#(which in real life would probably be something like lack of funds or threat to life

[andiv3r-doctor-who]

And don't even get me STARTED on the Master slash whatever the fuck she had going on when she was Missy. She was silly and confident. Also probably even more insane than usual but she was happy. Ive almost never seen the Master happy or content at any other point. He's always plotting and has a general agitated vibe about him, but Missy is. Calm. Out of her damn mind, sure, but like. Am I reading into things or does everything about her seem more alive. She's less I Want To Kill Everyone, more Let's Cause Some Mischief. Also she refers to her regeneration into a woman as an upgrade but I can't really get into that because the 13th Doctor does too (even though inside I am convinced he only says this because Missy said it). Anyway all I have to say is. Sad fucked up man becomes joyous fucked up woman, aka the story of just about every transfem ever, I rest my case.

The more I watch this show, the more my internal hc that the Doctor is transmasc and the Master is transfem gets supplied with Evidence. Like wdym the Doctor was a girl when they were found and then after a couple regenerations became a guy and just never changed back (except that one time *cough*.. Jodie Whittaker ...*cough*) that is the most transmasc thing I've ever read, if I didn't know any better i would think i was hearing this about someone's OC who was intentionally written to be transmasc. A lot of my intentionally-written-to-be-transmasc OCs aren't even That Fucking Transmasc.

[gravity-barbie]

The Sparrows with a sibling they think doesn't have powers HCs

A/N: So sorry for the wait! And the lack of Christopher, I tried but I really suck at writing for him and I think it'd take another 3 months if I kept trying. Also fair warning this is on the angsty side.

Request

Masterlist

Marcus Hargreeves

-Both as a child and an adult Marcus barely acknowledges you exist, his life revolves around the sparrow academy which you've always existed just on the outskirts of

-As your sibling he does feel a loyalty to you though, he lets you stay at the academy and use Reginalds funds as much as the others so long as you don't cause any trouble

-Of course you're completely excluded from the sparrow academy, despite your siblings vast fame most people don't even know you exist and Marcus won't ever let you join any of the families 'buisness' talks

-So while he's not mean or malicious there is a lot of disrespect and neglect there that builds resentment inside of you

-He's as shocked as you are to learn you have powers (very strong ones at that) but he's quick to collect himself, trying to reason you into letting him integrate you into the sparrow academy and follow his lead like your siblings

-Marcus is good with people, he says exactly what you want to hear, first easing your fears about your new powers and then more importantly giving you a glimpse of the belonging and connection you've always been denied in an attempt to get you to fall in line

-However it's likely too little too late

-Marcus does care about you and he wants to resolve things peacefully, however if you prove to be a threat to the sparrow academy he's completely willing to make an enemy out of you

Ben Hargreeves

-Ben's always looked down on you and unlike Marcus he won't hesitate to verbalise that

-Despite that and generally not thinking you're worth his time he doesn't actually dislike you though, he sort of appreciates your gentler personality, not that he often let's that show

-You're the only sibling he doesn't have to compete with which may make him underestimate you but it also makes you the only person in the world he'll even slightly lower his guard around

-Which, play your cards right, could lead to a tentative friendship between you two, however friend or otherwise Ben is really no good for your self-esteem

-He feels personally betrayed to learn you have powers as crazy as that sounds, jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst of you

-His default is distrusting people so he feels like an idiot for ever not seeing you as a threat and it doesn't help that part of him is still loyal to Reginald so it's easy for him to believe the lies the old man tells about you

-Beneath his anger and confusion though, if Ben cares about you even a little bit that isn't going to change

Fei Hargreeves

-It would seem you're totally irrelevant to her, she barely acknowledges your existence as a child, and as an adult that's only slightly better

-Plus she's kind of a loner so since she's not forced to be around you like she is the others and she likes to spend her free time by herself it's only natural you hardly see each other, let alone talk

-However she actually knows you better than you realise, she's a careful and observant person and like your siblings you're not immune to her spying from time to time

-Because of her perceptiveness she's actually the first to suspect that there's something weird going on with you though she keeps that hunch to herself

-She's probably the most calm and reasonable about learning you have powers and tries to talk some sense into your more reactive siblings

-She encourages them to give you time and space to let this bombshell sink in before they get involved because that's what she would want in your position

-She herself doesn't bother you, not interacting with you any more than usual unless you initiate, she does however have a bird watching you at all times

Alphonso Hargreeves

-Alphonso can be a real dick to you sometimes, but unlike the others it's not because he feels some kind of sense of superiority over you, it's more out of jealousy

-He resents the fact that you don't have the same pressure on you or the same heavy workload and essentially feels like you got off easy compared to him and the others

-He doesn't tend to go out of his way to antagonize you or anything but for someone that's usually pretty easygoing his pointed coldness towards you stands out

-He's definitely blindsided to learn you have powers and it takes him a while to wrap his head around, but he is actually more willing to get your side of the story than some of your siblings

-He still doesn't really get where your pain is coming from because he'd switch childhoods with you in a heartbeat but now that he realises you are genuinely hurting he's a lot more open to understanding

-Ultimately despite being more sympathetic towards you than ever before Alphonso will still go along with however the other sparrows decide to deal with you, for better or for worse

Sloane Hargreeves

-Sloane is the nicest to you by far, partially because that's just who she is, but also because you're both different enough from your other siblings that you form an unspoken alliance

-However as kids you never got the chance to get too close as Reginald noticed your bond and kept separating you

-So while you're glad you can finally be friendly as adults you're still not as close as you could of been, you do try to catch up but the years of forced seperation has created a wall between you

-So has your apparent lack of powers, because though it's absolutely not her intention Sloane can be so patronizing and insensitive about your status as the ordinary one

-As shocked as she is to learn you have powers she's quick to look on the bright side and tries to encourage you to as well, though on the flipside she does also feel terrible to realise the depth of how manipulated and isolated you were

-She's an absolute blessing when it comes to helping you understand and control your power, as a literal genius with experience handling her own superpowers and the kindest person you know she's the best mentor you could hope for, things would of been so much worse without her

-She's firmly on your side throughout this whole ordeal, constantly vouching for you and prioritising what you need no matter what the others say or do

Jayme Hargreeves

-Obviously Jayme never gives you the time of day, but really it's not like she's more apathetic about you than she is about anything else in her life

-Honestly she even likes you more than numbers one to three because at least you never try to tell her what to do, so she's not totally against your company

-Actually she's kind of a very typical sister, you're not friends and she has no problem snarking you but you're family and she'll have your back if you need it

-Even though she had no idea about your powers she isn't all that surprised to learn the truth about you, mostly because she knows this is the exact kind of bullshit Reginald would do and she always thought him keeping you around was a bit suspicious

-She's calm but reasonably cautious when it comes to dealing with the new-you since she has to admit that that is one intense power you have

-Personally she has a hard time seeing you as a threat but like Alphonso she's not going to stick her neck out for you if the sparrow academy decides to do things the hard way

[sekceesimps]

Shimmering Through Darkness (a Zhongli x reader oneshot)

summary:   Rex Lapis finally retires and allows for Zhongli to spend time with his darling. Basically just tooth rotting Zhongli retirement fluff with a lil spice!  (tried to make reader GN)

a/n  Schlongli is so sexy I can’t. This man is literally my entire reason for shifting. Hope all of you enjoy some fluffy Zhongli. Leave some feedback and drop a request! 

Sincerely Coffee 

Rex Lapis had been tired for so long. His responsibilities over the thousands of years in existence had drained him of strength and the will to continue his rule over the land of Liyue. 

He had been wandering the lands and been practically stripped of all purpose in his life. At least, that was until he met you. 

Your meeting had felt fated and arranged by powers far more powerful than him. Zhongli truly believed that the two of you were soulmates and quite honestly he was probably correct. He was ready to spend the rest of his entire life with you, however long that may be. 

Now the two of you had met by chance on one of your work ventures. He had been off at Wuwang Hill for funeral arrangements, a task that he found needless, but was thrust on him by the lack of workers at the parlor. You had gone there to investigate a slew of ghostly sightings, a task which you were loath to do alone. 

He had run straight into you while you were wandering around the houses looking for clues from a mysterious particle. Instantly, he had been captured by your stunning E/C eyes, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and body alert, but still relaxed. You had apologized for bumping into him and all he could do was stupidly stare at you open mouthed as you bashfully rubbed your neck with your hand. Ever the gentleman, he aided you with your commission and accompanied you back to Liyue Harbor. Well, next thing you know he’s inviting you to dinner and a few months later you’re living together. 

Your relationship blossomed much faster than either of you had expected. Zhongli was not going to complain though, every action of yours, as simple as it may be, seemed to spark something within him. Your very existence gave him reason to live and to plan a future that wasn’t a dead end one. 

He had been with many lovers over his years of existence, but none of them made him flustered or dream of keeping them close at his side. Zhongli prided himself on his calm composure, but when you gently ran your fingers across his knuckles or through his long dark hair, he was a blushing and speechless mess. To think that he was once the most fear striking and rageful Archon as you wrapped your arms around his lithe form and rested your chin on his head. 

You hadn’t really been shocked when he had told you that he was Rex Lapis. He was probably more surprised than you when all you did was shrug and leave kisses across his jaw. You truly are perfect for him, he thinks as you pull him to your side on the bed and shower him with love that he had not experienced in thousands of years. 

One of his favorite things to do with you is grasp your hand, lacing your fingers with his, and take you to all his favorite locations in Liyue. Really, his dates are just adventures of their own. He finds so much joy from being able to watch your eyes sparkle as he tells you a tale of a battle or an event that happened at a certain ruin or cliffside. His heart never fails to race when you rest your head on his shoulder and let him hold you close to his side. 

Living together was not something he wanted to ask of you, as you had yet to be married and his traditionalist ideals feared offending you. The concept of marriage was one of which he was beginning to entertain more and more. However, when you begin to stop accepting commissions in faraway regions, choosing to instead stay by his side more often, it leads to you not really being able to have a stable place to lodge. 

He was quick to use the Northland Bank’s funds to purchase a beautiful home slightly north of the bustling harbor. You were a little annoyed that he hadn’t consulted you and you could have paid for it yourself, however the pride in his eyes of being able to provide for you (ahem Childe provided for you, but neither of you say anything) just filled you with acceptance over the new developments. Shortly after, you decide to invite him to stay with you, not really knowing if he had even had a place to sleep in the first place. 

Zhongli preened under the attention you gave him at home. Almost every night, the two of you had accustomed yourselves to wrapping in eachothers arms and basking in the warm embrace of the other. These wonderful moments in your shared home gave him more meaning than he’d ever had before. His existence was now only to please and provide for you and your happiness. 

Retirement was an idea, just a faraway dream, that he could never be able to accomplish. He had his duties in Liyue! The people needed him to stave away threats and preside over the land. Yet, Zhongli no longer wanted to have dominion over Liyue, instead, he wanted to finally rest at your side. As the people of Liyue began to grow more self-sufficient, he began to see it fit to depart.

He had let the idea simmer in his mind for years, but now his plans could possibly reach fruition. He wasn’t like the Mondstadt Archon, Barbatos. Freedom was not his forte, he was the Archon of contracts. The great Rex Lapis had sworn to protect these people in the place he called home. As his definition of home shifted from the vast and diverse lands and mountainscapes of Liyue towards you and the warmth and love that you provided, his decision became clear. These people could care for themselves for the time being, and he wasn’t going to be going too far. 

When he broke the news to you, he had blushed at the way a smile broke across your face and you embraced him with fervor. He had planned for you two to live in your small home near the Guili Plains, but your begging to live somewhere with a few more people prompted him to decide to move to Qingce Village. After all, his home was wherever you were. 

You were the one who had to do most of the working and wage earning as he had no mora. He felt a bit guilty when you would come home exhausted every few days and he was just brewing some tea for the two of you. To be fair, the tea he made was very good and he was trying to master how to cook certain dishes so he could please you. 

Traditional husband and wife roles had shifted considerably as Zhongli was staying home and cooking and cleaning while he waited for you to come home from work. Your home itself was located in the outskirts of the village, allowing for a slightly longer travel, but privacy that Zhongli now desired. He was more and more relaxed and trusted you enough to mostly shed his troublesome human form. 

His draconic features were more apparent as he relaxed by your side in the spacious home. His golden eyes had a more prominent glow and two sharp curved horns protruded from his head. His nails were longer and more sharp and some days, parts of his skin would be shiny with scales. He was still in a human form for your convenience, however it helped him rest when he showed parts of his real body. Perhaps one day he’d show you his true self, but he’d have to do it in a secluded area, he is supposed to be dead after all.  

Zhongli in retirement was far more interested in children than he would have thought. While you might not have been technically married yet, something which he was eager to fix, he still wanted to start a family with you. After several long talks you decide to hold off for the moment, whether you want to have children or not, Zhongli is anxious to one day expand the home the two of you have created. 

Truly, he is much more domestic and eager to help you in any way he can. Especially in the bedroom. As he is slightly more dragon like now, those features seep into your more intimate moments. He’s more keen on marking and claiming you than he was before. Probably because he views you as his and is loath to allow others near you. He’s definitely more soft than before and prefers to have you guide the way. His yearning for that domestic life has really give you more control. It’s also given him a renewed focus on your pleasure and on taking care of you afterwards. 

Zhongli is glad that he found you. You’ve given him a sense of normalcy, a home, and love which he has never really felt before. You are his guiding light, his reason for life, and person he  wants to protect above all else. As his soulmate, you’ve cut through the darkness of the past several hundred years and provided him with everything he never knew he needed. 

a/n I’m currently writing Genshin NSFW HCs and I elaborate more about Zhongli there, so keep your eyes peeled! Hope you enjoyed this piece though. 

[thedannyphantomcookbook]

The Phantom Origins

Okay, so I know probably a bunch of people have already done this, but I wanted to rewrite Danny Phantom, from just before he got his powers to maybe when he tells his parents.

 I’m tired of waiting for a reboot that may never come, so here is what I picture the reboot would look like. 

I’ve always thought it would be darker and more horrific, that the ghosts he fights are more monstrous and demonic.

 That there would be a little bit more of a medical concern for Danny’s humanity being affected by his ghost half. Is he becoming more ghost like? Is he gradually getting sicker and sicker, and his ghost DNA ravages through his body like cancer? 

Would Vlad be not only a sexist, creepy, abusive old man, but contains a thirst for deception and power that he poses a real, apocalyptic threat on Earth and the ghost zone?

Are ghosts actually the spirits of the dead? Or are they a different breed of human that lives in a completely separate dimension, that’s is layered and hidden within ours?

What about Danny’s mental health. He has to keep this big secret from his parents because he absolutely FEARS what would happen if they found it to the point he’s scared they wouldn’t believe he was their son and try to kill him as a result, or keep him hostage in the basement, slowly torturing him and dissecting him until he’s dead? What would the world think of him? A prophet? A demon? Would they accuse his parents for experimenting on their own children? He would have so much fear and anxiety that he’d have to be on edge all the time, falling into depression, panic attacks - not to mention the PTSD he’d get from it all while battle nightmarish monsters and the hanging question over his head of what he is now. 

These are just SOME of the questions I’ve had that Butch Hartman will never answer. He set up such a great plot and characters but carried it out pretty poorly over the show (which may or may not be his fault since they wanted to keep it kid friendly.)

I hope to get into the deep and dark and nitty gritty details of Danny Phantom we’ve imagined but never get to see. I wrote the first chapter below, and I plan to write much more. :)

I hope you guys enjoy it!

Follow me over at Ao3 

Summary:

Dr. Madelyn Fenton and her husband, Dr. Jackson Fenton, have just built the world's first portal to the Ghost Zone - an alternate dimension where undead linger for all eternity. The only problem is no one believes in what they are doing. The townspeople call them the Fenton Freaks and the rejection letters from the National Science Foundation are piling up. Not even their own children can tolerate their ghost obsession. Their 14 year old son, Danny, does what he can to separate himself from his parents. Mocked by his peers and judged by his teachers, he keeps his head down and stays out of the spotlight. 

It comes as no surprise to Danny when his parents' machine fails to work on the first test run. Discouraged, they leave empty handed for the weekend to go to the Ghost Hunter's Expo, where they were expected to present their portal during their panel. As soon as his parents leave, Danny invites his friends over to give a tour of yet another one of his parents' failed experiments. When he gets dared to walk inside the machine, he triggers something that turns it back on, and for the first time ever, his parents have an invention that works. But that's the least of the surprises when Danny emerges from the portal himself...

To Whom It May Concern,

To the esteemed members of the National Science Foundation, myself, Dr. Madelyn Fenton, PhD., and my husband, Dr. Jackson Fenton, PhD., write to you today to consider us for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award. Our combined decades worth of research within paranormal scientific research fields have led us to believe that the “ghost” entities that haunt our very Earth, could in fact be the missing link to creating new technology, curing human illnesses, and prolonging human life on Earth.

The term “ghosts” is defined as a religious or spiritual being, or the hypothetical soul of the human body, separated from physical forms, usually that of a person recently deceased. Dr. Jackson Fenton and myself have a different theory about the “ghostly” entities that visit our Earth. We have sufficient evidence to prove that ghosts are in fact not the spirits of the dead, but an entirely new species of the human race. We believe they exist in an alternate dimension - a separate plane of existence that is not unlike ours. Recent developments have also shown the possibility of dimensional travel -  we believe ghosts are able to pass through into our plane of existence for a temporary amount of time. Through our rigorous research, construction, and experimentation, Dr. Jackson Fenton and myself have created what would be a “portal” to this plane of existence, to the “Ghost Zone.” By exploring and studying the ghost zone, we could collect a limitless amount of research and data that could be used to benefit humanity for the rest of our existence.  

We have provided within our application our twenty years of research and development, along with video recordings of our experiments as evidence of our work in progress, as we humbly request your consideration for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant  Award.

Sincerely,

Dr. Madelyn Fenton, PhD. in Quantum Physics and Paranormal Studies

Dr. Jackson Fenton, PhD. in Theoretical Science and Paranormal Studies

From the Grants and Admissions Office of the National Science Foundation

To Dr. Madelyn Fenton and Dr. Jackson Fenton,

Thank you for your interest in applying for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award. The New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award (NESRGA) is an esteemed scholarship opportunity that looks to provide funding for ground-breaking scientific research to scientists working within small and local laboratories. After carefully reviewing your application and research, we have come to the regretful decision to decline your request to receive the NESRGA.

We unfortunately could not approve your request due to the following issues:

Insufficient or lack thereof evidence or proof of scientific research of ghostly entities and/or undiscovered species, the “Ghost Zone” dimension in which these entities exist, or possible travel to said “Ghost Zone.”

Insufficient of lack thereof peer review research and laboratory data.

Paranormal entities and alternative dimensional research is not recognized under the National Science Foundation as factual scientific work.

We are thrilled to hear that you share such enthusiasm, passion, and ambition in the pursuit of scientific exploration, research and development. You are a part of a wonderful community, and through your tireless efforts, you will help bring our Earth into the future.

We welcome you to apply for the NESRGA again next year.

Sincerely,

Barbara Keaton,

Director of Grants and Admissions

National Science Foundation

GHOST HUNTERS EXPO - THIS LABOR DAY WEEKEND

To Drs. Maddie and Jack Fenton,

We are excited to have you return to speak at the Ghost Hunters Expo this coming labor day weekend. We have reviewed your Ghost Zone Theory and we anticipate your presentation of your research.

Please note: due to new regulations we cannot allow the following into the convention center:

Ecto-infused food, inanimate objects, or animal mutations of any kind.

Alarm or defense systems that release a form of knock out gas, ectoplasmic goo, ectoplasmic foam, spoiled meats, or  live rodents. All alarms and defense systems must be turned off while inside the convention center.

Samplings or gifts of homemade cookies or other food, beverages, or gifts to bribe the judges.

Disclosed weapons that are not a part of your presentation and/or not approved by the convention prior (we will have metal detections at all entry points of the convention hall)

Asking for audience volunteers unless approved by us prior your scheduled presentation time.

Ghost claims targeted towards convention guests, judges, or other presenters.

All presentations and inventions must have been tested and approved by a judge prior to your presentation time (i.e. no last minute or surprise inventions).

Fighting or displays of physical aggression.

Destruction of convention hall equipment, the building’s foundation itself, or other presenters equipment and or inventions.

We thank you in advance for your compliance and full understanding of the new regulations.

We look forward to seeing you!

Best,

Trevor Martin

Ghost Hunters Expo Coordinator

“Did you see this?” Jack Fenton asked, waving the notice from the Ghost Hunters Expo. He scoffed. “New regulations...I wonder who were the bimbos that made them enforce these rules.” He crumbled up the notice and threw it carelessly on the floor.

“How’s that portal coming, sweet cheeks?” he asked his wife.

Maddie Fenton was deep within a hexagon shaped chamber carved out of her laboratory converted basement wall. The interior was lined with a colorful array of wires and tiny blinking lights. At the end of the chamber, sheets of metal and hardware fanned in on itself. Maddie was kneeled on the floor, wrestling with a few cords.

“I’m just struggling to connect these last couple of wires,” she answered, pinching the two cords together. With a last bit of strain, the cords connected with a satisfying click.

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she came out of the chamber. “Hopefully that will stabilize the gravitational pull of the Ghost Zone once we get the portal running.” She briefly thought back to a dark memory from their college days when their first Ghost Zone prototype had malfunctioned and the toxins from the Ghost Zone leaked out of the portal, resulting in displacing one of her lab partners for the remainder of their college career.

“We got it this time, baby,” Jack said confidently. “There is no way we could make the same mistake twice.”

Maddie sighed as she walked over to the control panel to record the ecto-readings. “I just wish we knew for certain what had gone wrong that day. All of this guess work is driving me crazy.” She picked up her notebook and briefly reviewed her meticulously hand written notes before adjusting some dials.

“Okay,” she huffed, satisfied. “I think we’re ready for a test run.”

Jack clapped his hands. “Excellent! I’ll go grab the kids!” He ran to the basement steps and shouted, “Jazzy-pants! Danny! Get down here!”

A few minutes later both of their teenage children shuffled down the basement steps.

“Is this gonna take long?” Danny asked, disinterestedly. “Tucker and I were in the middle of planning our next battlefield strategies for Doomed. There’s only a few days left of summer vacation and we still have so much planning to do if we want to beat the other online players and achieve the seven Keys of Destiny.”

“And I was in the middle of an important breakthrough in my self therapeutic psychology research,” their daughter, Jazz promptly stated. In her hands she clutched an open copy anxiety and phobias workbook. “Did you know that high functioning anxiety in adulthood is caused by childhood trauma from never feeling safe in your own home? This would explain so much about me and Danny -” she paused in her speech when she saw the machine her parents were working on.

“Oh, no.” She snapped her book shut and pinched the flesh between her eyes. “ Please do not tell me you called us down here to witness another one of your experiments. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Oh, Jazz, relax,” Maddie said, waving her off. “Those burn marks from the last ectoplasmic gun experiment healed eventually. And look!” She walked over to a closet in the back of the room and pulled out two polyester jumpsuits. “We made you both your own custom fitted, lab safe, jumpsuits!”

Jack appeared beside Maddie. “And we matched them with ours! Jazzy-pants, yours is teal to match your mother’s. And Danny, yours would have matched mine but the store didn’t have orange.” he held out a plain white jumpsuit with black gloves and boots.

“And I haven’t even shown you two the best parts!” he grabbed the jumpsuits from Maddie and spun them around. Crudely pressed onto the fabric of the jumpsuit was a cutout of Jack Fenton’s smiling face, emblazoned on the chest.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jack grinned.

Jazz was the first to respond. “Dad there is no way you’re going to get me to wear that,” she said while backing away and shaking her head. “How about Danny and I will just go upstairs and you can call us down after  you’ve tested it? That way we’ll be safe and not have to wear those hideous jumpsuits.”

Danny silently agreed with her while struggling to conceal his own disgust at the suits. It was one thing to be forced to wear a jumpsuit like his parents but it was an entirely different level of lame to have to wear his father’s face across his chest. What if his parents insisted he wore it all the time, like they did? Involuntary images of him becoming the laughing stock at his new high school was surfacing in his mind, more than he already was for being the son of the city’s eccentric ghost hunting husband and wife team. He was already struggling to stay above the pathetic nerd social ring in his class. They’d have to create an entirely new category of nerd just for him if he wore that suit. The thought of it made him want to crawl away in a hole and be left there to die.

“Mom, Dad, I have to agree with Jazz,” Danny said. “The suits are kinda...lame.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Maddie dismissed. “These jumpsuits are the latest fashion that every ghost hunter wants.”

“And when we reveal these babies with my face on them, everyone will be scrambling for one. We’ll be rich!” Jack stated proudly.

Jazz snorted. “Um, I somehow doubt that. Look, we’ll just go back upstairs and you two can let us know when it’s safe, okay?” She looped a hand around Danny’s arm and started pulling him away.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jack clamped a hand on both of them  and spun them back around. “You two are being given the chance to witness scientific history! And we are not going to let you pass up on this.” He tossed the jumpsuits to Jazz and Danny. They unwillingly caught them.

Jazz glowered at Danny. “If you take any photos and post them on the internet, I will kill you.”

Danny held out his suit reproachfully. His dad’s smiling face seemed to be laughing at him, like all of the students as Casper High will be if they ever found out about this.

“Don’t worry about it.”

A few minutes later, Jazz and Danny stood alongside their parents in their matching jumpsuits. Jazz stood with her arms crossed, silently fuming, her foot tapping impatiently. At her mother’s insistence, Jazz was forced to tuck in her long, red hair and wear the hair sealing head cover and thick, dark eye protection goggles that came with it. At equal height, Jazz and Maddie were identical in their suits.

At least Danny couldn’t match his dad. Jack’s suit was bright orange and about twenty sizes larger than Danny’s, due to his father’s obsession with Maddie’s homemade fudge and cookie inventions. Danny’s own white suit was slightly too large for him, and hung in odd places due to his skinny frame. He didn’t have to wear a hood and goggles like his sister either - another thankful shortage from the ghost hunter’s clothing warehouse. He picked at his dad’s pressed on face design on his chest as he waited for his parents to get the machine ready for its test run. His dad had tried ironing it on, but had done it poorly, so that with a bit of a tug, it was already beginning to peel off.

Jack and Maddie Fenton ran back and forth across the lab, double checking last minute calculations. Machines whirred and beeped around them, the hum of electricity warm in the stagnant air.

Danny had a good idea of how this was going to go. If this would be like any of their past experiments, it would fail miserably. The experiment would go haywire, probably spout ectoplasmic goo everywhere or accidentally giving ecto energy to the nearest food item. One year, their parents had tried making the Christmas Turkey in their newly invented Ultra-fast Instant Pot and instead infused it with demonic ghostly energy and reanimated it. Danny remembered hiding underneath the kitchen table as Jazz had to beat it back with a pastry roller, screaming for their parents.

The ghost zone portal was their most ambitious project yet. For most of Danny’s life, they had dinner table discussions, weighing mathematical equations and scientific chemical balances in hopes of being able to one day engineer the world’s first ghost zone portal. He was fairly surprised when he found out at the beginning of the summer that they were finally constructing it, and even more so when they claimed last night it was completed. They had been rushing to get it done in time to present it at the Ghost Hunters Expo this weekend.

He glanced at the table beside him looking at the pile of papers his dad had haphazardly stacked among the beakers and ghost weapons. Sitting on top of the stack was the rejection letter from the National Science Foundation.

“It means that they don’t think what they’re doing is science,” Jazz had interpreted for Danny after reading it when their parents’ back was turned. “And who could blame them? There is zero evidence supporting the existence of ghosts. It’s just superstition.”

That’s all it was. Superstition. And  yet, his parents had at some point in their youth latched on to the idea that ghosts were more than a myth, and even though they’ve never actually seen one in person themselves, they were determined to prove ghosts were real. What amazed Danny the most is the amount of people who also believed in the same theory. In the years past when his parents had dragged him and Jazz to the Ghost Hunter’s Expo, the crowds always seemed to grow bigger and bigger. Scientists, hunters, enthusiasts, and even ghost cosplayers gathered under the same roof for a full weekend, exchanging theories, stories and footage of what they thought were ghosts. The most ridiculous rumor he had heard at the last ghost hunter’s convention was one of a young, blue haired female musician, who became an overnight sensation after one performance at a local carnival. She had also disappeared quite suddenly after the performance, which raised a lot of speculation. Ghost hunters claimed her unusually pale skin and hypnotic vocals were a part of her ghostly powers. Jazz had stated that it was simply because she was a successful female in the patriarchy they had to deem her as a ghost to explain it.

Danny didn’t want to say anything else after that.

“Jack,” Maddie called from across the room, typing away at a computer. “Did you remember to pour in the ecto-purifier?”

“On it, baby!” Jack cried while fumbling with a control panel. Danny watched as grabbed a can of diet cola, which sat next to the similar sized gray cylinder labeled “EP.”

“Uh, Dad?” Danny called. “I don’t think that’s the ecto-purifier.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked. He turned to look at the object in his hand and barked out a chuckle.

“Thanks, son! That was a close one.” He placed the can of diet cola down and picked up the correct cylinder. “Who knows what would have happened if we purified the toxic ghost energies with diet cola. Could you imagine?” He poured the bright green liquid into the appropriate chamber.

In the corner of his eye, Danny saw Jazz shake her head. “Idiot,” she whispered.

Jazz believed she was the only mature Fenton in the family. At some point during her high school career, she had decided it was up to her to convince her parents that ghosts were not real, and to force them to change their careers to something more normal or socially acceptable. She had tried to get them interested in just about any other scientific field she could think of, such as deep sea diving to discover creatures living on the ocean floor, to NASA’s space engineering program. When those didn’t work, she tried to build a case proving the psychological damage they were causing to her’s and Danny’s upbringing. Over the summer, when she wasn’t preparing herself for the SATs she’d have to take later that school year, she poured over every psychological book she could get her hands on from the library. No matter how many times she argued about the permanent damage her parents were inflicting on their amygdala by creating an unsafe environment for her and Danny to grow up in, their parents would say it’s all worth it for the sake of scientific advancement.

Danny tried desperately to stay out of their fights. Most days, he was too focused on trying to survive a day without being called “that ghost geek” by his peers, no matter how many times he told his classmates he didn’t believe in his parents’ work. Maybe it was because of his small, bony limbs that made it so easy for his classmates to mock him. Or the fact that his only two friends in the entire world were also considered a variety of nerd within the social climate. His best friend Tucker was a little too obsessed with the latest technology and his other friend, Samanatha - Sam for short - was the only school’s goth girl, who filled her entire personality and outlook with dark and depressing outfits and literature. In a weird way, it did make sense that the girl who loved to read about the dead, and the boy who loved technology, would want to be friends with the kid whose parents called themselves ghost scientists. Still, they were his best friends and he wouldn’t trade them for anyone else.

He had been telling them about the portal his parents were building all summer. Just like he was, his friends were also doubtful it would work. They deliberated about what the inventions would actually do. Tucker still brought up the time Danny’s parents were testing out an anti-ghost gravity spray, to temporarily make a ghost lose their flight ability. The morning they were testing it out, Danny had woken up in a hovering bed. It had shocked him so much, he fell off his bed and face-planted onto his bedroom floor, breaking his nose. At some point, Tucker and Sam started placing bets about the outcome.

“Maybe the portal will just blast a hole through the wall and you’ll send up in the Amity Park Sewer System,” Sam guessed last night after he told them his parents were getting ready for their first test.

“Bet you five bucks that Danny will lose all of his hair this time,” Tucker had joked.

He absentmindedly ran a hand through his exposed hair and briefly wished he had a head cover and goggles like Jazz. He couldn’t help but notice there was something different about his parents this time. They didn’t have the same, bubbly and excited energy they usually had when showing off a new invention. They seemed more focused this time. Even his dad’s goofy banter towards Maddie had taken a back seat as his dad frowned over the controls. It was weird to see his dad actually concentrating. Maybe it was the hundredth rejection letter they received from the National Science Foundation, or the pressure to present this weekend at the Expo, but it seemed like they were seriously trying to make this thing work. They did not want to fail.

“Okay everyone!” Maddie ran over and started waving her hands. “Backs up against the wall.”

Jazz sighed and turned to walk over to stand behind the boxed in yellow line, the “safe” spot in the lab. Danny thought  a metal containment center with a viewing screen would have kept them safer, but supposedly his parents didn’t have time to build one. Danny followed his mother and sister.

“Almost…” Jack muttered at the controls, typing away. Suddenly there was a loud click that echoed off the basement walls. Machines roared to life and lights winked on. Inside the portal, the metal fans began to spin.

“YES!” Jack punched the air, triumphant.

“Jack!” Maddie called to her husband, gesturing towards the safe zone. He jogged over and squeezed himself in between his two kids.

“This is it!” he shouted over the noise, which was gradually becoming deafening.

All around the room, machines and computers turned on. Attached beakers and graduated cylinders filled up with green, bubbling liquid. A wall lined with dialers bounced up and down. Puffs of smoke expelled out of exhaust pipes. The portal itself began to crackle with electricity, its interior fans spinning faster and faster until it started emitting a bright green glow. The pressure in the room changed, popping Danny’s ears. He felt the tips of his hair begin to rise with the electric waves.

The whirring of the fans inside the machine began to ring out a high pitch squeal as the machine glowed brighter, and brighter, blinding Danny’s naked eyes. He squinted and held out a hand over his eyes, peeking through his fingers. The air around them grew warm and staticky. His father clamped a hand tightly on Danny’s shoulder, as if to hold him back from running away.

It was working. Danny couldn’t believe it. Not once in all of their years of inventing ghost machines and hunting equipment, they may have actually been able to build something that worked like they wanted it to.

What would this mean? That ghosts actually existed? That his parents were not the crackpot fools the town took them for? And if they did exist, there was the one question that no one has been able to answer.

Were ghosts dangerous?

He looked up at Jazz. Her expression was unreadable through the head covering. He looked at his parents, wild and furious excitement in their eyes.

Then, when it seemed like Danny’s ears couldn’t take much more of the screeching noise, a BOOM exploded from the portal. Light poured out of the machine and flooded the room. Danny yelped and turned away. Jack stepped in front of his family and hid them with his massive torso from the explosion. Then, very suddenly, the room went dark. Every light and machine that had been just buzzing with life, died. Danny’s hearing rang in the abrupt silence.

“What the heck?” Jack was the first to say something.

“I got a flashlight, hang on,” Maddie said next. Danny heard her fumbling around her utility belt and a small light winked on. She shined it around the room. Curls of smoke rose up from the machines. The glow from the ecto-purifier had also faded.

“I don’t understand,” Maddie said, dumbfounded as she gazed around the room. “This should have worked.”

“We checked every calculation,” Jack said, equally mystified.

“And tested every single machine.” She threw up her hands. “I even made sure the damn computers turned on!”

“Well, obviously, this wasn’t going to work,” Jazz suddenly said, her anger returning. “You guys were trying to open a portal to nothing . Because ghosts don’t EXIST.”

She ripped off the hood and goggles. “I’m going back upstairs to change and burn this stupid jumpsuit, and work on processing this trauma that you have inflicted on us, yet again.” Without waiting for her parents to respond, she stomped back upstairs, her footsteps echoing off the silent basement walls

Jack shook his head. “What is her deal?”

“Oh, never mind her, Jack,” Maddie said. “We need to figure out what went wrong. We only have a day until the expo and we promised to present this.”

Danny’s parents turned their back on him and began working to restore the power, jumping right into a deep discussion. Danny took the moment to quietly slip away back upstairs.

The second he was back into his room, he let out a long exhale. Suddenly remembering he was wearing the jumpsuit, he hastily ripped it off and then threw it in the trash bin in the corner of his room.

He flopped back onto his bed, and lay in the stillness of his room for a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He stared up at the plastic, glow in the dark stars and planets stuck on his ceiling.

He couldn’t believe there was a moment back there where he thought the machine was working.

He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if ghosts were real. There were no real scientific facts about them. All those convention attendees at the ghost hunters expo all had different theories about what ghosts are - the religiously damned, aliens, spirits with unfinished business, souls that died before their time, another species - no one could settle on a single argument.

But if they did exist, what would happen then? Would they swarm the Earth, like cicadas after their years long sleep? Would they haunt each and every home and building in towns and cities, and try to claim it as their own? Would the world be plunged into a ghost apocalypse, where every human had to fight for their own human survival and soul? Were ghosts malicious or peaceful?

His parents might be arrested for creating the portal in the first place, if it did turn out bad. Or the government might force them to work alongside them to rid the Earth of the ghost population. What would happen to him and Jazz? Would they be put into juvie, just for being the kids of the Fenton Freaks? Would they be put into foster care, once the government decided Jack and Maddie were unfit parents for him and Jazz?

What if the human population adopted a sick fascination of ghosts? Businesses would try to profit off the ghosts by selling fake anti-ghost protection devices or offer tours inside “haunted” houses. There might even be a community in which some would fall in love or even want to become a ghost themselves.

The world would become absolute chaos.

Danny shuddered at the thought. He didn’t understand what his parents saw in trying to prove their existence. What good would proving the undead existed bring to the world?

His anxious, spiraling thoughts were interrupted when his computer dinged. Danny got up and sat down at his desk. He wiggled his mouse to wake up his computer. Tucker had sent him a message.

Still have all of your hair?

Danny chuckled and wrote back.

Yep. Nothing happened though. But the power in the basement blew.

Damn ,  was Tucker’s response. And I had just invested in a 25 pack of markers to color your head in Lancer’s class when you fall asleep.

Danny laughed out loud. I can only imagine all the pensises you’d draw.

I had planned no less than 50. Two for each color.

Well I hope you kept your receipt cause I still have a full head of hair. Unlike you. Danny made a jab at Tucker’s own buzzed haircut. He had tried growing out dreads for the school year, but his mother forced him to shave it off after he got caught staying up on the computer way too late one night. She paid the barber to give him a military buzz cut.

Shut up, dude, Tucker typed back. While you were away not getting your hair fried off your scalp, I was devising up a new battle plan to defeat Chaos.

Danny smiled. Oh yeah? Lay it on me.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

How would describe shameless to someone who never heard of it? How would you describe the specific characters?

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve these super fun asks, but thank you so much! :D It’s funny that you sent this because I did actually describe the show to someone not too long ago, and I didn’t like how I did it in hindsight. I felt like I didn’t do it enough justice. So, I get a second chance to try again!

“How would you describe Shameless to someone who never heard of it?”

Shameless is a show about how life doesn’t always go our way, we don’t always do the right thing, and we’re all imperfect beings—but we still deserve a chance regardless. The Gallaghers begin the series nearly at rock bottom, doing anything they have to for their literal survival, but also to keep their family together. Sometimes that means supporting each other when they’re in a difficult spot, banding together to help their neglectful father even though he doesn’t deserve it, or even committing petty crimes to sustain their meager way of life. As they get older and have more agency in and control over their lives, the nature of their problems shifts, and they learn from their own mistakes rather than reacting to their parents’. The same trends unfold for the people and families in their orbit, showing that various trials and tribulations can impact anyone of any social standing. Not everyone gets a happy ending; not everyone gets what they want. However, they grow and learn how to manage both the hand that they’ve been dealt as well as the bed they’ve made for themselves. That, after all, is life.

Shameless is a “dramedy” where the comedy elements utilize primarily satire, which sets it apart from the popularity of slapstick and dry comedies over the last decade. By nature, the show therefore addresses difficult, uncomfortable, and controversial topics in manners and utilizing methods that are designed to make us laugh at the absurdity while forcing us to think about these topics in ways that we may have avoided otherwise. This format has been established since the pilot episode and certainly is not to everyone’s taste. I wouldn’t recommend this show to anyone who prefers that such issues be addressed with a deeper analysis on the part of the characters rather than the audience, which is the general tendency in drama pieces rather than shows of this genre.

“How would you describe the specific characters?”

For this, I’ll focus on the main Gallagher family, Kev, V, and Mickey, as they’ve been the constant presences on the show since the start. I’ll also keep it relatively short since I could write essays on each one, and that would bore anyone who hasn’t heard of Shameless (and 95% of those who have) to tears.

1.      Frank Gallagher is the stereotypical “deadbeat” who plays the system for every penny so that he doesn’t have to work, choosing to fund his addictions rather than support his family. He will go to any lengths if it means preserving this lifestyle—mild, absurd, and even heinous. He functions as something of an anti-hero, being more a threat to the family’s stability in early seasons than a boon and gradually sinking into obscurity because of his children’s growing indifference as he burns one bridge after another with them. Frank prides himself on espousing only the values that will get him what he wants in a given circumstance. In specific instances, that has meant showing a measure of love and affection for his children that evidence has proven exists deep, deep below the surface. In others, he’s a wild card. Frank’s various fatal flaws have included arrogance, addiction, selfishness, and an avoidance of any and all responsibility.

2.      Fiona Gallagher is the eldest and began the series as the rock of the family because, to put it simply, she was the only person able to do it. She selflessly cared for her younger siblings so that they wouldn’t be scattered into foster homes or adoption thanks to her parents’ neglect, even to the point where she gave up portions of her life and blurred the lines between her roles as sister versus caregiver, which became a sticking point in later seasons when her siblings didn’t need or want a mother-figure anymore. While Fiona was initially very responsible with regards to raising her siblings, she therefore sacrificed a lot of opportunities that were important for her development as a young adult and exhibited an immaturity typical of people her age that impacted other arenas of her life, especially relationships. As her role as caregiver dwindled, that immaturity and the norms prevalent in her environment became more pronounced with her newfound freedom, and she struggled greatly in the face of what she viewed as making up for lost time. Fiona’s various fatal flaws have included ambition, a “martyr complex,” and viewing her family as an impediment to her ambitions later in life instead of a support system.

3.      Lip Gallagher is the oldest son. He began the series with a hefty chip on his shoulder. Intelligent, quick-witted, and calculating, Lip was constantly referred to as a sort of diamond in the rough and clearly came to believe it. This led to a very fascinating dynamic within the family and his other interpersonal relationships as his love for and desire to protect his family was balanced by a sense that his way was the best way—the only way, really. A combination of poor choices and unfortunate circumstances beyond his control resulted in a very real “fall from grace,” by South Side standards, and Lip has worked hard to claw his way back from where he was in the middle of the series. Where Fiona spiraled further as she withdrew from her family, Lip leaned on them and others in his support system—and it saved him. Lip’s various fatal flaws have included arrogance, contempt for power structures in which he is not at the top, and trying to solve other people’s problems at the expense of dealing with his own.

4.      Ian Gallagher is the middle child and something of an outlier in his own right where his family is concerned. He began the series seeming to have his shit together: he balanced school, ROTC, and work, excelling in all three at just fifteen years old. He was plagued by his status in the family at times, not old enough to have more control over his situation while not young enough to shrug off a lot of it on Fiona and Lip, and wanted something for himself more than anything. It’s that combination that put him in an extremely vulnerable position, because while he was the picture of responsibility and didn’t orchestrate as many scams as his siblings (though he was involved in plenty—he is South Side and a Gallagher, after all), it gave him—and his family—the false impression that he was more mature and in control than he was. Multiple older men preyed on him because of that, and in his thirst to find something that was solely his and someone he could care for outside his household, he viewed them as relationships rather than abuse. Like Lip, Ian truly hit rock bottom in a different manner, although the causes of his descent were more heavily skewed beyond his control. In true Ian form, however, he remains driven to find the straight and narrow—and stick to it as much as he can. Ian’s various fatal flaws have included ambition, a “hero complex,” compartmentalizing to the point of narrowmindedness or naïveté, and ignoring his own needs in pursuit of fulfilling others’.

5.      Debbie Gallagher is similar to Lip in that she has always been clever, cunning, and driven to get what she wants. Debbie began the series in a difficult position, going to school and contributing to the household while ultimately not in control of anything that was going on. From the start, all she wanted was a functional family, and it colored her behavior throughout the first six seasons of the show. In many cases, that meant doing whatever she could to hold everyone together: investigating Fiona’s lying boyfriend, running a daycare so that Fiona could work all night and still find time to sleep, prompting Fiona to more actively worry when Ian ran away and helping Lip locate him, and caring for Liam a lot of the time while he was a baby. Over the years, as the dysfunctions racked up, she sought an escape through boyfriends and a baby of her own. The means by which she attempted and ultimately failed to achieve these goals were at times reprehensible and spurred on by both her immature ignorance and the culture in which she was raised. Debbie’s various fatal flaws have included self-centeredness, envy, manipulative tendencies, and not thinking or caring about the implications and consequences of her actions for herself or the people involved.

6.      Carl Gallagher began the series as a real mess. The word “sociopath” comes to mind. He was the stereotypical “wild child” whose behavior embodied the dysfunctional nature of the family and their environment. He destroyed toys for fun, tortured animals, physically bullied children at school, and was held back multiple times for poor academic performance. Carl was never as academically bright as the other Gallagher siblings, but his street smarts were nigh unparalleled and, like Lip, he could probably survive anywhere. Over time, Carl underwent a remarkable transformation: embracing the negative stereotypes of his environment, he dove towards rock bottom with gusto only to realize that the thug life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Once again, he paralleled Lip and Ian’s trajectory in leaning on his family when it became too much, and he’s turned his entire life in the opposite direction to pursue a path that he hopes will lead to helping people rather than hurting them for his own gain or reputation. Carl’s various fatal flaws have included lack of foresight, a penchant for violence, and ignorance.

7.      Liam Gallagher is still very young and therefore tougher to fully characterize as his development isn’t as extensive. Right now, he’s the same age Debbie was when the show began, and we’ve seen just how far she’s come. So, for the time being, Liam is extremely bright and has grown up with a great deal more privilege than his siblings. He doesn’t remember saving for the squirrel fund with fears of not being able to eat all winter in mind. He doesn’t remember what it’s like to worry about Frank or Monica’s actions having an enormous and lasting impact on them. He doesn’t remember Lip dropping out of school and moving out of the house, Monica’s actions at Thanksgiving, Fiona crying over crumpled bills from working at the sport bar, Ian going missing for four months and coming home a different person, or Debbie lying about Patrick just so they could keep a roof over their heads. Liam didn’t grow up with those things, and so he has the luxury of being a kid a bit more of the time. However, because his parents aren’t around and Fiona left the house a long time ago despite being his guardian, he has matured quickly in lieu of any real supervision.

8.      Kevin Ball and Veronica Fisher have been the Gallaghers’ closest allies in the neighborhood all this time. Kevin isn’t the brightest academically or in terms of common sense, but he has a good heart and makes the best decisions when he uses it. He has been through a lot, between foster care as a kid, a crazy ex-wife, trying to keep the Alibi afloat, and raising twin daughters that they definitely didn’t have the means for when they discovered that they were expecting two kids. And Veronica… Well, she’s quite literally his other half. She’s savvy and smart, intelligent and assertive—they complete each other. They began the series as an established couple experiencing some growing pains, especially when Veronica was giving the Gallaghers everything from use of their shower to their toaster while Kevin insisted that they needed to focus on themselves before they could help Frank’s kids. (He talked a good game, but when the chips are down, Kevin has always been there for them too.) They’re good people who’ve been given a few bad shakes and taken a few wrong turns, but their love for each other, their kids, and the Gallaghers has made them a surprisingly strong heart of the show. Kevin’s various fatal flaws have included lack of foresight, ignorance, and not standing up for himself. Veronica’s various fatal flaws have included avoiding communication about her feelings and indecisiveness.

9.      Mickey Milkovich is the stereotypical personification of their environment. He began the series as a poor thug—and a dirty one, at that—who exuded such a presence in the neighborhood that he instilled fear at a mere glance. His family functioned as a foil to the Gallaghers, perhaps what they would have been if Frank had been a different person or they’d fallen even further. Mickey didn’t benefit from an emotionally supportive family that banded together to provide for more than merely monetary concerns, not to mention that his father was openly and violently homophobic, so it took a great deal of time and overcoming numerous internal and external hardships for him to come to terms with who he is on many levels. Over the years, Mickey was self-employed or acted with his family as a drug dealer, a pimp, and a prison hitman; worked for a drug cartel; and has engaged in any number of other scams and illegal activities in order to make ends meet—and he has been quite happy to keep doing so as it plays to his strengths. Mickey is remarkable, however, because he has always been a multifaceted character whose problematic decisions, abrasive mannerisms, and questionable lifestyle didn’t and don’t negate that he cares very deeply and will do literally anything for the few people he allows to get close to him, specifically Ian. Mickey’s various fatal flaws have included lack of foresight, avoiding communication about his feelings, and not reaching out for help when he needs it.

~*~

That was quite a bit longer than I initially intended, but I had a great time putting this together. Thank you again for the ask! 

[gmariam19]

Hi, friends! I hit a follower milestone not too long ago - thank you thank you thank you! Like I did for some other milestones, I wanted to share some of my writing. So here is the first chapter of my big WIP, the one I laid out almost a year ago, the one where Big Things Happen to Poe and Finn Does Big Things, the one that got stuck several times but is now moving nicely thanks to NaNoWriMo. (I’ve added another 10k already - and it’s only halfway through November! Yay!) It’s not much--a long introduction, really. But there is so much going on in this story, I can’t wait to finish it and share it!  So thank you - and enjoy! There is more below the break - and more to come! :) EDIT: This story is now posted! It is called Reclaim the Stars and can be found on AO3 HERE! Thank you for reading!

Chapter One  

Poe Dameron is bored.

There are at least a dozen different things he should do, from reviewing the latest intelligence data to the briefing with Connix he keeps putting off; from going over the maintenance specs on the two Y-wings they'd found abandoned on Dantooine (and wouldn't he rather be working on ships instead of always reading about them) to the tactical, medical, and supply reports for their new base of operations. And that doesn't even include the constant stream of communication with the New Republic and various other planetary governments that Poe dislikes because he's terrible at it, lacking the patience and tact necessary for sensitive diplomatic discussions.

There is always something to do now that the war is over, and yet sometimes Poe wants nothing to do with it. It had been good at first, in the heady days after Exegol when they'd been so relieved to finally stop fighting, ready to move on and rebuild the galaxy they'd fought so hard to preserve. The galaxy had believed in them, had listened to them, because they'd destroyed an entire Sith Fleet, hadn't they? Leia Organa had been telling them for years that they were in danger; she'd been more right than anyone could have possibly imagined, and it was her Resistance that had saved them.

And yet, six months later, it's as if the galaxy has already forgotten the lessons of the past. After skirmishes with both the Resistance fleet and the New Republic, the First Order finally surrendered, and every day it seems a new treaty is being signed somewhere to ensure peace.  In most parts of the galaxy, planets are rebuilding, and that peace seems to be slowly settling. Yet the one thing they need most now is the one thing no one will even consider. They don't need more diplomats, or treaties, or promises to sign more treaties with more diplomats; they need security, and no one will listen to him.

Poe isn't bored; he is frustrated.

The New Republic is still slow in pulling itself together, has been since the destruction of the Hosnian system. The fall of the First Order has splintered it even more as some systems call for a more central government to bring stability to the galaxy, while others maintain they will remain independent. It's the same argument, the same players; an endless cycle, it seems, of war and peace.

The galaxy doesn't need a central set of governing principles—recent history has proven the near impossibility of such a thing.  Better to step back and let memories of oppression fade. Yet the discord between so many opposing philosophies after the fall of the Empire had allowed the First Order to settle in the Unknown Regions and slowly build its fleet, as well as its power. That can't be allowed to happen again.

Poe believes more than anything that now is the time to put in place new organizations to maintain security in the galaxy. He isn't calling for a governing military power; both the Empire and the First Order showed that military strength could be defeated. No, they need people in the Outer Rim, and the Unknown Territories, even Wild Space, guarding them against another Exegol, another Sith Fleet. It had been too easy for Palpatine to disappear into deep space and spend decades rebuilding. The New Republic needs to make sure it never happens again. Poe has been suggesting it for months, has volunteered to lead a division of the New Republic Navy devoted to patrolling the borders of deep space and gathering intelligence. Yet no one bothers to listen anymore, and they’ve found little support outside of a handful of allies who scraped together a few starfighters and a small cruiser for them.

It will happen again if there is no one to stop it. They know that something is happening out there already. They are rumors of entire villages being wiped out on distant worlds, and Poe had hoped that after Exegol, their word would be taken seriously. Apparently, that isn't the case; the New Republic is turning a blind eye yet again. Small villages on backwater planets apparently aren't worthy of concern.

It has been weeks since Poe has been up in his X-wing, and he misses it, wishes he was back in the cockpit making a difference, even if it's only recon and intelligence gathering. But more than that, he wishes the Senate would listen to him before another First Order springs up from the birthplace of the old.

Poe spends the morning helping set up more rooms in their new base, an impersonal prefab monstrosity some Senator had sent over as a thank-you gift to the freedom fighters who had saved the galaxy from a fleet of Sith Star Destroyers. Sure, they aren't sharing quarters in a cave any more, or sleeping in tents, but there is something about it that feels different, almost wrong. Maybe he isn't used to something so permanent, this symbol of victory— or of life moving on when he feels stuck.

Maybe it's too much like a consolation prize, a way to get them to stop talking about new threats when the galaxy wants to forget the old. The building reminds him of everything that needs to be done but isn't, everything that is happening and yet being ignored, and sometimes he is tempted to go back to the cave. He needs ships and people, not bricks and mortar.

After lunch Poe forces himself to find Connix and Kin and sit through the briefing. There is no news on Poe's latest appeal for funding the proposed Sentinel program. The criminal gangs that have grown in the vacuum of the First Order's sudden withdrawal are growing bolder and the Senate doesn't seem to be doing anything about them either. The New Republic is still a struggling morass of governments who can't agree on a damn thing, other than the Resistance is getting mouthy and needs to step back and let them handle it now. Some days it feels as hopeless as fighting the First Order. How had Leia done it, after the fall of the Empire?

Kin starts to go over his intelligence reports, but Poe stops listening and stares out the window, his leg bouncing restlessly. He tosses a speeder bolt from his pocket up in the air and resists the urge to spin around in his chair like a cadet. He thinks he hears something about another village attack, about Vi Moradi, about something going down on Nar Shadda, but he is too distracted.

Connix begins to go over the state of their new headquarters—it has only been a week since they moved in—and says something about a volcanic eruption on the other side of the moon that is threatening to rain down fire monkey piss. Poe frowns, wondering if he's heard her right. "What?" he asks. "Did you say fire monkey piss?"

"Yes, General," she replies.

"Is that a real thing?"

"Of course it is. From the volcano."

"What volcano?"

"There is no volcano," she tells him, shaking her head with a smile. "But it got your attention, didn't it?"

"Sorry," he says. "Kind of distracted, I guess."

Connix exchanges a look with Beaumont Kin, who shrugs and goes back to his datapad. She smiles, which Poe knows is her way of softening the coming blow. "Why don't you take a look at the Y-wings, sir? Commander Pava said she's making good progress. The Falcon should be back soon."

Damn, she knows him too well. He jumps up with a sheepish grin and leaves as fast as he can. Only to be kicked out of the landing area by Jess, then the maintenance area by Rose, and even the medical area by Dr. Khurana. So he finds BB-8 and goes for a walk, trying to work off the restless energy that is plaguing him that day. If he's honest, it’s been building for weeks, and it started not long after Finn left.

Finn is currently on his way back from an extended mission with Chewbacca, their official goal to search for other Stormtroopers who defected from the First Order after the surrender. In truth, they are the Resistance's unofficial eyes and ears at the borders, making contacts with every operative they can, gathering the intelligence they need to maintain the borders when the New Republic won't. They are the beginning of the proposed Sentinel program. Poe did the same thing before Finn had left, and Finn before him; they agreed to take turns, alternating their time away so that one of them is always around to deal with the New Republic.

Unfortunately, it also means they have barely seen one another for the last six weeks, and Poe misses Finn—going out on missions with him, leading with him. They make a good team, and in the weeks and months since Exegol, they've grown even closer. Not as close as Poe would like, but maybe someday. He thinks about it more and more, wonders if Finn feels the same. Of course, they’d have to be on the same planet at the same time.  And one of them would have to work up the courage to say something to the other. Poe’s still too scared to lose what he does have, so it probably won’t be him.

At least Finn finally told Poe that he is Force sensitive. It makes so much sense—so many things had clicked into place—that Poe often wonders how he hadn't figured it out himself. Finn is a natural leader, a brilliant fighter, and so in touch with his sense of self that of course it is the Force guiding him. He will be a great Jedi—maybe not a warrior, as Finn seems less interested in fighting now, but he could be a teacher, a leader.

Rey is training him, to help him understand his powers and learn some basic techniques. He trains in addition to his duties with the Resistance, and Poe worries about him. He feels like sometimes Finn struggles to find a balance between the two and hopes Rey isn't pushing him too hard. She went with Finn and Chewie, to continue working with him.

The Falcon has been gone for two weeks. They ran into a few remnants of the First Order, but nothing major, and Poe isn't sure if they've gathered any important intel other than what they felt safe transmitting.  They are returning several days early, and Poe is glad. He's missed them all, though if he admits it to himself, he's missed Finn more than anything, maybe even flying. He's grown so used to having Finn by his side over the past year, through the mission to Exegol, and as co-Generals, that he's felt almost incomplete the last six weeks.

And that’s the real problem: Poe is distracted. Finn is coming back, and Poe can't concentrate. It probably doesn't say a lot about his leadership skills, or his emotional state, but it's definitely the issue, and he continues around the lake again, talking with BB-8 about Finn and Rey and how much they have to catch up on when they return. If he complains about the New Republic and their lack of organization and support yet again, BB-8 has the good grace to listen and agree when he's already heard it a hundred times.

He goes around the entire lake a second time, ignoring the sun and the heat and the need for some water, and is about to start a third time when the little droid beeps excitedly and tells him that the Falcon has landed. Poe can't hold back a grin, and they hurry to the landing area as fast as they can.

The Falcon is in its usual place, and Chewbacca is coming down the ramp with some bags. Poe greets him warmly while BB-8 asks impatiently about Finn and Rey. Chewie tells them Finn's gone to find Poe.

"Only Connix said she kicked you out of your own briefing," says a voice behind them, and Poe turns to find Finn standing there, hands on his hips and a crooked grin on his face. "Because you couldn't concentrate."

Poe grins in response, closing the gap between them to pull Finn into a warm embrace. Maybe they aren't reuniting after a battle, but it has been a long time and Poe can't help it. He missed Finn and is relieved to see him—and Chewbacca, of course—unharmed when he knows anything could happen along the borders of unknown space. And he likes the feeling of Finn in his arms too much to resist holding him for a little longer than he probably should.

"Welcome back, buddy," he says, finally stepping back, but still holding onto Finn's arm.

"That's General Buddy," Finn laughs, and Poe rolls his eyes.

"That joke is getting old, you know," he tells him. "How are you? Where's Rey?" Apparently, that is the wrong thing to ask, because Finn's smile immediately disappears. Poe feels his stomach drop; has something happened to her? Why haven't they said anything?

"She's fine," Finn says, relaxing as he shakes his head. "You don't have to panic. She…well, she left. Went off on her own. Again."

Poe doesn't need the Force to know that Finn is upset about it, and in a way, he understands. Rey certainly does her fair share of running off by herself,  headlong into danger, and often without saying anything. Having worked many solo missions himself, however, Poe can also understand why. Sometimes working alone is easier, with less responsibility, less chance of getting someone hurt or killed. Get in, get it done, get out.

And Rey had grown up alone, abandoned on Jakku for years, until Finn had appeared and quite literally dragged her out of her solitary existence. It makes sense that after so many years on her own, sometimes she needs to be by herself. And Poe understands that as well: though most people wouldn't believe it, he needs time alone almost as much as he needs to be with people. It is one reason why he's such a good pilot, because he likes spending time in the cockpit with his own thoughts. And BB-8, of course.

Finn, however, had grown up surrounded by other Stormtroopers, never having a minute to himself yet always alone in a system that discouraged individuality and attachment. Finn seems to crave contact and companionship, and though he understands when someone like Poe needs their space for a little while, Rey's stubborn desire to go off on her own without warning—or protection— is still something Finn finds frustrating even after all this time.

"I see," says Poe, though he doesn't know the first thing about it, other than Rey is gone, he hadn't got to say goodbye, and Finn is upset. "Well, I'm damn glad to see you, and I have all sorts of questions, but I won't bother you yet. Want to see your new room?"

Finn’s eyes light up and he smiles gratefully at Poe. "Yeah, I would. I'm sorry you had to handle the big move without me."

"It's not like we had a lot to move," Poe points out. "We were living in a cave, remember?"

Poe leads him down the path to the new building, set in a clearing not far from their expanded landing area. It is a large, three-story building, housing offices on the ground floor with crew quarters on the upper floors. Finn and Poe, as co-generals, have two of the larger rooms on the second floor. Poe guides him upstairs, shows him the code for the door, and motions him inside.

Finn stops a few steps into the room, gazing around with his mouth literally hanging open. They are in a large open area, with a sofa and chair along one wall, and a desk opposite. There is a small kitchenette tucked into the corner with table for eating, and a door leads to the single bedroom and private refresher. It is clean and new and bright, unlike any place they’ve ever lived. There is both wonder and gratitude in Finn’s eyes, and the look on his face right now is one Poe wishes he could see more.

“Are you serious?” Finn asks as he starts moving around, examining his new home. “This is all mine?”

“I’m not going to show you someone else’s room,” Poe laughs. “It’s all yours. it’s not much. It’s just a lot better than—”

“Living in a cave,” Finn finishes. “Or a ship. Or a tent. Poe, we’re in an actual building!”

“I know, buddy. It’s taken some getting used to, but it’s good.” He glances around and smiles. “And I’m right across the hall, if you ever need anything. Like a lesson how to use some of this stuff.” He gestures toward a small communications panel set into the desk.

“It’s perfect,” Finn says. “I can’t wait to get a good night’s sleep in here!”

Poe nods. “You’ll sleep like a baby—or you’ll miss the jungle so much you won’t sleep at all. I’ll let you get settled, maybe try out the fresher—it’s private, all yours.” Finn pumps his fist and Poe laughs again. “Think you’ll be up for a debrief later?”

Finn nods. “Yeah, give me an hour. Where should we meet?”

“Command center is on the ground floor, we either pull up chairs or move to the conference room. Is an hour enough?”

“More than enough,” Finn tells him. He turns and walks back to Poe, pulls him into another embrace. “Thank you,” he says quietly. Poe breathes him in, his heart skipping a beat at their closeness. It seems Finn being gone has definitely had an effect on Poe.

“You’re welcome,” he finally says. Finn steps back and Poe thinks the other man glances down at his lips before ducking his head with a smile. It’s probably wishful thinking, though. Poe has to deliberately look away from Finn’s mouth.

“It’s really good to see you,” Finn says.

“You too, buddy,” Poe says. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ll see you in an hour?”

Finn nods and Poe turns to leave. He really is glad to see Finn. He’s just not sure how to move forward now that Finn has returned.

[border-spam]

Leech Lord HCs - How do you really feel?

Tyreen:

Troy: 

Likes - His kindness. It goes beyond the snare he's trapped in, she knows that and is thankful for it. He's not empathetic to her, caring towards her, and kind to her because he has to be or because he's stuck with her. He's like that because it's who he really is, and he loves her dearly. It means a lot to someone so surrounded by paper thin affection.

Dislikes - He's a downer. He questions everything, worries constantly. Her ideas always have to be picked apart, her plans second guessed. He rolls things in his mind over and over till he warps them into being lost causes, into trying to convince her to give up before she starts. He's wrong.

Seifa: 

Likes - Her ability to form relationships. Ty was never able to grasp exactly what she was doing wrong that came so effortlessly to the other woman. Seifa is magnetic in a way that doesn't need manipulation, or threats. The friendships and relationships she forms are long lasting and solid. They are genuine, while Tyreen can only seem to surround herself with sycophants and people who'd either die for her without knowing who she actually is as a person, or abandon her the second they were in danger. She trusted Seifa within days of meeting her, completely. It's a trait she wishes she could emulate.

Dislikes - Too vocal with her opinions. Thinks her feedback for Ty is far more important than Tyreen does, that it holds far more sway than it has in reality. Ty would love to see her finally have a reckoning about who's in power now, which of them is the one who should be offering advice to the other. Who's the one who turned out more successful. It's long due. Why a junker would think a Goddess should give a shit about her opinion is a mystery.

Troy:

Tyreen:

Likes - Her emotional intelligence. It's not something Ty herself is super aware of, but that woman can see through metal and meat and straight to the core of your bones. In hindsight, that's probably a big factor in how well she can manipulate others, but it also means she's just.. so good at helping you feel better. She always knows what to say to him when he's suffering, and her moments of genuine kindness towards other people who are surprised at how well she knows them are things he'd love to see more of from her. They make her so happy, even if she doesn't notice.

Dislikes - Self absorption. He knows it's not her fault, it's The Leech. He knows it's not really Tyreen. He can remember Tyreen, and he still sees moments of her every day in a smile, or a kind gesture, or a real laugh. He also sees her grin viciously as people tear themselves apart in front of her for a moment of her attention. He watches her cut the provisions budget and pump funds into marketing when he knows they can afford to increase food supplies to the outskirts of the city slums. He just wishes... nothing. Doesn't matter.

Seifa

Likes - Her confidence in herself. Sei is so relaxed in both the person she shows to others, and her unprotected self around friends. He's found her an intensely comforting presence to be around since they met because of it. Her solid sense of self is the complete opposite to his own fragile internal worth, and being around someone like that grounds him. He looks up to her, and she likes Troy, is relaxed around him and happy... so what does that make him then? Maybe not so pathetic as he often feels he is.

Dislikes - Her elitism. It's hard to miss how easily Seifa will shrug off someone else's ideas or feedback based on her simply feeling that she's better than them in some way on the topic. He's had multiple vicious arguments with her based on her ignoring a direct order from him, as if she forgets who her employer is and still sees him as some stupid child she can veto. She knows it's a problem, it has caused her issues in the past, she's been put in severe danger from it before, and he knows she's trying to get better. The apology after helps and it's not enough to cause problems between them when they are so close, but it still twists his guts every time he see's her act like a haughty little bitch to someone he knows is actually her better on the subject.

Seifa

Tyreen:

Likes - Her wonderful creativity. Tyreen is a performer, natural born. She is so clever, so artistic, SO wonderfully interesting and exciting to be around as a person. Listening to her get into the depths of explaining what happened in the last episode of whatever shit romcom she's been watching, acting out the scenes, jumping between the characters and launching into over the top emotional spiels? It's brilliant, it has her and Troy crying laughing usually. She's artistic, she's fun, she's a non stop font of ideas and suggestions, or, she used to be at least. They don't really talk.. this openly anymore.

Dislikes - Her complete lack of empathy towards who she manipulates. Sei herself is not exactly the most caring person for the run of the mill Pandoran scum but even she gets winces of distaste seeing how Tyreen treats her "followers". How she treats her Saints is worse, like disposable playthings fighting against stakes so high their lives are literally on the line. And Troy? Troy's the real victim in this. Sei doesn't believe for a moment that Tyreen is unaware of the damage she's been doing to him for years now, she must know. She must see how she's cutting deeper every time. Twisting the knife into his bowels a little sharper each time she grinds him underfoot to get what she wants. She just doesn't care, and that's a problem, because Sei does.

Troy: 

Likes - DeLeon. Every little slip of his persona, every minute alone with that man as he excitedly shows you the shitty little gadget he spent hours making, or stutters as he offers food he remembered you saying you liked and he tried to cook, or listens eagerly to you retell a stupid thing that happened last week while his goofy wide smile and twinkling eyes betray his happiness -  is a window into who he should have been. It's a constant reminder that he's still there, under this awful filth he layers over himself, and that he can shake it off one day if he has the support he needs to help reassemble the pieces of Troy back into what they were meant to be.

Dislikes - His cowardice. Troy only has three people in his life he can blame for his real deepset personal failures and issues, and they are himself, Tyreen, and Seifa. He never blames Tyreen. He will sit in shaking fury, tears of frustration rolling down his cheeks, defending her as Sei tries to explain how he's being controlled. He has hurt people before, lashed out physically in explosive rage at people who so much as dared imply his sister may not have his best interests at heart. He is a coward who will blame himself, and as time goes on, Seifa, for his problems, and she cannot stand that weakness. It's disgusting, and having him attack her verbally, smash a cybernetic fist capable of crushing her into the wall next to her head as he screams that she's at fault? Weak. Pathetic. Enough to make her want to walk away.

[xhaotixaesthetica]

Cruel Ink

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

READ THE TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains mentions and descriptions of abusive relationships, ownership of significant others, threats, violence, and death. The behaviors and relationships depicted below are abusive and unhealthy. These are not examples of healthy relationships, it’s actually the opposite. This is meant to imagine the members of Ateez in a popular anime trope and it in no way represents their real-life personalities and characters. Real-life ATEEZ are actually known for being some of the kindest, most respectful idols in the industry. It’s fiction, it’s for fun, PLEASE DON’T READ IT IF YOU KNOW YOU WON’T LIKE IT OR THIS KIND OF STUFF DISTURBS YOU! 

Author’s Note: @zafira-profundis​ I’m really sorry about how long it took me to get to this. I hope you don’t mind that I made the reader a hybrid in this scenario, I just thought it would really fit for some reason. I don’t think it really hinders with anything else in your request. I have no clue why I keep putting yandere san and yandere hongjoong in these dystopian settings, but I think it really fits them for some reason. It was a very interesting request and I had a lot of fun writing it, just like your last one. Your prompts really make me go out of my comfort zone and spread my writing wings haha. With this one, I’m not quite sure I met the expectations I set for this imagine, but I still hope you like it. Best wishes to you, hope you enjoy the writing, and come back to request again!

Genre: angst??? Idk, this ended up having a very strange vibe to it to me, it’s not nearly as emotional as property of the pirate king

Word-Count: 1.8K+

You are in: The Amalgam Star System 

The first time you met Kim Hongjoong was when your owner, San, went to his tattoo shop for a consultation.

Most owners would leave their hybrids home for such affairs, but you had long since learned that San was far from most owners.

In another world, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t have made such an intimidating figure. After all, he wasn’t that tall nor that broad. Maybe if his hair was a natural color and he wore pastels and went to college and studied like all the other kids his age and he didn’t have that predatory look in his eye and authority in his voice, you would mistake him for being normal, for someone you could be friends with.

But this wasn’t the case. Because Hongjoong’s hair was a bright cold silver and the long silver rattail braids that hung from his head would have been out of place on anyone else but somehow he seemed to make it work. He had countless piercings in his ears, one in his eyebrow, and a flash of silver whenever he spoke told you that there was most likely one in his tongue as well. He wore custom clothes that he decorated with his own drawings, beautiful but haunting and somehow, at the ripe age of twenty-one, he was already a celebrated tattoo artist in the area.

San had let you see Hongjoong’s portfolio online when he was debating having him do his tattoo. You could see why he was so widely sought after. But there seemed to be something sinister that radiated from every line he drew, something that made you hiss, the fur on your tail standing up straight in alarm.

“And who’s this little kitten?” Hongjoong says, giving you a friendly smile, something dark and murky lurking in his black eyes that made you half-hide behind San.

San smiled proudly, petting your fluffy ears and saying, “This is Y/N. They’re a ragdoll-Persian mix. Say hi, Y/n.”

You looked at Hongjoong who rose an eyebrow.

“Hello,” you mumbled before immediately diverting your gaze downward.

Hongjoong chuckled. “They’re adorable.”

San was in a good mood today, hyper and friendly, easily distracted. He was completely oblivious to the way Hongjoong kept looking at you throughout the consultation.

The way he would lick his lips, eyes raking over your frame, your ears twitching toward every little sound you heard, your large fluffy tail curled around you protectively. He was like a starving man, and you a five-course meal, the only thing that could quench his hunger after so long being empty.

“How long have you had them?” Hongjoong asked lightly at the end of the consultation. His assistant was busy booking San into Hongjoong’s schedule next week and San was busy staring at you, holding you so tight to his side that you could barely breathe, petting your ears so roughly that you could barely tolerate it.

He was like a child, the lack of empathy in their small brains preventing them from seeing how rough they were treating the pretty pet they liked to play with.

But you didn’t dare say anything to him, you’d learned to stay silent a long time ago.

“Around 2,047 days, why?”

The assistant looked at San a bit startled, but Hongjoong said nothing, just smiled and chuckled. “You two seem very close,” he said.

You didn’t think that explained at all why he seemed to be so interested in you, but you said nothing as San nuzzled his face into your ears and hair. “Closer than glue,” he chirped.

As Hongjoong watched the two of you walk out of the shop, he knew he had to have you.

He’d never been interested in a hybrid before, never really been interested in any sort of companionship, no matter the species. But something about you he had to have. He had never seen anything more beautiful, more admirable, than his client’s little kitty.

Soon to be his kitty.

“His name is Choi San, the hybrid’s name is Y/N. This is his address and phone number. That should be enough to start them on the right path if they’re as good as you say they are. Tell them to find out whatever they can in a week. I want them with me within a week after his appointment at the latest.”

Seonghwa nodded, his face cold and expressionless as it always was as he took the slip of paper Hongjoong handed him.

The silver-haired man watched his friend’s limo pull off into the purple haze of the setting sun.

His chest swelled with excitement and a sense of cruel satisfaction as he glanced at the sketch that would be adorning San’s body in the next week.

He would make sure that he’d only have you after he did the tattoo.

He wanted San to have that reminder of you for the rest of his life. Wanted him to know that it was the man he trusted with his own skin that took his precious kitty.

When Hongjoong next saw San, the normally cheery boy had a frown on his face the entire time he was getting his tattoo.

You were nowhere in sight.

Despite craving to see you again after going so long without looking at what would soon be his prized possession, Hongjoong couldn’t help but smirk when he saw San walk into the tattoo parlor by himself.

He was just making this entirely too easy for Hongjoong.

San was too distraught to notice Hongjoong slip his phone out and send a quick text before they got started.

For someone with the reputation San had, Hongjoong found the man to be absurdly trusting.

He told Hongjoong all about his terrible week, how he’d been fired from his job, how there was an investigation pending against him for several work and personal related charges, how one of his rental properties had been destroyed in a fire, how his car had broken down.

Never before in his life had things gone so wrong in such a short span of time.

And, of course, San had the money to fix these things instantly, but it was more the fact that things were going wrong in the first place that was causing him such distress.

San didn’t like things going wrong.

“All done,” Hongjoong said with a smile.

It was beautiful, a depiction of San’s precious kitten on his left bicep that almost compared to the beauty of the real thing.

“It’s great, Hongjoong, wow, you really are talented,” San beamed.

Hongjoong said nothing, just stared at San as he skipped up to the cashier to pay.

For once in the week, something seemed to be going right.

“Do you have another card, sir?” the cashier asked, frowning. “This one’s being declined for insufficient funds.”

“What?” San yelped.

He had two other black cards and the cashier tried them each three times. Declined every single time.

Furious, San just took out a wad full of cash and threw it onto the counter, ignoring the cashier’s calls for him to wait for his receipt as he stomped out of the tattoo parlor, already on the phone yelling to the bank.

The final straw came that very same night.

“You’re looking like the cat that ate the canary,” Seonghwa drawled after a mouthful of steak.

Hongjoong smirked from across the table at his friend, raising his phone and flipping it around to show him.

It was a video, some sort of CCTV footage it seemed.

You were in a shelter, beaten, bruised, half-alive.

It was a gruesome, stomach-churning sight and Seonghwa just rose a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“A break-in,” Hongjoong said simply, taking the phone back and sliding it into his pocket as he continued to eat. “On the day when he came for his tattoo. When he got home, the culprits were still there. Mysterious enemies from a shady underground life full of law-breaking.”

Hongjoong took a sip of his scotch and smirked. “So sad that he was taken into custody, leaving poor little Y/N all alone.”

Seonghwa gave a mirthless chuckle, the whole situation seeming to be quite amusing to him.

“You’re evil,” he said.

“Not evil,” Hongjoong replied as he wiped his mouth and pulled out his wallet, tossing the cash for his meal onto the table and standing. “Just determined.”

Seonghwa was still laughing as Hongjoong left the restaurant, already knowing the location of your shelter by heart.

He was in no rush.

The staff knew very well that there was only one person permitted to adopt you and they would pay dearly if the tried to stand in the way of Hongjoong and his new trophy.

Your entire body ached as you lay on the oversized dog bed that was standard for all hybrids at an orphanage.

It was cramped but better than catching pneumonia from the freezing concrete floor.

The thin blanket did nothing to stop your shivers which was unfortunate because every movement was agony.

You should be used to it.

San would go into regular fits of rage and this was not the first beating you had received.

But the beating combined with the stress of being ripped away from your home and owner and tossed into a shelter, unsure of your fate once again, was starting to weigh heavily on you now that the initial days of shock were over with.

You weren’t particularly attached to San or your home with him, it was rare for hybrids to come across owners that it was worth getting attached to at all. But at least with San you knew what to expect.

At least there you had relative stability.

“This is the nearest veterinarian,” you heard a soft, feminine voice speak, floating in and out of your head as you began to lose consciousness for the pain. No one wasted money on pain-killers for a hybrid without an owner.

“We can have them come here, or to your residence to tend to them. You could, of course, drive to the vet and have them take care of Y/N there, but with all they’ve been through recently, I wouldn’t advise it.”

Your eyes widened when you heard your name.

Sound became hard to decipher and the conversation sounded like it was occurring underwater, but you could at least make out the sound of your enclosure opening.

And you immediately know the face of the man who was crouching in front of you, about to claim you for his own.

“Hello, kitten. Miss me?”

As you looked at his pretty face, shining silver hair, and deep sinister eyes, you knew there was no hope. 

The Amalgam Star System 

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

[trying-write-fanfics]

Shouji Mezo X Reader part 57 Remember

 That couldn’t have been her. She said her full name to them. It was her no doubt about it, and she was real. It was terrifying to see her in the flesh. To have so much history with her but she had zero history with him. His phone rang again and he answered.

“Shouji, I should have told you…” Deku started. “She didn’t recognize me either.”

“Aizawa was right about keeping anyone from looking for her. It just was too much.” Shouji said.”Why didn’t you tell me she was there?”

“I thought if I did, you wouldn’t come.”

He was right, he’d avoid that university like the plague. Shouji does have a tender curiosity for Y/n’s well being but he didn’t want to meet a Y/n that didn’t remember him and he wasn’t going to stalk her. 

“I remember how happy you two were when you guys were together. She did a lot of questionable things, but you both seemed to really care for each other and I just thought if you two met again, you would make each other happy again, like that.” Midoriya explained. 

“Midoriya, she may be an entirely new person now.” Shouji said, but then he made his decision. “I’ll stay on the security squad.”

“What! Really?” 

“It would be awful if she got hurt again.” Shouji said. “But I’ll try and protect everyone at that gala.”

“Thank you Shouji!”

Shouji hung up and looked back at the hospital selfie they took when they had their official hospital date. There was probably never going to be a date like that again. Well he could only hope that he wouldn’t have a hospital date after his partner got burned to a crisp. 

 It was just his horror to talk to Y/n again, knowing he didn’t share the same history. He was a stranger to her. She held her hand out like it was their first meeting. It was like his insides were being torn from within, and he had to pretend it was nothing. 

Shouji called the club for a more in depth tour, where attacks could hide, sources of power, the whole nine yards. The president of the club said he would give the tour. 

 Shouji got there and was greeted by the president of the club. He explained he believes an opposing club could be the culprit. 

“Why would another club be out for this one?” Shouji asked. 

“Ever since (last name) was made my Vice President, she’s been able to bring in more club members with her personality. A lot of members were drawn to our club because of her outgoingness and that she could persuade freshmen at orientation why we were the best club. Because of this other clubs have suffered not having any new members, which means lack of funding for them and more for us.” The president explained. “I didn’t think I’d be able to save our dying club, but when Y/n joined we made it to nationals.”

Shouji wanted to avoid this topic. He was glad Y/n was ambitious and found some direction in her life. She was doing amazing like she always was going to be. No, what he worried about was hearing about the possibility of a love interest.

“She sounds amazing.” Shouji told the president.

“She intimidated you didn’t she?” The president asked. “She scared the hell out of me when we first met. She barked out orders from day one on how to improve our club.”

“Do you think the attacker is going to be after her specifically?” Shouji asked.

“I never really thought about it. I don’t know if they know (last name) is the reason for our club’s sudden popularity. You would think because she’s so loud.”

“It’s only a guess, but she could be the main target.” Shouji said. 

“Should I tell her? I don’t want to ruin her big night making her feel responsible for the threats.” The president asked. “But I also want her to be aware…”

“We probably should.” Though they were technically strangers now, he didn’t want her living in the dark. “But it is only a theory. I could be wrong.” Shouji told them.

“Here’s our club- and speak of the devil.” The president said as they opened the doors.

Y/n was in the lab, with a machine and computer beside her. She was conducting some sort of trial, that Shouji did not know. She was in a white lab coat, recording data. She turned to them as she heard the doors opened revealing she was wearing safety glasses.

“Oh hey, showing our security around?” Y/n asked the president.

“Yes, and what are you doing here? All our projects have been wrapped up for the moment.”

“Doing, my own projects. You get me, Mr. Tentacole, just because the assignment is complete, there is always more work to be done!” She sang. “You have your security missions, but you also catch bad guys!” she twirled in the lad.

“Please stop.” The president sighed. “Tentacole thinks you may be a target of the threats.”

“Me?” Y/n was surprised. “What did I do?” she got a little angry.

“It’s only a theory, but with the information we gathered we think another club suffered from lack of recruitment-” Shouji tried to explain.

“Oh because people wanted to hang out with me because I am one of the best scientists at this school, that I should get hurt and have my club’s work ruined all for something so childish!” She yelled.

 “It’s only a hypothesis L/n, no one said it’s your fault we’re being targeted at the gala.”

“Not only are we successful in our technical skills, and our decision making, but because we also have social skills, covering all our bases for talents a good club needs, I’m to blame because I excel at all three, I feel like.” She explained. “It just hurts that someone feels so intimidated by me. They want to crush my beautiful success, after everything I've been through.”

The president rolled his eyes, but Shouji’s interest piqued. Did she remember?

“If Deku or Tentacole agree to be your body guard or something will you settle down?” The president asked.

“No! I must find the darkness that hides behind cut up magazine threats, and strangle them with my bare hands because I control my own fate, success, destiny-” She was going on.

Was she really the same Y/n! It really seemed like it. 

“Its illegal to strangle someone.” The president told her.

“I have proof they were threatening me! Tentacole just a little strangle? You would understand right?” Y/n begged.

Her (colored) eyes were wide as she pleaded with everything in her heart to be allowed to beat the crap out of her attacker. Shouji turned his gaze away, fearing he might blow his cover of trying to only be the pro hero of security for this event, not a foggy memory.

“It’s only a theory you may be the target.” Shouji told her.

“Well that’s not a no.” She said.

Charming as ever. Voice as smooth as silk, and her soul always felt like she was on victory road. Except that short time she was at UA. The president sighed in annoyance at his extroverted counterpart that was able to fluster a pro-hero, especially one that is not known for being emotional. Being close with his vice president, he always saw things going easy for Y/n, she could charm just about any professor or sponsor, and ten minutes later get hammered with the sports teams, and never face any social consequences. But as he learned more about his counterpart, he saw that Y/n had a troubled past, that she was trying to overcome. With all his knowledge, he had to believe this cruise style life came from something science couldn’t explain, that there was balance trying to be restored.

“Well, I’ll be showing Tentacole the hall we’ll be in for the gala. We’ll leave you to your fun.” The president said taking Shouji out of the lab.

They began walking  across campus to get to the fancy hall that the university uses to host their most elegant dinner parties.

“I told you she is very intimidating like a snake!” The president huffed. “You just have to be firm with your no’s with her, because she will choke someone and I don’t know how the hero stuff works, but I can assume you can get in trouble.”

“You think she’ll choke someone?” Shouji asked.

“I’ve seen it! It starts out all cute, or she’s flinging insults, and she gives  a warning and goes through with it, every single time.” The president whined. “It was bad when the dean’s son liked her, because he didn’t know what the word no meant, let alone threats. She beat him with a chair, and she almost got expelled, but she was able to convince the sexual harassment case pretty far, and expose the dean for nepotism. I thought I was going to have to dissolve the club, and she turned it around.”

It all did sound like Y/n. She was still the same Y/n.

“She sounds pretty tough.” Shouji commented.

“It’s all in the element of surprise, or thats what I first thought. No one expected a physics major to ever go insane like her. But then when the rumors spread, people started challenging her, and she could whoop ass. She doesn’t remember, but I bet she had some martial arts training.”

“Why wouldn’t she remember that?”

The president realized they spoke too much.

“Keep this to yourself, but before L/n came to this university, she suffered from amnesia. The university almost didn’t accept her, but she took so many exams to prove she belonged. The martial arts is probably a muscle memory rather than a part of the brain that was affected.” The president said. “I felt bad because I also tried to find a way to deny her entry in the club, but she fought tooth and nail.”

So it all was true, she forgot them, there was no doubt, but knowing things were still difficult after losing her memories just made him ache. She was kept away from UA hoping to lessen the possible pain of remembering, but there were new obstacles always trying to stop her.

“That sounds awful.” Shouji said.

“I just assumed the school was giving her everything on a silver platter, and I wanted no part of it. Turns out I was part of one of her fights to belong in a space she is probably above.”

That night, Shouji decided to google Y/n. No social media, but achievements from school newspapers. With his pro hero perks, he was able to find the case of Y/n vs the dean’s son for assault and sexual harassment. There was no lie, chair and all. He then looked up the dean’s son, and found out that right after the case, he got married, which recently his wife committed suicide. Apparently she wanted to legally separate, but there was no suicide note found. That man may have not stopped his reign of terror, but at least Y/n was able to put some fear in him.

[amphtaminedreams]

We Voted for Murderers

65.2%.

That’s the percentage of people who voted for the Conservative candidate in my constituency, and I feel completely heartbroken. See, things have properly gone to shit. 

If we’re talking numbers?

Local councils estimate the number of people sleeping rough on any given night between 2010 and 2018 has risen from 1,768 to 4,677, a 165% increase. The Trussell Trust, the UK’s largest food bank charity, has reported a 5,146% increase in emergency food parcels being distributed since 2008. An 8% cut in spending per school pupil since 2009. Funding from central government to local government cut by 60% in that same period. £37 billion less spent on working-age social security compared to over a decade ago by 2020. A 90% fall in the number of social homes being built since 2010. A £7,300,000 decrease in funding for women’s shelters between 2011 and 2017. Don’t even get me started on the government’s treatment of the NHS.

I’ve heard stories of individuals applying for PIP due to mental illness being berated about suicide attempts and the likelihood of another as part of a “formal interview” process to see whether they qualify. People collapsing in job centre queues, freezing to death on the streets and the elderly in their homes, suicides whilst on never ending mental healthcare waiting lists. In fact, 17,000 sick and/or disabled individuals have died whilst waiting for PIP payments to come through, and in total, UCL researchers have linked 120,000 deaths to austerity (I’m not going to comment on the irony of my former university that’s notoriously lacklustre when it comes to giving a fuck about the wellbeing of its students publishing this unless...I just did?). 8 years of negligent homicide of the most vulnerable people in our society under the Conservative government and we voted them back in.

So I ask, are people really stupid enough to believe that the politicians responsible for this mess are the ones who are going to fix it just because they make a few characteristically empty promises on TV or does the British public at large really give even less of a fuck about other people than I thought? As in actually not give a fuck about people dying?

I have to tell myself it’s the former. The press’ treatment of Jeremy Corbyn and Labour was scathing. 

Corbyn, a man who has stood by the same principles of fairness, justice, and equality, for the entirety of his career, was criticised by the likes of The Sun, The Daily Mail, and The Telegraph, for being indecisive and a threat to this country whilst Boris Johnson, a man who can barely string a sentence together when he is asked to give a straight answer to something and blocked the release of a report covering Russian interference in British politics, was held up as the one people should put their faith in. 

I know, the press are never going to be completely neutral. But shouldn’t they at least be committed to integrity? And the truth? Isn’t that the WHOLE FUCKING POINT of journalism? I’ve been hearing the phrase “post-truth world” thrown around a lot and it’s probably an indication of my privilege that it was only with this election that I properly understood what that meant; it was found by the NGO First Draft just 2 days before the election, damage way past the point of done, that 88% of the Conservative Party’s Facebook ads (compared to 0% of Labour’s ads) contained misleading information. The repercussions were non-existent. After Boris Johnson’s claim that Jeremy Corbyn wanted to raise corporation and income tax to the highest levels in Europe was publicised, only Channel 4′s Factcheck website published the actual statistics (France, Belgium, Portugal and Greece all have much higher corporation tax rates than Labour’s proposal). Similarly, in many constituencies, the Lib Dems were posting fliers where Labour candidates were, in the previous election, the runner ups to the Conservative candidate, claiming that it was instead THEIR party’s candidate who had the highest chance of unseating the latter. Days before the election, the headline of one of Britain’s most highly circulated papers claimed that a Corbyn government would plunge us into a crisis the likes of which “we haven’t seen the Second World War”, which is kind of wild considering that 130,000 preventable deaths have been linked to austerity under the Conservative government compared to 70,000 civilian deaths in said war. Not that either is good, obviously, and I can’t believe I have to point that out. But then, right-wingers did paint Jeremy Corbyn as a monster for passing up watching the Queen’s Christmas Day speech to volunteer at a homeless shelter, so I thought I’d just cover my back, y’know. 

Shouldn’t there be standards that the media is held to? You know, like not making slanderous statements about some politicians that have no actual basis in fact whilst brushing over the statements of others. Whilst the PM’s father Stanley Johnson was on nation television calling the public illiterate, and Jacob Rees-Mogg was blaming the Grenfell victims deaths on their “lack of common sense”, and Michael Gove was stating that people who needed to use food banks had brought it on themselves because they were not “best able to manage their finances”, it was Jeremy Corbyn who was being called an enemy of the people, accused of trying to plunge us into a “Marxist hell”...I mean, if Denmark and Norway and Finland with some of the highest living standards in the world are “Marxist hell”s  then sure, that’s what he’s doing. But that’s a hell I’m sure a lot of people would find much comfier than a freezing cold pavement. Before Labour had even released their (fully-costed!) manifesto, barefaced lies were being published about how much it would cost and how it would plunge us into trillions of pounds worth of debt, as if it hasn’t increased from £1 trillion to £1.8 trillion in the years since David Cameron took office. Meanwhile, when Labour did publish their manifesto and the Financial Times published a letter signed by 163 prominent economists and academics backing their spending plans? Crickets. Nothing sums it up better than the debate around Jeremy Corbyn’s alleged anti-semitism, discussed ad-nauseam whilst Boris Johnson’s actual racism, islamophobia, misogyny and classism, RIGHT OUT OF THE HORSE’S MOUTH, was completely ignored by most news outlets. 

You know what, maybe people earning £85k just DON’T want to pay an extra £3 in tax a week to make sure children get an education. Maybe everybody IS just as selfish as that one twat on Question Time who got all red in the face over the prospect of having to give up an amount less than the cost of a tub of Ben and Jerrys a week. But if that’s true, this isn’t a country I want to live in at all, or a planet I want to live on, really. I hope it’s not. I hope it’s a case of a need for some kind of collective realisation that the Sun ain’t shit. Merseyside did it. The younger generation are catching on. And look at the results there.

Labour probably couldn’t fulfil ALL of their promises. No political party is perfect. I was told again and again how unrealistic those promises were as if that was enough to make me go ”oh...I guess I’ll vote for 4 more years of people dying in the streets instead”. Yes, in an ideal world, the entire manifesto would be made a reality, but it depended on far too many rich people being good and honest. Let’s be real-the elite will always find a way to avoid paying their fare share on the premise that they “earned it”, as if anybody earns billions by sheer hard work alone and past a certain point, not off other people’s backs. As if there aren’t nurses and teachers and firemen and other public sector workers who don’t put in just as much energy and as many hours and emotional labour as CEOs and business owners and investors. But the point is that Labour under Jeremy Corbyn acknowledged this, and their manifesto aimed to give the power back to the average person, from the vulnerable to the supposedly middle class still struggling to make ends meet, and give them the quality of life they deserve. It was built on the simple premise that the people should use their government, not the other way round, and that everybody deserves the basic human rights of shelter, nutrition, safety and dignity, regardless of their fortune in life. However many of Labour’s policies would actually have been fulfilled, it would’ve been a shift in the right direction. 

Now the election’s been and gone and I’m scared. Already, the narrative is being rewritten by the billionaires in control of this country that a manifesto like the one we saw this year will never sit right with this country, when it is what so many desperately need. The people putting this information out there know the truth: that Labour’s membership trebled in size under Corbyn (more people voted for him than for any Labour leader since Tony Blair), that most of the safe labour seats were lost because of Brexit, and that if the manifesto had been represented accurately, there’s a good chance that Boris Johnson would no longer be our Prime Minister. I’m scared a person like Jeremy Corbyn will never front Labour again. 

Because I do not want a tory painted red who’s friends with Jacob Rees-Mogg behind the scenes, I do not want a war criminal who thinks that bombing innocent people is ever acceptable, I do not want a person who doesn’t see people of colour as part of the working class and indulges in the occasional bit of TERF-ism.

Already, the Conservative party are backpedaling on the few promises they made to increase NHS spending, and I am scared. I am scared for myself, in the event that I need urgent mental health care again, and I am scared for those less privileged than me who don’t have a family to support them, who don't have a roof over their head, who weren’t fortunate enough to be born in a country with relative economic and political stability, who cannot physically go out and work to earn a living. I am worried about the bigots that this election has already emboldened, the Katie Hopkins and the Tommy Robinsons of the world, who think the things that blind luck have graced them with they somehow earned, who pride themselves on ignorance and cruelty and selfishness.

So for now, what can we do? 

Join trade unions. Organise. Write to your MPs. Bring attention to those who are vulnerable. Be vocal with your criticism of the establishment. Call out those in politics for an ego-trip hiding behind “personality”. Do your research. Keep an eye on the numbers. The “it doesn’t matter who you vote for, just vote” sentiment is old, because it does. No “as a feminist, I exercise my right to vote for whoever I want”, because as a feminist, you should care about ALL women, not just the white, middle class, able-bodied ones. 

And if anyone has any more suggestions, let me know. Because I am sick and tired of living under a government who doesn’t give a fuck about the people it’s supposed to protect.

Lauren x

[DISCLAIMER: The photo is not mine. Just devastated and trying to find the words to express it.]

[kpoptrashlord-007]

The Fairest Of Them All

This is actually a crack fic that is based off this fic (the CRACK edition), which is actually based off this fic (the original serious, mafia edition).

Original Authors;; @every1studio​ @writeformesinpie 

Summary;;

Of all the places you could have stumbled into today, you could have never guessed that this one would be such a treasure trove. Both the Districts and the Kings were here and both had their eyes set on you.

Three men competing for your hand, two opposing cliques, and one shotgun.

How did it end up like this… again?!

A smile flitted across your face as you slid the certificate into the sheet protector. With a sigh on the tip of your tongue and a squeal building in your chest, you just wanted to scream and shout and let it all out! You lived in an apartment complex, however, and knew you had to be mindful of the other tenants. With this in mind, you decided to turn on some music and sing along to express your building excitement, throwing in some freestyle dance for the heck of it.

   "Jesus, stop, you sound like a drowning cat!" Your neighbour called through to you, crisp and clear like the morning breeze.

   While his words were lost on you, the sentiment was not. It was hard for even your neighbour (who you had known for quite some time now) to restrain himself. His voice had quaked with anticipation. He couldn't take it anymore. The sound of your soft, angelic voice must be torturing him as he cursed these walls that are so thin yet too thick to tear down.

   It seemed even animals were starting to be affected - a bird (or was it one of those squirrels that can fly?) began to caw and slam against the window, tapping the glass with beak and talon. Its beady eyes bore a hole into you, glaring with an intensity that only grew with every attempt to break through and get closer to you.

   Oh well, the celebration wasn't necessary anyway. All that mattered was the paper in your hands. Just the thought of it was enough to make you forget everything else. You smiled down at the certificate again.

   You had finally done it!

   You had built up the courage to go online and take the first step to becoming a private investigator. After deliberating on whether or not to do it for so many weeks, you bit the bullet and filled out the application. To your exhilaration, it was also the final step and you were able to print out your very fancy and definitely official certificate after paying the licensing fee. Who needs to eat, anyway? Money you can get anywhere, but life experiences only come once every 42 months.

   Your only regret is quitting your job before setting aside some money to laminate the certificate, but the sheet protector would do for now. Everyone starts small, after all. If you started at the top, you would have nowhere to go but down and you weren't the type that went down easily!

   With that in mind, you spent a week researching the happenings in your city while also promoting your services around the interweb. You learned many things which all proved useful and juicy, all the while building your portfolio.

   The local vet worked diligently through the night to save your old teacher's cat's life and you offered your help, promising to investigate their clinic for any malpractice on her Facebook timeline.

   You vowed to find your cousin's killer, even though your aunt insists he is just travelling abroad which is why she misses him and not because he died, making her seem all the more suspicious and prompting you to push her to the front of your list of suspects.

   Then there was the auction for the church restoration project and like a lightbulb going off, it became so obvious what you had to do, what your first step in cleaning up the city would be: shutting the charity ball down.

   It didn't take a genius to realise that the items being auctioned off were stolen, or "hot", goods. No one around here just happens to have a spare yacht lying around that they're willing to just give away for a "good cause", even if they're planning to upgrade it.

   Besides, the original owner was a catfish. There was no way that a man that young and good-looking could afford a yacht, let alone buy an even better one.

   With that in mind, you fell down the rabbit hole that was hardcore and extensive research. You looked into every nook and cranny of his life, searching from site to site, and even going old-school and hitting the archives for a papertrail. Once you felt comfortable in your knowledge of the first man, you moved on to his friends who were equally unrealistic.

   It wasn't stalking, but investigating.

   To your surprise, you find out that they're not catfish - they really are that attractive and seemingly perfect. Putting two and three together and connecting the dots like a true P.I, the answer to the puzzle became more daunting and chilling than you could have originally imagined; they were criminals.

   Gangsters.

   Misdemeanor-ers.

   Full on mobsters!

   … or, perhaps, trust fund kids.

   One or the other. Either or. It didn't really matter because either way, you wouldn't be fooled any longer and you couldn't be stopped.

   Armed with your homemade dossiers on the men (all stored inside the one place in this world that you knew no one else could ever access - your mind), it was time to get serious and crack down on the crime building in your once-pleasant city.

   Starting at the church, you questioned as many religious-looking people as you felt necessary before moving to the docks to find the questionable yacht.

   After several hours of searching for the mysterious water vehicle and threats of police involvement from the dock's security guards who didn't respect your license and the authority it held, the clouds thickened and welled with moisture before bursting and creating a downpour to rain on your investigation. Everyone dispersed, desperate to escape the wet conditions.

   There was just one boat left. The Aurora.

   Just one last chance to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all.

   With one look at the sleek and slick design, you knew it was futile to try to clamour aboard while it was this wet.

   Oh well. What was the likelihood it was the right one anyway?

   You sloshed your way out of the docks and toward a bar across the way. There's what sounds like a fight breaking out in the alleyway nearby and you thought you saw a flash of silver but with the rain soaking your hair and droplets dripping down and stinging your eyes the longer you stared, you decided to ignore it.

   Kids will be kids.

   Opening the door to the bar, you tried not to bring too much attention to yourself but that's no easy task in your current state. Then again, it never has been.

   You pulled off your raincoat and hung it by its hood on the coat rack. With a sigh of relief, you adjusted your thankfully dry shirt, dressing yourself as modestly as you could. The last thing you needed was to be approached while you were in the middle of an investigation. With that in mind, you flicked the droplets of water off your face and wrung out your hair, allowing the excess to splash on the ground.

   You continued to slosh just as you did out on the dock as you entered further into the bar. Your sweats were heavy at the ends with accumulated rain and your shoes felt full and moist. Even your hair felt heavy against the skin it clung to.

   Making your way across the establishment, you bit back a groan. You felt everyone's eyes on you. It was inevitable but you always held hope that this would be the exception, that this would be the time you would be able to avoid the inquiring and curious and admiring gazes that followed your every footfall.

   That's the problem with brilliance - when you shine this bright, it's hard not to be seen.

   With a quick glance around, you realised this bar was actually quite fancy. There was glass (lots of it!) and gold (but it probably wasn't real… probably), plus silver and other shiny-looking things.

   You whistled as you held an ashtray in your hand before sitting on a stool near the bartender. If you weren't such an eye-catcher, you could've pocketed it, or at least some of the cutlery.

   "What an eyesore."

   You looked toward the source and understood her outburst immediately. Jealousy often reared its ugly-head when you were around. She wasn't the only one, either. Many of the patrons held contempt and disdain in their eyes. It was such a classic tactic for nursing a bruised ego, one you had become quite used to so you just ignored them all and turned back to the bartender.

   "And what exactly is it that you want?"

   "Thanks, but water will be fine."

   He scoffed once his confusion passed, filling a glass with tap water and putting it on the table. It wasn't your empty wallet that prevented you from ordering something from the menu, but your dedication to the job. With a swell of pride at your own work ethic, you stared off into a dark corner of the room as a few men strolled inside from the back alley entrance and sat in a booth within your line of sight.

   Your mouth began to open in sync with your widening eyes. They were all very handsome, like models, and they looked strong and tough. A blush graced your cheeks. Perhaps it was the alcohol or a fever from the rain. You knew it wasn't of your own volition. You were on a job, after all. You weren't about to go boy crazy and-

   That's when it hit you.

   That's them. The kids from your mental dossiers! The Districts! Probably all nine of them, but who has time to count?

   You had taken to calling them the Districts because it sounded cooler than 'those guys you found accidentally and looked into but not in a creepy way while also not-stalking those other guys with the boat'. From what you could tell by their Instagram accounts, they compensated for their lack of height with sarcasm and bad attitudes.

   They also seemed to enjoy partying all through the night, always being near the rowdiest events and craziest incidents in town. At least they had the sense to get out of Dodge before things got too bad - they were never around once the police showed up.

   But if they were here, then perhaps the main focus of your investigation was nearby… the Kings.

   That's the name you had given to the boys all involved in donating the yacht to the church auction. They had all looked posh and gorgeous and regal in their photos, so it felt suiting at the time. In retrospect, you were giving them too much credit. Imagine thinking that these boys, who were, as far as you were concerned, way too into boats and other aquatic things, deserved such a title.

   Perhaps the Mermans was more fitting.

   With a scoff, you broke your attention from the Districts and just about dropped the glass you were raising to your lips. Thankfully, you instead only let water trickle down your chin.

   How wrong you had been; they deserved the title and so much more.

   Of all the places you could have stumbled into today, you could have never guessed that this one would be such a treasure trove. Both the Districts and the Kings were here and both had their eyes set on you, unable to look away.

   The Kings looked rough, sprawled in their seats as they muttered to one another. On occasion, a nod or hand would gesture toward you until at last one of them stood, his blue hair reminiscent of the deep, blue ocean as he stalked toward you. His smile was tight, as if fighting to hold back his true emotions.

   It was hard to break eye contact but you found it within yourself to face forward, if just for his sake.

   You can't say you're surprised when he takes the seat next to you, only disappointed. If you've already caught their attention this early on, the rest of the investigation will prove quite troublesome.

   "Bold of you to come in here looking like that."

   Lifting the glass toward the bartender, you signalled for a refill. You ignored his display of obvious jealousy masked as irritation that he sent toward both you and the younger, more impressive bachelor that had now arrived on the scene and was vying for your attention. You feared the worst so you gave them the same treatment: the cold shoulder. There was no need for a fight to break out over you.

   Not again.

   "You couldn't keep your eyes off us a moment ago and now you're ignoring me? You really are something else."

   "I'm not interested."

   "Me either. I can give you a twenty to get out of here."

   "I'm not a prostitute."

   "I mean, you look like one, but that's not what I meant."

   "Fine, buy me dinner and I'll consider it."

   "What? No, that's-"

   "Wow, you are really cheap. I'd sooner fuck the bartender, honestly."

   You gave yourself a mental slap on the forehead. If you kept talking, you'd end up saying something worse and giving even more people a glimmer of hope. You needed to control yourself before your sex appeal reeled in too many fish. This was already getting out of hand with just this one guy.

   Risking a look at the bartender, you saw your fears had come to fruition. Shock was plastered all over his face and his ears were burning. Words tried to form but nothing coherent came out. Like a fish blowing bubbles, he opened his mouth only to close it once more. After a long minute, he gave up and excused himself.

   How cruel you were to give him hope when there, in actuality, was none.

   The man beside you tensed, hands clenched as he steadied his breathing. He was ensnared in your charms already.

   It very well may be too late for him, you thought sadly, sneaking a glance at his face. He took this as a chance to engage in the conversation again, trying his luck once more.

   "What's your name?"

   "Oh, now you want to know?"

   "Yes," he replied through gritted teeth after a deep breath.

   Your mind tried to find any name to give him that wasn't your own or that could be traced back to you, or to your newfound (online) investigation agency.

   Scotch? Gin? Glass? Microwave? Shit! The silence is dragging on, it's becoming too obvious. Any name will do! Just think! Even the name of a damn boat would work. You looked at so many today, surely you can remember one!

   And the lightbulb turned on.

   "Aurora."

   He just about choked on air at your response. Why'd you pick such a beautiful name?! He's going into shock, just like the bartender. Is this what it means to be a man killer? If this keeps up, you'll need to lock yourself up for society's sake. You needed to steer the conversation away from yourself before it was too late, but he didn't give you the chance to, too eager to learn more.

   "Is that so?"

   "And you are?"

   He smirked at you before standing with enough force to send the chair flying. Much in the same way he came, he disappeared off to the corner where the rest of the Kings were waiting for him. Their eyes were blazing with uncontrollable emotions, brimming with rage and need and lust and fury. Most obvious amongst it all, however, was jealousy.

   Of course this would be my fate, you cried internally, eyes glued to them as if watching a tragedy.

   As this all unfolded before you, the seat on your other side became occupied. Not to your surprise, it was one of the Districts. It was only a matter of time before one of them approached you.

   His eyes were warm and you felt drawn to him as you stared deep within them. In this moment, you thought you could finally understand how everyone else felt when their gaze fell upon you.

   "Don't mind them, they're creeps. Did Yunho hurt you?"

   "No, I'm fine, thank you."

   "Can I get you a drink?"

   "The bartender, he, uh-"

   The District leaned over to grab a can from behind the bar and placed it in front of you. His smile was adorable. His cheeks were adorable. In fact, everything about him was adorable. All you wanted in this new moment was to make him yours, which again helped you to understand everyone else.

   "Don't worry, it's on me. I'm Han Jisung. What's your name, gorgeous?"

   Fuck.

   A pet name? He's already too attached!

   It had been, what, ten minutes and you had three men wrapped around your pinky and ready to throw fists for you?

   You needed to think fast and deescalate the situation. You had already skipped too many important steps in the investigation and you were in over your head. Time to take a step back, reevaluate, get some air, and escape this Hell of your own creation.

   "Your name, sweetheart?"

   "Sex On The Beach, but I'm working right now."

   Jisung's mouth fell open and he sputtered out a few words that didn't quite make sense to you.

   Snapping back to the present and realising what you had said in response to what you had thought was still a question about drinks, you spun toward him searched your brain for the fake name you had given the other one but it escaped you. Instead, you yelled out the first word that came to your head, the first thing that came to your mind every morning, "Mirror! I'm the fairest, I know!"

   There was a commotion in the King's corner that overshadowed the sudden tense atmosphere in the District's. The one named Yunho was coming back and he looked pissed, his gaze trained on you and Jisung. The tension was palpable from wall to wall in the bar and it gave you the clarity to notice that everyone else had left and you were stuck in this bar with these hungry, ravenous dogs.

   Aurora, you dumb bitch. That was the name.

   Yunho stared at you with something dark in his eyes as he took in what you imagined was a situation that broke his heart; you had already forgotten him and moved on to the next.

   "Mi...roh?"

   "Uh, yeah, Aurora. But what is he doing?"

   Tearing your eyes off Yunho to risk a glance at Jisung, you saw a similar look to the one Yunho had prior and gulped. It was happening again. Another had fallen into your web and realised too late that he couldn't escape your involuntary seduction.

   Yunho grabbed the Sprite, holding it so tight his knuckles turned white and the aluminum threatened to explode under his force. This snapped Jisung back to reality.

   "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

   "Why the fuck are you giving her a Sprite?"

   "Don't fight! Really, I'm not interested in either of you!"

   "What?" They both growled in unison, inching toward each other with every word until you felt trapped between their bodies.

   It wasn't unpleasant.

   With lightning fast reflexes, Yunho held your wrist within his and began to tug you away from Jisung and toward the other Kings. "She's coming with me."

   "No, you brute! I'm not interested in you and your small dick energy! Unhand me, buffoon!"

   Your shouts and weak slaps aimed toward him did nothing to stop him. It wasn't until your free hand was pulled back, now enclasped within Jisung's grip, that your progress was halted.

   "No, actually, she's coming with us."

   "Us?! I don't think so! I'm not into that!" You stopped, giving a quick glance over at the other Districts who were starting to stand. "Well, I mean, never say never."

   "Shut up!" They yelled in unison, each giving a tug and earning a pained yelp from you.

   Back and forth you were yanked, pulled between the two men as they fired insults and threats. Knowing how these things always turned out, you allowed yourself to go limp and go with the flow. There was no point in getting involved until they sorted it out amongst themselves.

   Sooner than later, they'll be going at each other like dogs, trying to tear the other apart to prove themselves worthy of your hand. Once that failed, they'd be on their knees begging.

   You sighed.

   The only way this whole situation could get worse is if their friends decided to jump in and join the squabble as contenders. You could see the fiery desire in their burning gazes. It was only a matter of time.

   Or perhaps the bartender would return, brandishing a shotgun, and yelling something like, -

   "Quit fighting and let that woman go!"

   Everyone stopped dead in their tracks, both their jaws and grips loosening. Wiggling free, you took a step away from them and rubbed your bruised skin. The bartender took notice of this small action but, as per usual, you weren't surprised. When it came to men in love, nothing could surprise you anymore.

   "Come on, move. You'll be safe with me. For now."

   For now.

   At least he knew the inevitable, as did you.

   Even though all three were absolutely and completely enamoured with you, Jisung and Yunho were too far gone, lost within their burning hearts and heated emotions. You were mere seconds away from being kidnapped, saved only by the bartender's own greed! You would be safe from the Districts and the Kings if you joined him, and you could deal with the consequences and his shotgun later.

   With another sigh, you took a step toward him, ignoring the commands from Jisung and Yunho to stay by their side, presumably forever. They sounded so desperate and needy, you couldn't bring yourself to abandon them like this.

   Three men competing for your hand, two opposing cliques, and one shotgun.

   How did it end up like this… again?!

[guyveranimefan87-blog]

About Hate Speech...

As You all know Tumblr is not a place for the faint of the heart, as every opinion You share can, and probably would get some kind of hateful, harmful comment. And as many of us here, I accepted it as a price for freedom of speech, since everyone is entitled to his or her opinion, regardless of how dumb, angry or hate-filled it may be.

At least until I saw how hate speech can spill over to the real life.

But, some context is needed, since I doubt people outside of Poland would know about this. 

Not to mention the fact, that political situation in Poland is now such a cluster#uck, that even living here I sometimes have problems with grasping what the hell is happening.

So, prepare for a very uncoordinated, and fragmented rant...

For the last few years political climate in Poland had been slowly becoming more and more toxic, to a degree that leader of the ruling party is calling people not supporting him "worse sort of Poles" as well as "traitors", "communists and thieves" and other nice things like that.

Sure it could get nasty before, with members of two biggest political parties in Poland, right-wing Prawo i Sprawiedliwość (Law & Justice) and centre-right Platforma Obywatelska (Civic Platform) were taking verbal shots at each other, but not to such a degree, and not with such venom.

It all went downhill in 2010 with Polish Air Force Tu-154 crash in Smolensk, which took the lives of 96 people, including President of Poland Lech Kaczyński and his wife Maria, as well as the former President of Poland in exile Ryszard Kaczorowski, high-ranked military officers, president of the National Bank of Poland, and prominent politicians from Law & Justice Party.

Which was a huge tragedy for everyone in Poland, regardless of their political sympathies, but since Chairman of the Law and Justice Party, Jarosław Kaczyński was president's twin brother, and took it very personally, supporting multiple conspiracy theories claiming that the crash was a political assassination ordered by Russia and / or his chief political adversary former prime minister of Poland and the President of the European Council, Donald Tusk.

Since 2015, when Law & Justice had won parliamentary elections "assassination theory" had became an official explanation of the Smolensk Crash, with special Parliamentary Committee of Investigation being created with the sole goal of proving it, even though despite their huge funds, and broad prerogatives they hadn't been able to find a shred of evidence pointing to the assassination.

Some political scientists even call it "Smolensk Religion" since it has markings of a cult, with deifying the "martyred" president, and vilifying Donald Tusk and his supporters as pure evil, with instances verbal and physical violence against "heretics", and promotion of an idea that if a person does not believe in assassination, then he or she is automatically a traitor and/or Russian agent. 

Banner reads: “Before President was murdered in Smolensk, he was betrayed in Poland”

Thus, we got to the situation, where hate speech and outright death threats to the members of the opposition were dismissed as being of "no consequence", while any form of criticism against Our Glorious Righteous and Catholic Government is a serious offence that can end with person being prosecuted and dumped into jail.

Above: Right-wing activists “hanging” portraits of liberal politicians as “traitors”, and “fake Poles”.

I know it sounds dramatic and kinda dystopian, but let me give You an example.

Ever since Law & Justice gained power, they had been trying to overturn judicial system and make it subservient to the government, by claiming that judges are "elite class" that should be purged and replaced with "proper patriots" that would understand that "national interest" is more important than "some laws".

Their actions include government sponsored hate campaigns against judges (!), and creating bills that make removing them a lot easier, even if said bills are non-constitutional.

This led to many protests from the people, and wearing t-shirts with the words "Constitution" printed on them became a rather popular way of reminding the government, that they are breaking the laws. 

So, what Infallible Polish Government had done with that fact?

Well, they deemed such t-shirts and other accessories bearing the word "Constitution" to be a... hate speech, and wearing them in public can lead to being accused of... public disturbance. Yes, it is real...

And now, let’s get into crux of the matter.

In my country we have a something called Wielka Orkiestra Świątecznej Pomocy a.k.a WOŚP, roughly translated into "The Great Orchestra of Christmas Charity", which is the biggest, and most recognizable non-governmental, non-profit, charity organization in Poland.

It was created in 1993 by a journalist, musician, tv-personality and a radio host Jerzy Owsiak, with a goal of "Protecting Health and Saving Children's Lives by Providing Medical Equipment to Public Hospitals", as during that time public hospitals were dramatically underfunded, and many of them lacked the funds to buy, or repair their basic, life-saving equipment, following the fall of communism.

The first "Grand Finale" or a day-long public fundraiser accompanied by various events such as concerts, sporting competitions etc,  turned out to be a great success, enabling the GOCC to fund equipment for several pediatric hospitals, so it was continued every year for the last 24 years, earning 297,214,654.37 USD, becoming a cherished national tradition, and expanding to every place in the world that has even the tiniest polish community.

Along with the GOCC's Grand Finales Owsiak also created Pol'and'Rock Festival (Formerly known as "Woodstock Festival Poland"),  a free rock festival dubbed "the biggest open-air festival in Europe", as a way of thanking all the volunteers for all their hard work in making their fundraiser work, which also grew to become a cherished annual tradition.

Unfortunately, when there's success, there's jealousy and hatred. And The Great Orchestra is not an exception.

You see, despite being an icon of charity Jerzy Owsiak had always been quite controversial, as he has very liberal worldview, for example endorsing religious tolerance, LGBT rights, or bringing up controversial topics like abortion, or immigration in public media, making him Public Enemy #01 for the Far Right as a whole.

Additionally since Owsiak is a loud supporter for the separation of Church and State, quite a few influential clergymen in Poland try to paint him as a hedonistic, amoral heretic, who "steals money that should've been donated for The Church".

Which wouldn't be that much of a problem, even if Poland is predominantly a Catholic country... if not for the fact that our government is a Far Right nightmare I mentioned above, and they had done everything in their power to bring him down, for example pretending that GOCC does not exist on public TV, painting Owsiak as a greedy fraud, and creating laws deliberately targeting his initiatives.

Still, despite all that obstacles, and outright hatred from government's supporters, this year we had another Grand Finale in several big cities, raising over 90,000,000 PLN for hospitals, beating the last year's record, which should be the cause for celebration, and it was... until something happened that destroyed it all.

In Gdansk, The Great Orchestra was openly endorsed by it's long-time mayor, Paweł Adamowicz (Who had been re-elected for the last 21 years), so during the official finale of the fundraiser he was on the stage with several of his closest people, giving a impassioned speech about how people once again has shown that love and mercy win over hatred and spite...

And then he was attacked by a man with a knife, who managed to stab him several times in the chest and stomach, also being able to grab a microphone about him being "Agent of Justice", claiming that he was "A victim of previous government" and "made them pay" by killing the mayor.

He was quickly captured, but wounds he gave Adamowicz proven to be fatal, as he died in a hospital a day later, despite efforts by doctors, making him first victim of politically motivated murder in Poland since 1922.

And yet, despite that ruling party and it's supporters immediately rushed to blame... the opposition, for "creating the atmosphere of hate", blaming them in general, and Owsiak in particular for the crime, with some people even calling Adamowicz's murderer... a hero, and gathering money to "buy him the best lawyer".

[Andrzej X] Fundraiser for a lawyer for the man with the knife is in progress.

[Rafał X] I’ll give my money for that.

[Andreas X] I wonder whom he (Mayor Adamowicz) would call for his last rites. Priest or an imam? (Adamowicz wanted refugees from Syria to be allowed to come to Poland, which led to much hate from Alt-Right)

[Wielki] I wonder if there is a GOCC logo on any doctor or equipment in place he is now???

[Józef X] As they say... Karma always returns.

[Radosław X] Was it the same Adamowicz, who sold himself to Germans??...

[Henryka X] They (The opposition) would tell EU that PIS is at fault.

[Rafał X] It was fight between gangs controlling the city.

[Jarek X] The guy who had attacked him is a True Polish Hero.

[Klara X] Nothing to grieve here, neither him, not PO as a whole.

Apparently they hadn't noticed any fault on their own side, and are content with blaming the others, and making everything work as it did before. And I dread to see what would happen next, since we already crossed that one line...

So yeah, now I see that “it’s only words, they don’t hurt anyone” argument is a bullshit. 

[filmcave]

Not the Same

There is an unusual battle going on right now in the world of cinema. But it also acts as a microcosm and sort of shard of a hologram for other battles happening.

Like every battle there plusses and minuses to each side and naturally the other side sees each other as a kind of threat.

At its core is a philosophical question: Does size matter? The Sophomoric and silly undertones of sexual innuendo aside in this question, it is entirely genuine.

When Louis and Auguste Lumiere screened the first public movie ever in 1895, at the Grand Cafe in Paris, certainly the size of the screen was not the fascination. How could it be? The magic of the moment was seeing flickering light and shadow images dancing on a plain surface transporting the audience to another place and time.

Employees leaving the Factory (in Lyon)

What an incredible moment and experience this mst have been for this audience. Even if they could not have sensed the economic and cultural impact, they were seeing something no one had publicly seen before.

The “moving pictures” were the attraction. The fascination, fear and amazement they felt must have been palpable. This was not an innovation in cinema, it was the creation of it!

From that point forward changes in the production, distribution, performance and experience of cinema are all that was left.

And we know that those changes have proliferated and in many cases advanced film. With the exception of one area - film analysis and discussion. This area has languished in the scrap heap of literary criticism. This is not to say people don’t have or choose not to 'advertise their opinions (far from it). As a conglomerate of disciples of film critics commentary has de-evolved and been reduced to a range of thoughts that can be best described as the binary “I liked it” / “I didn’t like it” dialectic. Yawn, how uninteresting.

When this is typically combined with a lack of understanding of that “that on the screen” came to be the discussion becomes an exercise in auto asphyxiation. Straining and stressing under the weight of its own limitations.

If we begin to look at the individual components of “how its made” we can chart a path towards understanding better the purpose and mission of the film. Most people depart the cinema soon after the final shot of the story. But even as they leave they are well aware there is a very long line of credits. In so e simple sense they probably understand that each one of those people played a role in the creation of that film. But a movie is Spam in a can, if it never gets shown.

This is the point where the evil genius of Netflix enters. Over the 120+ years that cinema has been made public. Many advancements in the movie going experience (and dubious ones) have been cauterized by a single ethic of the social contract. A movie goer needed to get off their fat ass and find their way to an actual physical theatre, buy a ticket and watch the movie in the temporary co-habitation with strangers.

At one point in time the cinemas who screened these films figuratively had a captive audience. There was one or two cinemas in town. They showed one movie for an entire week and then it was gone. Limited supply (number of seats, days and films) made for high demand. People dressed up and went in droves. The film studios owned the theaters, production equipment and the actors were “under contract”. It was an oligarchy of the wealthy. They had immense power and influence.

This power began to fade as independent distributors and cinemas began to crop up. Like in professional athletics actors became free agents where they could take their skills and reputations where they wished. Unions formed and the power dissipated. The website statista estimates the global film industry will be $50 billion dollars in 2020. Thats a pie a lot of people would like to stick their snout into.

Enter Netflix et al. Otherwise known as the Satans of Silicon Valley. Before I pontificate on SVS it might be helpful to philosophize on the question of what kind of value they bring to this world to begin with.

To begin with they are a society. An insulated, top down culture presided over by people with certain kinds of brilliant intellect and intelligence around a few extremely limited things. On top of this there is a self perception that is also pointed outwards as a marketing message cum “social good”. For them to see themselves as valuable parts of society at large they must perpetuate and proselytize this ethic/message. It is a nearly completely corrupt mentality especially devoid of emotional intelligence and a genuine sense of greater good. For many of the FANG stocks (a prescient acronym for Facebook, Apple (Amazon), Netflix, Google) the trick is to write some code, give it to a “user” for free and then have that user do all the work to build a successful revenue generating business. Its genius and entirely immoral. The users are the product, they develop and refine the product, allow a given company to take or steal their information which that company can then use to sell shit right back to them In the words of Karl Marx, the workers are the means of production AND the product.

Allthe company needs to do is continue to convince the users they need to keep working. They fo this by “engaging them” in things that touch in fears, dreams, hopes and deficiencies.

Ok, so a bit of a deviation here but the core point, relative to our topic of screen size, is to examine what value (if any) Netflix is bringing to the movie game.

Lets start with their motivation. First, middle and last Netflix is a growth and consumption machine. But if we look at the content they “recommend” it is created, design and directed to appeal to YOU. Their business wet dream is to have you intravenously fed chemically and neurologically customized euphoric content. Like the masses in The Matrix they need you to have a stable income and an all you can eat mentality. Why else would they continue to push new movies and episodes having them start before the last has finished.

So, how about the quality of said content. Well, financially speaking, they are agnostic on that. However, to steal your attention away from other content (including real life) they need to convince you its better.

This is where awards come to play. Any kind of award will do but of course when you’re talking about insatiable appetites, you’re talking the big awards. Golden Globes, Grammy’s, Oscars. And winners from the elite festivals. And when you’re taking in obscene amounts of cash, there’s lots to spend..and spend they do. For many years Amazon was a money losing venture. Not any more.

According to Statista Amazons Q4 revenue in 2018 was $72.38 billion

Apple - $62.9 B in the same period

Netflix - $4.19 B

Google - $33.7 B (reported for Q3 as parent company Alphabet)

Those four quarterly revenue streams combined (over $173 billionj is more than the annual GDP in Rhode Island, Vermont and New Hampshire.

So, yeah...its all about the Benjamins

Right. So no surprise there. Its not illegal to make money.

But this is the kernal of the issue for chain cinemas. Netflix is taking revenue from them.

Lets look at the core matter regarding quality of work. At this point the poster chold for this is the astounding and impressive film: Roma.

Its is the brainchild of Alfonso Cuarón and it is making waves (if you’ve seen it this is a pun) because of the awards and recognition is has garnered but also by the way Netflix has accomplished it. They have a brilliant beautiful film on their hands the credit to which needs to firmly given to them. They are exploiting the opportunity to attract filmmakers by giving them broad artistic license and backing movies studios shy away from or don’t support due to a personal beef with the artists.

So far as this empowerment to the creators I say “good for you Netflix”. It is certainly their right to distribute it in whichever wsy and to the degree they wish. Its their toy. Obviously it gives them a monopoly in who sees it when its not in cinemas - their customers. This cultural shift might be upsetting or off putting to many for many reasons. But the notion of adopting technologies that already exist comes to mind.

Some credit does need to be accorded to Netflix. They fully funded the vision and sensibility of a Director, cast and crew and single handedly provided access to an extraordinary mvie to millions of people who might not otherwise have access to see it. Kudos.

However...

I first saw Roma on my large screen TV and loved it. I begrudgingly gave credit to Netflix for this coup. But...it haunted me and got me to thinking. The “what about” questions began to creep to my consciousness. It was too good and I wanted more. But the “tiny” 45” screen and schmaltzy TV speakers were incapable of delivering the full, Director intended experience.

But I was stuck. Netflix had cleverly rigged the game. To qualify for the Oscars, the film needed to be shown on a movie house screen in a minimum number of locations. Netflix complied - but barely.. And so, under carefully controlled limited release it was made available. But if you have the misfortune of not being close enough to a legitimate movie screen, you were out of luck. Nay, this lack of good fortune extended further when I learned there were a few 70 mm high definition sound copies out there.

For a cinephile, large screen format is nirvana. Seeing a movie conceived, shot and meant for a large screen is an experience irreplaceable. It can’t be recreated anywhere else.

So sticking this instant classic into a small screen is like telling a great writer they can only use half the alphabet. A musician half the notes. Or a chef food but no spices. Whats the point of trying?

If Netflix wishes to keep its toys to itself, so be it. But really how much farther do they think they have advanced cinema beyond Employees leaving the Factory. Not very far to me.

And watching an epic film like Roma on anything other screen than a large cinema screen, with stereo sound...not the same.

[sandflakedraws]

The attic AU looks amazing, cuz this is the first time I've seen it. Do you think you could summarize it? Because I went through the tag too, and I am still lost

AIGHT. HERE’S ATTIC AU IN A SHITTON OF BULLET POINTS

//shoots off of a breach of trust chapter 8

• reigen loses the knife fight, mogami murders tetsuo, possesses reig, uses the policeman cuffs to keep reigen bound up in the attic. 

• reigami is immune to the cuffs cause he’s a ghost/psychic type pokemon but reigen is made of regular human so he’s outta luck

• mogami depletes the rest of reigen’s funds and runs the rest of his credit deep in the red because ‘hey instead of hopping from vessel to vessel, i can just keep this one dude because he has no personal relationships’

• BAD TIEMS FOR A YEAR (mob’s goin on 5)

• mogami likes to prattle terrible advice for a living (dying ?) so he gives reigen advice about how he’s an awful person and how his savior complex killed tetsuo, and HEY ! i think you deserve to be in this attic because you used people and dont matter to anyone ever in ur life - the proof is that no one is looking for you

• cursed blender corpse as a roommate

• reigen also has to live with the knowledge that if he caught mogami off guard, he could have peed on his corpse. if he has to know this so do you.

• only mogami eats with reigen’s body in attic au, because he has a food fetish.

• all other necessary toiletries n shower stuff is handled with mogami awkwardly standing by because he doesn’t want his vessel to do anything, like dying, or the macarena, without permission.

• if you ever have a question about a thing, the answer is probably “cause mogami”

-why didn’t reigen scream for help ? cause mogami

-why is reigen so skinny ? cause mogami

-why does the attic smell like something up and died? cause mogami

• after some time, mogami gets more stupid and throws a loud, physical temper tantrum at mob, who also deserves none of this. its so loud that reigen can hear mob apologizing in the midst of the noise. now Reigen Knows 

• reigen’s too apathetic about himself to try ghost murder with only a .05% chance of it working, BUT WITH A KID INVOLVED, HOWEVER 

[neil breen voice] that’s just not right

• reigen shouts for mob to run, but mogami gets upset that reigen broke his ‘no screm’ policy and mcslices his neck as a visual metaphor to Shut The Hell Your Mouth. 

• mogami’s threat is null and void against HOLYSHITTHERE’SACHILDTHERE’SACHILDOHFUCKOHMYFUCK

• cue reigen sawing through the wood bedframe with his handcuff chain, pulling upon dusty knowledge of hack sigils

• reigen gambles his life on this moment, and because he’s had so much yikes this year, the universe cuts him a break. 

• mogami does the [dies but not for good] anime scream

• reigen stumbles downstairs looking for the kid. holy shit i have a duty and a reason to exist now! reigen thinks. he finds mob, and mob’s saying something but reigen is too focused on ‘we gotta get out of this house Right Now because i dont know if mogami is dead dead and i just seriously pissed him off’ 

• he hoists the kid in his arms to skedaddle

• unfortunately hoisting involves at least 100% shredding where mob is involved, and because the conduit sigil was drawn on his chest he gets an instant tattoo

• mob asks reigen how he got through the barrier, and rather than tell the kid that he didn’t and that he’s bleedy mcbleederson, reigen fumbles the excuse that he’s a barrier specialist and that police! are a thing! mob’s too emo to understand anything and cries himself to sleep. he deserves any and all naps.

• reigen’s still bleeding out however, and his walking skills are only lvl 1 cause mogami. he gets about 2-3 blocks, but u know who lives around there ?

• tetsuo’s ghost ex machina (he formed back a la dimple with his biggest concern being the spawn point : jun)

• since reigen’s wiping his feet on death’s doormat, he can see tets and explain the what the fuck is up. he also gives tetsuo the remote to his body because tetsuo’s better at call of duty than he is and the call of duty is HELP US PLEASE

• tetsuo’s trusted popo position helps the police/hospital staff believe that the sigils are needed, so no one else gets shreddy.

• tetsuo peaces out and reigen passes out

• when reigen wakes back up, he’s in a hospital and his ouchies are dealt with. the special case of Holy Shit its a Real Psychic Child Who Needs Help kinda blindsides the staff, so reigen isn’t looked at closely. 

• Mob’s still working on not shredding folks so Reigen is turned away from seeing him. Also money. To quote Letters : “Reigen left the building owning less than he’d had when he entered.” 

• there goes reigen’s reason for existing

• as would realistically happen, reigen’s been evicted, his workplace repurposed, and reigen doesn’t have enough bat bucks or pleasing body odor to make his case.

• fluorescent lights are a literal trigger for reigen, because that was reigami’s main hang out spot outside the attic. so now any department store is a 1000 square foot lesson in dissociation and trying not to look like you’re drunk

• it’s a miracle reigen even managed to shoplift the tent he sleeps in (i headcanon a clerk saw, took pity, and took one for the team for im)

• he spends about a month in the tent, asking for muns for noms

• tetsuo gets the credit for saving mob, because he’s prettier than reigen, and so is his wife. reigen’s jimmies remain unrustled with this

• cue mob wanting to show gratitude to the man who brought him in. he brings it up to the other social workers/therapists, to which they go ‘uhhhh we’ve never heard of the guy’ 

• the more everyone finds out, the more this gif plays in the back of their heads

• the kageyamas eventually follow the breadcrumbs back to the popo . isa gives them the only info they have on reigen arataka : which is that he’s been listed as an (either missing or dead, depending on the version) person for a while.

• ritsu finds him, for mob, via spirit hoarde network (because like in canon, once’s mogami’s “gone” all the little spirits come out to play. and gimcrack asks to slurp some of ritsu’s spirit juice if he can run him errands. except THIS TIME, the kageyama family has had their fill of evil spirits using them, so Ritsu keeps them the fuck in line)

• i have a joke where they send out the spirits to find “a thin, brown haired man with a scar on his face, possibly wearing a suit” and it leads to sakurai

• when they find reigen he’s got one foot in the darkness and the other in a rainbow croc

• he’s not all there

•the kageyamas aren’t about to let the man who helped bring their boy back die via crocs so they bring him home

• hurt/comfort hijinks ensue, including a Colorful Boi, a game of illegal Uno, Crying over Spilled Noodles, Fashion Upgrades, Waterbending, and There’s A Lack Of Context But Dimple Shows Up One Day

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 12: The Pilot

And here he is, everyone’s favorite “best pilot in the Resistance,” Mr. Poe Dameron:

“But, sir! If the load lifters’ binary language circuits aren’t reset to the default dialect, they’ll continue to deliver their loads to the wrong entrances! It would present a serious supply chain interruption and Princess Leia will—“

“Hey! That’s a great idea! You should take this to Leia.”

“But, General, the princess is no longer—“

“Threepio, if you don’t stop talking to me about the damn load lifters, I’m going to kill myself.”

“Well, I never! I’m only ever trying to be of help, the nerve of some people,” Threepio trailed off as he clattered off down the corridor.

Poe Dameron didn’t watch the droid leave; it was easy enough to know what Threepio was chattering about as he disappeared down the hall: a litany of self-pity, imagined slights, and decades of grievances. Why droids were programmed with such irritating idiosyncrasies, Poe would never understand. But maybe that was the point. Maybe droids needed to be more human to keep from making mistakes.

Poe returned his attention to the reports he had been scanning when Threepio came banging his way into the command center, yammering about obscure machine languages. He reviewed them one by one, each telling a similar story: encouraging signs of unrest against the First Order, but little enthusiasm for organized rebellion.

Each of the documents took far longer to digest and approve than he cared for. Being in command was all he’d ever wanted, having grown up on Yavin IV in the company of Alliance war heroes. But the reality of leading was less attractive than its billing. Most days, Poe wished he could just pass off command to someone else so he could go back to piloting an X-Wing full time. Though, he thought, if he was still just a pilot, he’d probably be chafing under command decisions he didn’t agree with, and the cycle would continue.

His job, as it was, had taken unexpected turns over the previous months. Leia had passed command to him much sooner than he would have expected. And the fight he’d expected to be leading was nothing like he’d envisioned. The First Order was no longer as constant a presence in the core systems as they’d been even a month before, and their troop deployments were more scattershot than was typical. It made Poe nervous. The conflict should be escalating. Instead, it seemed like the First Order was in the midst of a controlled retreat.

But it wasn’t like the Resistance was ready for a showdown. The fleet was nowhere near fighting form, constituted primarily of decommissioned Imperial ships, half-junked freighters, two dozen X-Wings of somewhat dubious flight readiness, and ancillary vessels that lacked a cruiser to support. Worse than that, the First Order had been broadcasting to the galaxy that the Battle of Crait had been a total victory, and that the Resistance had been wiped out.

It was a development neither Poe nor Leia had anticipated. Like the Empire, the First Order didn’t typically suffer any kind of defiance, regardless of its size. But since Crait, Poe felt like he was leading a movement in search of a cause. They took every precaution to makes sure they weren’t discovered— Vedic III was chosen precisely because it would be hard to find— but Poe couldn’t shake the feeling that their enemies weren’t even looking for them. And that troubled him more than relentless pursuit.

As he looked around the command center, Poe considered that the First Order might have a point: it was almost like they didn’t exist. What had been a small, but capable fleet had been utterly destroyed after Crait. A private army of two thousand, well funded, with connections in the New Republic, the Resistance had been a serious threat to First Order operations. But, more than that, it had been something Snoke couldn’t afford to ignore because of one very important distinction: it was led by the sister of Luke Skywalker. The last of the Jedi.

Now Luke was dead. And instead of two thousand, the Resistance barely numbered two hundred. And whatever support was coming, it was coming because of the story of Luke facing down the First Order alone, giving his life for the cause, and, crucially, leaving behind an heir to his powers and teachings. And the girl who was meant to be the symbol of their fight might have died in the training yard yesterday. It was a problem he couldn’t afford to ignore any longer.

“Lieutenant,” Poe called across the room, “has anyone seen Rey?”

Lieutenant Connix looked up from her terminal as though she’d been startled awake.

“Uhm,” she started, glancing around, “I think I heard someone say she was going to see Leia.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Poe squinted and pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced back at the last report he’d read, and an idea suddenly flashed through his mind.

“Hey, Connix, come here a second.”

The young officer, who still kept her hair in tight buns on either side of her head, stood up from her terminal and crossed to where Poe was sitting.

“Yes, General?”

“Cut it with the ‘General’ stuff. It’s me. Poe,” he said with a smile, motioning for her to sit.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, sitting in the chair next to him. “I’ll try to remember, sir— uh, I mean, Poe.”

“We intercepted a coded message on the First Order’s emergency channel. Normally, I wouldn’t be too interested, but this one was picked up immediately by high command.”

Connix crinkled her nose. “That is odd.”

Poe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah. It is. I don’t like it. The First Order codex. Didn’t we keep a record of when D.J. hacked it?”

“Sir, that codex changes hourly. Er, uh, Poe. I meant Poe.”

“But we could use the record as a road map to hack it again.”

“That’s,” Connix began, nervously fidgeting with her hands, “not really how it works. Or, maybe it does, but not the way you’re thinking.”

“So you can’t do it.”

“I didn’t say— I could maybe—“

“Kaydel,” he said, getting her attention.

“What did you call me?”

“Your name. Kaydel.”

Connix stopped fidgeting.

“I know you can do this. I believe in you.”

“A-all right. General. I mean, sir. I mean— damn it.”

Poe gave her a warm smile, and then turned back to his terminal. He was about to power down and head out to the tarmac when he saw Rey through the windows of the command center, passing down the hall from Leia’s room.

“Rey!” he yelled.

She stopped, and looked at him through the window. Poe got up and crossed to the door, leaning around into the hall.

“Hey, I was looking for you. Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Rey turned back down the hall, and into the command center. Poe motioned her into he adjoining office, and he followed behind, closing the door.

“What is it, Poe?”

“First off, how are you feeling?”

Rey sighed and crossed her arms.

“I’m fine.”

“Whoa. Sorry.”

“No,” Rey said, letting her hands drop to her sides. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t— thank you for the concern. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Good.”

“You needed something?”

“I just want to get an idea of what’s going on here.”

“Meaning?”

Poe put his hands on his hips and leaned in slightly, trying not to seem overly agitated. He wasn’t sure it was working. And he knew Rey could sense his anxiety, which wasn’t making matters better.

“We’ve been on this moon for over a month. And you’ve been, what? Running supply missions? Reconnaissance?”

“They’re missions that need done. I do them. What’s this about?”

“‘What’s this about?’” he repeated back, letting out a frustrated laugh. “I don’t need you to run supply missions. I have people to do that.”

Rey crossed her arms again, and her eyes narrowed.

“Is there something you want to say to me? Because if there is, I’d rather just have it out.”

“Fine. We’ve been hanging on by our fingertips out here. People don’t even think we exist. We’ve gotten traction mostly because the story about Luke facing down Kylo and the First Order has caught on. But for that to keep up, we need the Jedi Order. And that’s supposed to be you.”

“It’s not just something I can snap my fingers and make happen,” Rey said, her voice rising. “What am I supposed to do? A traveling show where I tell fortunes and make things float?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not supposed to be the one that knows these things. You are.”

“It’s not like Luke left a manual for me with step-by-step instructions.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“Oh, and what do you hear?”

“That you have some Jedi scripture or something. Some texts. Books with information we could use.”

“I suppose you’d like to try reading them, then. Do you think they’re in standard Aurebesh? They’re in some language that’s probably been dead for five thousand years. Not even Threepio could read them.”

Poe had to laugh. C3PO had just been in here complaining about not being able to talk to load lifters because of their accents, and imagining him trying to read sacred religious texts was more than just comedy. It was farce.

“What I’m hearing is an explanation without a plan,” Poe said, trying his best to keep his frustration from boiling over into real anger. He felt less in control than he was accustomed to, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something to make him more uneasy. “Are you with us? Because I get the feeling that you’re just here because you have nowhere else to go.”

Rey’s expression hardened, but there was real hurt in her eyes. She took a few calming breaths, and responded.

“All right. This is the part where you say you’re under a lot of stress, and you didn’t mean that, and you take that back.”

“No, I don’t think so. You’re the last Jedi. As in the only one. And yesterday, you keeled over like you were a green recruit. What do we do if something happens to you? Huh?”

“Poe. I fainted. It was stupid to train in the heat like that for so long. I grew up in the desert. I ought to know better.”

“That’s not what worries me. What worries me is that you’ve been acting like you’re an engineer. Or a freighter pilot. You’ve been training against droids that don’t have safety protocols—“

“They’re too easy to beat otherwise.”

“That’s my point! Why are you fighting droids at all? You should be out there, we should be out there, taking the fight to the First Order! You should be leading. Instead, you’re out in the training yard fighting droids that wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you when you passed out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’d beaten them all by then.”

“And what about next time?”

“Who says there’s going to be a next time?”

“I don’t want to have to worry that there will be!”

A silence fell between them, as though some kind of gauntlet had been dropped, and they were both waiting for the other to pick it up.

“Maybe you ought to stop pinning all your hopes on me,” Rey said with a calm resolve. But Poe could see her composure was slipping, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I’m doing what I can. I’m trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do. I’m trying to keep myself from losing my mind while I try to understand what the Force wants from me. I’ve got unreadable books and a broken lightsaber and no one to help me.”

Her mention of the broken lightsaber reminded him that she still hadn’t been debriefed about what happened on the Supremacy. Poe’s uneasiness sharpened, and he couldn’t help but feel that she was reading his thoughts right then and there. Rey took a half step toward him, and gestured down toward the corridor.

“If you need someone to inspire your cause, you’ve got her. She’s right down the hall, and she’s twice the woman I’ll ever be.”

“Rey, Leia’s dying.”

“What?”

“Dying. She doesn’t have much time.”

They’d known for weeks. Leia might have known longer. But it didn’t change the fact that the tumors were inoperable. And it didn’t change the fact that radiation sickness was slowly sapping her of her strength. It was anyone’s guess which would overwhelm her first, but both diagnoses carried the same promise: death, and soon.

“When she got blown out of the bridge on the Raddus, she should have died. She didn’t. We were very lucky. But she was in deep space for over two minutes. That kind of radiation doesn’t come without consequences. Leia might be one of a kind, but she’s still only human.”

Poe could see that Rey wasn’t prepared for that news. Good, he thought. Maybe this would spur her to action. And even if it didn’t, at least Poe wasn’t carrying this secret alone anymore. Not that it could be a secret much longer.

“Rey,” he continued, trying to bridge a span between urgency and inspiration, “we don’t have the luxury of waiting. I can’t put together an army to fight the First Order if we don’t have a cause worth fighting for.”

“If you don’t have a cause worth fighting for without me standing in front of you with a lightsaber,” Rey said slowly, and it looked like she was struggling to keep from letting the depth of her emotions show, “then the problem’s with you, not me. I’m not going to rush out and recruit students, or padawans, or whatever, if I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. You’re a pilot. Imagine starting a flight academy when you know how to fly, but not how to land.”

“Listen to me. I’m sorry if I seem harsh. But I have people who count on me. And they look to you as the light that’ll lead us into battle. And you could have died yesterday. Where would that leave us?”

“What do you want? Tell me. What should I do?”

He took a step toward her, his face becoming hard and serious.

“Start doing things because you can do them. Not because someone told you how.”

And that was that. Rey’s expression went cold and blank, her eyes glassed with angry tears.

“Are we done?”

“Yeah,” Poe said, motioning for the door. “I guess we are.”

***

Poe returned to the command center after Rey left, but not before spending some time thinking through exactly what to do about the Jedi girl in his camp. She was an invaluable asset, to be sure. And if she could get with the program, she could be the one thing that would turn the tide.

But she also painted them with a very bright target. Eventually, he was sure, the First Order would come for her. And when that happened, he didn’t know if they’d be able to protect her. More than that, he wondered if it was worth it at all.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, drifting over to where Connix was seated.

“Any luck?”

“Not with the codex, but I did find this.”

Poe leaned over her shoulder and looked at the screen.

“What the hell?”

“I know.”

“Keep this between us for now.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Poe.”

Poe didn’t respond. What were those structures? And the orbital station? What was the First Order doing on Naboo?

[skaylanphear]

So what if the Galra attack Earth?

Okay, so I've been thinking on this idea for… a while. I feel like it's inevitable that the Galra will try to attack Earth. They're eventually going to want to hit the paladins where it hurts, especially as they grow more desperate with defeats from Voltron. Like, this doesn't have to happen in the canon, but I feel like it'd be really cool if it did.

And originally I thought, yeah, it could be a great place for the final battle. Maybe Earth is in jeopardy and Voltron has to come and save the day, and everything will end hunky dory with the paladins being super impressive after some horrible thing happens where they thought they lost. And if the Galra do ever go after Earth, I think this is probably how it would play out.

But then… I got to thinking. And these thoughts started at the Garrison. The Garrison is clearly a military installation. Perhaps similar to Starfleet, perhaps not. But what hints that it might be more military than Starfleet is how quickly the paladins adapted to their weapons when they got their bayards. Keith clearly knows how to use a sword, Lance was totally all about using a gun. Hunk took a bit longer to get the hang of it, but still progressed, as did Pidge. To me, this implies they, even to a small degree, have had weapons training. It seems likely that Keith and Lance had more. Perhaps the pilot track at the Garrison includes more physical training of some kind.

In any case, they adapted quickly to the idea of war, so they were probably training in preparation for potential encounters of some kind. Humans are notoriously paranoid and Sam Holt made it clear he was on Kerberos in the hopes of finding evidence of alien life. Humans are aware that there is potential for other lifeforms and while Shiro and his crew were not prepared for the Galra, it seems reasonable to assume the notion of aliens was entertained.

Fast-forward a year. Shiro's crew has been gone, the military has tried to cover it up. But they know something happened. And if Pidge can figure out it wasn't an accident, likely the military knows it wasn't either.

Humans are paranoid. Humans are defensive. Maybe the Garrison has been centered on the guise of exploration, but there's no way they're not ready to take military action. Something suspicious has happened. Fast-forward to the blue lion sighting and a Galra ship visibly entering Earth's area of space (you could see only part of earth in the background—they were very close). There's no way someone didn't see that or that some kind of sensor didn't pick it up. The point is that humans have seen a Galra ship and have seen an Altean war ship (as the Blue lion was pointed out to be in the first episode).

Humans are in their element now. They're scared, they've seen aliens, they've seen alien technology as proof through Shiro. Time to get paranoid and start readying for a threat they have no way of knowing is real.

But before we get to that, let's look at some other variables. Voltron takes place some time in the future. We have no real way of predicting what the political climate is, but… I'm gonna be optimistic here and say that things are mostly peaceful and that plenty of countries work together. Most of our paladins, while we can't know for sure where they grew up, appear to be from differing places around the globe. And they all came together through one program that is not named with a certain country in mind (seemingly). Perhaps it's an international organization. In any case, let's assume humans are a bit better at working together at this point.

We also have the population to take into consideration. Barring that no wars were so bad that we destroyed half the population (which I suppose is plausible), we're looking at a population of at least 7.6 billion (our current population). Probably more. It's predicted that by the year 2100, Earth's human population will be over 10 billion.

That's a lot of fucking people. A lot more than any planet we've seen Voltron rescue, which seems to be made up of smaller colonies that, while not unaware of alien life, don't appear to have the technology or military force that the Galra have. Barring the Olkari, who—while being technologically advanced—seem to have one central cultural hub, which would imply that their population is relatively small. Of course, there's no way to know these things for sure, but based on how Voltron handles diplomacy, I think it's safe to assume that most of the planets they've been to thus far don't have the same kind of "stretch," so to speak, that Earth does. Is this a lack of time and effort from the writers and animators? Doesn't matter—we're working within the Voltron universe as it is presented.

That some of these places have relatively small populations or even little technology makes sense, especially if they were part of the Galra empire. They've been enslaved, murdered, used. Genocide. None of that is going to make advancement or procreation easy.

Earth, however, is crawling with people, technology (though it's not as advanced as Galran or Altean), and remains untouched by Galra influence.

So, let's say the people of Earth have mastered green energy. Let's say we've made a way of life that eliminates poverty and generally things are great, at least for countries participating in these endeavors. Earth is wealthy, or parts of it anyway—otherwise, there wouldn't be a space exploration program. So if humans have the technology to travel all the way to Kerberos, we've long since been to Mars and Venus. Maybe—maybe—there are even Mars and Venus colonies. Even today, those are things being discussed for the future. Humans no long populate just Earth, but other parts of our solar system. Which means that we have a technological system between planets. Straight from Pidge's mouth, it only takes "months" for them to get to Kerberos at the edge of the solar system. So it takes only days, maybe not even that long, for humans to travel between the inner planets, which are relatively close together.

And even though humans are not as technologically advanced as the Galra or Alteans, they have to be getting close. Lance had no problem flying the blue lion. Pidge and Hunk have no problems adapting and understanding Altean technology and engineering, as well as that of other civilizations.

As a human speaking for humans, I feel like it's well-informed to assume the military would be getting ready to defend themselves against potential attack after seeing alien ships. Ships that were shooting and being generally hostile, albeit not towards Earth itself. For all the greedy war mongers out there, this is the perfect opportunity to spend loads of money on military activity, if they weren't already doing so.

Earth would be getting ready for the Galra. Because humans are paranoid, violent, territorial, and generally terrifying. They may not be as physically strong as Alteans, but clearly they can stand on their own. Shiro was the Champion, was one of Haggar's greatest weapon, and he was only a human. Almost all the paladins are humans and can stand their own against the Galra on the ground and in space.

Humans may not be as "impressive" as Alteans, but they're not weak compared to other species. Nor are they stupid. The lions wouldn't have chosen a fleet full of humans if they were incompetent compared to other races. Not only that, but like the Galra, humans have a history of war and bloodshed. I don't know about Alteans, but I do know that the Galra aren't alone in that respect. Warriors and the like have always, always, been respected and held in high esteem by humans. They still are. Look at how we treat our athletes.

So humans are a scary force to be reckoned with. They have the technology to travel between planets. We already know they have the technology to wage horrible war, which means that that kind of technology has likely only been developed further. We have the ability now to mass target things—the weapons we're going to have in the future are going to be even more terrifying (it scares me thinking about it, so let's hope for peace as well, yeah?). It'd take only more funding and more attention to change things like exploratory vessels or even regular travel vessels into military vessels—armed and ready.

Maybe we even have an army of drones, much like the Galra. Plus our population. Plus whatever invisible technology that's defending our planet and our colonies. Plus the scouts and bases we likely have situated in other parts of the solar system.

Barring that Haggar didn't suck the life out of our planet with her magic, Earth would put up an incredible fight. I mean, there's no evidence that Earth has developed weapons like the ion canon or particle barriers, but even so, they'd be a bigger force than any we've seen the Galra take on so far. Not only that, but the humans have had time. How long has it been since the Galra ship was at Earth? Long enough for humans to redirect funds, to arm every vessel and build new ones that are likely pushing technology further and further. Because that's the thing about technology here—it'd dependent on money. If there's money to be had, which the threat of war always miraculously produces, then technology is developing. In a threatening way, yes, but going forward nonetheless.

Like… I'd like to see a system of planets like Earth with population densities similar to ours. I'd like to see how the Galra deal with that. I'd like to see how close they even get to the home planet before they have to take on the colonies existing outside it.

I'd like to see the Galra attack Earth. I honestly don't think it'd go very well for them. Unless Haggar got involved, which… well, I'm entertaining notions outside that. I'd like Zarkon to send a fleet to Earth and him get reports back that the fleet was fucking destroyed before it even got beyond Mars, now that humans are on the alert. Like, humans are fucking assholes. Humans are as bloodthirsty as the Galra, even if the show pretends like we're not.

The more I think about it, the more I want Allura to be like "well, would your planet be willing to join the coalition?" And all the paladins being kinda awkward like, well, sure, but they don't want Earth to join because they want to protect their home and they don't want it involved. So Allura's like, okay, I get that, but we need all the allies we can get. And so they decide to have a look at Earth and upon getting an idea of what it's all about, Allura is just, like, wth you guys? Like we wouldn't want allies that have colonized other parts of your solar system and have a population in the billions and potential for huge technological advancements?

I dunno, man. I just think about this a lot. I think Earth would probably lose eventually (without Voltron's involvement or the involvement of those with more advanced technology), just because the Galra fucking suck the life out of and destroy planets with only one weapon, but still. It's interesting.