turn my back to him, he reaches for my hands and kisses my knuckles. He might not be the best with words, but I know exactly that he is trying to tell me with his actions that he is here for me. I give him an appreciative smile and let go of his hands.

I don’t know how much time has passed since I’ve entered the bathroom, but I took my sweet ass time in the shower and finally dressed myself in fresh and comfy clothes. With my music on full volume, I didn’t notice him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching me while I was putting on my face mask to continue my spa-like evening. I was in my own zone and completely gave myself to my music, meaning hips were swaying and my own music video choreography was getting performed. My mood entirely shifted to the better.

Just as I was getting to my favourite part of the current song, a low chuckle caught my attention. I turned around and saw him leaning against the doorframe of our bathroom door with his phone in his hand, its camera focused on me. As I got a look at his face behind the phone, I saw him smile. I love his smile. It took a while for him to fully open up to me and give me an honest to God, almost child-like smile. First time I made him laugh, like laugh for real, I knew he was it. He is my human, my other half.

“Bubs, stop!”, I said, laughing and blocking my face from the camera’s view. He just chuckled again and put away his phone.

“This will be a nice addition to my little collection”

Not knowing what to answer to that I just playfully stuck out my tongue at him which made him smile once again.

“You can be quite childish sometime”, he said while still leaning in the doorway.

“I don’t know what you mean by that”, I said playing dumbfounded while slowly making my way over to him. He didn’t see it coming. As I was finally standing in front of him, I grabbed his head and rubbed my cheek against his. He started to laugh and tried to half-heartedly squirm out of my grip. When he noticed that I won’t let go of him, he started to tickle me. Both of us were just a laughing mess at this point.

I surrendered after a few minutes of his sweet torture and squirmed out of his touch to get a good look at my work. My face mask smeared all over his face as I had planned. He looked ridiculous with light blue stripes of facemask all over his face. I laughed at his dishevelled state.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, bubs. Was that me?” I made fun of him. He just looked at me amused.

“I guess now that it’s already on, we can both get a face mask together” I said all smile-y and innocent, as I turned away from him to grab the container with the facemask in it.

“You could have just asked me to join you, baby” he whispered in my ear as he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I looked up into the mirror in front of us and saw how he smiled at me.

I turned around in his embrace and planted a small kiss on his nose. He scrunched his nose in reaction to my gesture. He looks cute that way. Corpse returned my affection with a small peck to my lips. My heart skips a small beat as we just look at each other in silence. I love him so much. I’ve never felt so at ease with another person in my whole life. He has my heart, my soul, my everything.

“Let’s get our spa night started. My face mask won’t put itself on, babe” he said while bumping his nose against mine. I grinned and started to spread the face mask evenly on his face. Tracing his features and taking in his whole face, as I do so often. He is beautiful.

As I finished putting on the facemask on both our faces and started cleaning up the bathroom, I could still feel his gaze on me. I turned to look at him and raised my eyebrow questioningly. He just smiled back at me.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you with me. I was always convinced that everything in my life is just temporarily - love, friendship, fame – but for once, I feel like this is gonna be permanent. You will be permanent in my life. I never wanna lose you”

I was used to his sudden outbursts of affection but this confession did catch me off-guard. It’s not like we never said that we loved each other. We made each other understand through other non-verbal methods. We know about our mutual feelings, but we’re taking it slow because we both get overwhelmed too easily. I know about his fears and insecurities and he knows about mine. Nonetheless, we never directly talked about our future. I felt my heart grow bigger with every ongoing second. I want this - us - to be permanent as well. He is my home and I wanna be his.

“I love you”

[silverwhiteraven]

Happyhoganon: How about a story that has Superman & Ladybug outsmarting Lex Luthor together?

Why are all our Supervillains Bald?

"You didn't have to knock my Partner out like that, you know," Ladybug huffs as she settles Chat Noir into the deck chair of her civilian balcony, feeling miffed about the whole situation. Superman, having the decency to not complain and to cooperate while being lectured, handed her the red and black tent poles, from the red and black-spotted camping trunk her Lucky Charm had summoned earlier, when she wordlessly motioned for him to get them.

"You're right, Ladybug- I'll apologize to him once he's awake," the man in blue and red said as he helped Ladybug untie the shade cover from overhead. For all the gear inside the box, an actual tent was not one of them, so of course improvising was happening. There was a sleeping-bag, of course, but Ladybug had instructed Superman to wear it like a cloak so he wouldn't attract so much attention with his recognizable uniform as they tried to escape and hide from the Akuma. With the ladybug spotting it sported, though, he was pretty sure it did quite the opposite.

Ladybug nodded in acknowledgment of Superman's spoken words, concentrating her focus on the makeshift shelter they were putting over Chat. As a final touch, she pulled a tall potted plant in front of the entrance, completely sheltering Chat Noir from view at any angle. She crossed her arms and nodded, satisfied. Then she spun on her heel and pointed at Superman, who tensed from the sudden change in her point of focus. "Alright, tell me everything you know about this Akuma victim! No more rushed or vague answers; I need to know why Chat was being targeted and how that affected him so much that you had to go and decommission him. Talk, blue boy."

Superman was honestly surprised she hadn't called him Boy Scout like many before. In fact, he half expected her to call him by his civilian name like another black haired, blue eyed figure of justice he knew. Ladybug even looked liked she belonged smack dab in the middle of Batman's nest of children, teens, and adults who could all kick butts and take names.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Superman answered her demands. "Lex Luthor, a common obstacle of mine from back in the States. Started out as a small town millionaire-by-inheritance when I first knew him, and turned into a 'Big Apple Billionaire' when the last of his morals went out the window if his latest sports car." Ladybug looked absolutely baffled by the sudden metaphor, so he quickly rephrased. "Lex's father started making dirty money off the company before he died, and Lex decided to follow suit once he realized just how dirty he could make his hands by applying his high intelligence and military-worthy knowledge to the black markets. I was keeping track of him and came here as soon as I realized something was happening involving him." Her curious look made him give a sheepish smile and point to his ear with a free hand that wasn't holding the sleeping-bag closed around his shoulders. "Super-hearing. I knew what Jupiter sounded like before NASA did."

"Okay," Ladybug looked a mix of skeptical and awed, but nodded then shook her head. "That still doesn't explain how you treated Chat."

A bit warry to answer, Superman looked away, watching the flowers that hid her Partner. "My people have a weakness to a particular type of radiation that comes from our home planet. When that planet was destroyed, pieces of it scattered all over the universe. Earth has a few tons of this Kryptonite from fine dust particles alone, but larger pieces survived entry, too. Lex Luthor has known about the material for years and hoards it to use at any chance he gets."

"Obsessed with the biggest weakness of the opposing hero, I know how that feels," Ladybug sighed, and Superman gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"No doubt. But this material does more than just weaken me, Ladybug. Different kinds have different effects, and some, even in different forms, can affect humans, too." Ladybug tensed at that, glancing at her Partner before locking worried eyed back onto Superman. He gave her a grim expression then shook his head. "I've seen it first hand and experienced it myself, it isn't pretty. I've seen the stuff cause sickness, power weapons, even create Meta's. Earth is not a place for this, it isn't safe like it was back home. Maybe if it ha been around for millions of years, life could have evolved to live alongside it, but..."

"But we don't have that sort of time now," Ladybug concludes, and Superman nods. "So his targeting of Chat-?"

"The radiation of Kryptonite can enhance powers or even cause mind control. Chat Noir and his ability under the control of my Villain and yours? I couldn't see things ending well. I knew things were about to go off the rocker. So when he got nicked and the wound glowed green, I- I'm sorry, Ladybug, but magic and I do not-and I mean REALLY do not-mix well, so I'm at a doubled-and-amplified disadvantage here. Benching your Partner was my only option."

"With M. Luthor Akumatized and making this stuff to his heart's content like that- Now that I know, I have a bad feeling you'd have been right. It doesn't make me feel any better, though," Ladybug sighed.

Superman nodded, accepting of her words. "I won't feel good about it either. I'm just glad it won't be permanent."

"Yeah, if we win," Ladybug adds glumly, and he pats her on the back, hard enough to knock her out of the bad mood. She blinks at him, shocked, and she smiled encouragingly.

"We will win, I promise. It may not be as fast as we would like, especially since it will only be the two of use seeing as the whole JLE branch had to evacuate after Hawkmoth showed up-" Ladybug chuckled awkwardly, remembering how stressed she had been knowing she and Chat Noir were on their own unless a specific foreign hero was there to help them with one of their own villains, like right now- "But we will. I know Lex's weaknesses as a person, as well as where to find what he's looking for. Wonder Woman used to guard a stash of Kryptonite under the Louvre before we had to move it, and only the Heads of the JL know where it is now. And you, well-"

"I know Hawkmoth's weaknesses, and the ones of his Akumas, as well as his goals, too. After all, I wear them on my own ears. Yeah... Yeah, you're right! We can do this!" Ladybug cracks a smile and a glimmer gets into her eyes as her gaze falls on the Lucky Charm camping trunk. "And I know just how to start. Come on, blue boy, we're heading for the Louvre to take down a couple of baldies."

Glad to have lifted her spirits, Superman grins. "I'm at your command, red lady."

[innocentsshounenjuujigun]

Modern Au — Info Post

Etienne

Eighteen years old. Etienne is a first-year college student involved in religious studies. Etienne’s childhood wasn’t awful or overly traumatic, but his dad died when he was fairly young, leaving him and his mother to figure out how to survive. He grew up in a fair degree of poverty, but his mother was good to him, and he was always pretty happy. In school, he’s very dedicated and does well, but still balances a healthy social life and plenty of time for himself. He does volunteer work/an occasionally paid job at a local farm animal rescue center, where the sheep absolutely adore him. 

Nicolas

Eighteen years old. Nicolas is technically in college, in the sense that he’s taking a couple of classes to get a slow start, but most of his life is spent working. His childhood was pretty rough; his dad died when he was young, and his mom didn’t want custody, so Nicolas went straight to his abusive uncle’s care. He grew up miserable and aggressive, and he went his own path as quickly as he could. Currently, he works a variety of odd jobs, including yard work, basic household repairs, moving things, and anything else people will hire him for. He also has a part-time job teaching weapon-based self-defense to older kids. 

Henri

Sixteen years old. Still in high school, and somehow both hating that experience and dreading getting any older. Terrified of college and growing up, Henri is in a perpetual state of anxiety and stress. His family works for the local church, and he lives with his mother, father, and younger sister. His parents are very kind and supportive, but Henri manages to leave himself in a permanent existence of psychological distress all on his own. He’s in Boy Scouts (and has been since age eleven), hates every minute of it, and spends most of his time there trying to get away to cry in the bathroom, but refuses to quit both because he’s determined to be a man and because younger kids look up to him. 

Luc

Twenty years old. Graduated high school with passing grades and went on to work as part of his family’s business— leatherwork. Luc has gotten through trade school for the business and currently travels doing shows on his own in between helping his family. He lives with Marc currently, and the two of them are largely inseparable. However, he’s dealt with his fair share of struggles. When he was sixteen, he was robbed at knifepoint and suffered a fairly major wound to his shoulder that still gives him trouble. He also has spent a lot of time trying to help Marc through his mental health issues. 

Marc

Nineteen years old. Marc’s parents died when he was young, and he was raised in a collaborative effort by his grandparents and Luc’s family. He’s always been close to Luc— in a lot of ways, so close it’s unhealthy. Marc grew up with a lot of repressed emotional issues, and when Luc was hospitalized over the robbery incident, Marc kind of lost it. He even made a suicide attempt shortly before Luc was released from the hospital because he felt like too much of a burden on his friend. Currently, he’s trying to become a comedian, to moderate success, and stays with Luc while he attempts to get on his feet and be more self-sufficient. 

Christian

Twenty years old. Christian is a college student studying anthropology... and she’s determined to be at the very top of her class. She studies herself to the bone and is the kind of student who pulls three all-nighters in a row via pouring Monster into her coffee and living off of that. Christian’s parents divorced when she was fairly young, and she was left in the custody of her father, a pharmaceutical rep who’s traveling constantly for work. Growing up, her family was strictly religious and very bigoted, so the whole trans thing hasn’t come up yet, and she doesn’t intend to let it. She’s had her share of mental health problems and probably would have killed herself by now without Etienne to live for. 

Remy

Eighteen years old. Remy is fresh out of high school and taking a gap year for his health. He has an autoimmune condition, Multiple Sclerosis (MS), which he developed in his early teen years, and has been slowly figuring out how to live with it. His parents have always been kind to him, but medical bills racked up quickly, and he knows he’s been a cause of a lot of stress in their lives. He’s debating not going to college at all to save them money (since they’d feel obligated to help him), but he doesn’t know what else to do with himself, either. When he was a teenager, he’d didn’t think he’d make it to adulthood at all, so now he’s just kind of lost. 

Laurent

Seventeen years old. Laurent and his brother are living on their own, more or less— after their mother (who raised them) killed herself, their dad, despite having technical custody, left the two of them to their own devices. Laurent has had a job since he was fourteen, and he dropped out of high school the year after that so that he could work full-time and earn enough to keep Lillian in school. He’s exhausted on every level from managing a household, working any job he can get, and skipping meals to make sure his brother can eat, but he keeps a positive attitude in the hopes Lillian won’t find too many reasons to worry about him. 

Lillian

Seventeen years old. Lillian and his brother are living on their own, more or less— after their mother (who raised them) killed herself, their dad, despite having technical custody, left the two of them to figure out life on their own. While Lillian has had a part-time job since he was fifteen, Laurent has insisted that he finishes high school as normally as possible. However, watching his brother bear the worst of their situation has given Lillian a massive problem with self-loathing and feelings of inferiority, and he wishes he could drop out and be more helpful. He goes to the same high school as Pierre and (previously) Guillaume, and has wound up as something between a part of their friend group and a belittled errand boy. 

Guillaume

Eighteen years old. Guillaume is the son of a relatively wealthy real estate agent who made just enough money to put his son at the top of the social hierarchy throughout his school life, despite his less-than-pleasant personality. Now in college, he’s a Business major with far too many opinions and a naively ambitious plan of starting a “men’s lifestyle” magazine to share them in. His parents divorced when he was a child, and he was raised by his dad from there— and wound up spending most of his time with Pierre when their now-single fathers became business partners. 

Pierre

Seventeen years old. Pierre’s parents divorced when he was a kid, and his father wound up in business with a long-time close friend of his; Guillaume’s dad. As a result, Pierre grew up upper-middle class and exposed to the bottom tier of snobby, overconfident rich people with bad attitudes. He plans to follow Guillaume to the same college and same major, but for now, he’s barely passing high school and spending most of his time slacking off. His dad is the type who emotionally neglected him and threw money at any problems, and Pierre grew up directionless and weak-willed because of it.

Guy

Twenty years old. Guy knows next to nothing about his life before the age of seven. He’s been told that he was rescued from somewhere very dangerous and criminally involved, but he’s never gotten the full story, and by now, he knows he never will. He was bounced through the foster care system, going through one unfortunate home after another until he aged out and was left to fend for himself. He’s held a job as a construction worker while he studies to be an auto mechanic, but his life is lonely, hard, and isolating. Between the physical and mental scars left over from his past, he’s struggling to find a reason to keep getting up in the morning. 

Michael

Eighteen years old. Michael is the adoptive son of a priest, who unfortunately raised him as more of a charity case to brag about than a child with emotional needs. After growing up in a strict, hateful Catholic environment, Michael is a bitter, lonely young man who’s convinced that his achievements are the only way he can ever earn his father’s love. A first-year student in religious studies, he goes to the same college as Etienne— and has a vicious, entirely one-sided rivalry with him. He does a lot of volunteer work (including choir for local churches), but his attitude remains terrible. 

Isabelle

Twenty-one years old. Isabelle’s mother was a sex worker who struggled to make ends meet and eventually resorted to roping her daughter into the business as well to pay the bills. As soon as she was old enough, Isabelle left home and figured out how to live on her own— currently, she’s going to college on a grant, where she’s majoring in Social Work while employed at a local child care center. Despite her harsh upbringing, she’s put a lot of effort into her mental health and recovering from her trauma and is coping surprisingly well because of it. 

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Title: Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~2K

Status: Complete

A/N: That’s all folks. Chapters 59 and 60 coming out together today.

For J - For being the reason I finish this. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Aaron's been seated in his new office for the past hour, going over the new certification and training requirements for the BAU with Dave. Technically, it should've been Prentiss he was meeting with, but she'd happily passed along that piece of her new responsibilities, stating that the grouchy old men would do a much better job at it than she ever could.

From across the way, he can see through the glass walls into his old office which Prentiss now occupies. Both Garcia and JJ are sat across from her, no doubt convening there before they all fly out for your bachelorette party. It was a bit unbelievable to think he was only a week away from officially marrying you.

That is, if you survived this weekend, as you'd commented apprehensively earlier that morning. You've been terrified about what Emily had planned, especially given how his bachelor party had gone a few weeks prior. Dave had lured him away with the promise of good steaks and cigars, and then ambushed him with private dancers. He'd even gone out of his way to find one that held an uncanny resemblance to you. John had been sure to give that one a wide berth, making a beeline for the other corner of the room and staunchly avoiding any sort of eye contact with Aaron, much to his amusement. The night had culminated in a panicked text from Aaron to you, begging to be rescued. You'd arrived – his knight in shining armor – and taken him, a terrified Reid who'd been on the phone texting his girlfriend half the night, and a reluctant John who had finally relaxed enough to enjoy the company of the other dancer when you'd arrived and fixed him with an unamused regard that had the poor guy following the rest of you out with quick goodbyes to Dave and Morgan.

"You talk to Morgan recently?" Dave asks idly, sifting through the files in search of the old requirements documentation.

"Yes, he seems to be liking the transition to the academy," Aaron remarks, flipping through the file in front of him in search of the same. "We grabbed lunch last week when I did the Profiling and Prosecution seminar."

Dave smiles with a contemplative nod, and Aaron can only imagine what was going through his friend's head. Things were changing around them slowly – you'd left the team and had built your own, Prentiss was running the BAU, Morgan had retired to spend more time with his wife and soon to arrive son. Aaron himself had taken on the mantle of Section Chief, a role to which he was taking to far better than previously anticipated. Though, he supposed it helped that this time, he was only doing the Section Chief job and not also running the BAU.

It had been the right decision – for him, for you, for Jack. Both of you were home for dinner more nights than not. The three of you had settled into a routine that felt comfortable, and while he missed being directly in the field, he could see the change in him, his body. At his last doctor's visit, Dr. Robbins had commented that his stress levels appeared to be lowered and having a job that wasn't quite so hard on his body was a great help in that.

John was over every few weekends, very much a part of that routine you'd created, and the three of you had flown to New York a handful of times as well, taking Jack to a Yankees game (which he enjoyed thoroughly) and taking him on the subway (which he didn't care for). Dave had asked him half a dozen times, how he felt about John's presence in your lives. Aaron was incredibly alright with it – he hadn't been the only one who thought he'd lost you.

If he was being truly honest with himself, he was far more comfortable with John than he'd ever allowed himself to be around anyone that wasn't you or Haley. He's had time to think about it, about why that was the case. He figures it's because John is possibly the only other person in the world who understands the importance of you, the impact of you. For Aaron, in many ways, John also felt like an extension of you. The same biting humor, the forced humbleness – the way neither one of you could see anything wrong with spoiling Jack entirely.

Aaron could still easily recall the day he'd made an offhand remark about him not wanting Jack to grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth. John had grown quiet, eyes fixed towards where you were finishing making lunch. Jack was sat on the countertop, mixing together a bowl of cookie dough for you, to be baked for after lunch. Aaron had followed his gaze, his heart warming gently at the sight. It was so familiar, Jack always loved helping you in the kitchen. Aaron's mouth involuntarily turns into a smile as you laugh at something Jack had said, your head falling back easily, the musical notes of your laughter making the room feel brighter.

When John had turned back, he had a far away look in his eyes. "You're right," he'd said, clearing his throat, his voice a little heavier than before. "At the end of the day you want to be sure of only one thing – that he feels immensely loved. Because kids who aren't fed love by a silver spoon, they tend to lick it off of knives."

Aaron knew, without being told, that John was referring to Julian. He found himself incredibly grateful that his son got to be fed by you, wielding a platinum spoon. With John in your lives, that love in Jack's life only increased.

*------------*

You stood at the door of Aaron's office, having walked down from your own, on the way to Emily's so that you and the girls could fly off to a weekend of controlled (hopefully) fun. Who were you kidding? Emily Prentiss was in charge of your bachelorette party. You'd be lucky if you made it back in time to meet Aaron at the altar.

It takes a few seconds for them to notice your presence. A few seconds during which you get to admire the late afternoon sun hitting Aaron's frame just right, the golden hues turning his hair a lighter brown – it made him seem younger than his age, and the white flecks (which he blamed almost entirely on you and your disappearance) would suggest. The pronounced furrowed brow that seemed to be a permanent fixture for him while he was in the office, the warm eyes turned seriously down towards the papers in front of him, the pink lips that had spent a fair amount of time between your legs the night prior, causing you to shatter around him. That had resulted in John making a few crude remarks at breakfast that morning, which thankfully flew over Jack's head. Your son was far too excited to have an entire weekend with just his dad and favorite Uncle for a "Boys Only Weekend" to make up for you missing his soccer game on Saturday.

Aaron shifts, noticing your presence, head tilting up and eyes meeting your own. At the sight of you, they imbue warmth and familiarity, sparkling against the reflected sunlight. You're struck for a moment. Your husband-to-be was remarkably beautiful.

"Hey, how's it going?" You smile at both Aaron and Dave, entering quickly to meet Aaron on his side of the desk. Both of them turn to look at you.

"You still have no idea where Emily is taking you?" Rossi's face betrays his glee at your misfortune. He's been cross with you ever since you kidnapped Aaron from his own bachelor party. In your defense, the man had practically begged you to.

"No, she won't tell me." You sigh, your voice coming out almost in a whine.

Rossi's lip twitches, though he does a good enough job at not laughing outright.

You perched on the arm of Aaron's chair, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Harvey sent these over," you tell him, placing the envelope you had been carrying on his desk, your hand returning to play with the ring on your finger around as you were prone to do nowadays. "Would you please sign them and make sure they get to his office before Monday? He wants them finalized before the wedding."

Aaron nods, noting how your delicate fingers caress the stone of the ring that's sat on your hand and made him – quite literally – the luckiest man alive.

He's been expecting some paperwork coming his way in light of your upcoming ceremony. He'd lightly brought up the idea of a pre-nuptial agreement with you early on – for your sake – and had been laughed out of the room. You did however, feel it necessary to make him aware of exactly what assets he'd have access to, and thus your lawyer had been busy creating a summary for him to look over and acknowledge. Apparently, it had taken a full staff to do the entire work up, over the course of a month. If the thud the envelope had made when you'd set on his desk was any indication, he was in for a long night of reading.

"Alright, I should go." You heave off of his chair and the two of you look at each other and then Rossi, who takes a hint and looks away, leaving you to bend down and capture his lips against yours. You feel his arm winding around your waist and tightening into your side briefly, before you withdraw, your tongue peaking out to lick your lips. Aaron looks just barely flushed as Rossi turns back, his lips twitching in amusement as you fix yourself and take your leave.

*------------*

The door closes behind you, Aaron's eyes following your walk across the floor towards Emily's office.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dave asks, drawing his attention back to the envelope you'd dropped off for him. There's something oddly familiar about this – the two of them in his office, an envelope related to you dropped off at his desk. Though this time, under far less confusing and much happier conditions.

Aaron nods, doing his best to hide the smile threatening to break through at his friend's curiosity. Ever since New York, Dave had been very interested in learning exactly how much richer than him you were.

Reaching for the envelope, Aaron opens it up and withdraws the large stack of papers, and flips to the first page. Disclosure of Assets – the name of the document hardly did justice to the summary that followed. Properties across the U.S., Europe, South America, and the Caymans. A plethora of divided up Swiss bank accounts, each with a balance more staggering than the last. A stock portfolio rivaling Buffets. The number at the bottom of the page takes his breath away entirely.

Aaron turns once more to look towards his old office – he can see you gathered there with the rest of the girls, laughing about something. Given the piece of paper in his hand, he has to hand it to you in that moment. You lived far below your means. To think that someone your age had access to that kind of money – that kind of freedom – and still chose to do what you did. He didn't think there were many others who would.

Before Aaron can react, Dave has reached across the table and yanked the piece of paper right out of his hands.

The noise of complete shock that leaves his friend's body was not one that Aaron was likely to forget anytime soon. He watches as Dave reads the same summary he just had, his eyebrows moving further and further into his hairline as he goes down the page.

When he finally looks back at Aaron it's with a look that couldn't quite be described – surprise, awe, a hint of envy. Aaron can viscerally see the same thought he had moments ago regarding you and your work at the Bureau flit through Dave's head as he too turns to assess you across the floor.

Quietly, he hands the documents back to Aaron. Shifting in his chair, Dave clears his throat. "You do know that you're going to be picking up the tab every time now, right?"

Aaron chuckles, nodding. He'd assumed as much.

He turns back to you, only to catch you looking towards him as well through the glass walls. Your mouth turns up into a smile as your eyes meet his. Eyes like the sunrise colliding with his, causing his stomach to flip in that torturously delicious manner that only you seem to invoke. Eyes that meet his and stay. Eyes that have followed him, mirrored his, since the moment the two of you met. Eyes that betrayed you both when you looked at one another, the sheer intensity of the emotion behind them giving you away entirely. It didn't matter what distance, what time, what circumstance separated you from one another – somehow his eyes knew to always find their companion in yours.

Aaron might have fallen first, but he is forever grateful that you'd followed.

[benlaksana]

2021

It's been roughly a year and a half since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic here in Indonesia, and I've recently been trying to understand where I'm at. Not physically, as in physical space, but mentally and probably existentially. What is the state of my mind? I am aware that I've become somewhat bitter, my late nights are sometimes riddled with anxiety for what the next day may bring and reoccurring personal-collective grief has at times, and recently more often than I would like to admit, numbed me.

This may probably be my mind's automatic coping mechanism seeing all this death mainly as a result of how my government has failed us, its citizens, especially during a time of crises. And I really need to stress this point: how my government has failed us Indonesians during the times we need it the most and I very much believe that it is because of this why many of us Indonesians are in constant misery and haunted by that feeling of despair. If chronic physical pain causes constant daily anguish, I am not surprised if chronic physical and mental pain caused by structural violence causes persistent misery as well.

I'm somewhat fortunate in this regard, I'm grateful that I've learned ways to keep my sanity in check. My contemplative practice is key for me. Honestly, I wouldn't have gotten far in life without it. I have many people to thank, but Art Buehler especially, my former professor in esoteric contemplative/meditative practices who reminded me and pointed a certain possible direction of where I should head when I sense a lost in my life's direction, is one those I should thank the most. I know this seems like an individualized response to structural oppression, and I don't intend to paint such a picture, but I do believe we need some kind of mental stability to keep on going. To survive if not thrive.

Art sadly passed away in 2019. I received an email about his passing. And come to think of it I never really did allow myself to properly grieve for his passing. I don't know why. To be told through a short concise email that someone you cared for died, without having the opportunity to properly say goodbye feels like that person never really passed away. It is horrible way to end relationships. A sudden cut, nothing finalized, and since goodbyes are relational, now nothing can really ever be concluded. I have to make amends with myself and only with myself. If I said goodbye yesterday, or if I say goodbye today or perhaps tomorrow, will it ever be enough for me?

Life is individual yet also relational. It's good to have friends, family, people that care for you or the odd mix of all three to get you through life. So although I have these array of tools to possibly help get me through life but if the people whom you look for some kind direction is no longer present, I'm just not sure for how long I can maintain it if I'm doing all this by myself. Will a breaking point come to me?

The mind is a fickle thing, and the mind is as strong as its habits. Bad habits, bad mind. Good habits, good healthy mind (no habits, no mind?). They also say that things that might happen, will indeed happen. It is just a matter of time. If so, how will I break? To what extent? For how long? What will change? What will I lose? Will there be something renewed? Will I come out the same person? Will I come out changed but for the worst?

This is one of the things that worries me. That certainty of uncertainty. The certainty of breaking, the uncertainty of when and of its form. Will I explode in sudden exasperation, engulfed in madness? Will it be a quick balloon pop yet a slow descend into meaninglessness? An unabashed diatribe rant towards someone I care? Something that's just a twitter post away from me on actually doing it. Will this be an opening, an opportunity for 'satori', a sudden lift of the 'veil', bringing about comprehension and understanding of the true nature of things? Questions, questions, questions, not much when it comes to answers, is all I have for now. To be hopeful is hard these days and with the wavering hope, very much coming and going like waves, it has become incredibly hard to even retain any semblance of kindness. That is something I do not want to actively become a habit of. Without hope, comes the cold embrace of fatalism that many on the 'left' are guilty of. Clutched by fatalism, empathy becomes harder to come by. I've seen it, and I have felt it.

I know that my eroding sense of hope is connected to my personal dreams. Specifically how it has become very hard to actualize it. Rara and I never really planned on staying in Indonesia for long. I was confident enough, a bit too confident come to think of it, that we will be out of Indonesia by 2021 the latest. A mere 2 1/2 years after our last stay in New Zealand. The plan was for me to continue my studies, getting into a Ph.D. program and of course a scholarship. That was our ticket out. Hoping that we'll be back to our old routine in Wellington, in and out the university's library, my head in books, loving our 'flatwhites' while regretting having too much of it, the usual stint doing some university tutoring, community organizing stuff, lazy gardening, out and about on the weekends tramping around Wellington and if Covid did not happen or/and maybe if my government handled things much, much better I think that would've been the case. Or at least I constantly would like to imagine that would be the case.

Yet here we are still in Indonesia, me struggling to do my Ph.D. through this wretched distant learning, initially in the comfort of my home yet steadily devolving into cabin fever. And Rara with her own struggles trying her best to get back on her feet as an aspiring musician. None of it is going as well as we had hoped for. All this while juggling trying our best to keep ourselves safe and our families and friends safe. Both of us have become direct witnesses how challenging this has been, physically and mentally. Both of us slowly grappling with the continual kick in the gut, the never ending structural absurdity, violently absurd.

That slow grueling realization of how fragile our lives are. Not just existentially. It is existentially precarious yet at the same time understanding that precariousness in many of its aspects is structurally and politically maintained. It is this political construction of precarity, which Isabell Lorey elaborates in her book State of Insecurity: Government of the Precarious, that angers and saddens us the most.

Lorey provides a nuanced approach in unpacking and differentiating this thing called being 'precarious'. The three dimensions of being precarious: precariousness, precarity and then precarization. On precariousness, Lorey draw's on Judith Butler's conceptualization of precariousness which she sees as existential, relational and inevitable. I'll insert my existential philosophy and Buddhist values here, to help me see and more importantly accept the transient nature of life and that impermanence or change is the only constant. Our lives, our bodies are destined to die and wither away. We humans are fragile mortal beings. The loss of life, the loss of one's identity, the loss of everything that makes us, us is unavoidable. It's also a 'relational' thing, as in it is also a shared experience. Everyone will experience it. It is the great equalizer some say.

Then we have precarity. Yes everyone dies, but the process of dying or even the process of grieving someone's death is dependent on what Lorey see as the “effects of different political, social and legal compensations of a general precariousness”. Some die at young age due to starvation, riddled with poverty and disease and have nothing or no one to ease their pain, others die surrounded by family and friends in a well-cared for hospital. Some have days or weeks to grieve, others have to go back to work the next day as she or he have no luxury to stop working even just for a moment and simply grieve. To stop working even for a day draws some closer to the possibility of death for the person or those dependent on the person working. This is the inequality of dying and grieving due to our social hierarchies. How fragile we are, is dependent on those social hierarchies.

And last we have Lorey's third dimension, governmental precarization which is the instrumentalization of insecurity by the government. In other words, the government using the idea and the reality of insecurity as a tool or device to control its citizens. The calculated, deliberate attempt by the government in destabilizing our lives in order for us to be easily governed. Insecurity, be it real or due to perceived constructed fear of insecurity is an effective governing tool. The fear of being labeled "useless and lacking in contribution to the nation-state". The genuine insecurity of not being able to get a job due to the false understanding that it is simply a result of an individual's laziness rather than due to systematic government policies. The deliberate attempt in making our lives constantly insecure, constantly on the edge, without us initially knowing it and when we do come to understand, the blame is on us. It is normalized and it is internalized.

This is not simply a social issue, it is a deeply existential one as well. We Indonesians have very little to make us feel safe at the moment. Covid and the government's response to it has severely limited our movements and it's not simply physical immobility, but also an existential one, the inability to even have the imagination that our lives are actually "going somewhere", towards a forward direction. Perhaps some sort of minute incremental progress, but progress nonetheless. This imagined mobility is what Ghassan Hage calls as "existential mobility" and this immobility suffered by many of us is what he also calls as "stuckedness".

Turning an often momentary or the ephemeral nature of a crisis into something prolonged and perhaps even permanent is another part of the strategy of governmental precarization. Our lives or jobs are always on the line and again coupled with the sick prevailing idea that we only have ourselves to find the solution. The crisis is permanent, we don't know why but we've been told that way, if we fail to overcome it is because of our personal inabilities thus proliferating and intensifying this sense of stuckedness.

Forcing us to accept whatever solution the government-messiah presents us with in order to relieve us from this suffering. From labour laws that normalizes precariousness even more, to oppressive new laws that limits our desire and ability to dissent, to including who or how our enemies are defined, easily accepting who is to blame for all this insecurity we are all suffering.

Be it the long dead Indonesian communists, the Chinese Indonesians and the racist perception of them being "selfish and greedy", the Indonesian Islamists - the kadruns and their conservatism, the "foreign forces" whomever they may be constantly trying to take over Indonesia, anyone or anything is to blame. Anyone but the Indonesian government and its affluent patrons. Insecurity and the fear that rises from it renders many of us easily governable and compliant.

This governmental precarization and this 'stuckedness', which Hage sees no longer as a possibility that may or may not happen but an "inevitable pathological state which has to be endured" is how Rara and I feel at the moment.

Rara and I feel our lives are going nowhere. We feel that our lives are stuck, constantly rotating in a hamster wheel trying our best to overcome our precariousness. No progress, no forward movement, no growth, just trying our best to survive from this sustained uncertainty. It's an awful feeling, paving way to existential dread. We are very much looking forward to moving back to New Zealand as soon as possible but with the conditions right now, that is something I can't even dare to imagine.

And although I am grateful that the weave of our privilege with at many times just pure sheer luck has kept us alive and physically well for the time being, we both now realize that we have hit a proverbial concrete wall here. Adding to the already precarious nature of life here in Indonesia, our line of work as a fledgling social science academic and aspiring artist and what Rara and I aspire to do socially, what we aspire to become, easily ends in stagnation if we intend to continue to live our lives in Indonesia. (I want to direct you to Social Science and Power edited by Vedi Hadiz and Daniel Dhakkidae to get the gist of what I'm trying to get at here.)

This is a hard pill to swallow, harder to write and even more so to act upon. I am existentially tied to Indonesia, my family and friends are here, my father is buried here and so will my mother. Memories of the distant past, the colloquial language when shitposting on social media, my mind and body have been shaped by Indonesia in ways I possibly do not even fully realize. This is why I oscillate between guilt towards others and guilt towards the self. I feel guilty for simply having an exit strategy when many others don't, I have the luxury of choice. Yet I also I feel guilty for feeling guilty about this, as it means I am also neglecting the well-being of myself, now and in the future. I need to work on this and find my bearings, being stuck in a guilty limbo won't get me anywhere.

And the future is far from stable, I wonder what is on the other end of surviving this pandemic? There is so much collective grief, collective anger and of course personal anger. All this will amount to something, I'm sure of that. Although I don't know what exactly, I'm not entirely confident this something will be good. John Keane's new book 'The New Despotism' comes into mind.

What do I personally do with all this anger? I’ve noticed how anger, especially when it is on the verge of hatred, morphs itself and easily descends into madness, into aggression and often showing itself, unawaringly to us, when the act of expressing anger happens. Your mind becomes instantly clouded, ending in mindless action. This inability to have control over oneself terrifies me. I already have so very little semblance of control over life in general at the moment, if I truly have no control over myself whatsoever, what then do I have?

And I wonder if it is a waste of time asking these pseudo-intellectual questions? I don't know, yet I do know I live in a society where it hones aggression and hostility, whether it be in physical and digital spaces, and I would like to draw myself away from all this at the moment before I transform myself into something I do not wish to be. Anger I can fully understand, and it is needed and useful. Yet to actively transform it into deep blinding hatred and sustain it daily, is something I feel psychologically destructive for me and I'm trying my best not to go on that path.

I rarely update this blog I know, but this blog has always been used as a personal chronicle of how much I have progressed, digressed or both. And I needed to write all this, because I've never been this least sure of what my life should be like and where it should go. I know I am not alone at this. This pandemic has destroyed the lives of many, our futures, our dreams, our sources of love and I hope that anyone of you reading this finds a way to get through it, doing anything you can do day in, day out.

I'm not sure it if amounts to anything. Maybe it won't, maybe it will, or maybe it has but maybe we just can't see it. All I can personally do for now, is to hold on to these 'maybes', and maybe, just maybe I'll get through this too.

“Where must we go...

We who wonder this Wasteland

in search of our better selves?”

- The First History Man, George Miller

[chaoslynx]

hey, I'd like your input on a certain question I have pertaining to a hypothetical alternate ending of banana fish (the one where ash survives his stab wound). if you're not sure how to answer, that's completely fine, but I've seen so many people in the fandom claim so many different things about what would have happened if he survived, and I'm searching for a solid opinion.

I think the majority of the fandom can collectively agree that ash didn't need to die in order to heal from his trauma. I've see a lot of idiots say that even if ash lived, he would never heal or escape his past trauma, and so dying was the best outcome for his circumstances, which I'm sure the majority of us with more than 1 active braincell knows that's utter dog shit, and that survivors can heal no matter how big of a wound they may need treated.

however, I've seen people say that dying was his best option, NOT because he wouldn't have healed from his trauma, but because he wouldn't have the chance to heal considering the fact that he'd always be hunted down by his enemies. I've also seen people claim that even if he moved countries, he'd always be in constant danger because people would never stop looking for him. that he, as well as eiji, would have to live in fear and would never find peace due to the enemies ash has made during his lifetime.

I'm not sure what to think of this. I believe he'd be able to fake his death, borrow a new identity, and fake a passport to get on that damn plane headed to Japan. some have said that he wouldn't be able to due to his criminal record and so he'd never be allowed on a plane, which I also believe is dog shit. if that blond can scam millions of dollars out of and buy a condo right across from his #1 enemy without being caught, he can fucking travel. it's absurd how part of the fandom STILL underestimates his abilities, considering that he's shown time and time again of how capable and intelligent he truly is.

If you're able to answer, I'd like your opinion. we've established that survivors are able to heal no matter how big the baggage, but do you think he'd get the chance to heal, or would he always be on the run? would he forever be preoccupied with running from his enemies, or do you think his enemies would die trying to find him? I personally think that since his #1 enemy, D*no, is charred to a crisp, that he'd be somewhat safe from the rest. I don't think they'd even find him in an entirely different country in an entirely different continent.

but what do I know, honestly? maybe Yoshida confirmed that even if he did survive, he'd still be on the run until he died. I know she's said that murderers didn't deserve happy endings (bullshit, considering the circumstances that ash was in), but I'm not sure if she's clarified whether he would be on the run if he did hypothetically live. what do you think? no pressure :)

First of all, I'm a big fan of ignoring things Yoshida said.

I'm glad we agree that trauma survivors can heal! Also a big fan of that. Not gonna discuss that more here since we're already on the same page 💖

Before I get into whether or not Ash could ever escape from his enemies, I'd like to establish something about myself and my beliefs. I, personally, think that living is always going to be the better option. I am not going to be taking this question as a "could Ash have escaped his enemies, or is it good that he died?" That's not the problem here. The question I'll respond to below is "could Ash have escaped his enemies, or would he have always been on the run?"

This is an important distinction, because the first question implies that some lives just aren't worth living. I think your intentions here were good, so please don't take this as an attack on you in any way! But I'm not a fan of "living in fear [or living any other way] is worse than death" for a number of reasons. For one thing, dying is permanent. Once you die, there's never a chance of it getting better. It's literally a permanent solution to what often has the potential to be a temporary problem.

Also, any sort of "death is better" logic is a very slippery slope to be walking. If death is better than living in fear, is it also better than living with a permanent disability? With a chronic illness? At what point is it bad but still worth living through? Will Ash, on some level, always be living in fear due to what's likely post-traumatic stress disorder? Healing is obviously possible, but healing means learning how to cope better with a history of trauma, not getting rid of it.

So we're essentially asking the same question that we've already established the answer to: Is it better to live than to die? And, uh, yeah. Yeah, it is.

So anyway, moving onto the question I believe you were intending to ask: Would Ash have been able to escape his enemies?

Yeah. He would have.

For one thing, most of the people who actually gave a shit were already dead. Sure, the Corsican Foundation still existed, but most of them probably didn't think much of Ash besides him being Dino's favorite. There were those who saw Ash's mind in action during that month he spent with Dino during canon, but without Dino there, they have no reason to want Ash dead. Same with the ones who wanted Ash dead before the National Health Institute arc, if they weren't already dead themselves by the end of canon (like Kippard).

If Ash weren't going after them, I don't see why any of them would go after Ash.

Yut-Lung arguably had more enemies than Ash did by the end of canon, which was even Blanca's excuse for agreeing to work for him, but I don't see anyone arguing that Yue should have died. (I believe that he was canonically killed by one of his enemies at some point after Garden of Light, but does that mean that those 7+ years of freedom that he lived were pointless just because they came to an end?)

As far as traveling, yeah, Ash absolutely would have been able to fake an identity if he needed to. Like you said, he's done worse, and it's not like he doesn't have the connections for it. Although ...

I don't know if I've ever fully explained it in a fic or on here, but here's how I usually write post-canon.

Ash and Eiji stay in NYC. We know that moving back to the States and staying there is possible for Eiji, because ... it's what he does in canon after Ash's death. It's mentioned in GoL that Eiji moved back before he even healed completely from his gunshot wound, and that he got his Permanent Resident Card five years later.

As far as Ash, as much as a fucking pain in the ass it would be for him, I usually write him as actually testifying in court against ... fucking everyone. He gets help with this from Max, of course, and also from Jessica (who leaked Max's investigation, including the evidence they obtained from Frog, to the media in episode 23). In return for his testimony, he's granted total witness immunity for his crimes. ((Keep in mind that I know nothing about legal processes and how this would actually work in real life, but for fanfiction purposes that's how I choose to write it.))

So basically: Fuck Yoshida. Fuck death. Live your best life. YOLO.