#But first off nobody deserves to suffer that violation

[backpackingspace]

I am once again thinking about how odysseus who witnessed the horrors that the captured women went through (one of his main duties in the iliad was taking the women back home and making sure they were as comfortable as possible and safe because he was the only one trusted not to violate them further due to his devotion to penelope. And in the odyssey part of the reason circe sent him to the underworld was so that he'd have to listen to all these women's stories (before he could talk to the prophet) ). Who was one of the few that saw women as people and respected their space and opinions. And was then put in those exact same situations. I don't have the motivation right now to do a full literary analysis of this (I'll site the sources too) but oh man one day I'm going to write a full essay on this.

[humongousgothskeletonfarm]

TSC CHAPTER ELEVEN SPOILERS AHEAD

STARTING OFF THE CHAPTER STRONG AS FUCK DISASTER BISEXUAL JEAN MOREAU AWARENESS

picturing jean in a pair of raybans is good for my mental health

-

“Missed a couple spots. Need a hand?”

jeremy u flirt

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do the trojans ever realise that jean is NOT IN FACT deaf and standing right in front of them when they are talking about him?

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oh ok so chapter 11 is in fact worse than chapter 10

if anyone reading this has ever believed that they deserved the abuse, trauma/suffering they’ve experienced, i’m here to tell u right now that nobody deserves that and it is not ever ur fault, no matter what others might say or try to convince u. whatever happened to u is unequivocally not ok. please seek help from a professional if u are worried about urself or others in ur life.

if u have ever felt uncomfortable or violated in certain situations just know that no matter how ‘big’ or ‘small’ the situation may seem (i use these terms loosely because i do not believing in ranking peoples traumas), ur feelings are 100% valid and u always always deserve to be respected and heard.

i hope u know that u are not alone and never will be.

sending lots of love to all of u

-

wtff jenkins is a girl?? did we all know this or have i just read too many fanfics always thought jenkins was a guy?

-

It was sacrilegious even in the privacy of his head, and Jean hunched his shoulders against a blow that never came.

fuck that’s a good line. traumatic as fuck and makes me wanna cry for all these boys have gone through but god as an ex-catholic raised queer person i can tell u this line struck hard even though i cant relate to the specifics of the scene

-

Jean didn’t mind cooking, but he didn’t say that. This was the first time his room truly felt safe and right, and he was content to hold onto it for as long as he could. He closed his eyes again, but now his thoughts were snagged on Jeremy. At length he broke the silence to say, “Two beds would fit in here.”

jean moreau u are so loved

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“You are not them,” Jean said. “Kevin would not have sent me here if you were.”

THE PARALLELS IN THIS BOOK ARE FUCKING KILLING ME PLS NORA LET ME LIVE IN PEACE THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR ME TO HANDLE

ANDREIL EXISTS IN EVERYTHING

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Just because he had to meet with this man didn’t mean he had to speak to him.

jean, u diss aaron earlier in the books but really ur just the same as him

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betsy dobson to the mother fuckibg rescue someone get this bitch a ‘worlds best therapist’ mug

and jean, dude do u know how fucking similar u and neil are, seriously like u guys should be besties like-

“It was not my choice,” he sent back in warning. “I do not need counseling.” He didn’t trust her at all, but there was no point spelling it out.

CHAPTER TWELVEE

dude wtf is it with me and napping while tryna finish this book, literally just accidentally fell asleep for 2.5 hrs when i could’ve been reading

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“Imagine getting changed so we can practice,” Jean said.

king is fed uppp

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“It’s not about size, anyway.” ​“Defensive,” Jean said, tugging his glove straps with his teeth. ​Jeremy straightened in indignation. “I don’t have anything to be defensive about.” Jean lost his grip and bit his lip, and Jeremy hurried on before either of them could think too much about that double entendre.

OKKKK JEREMY I SEE U

-

“That’s not—I do care. I want you to play with us, and I want you to have fun again. I want to see what you can do on the court and what you bring to our defense line. I want us to finally win this year after coming so close and failing too many times. But it’s just a game, Jean. Your safety and happiness will always be more important than our season.”

GOOD GOD ITS WHAT U DESERVE JEAN

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“Every time you say that you take a year off my life. I’d really like to live to ninety, so please knock it off.”

now the trojans understand how the foxes feel when neil whips out his ‘im fine’ line,, also i’m never gonna stop saying that neil and jean should be besties it’s literally just a fact

“I do not believe you when you are drinking such filth,” Jean said, with a disapproving look toward her drink. Laila stared him down as she sucked a long gulp through the straw,

this book is so devastatingly depressing and explores some of the most horrible traumatic things that could happen to a person but it’s interspersed with some of the funniest scenes that it gives me whiplash

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“Pat and Ananya have wanted to fuck Cody’s brains out for almost a year now. I really thought Cody moving in with them this summer was going to finally get that ball moving, but apparently not. It’s getting kind of pitiful.” ​“Pat and Ananya have been engaged almost as long as Cody has known them,” Laila pointed out as she fit herself against Cat’s side. “You can’t blame Cody for being scared of where they might belong in something like that.”

NORA GIVING US THE POLYAMORY WE DESERVE AFTER CUTTING KANDREIL FROM THE OG BOOKS LETS GO QUEER REP

YK THAT RUNNING JOKE THAT USC IS THE QUEEREST TEAM AND NOBODY HAS AS MANY GAYS AS THEY DO??? IM SO FUCKIBG HAPPY NORA HAS BASICALLY MADE THAT CANNON

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CHAPTER 13333

jeremy is so hopelessly crushing on jean and that’s real of him

meanwhile jean:

Threat assessment, he told himself, and it was almost the truth.

sureee buddy

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They’d arrived holding hands and dressed in matching cream-and-teal outfits. Even their gold-rimmed sunglasses and teal sneakers were identical.

well that is definitely an outfit!

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“Speaking of happy endings, has Laila bought you a sex toy yet?”

EXCUSE ME

this whole scene was so fucking random but jean deserves great friendships

-

ANOTHER TRANS TROJAN LETS FYCKING GOOOOOO CONGRATS ON UR TOP SURGERY XAVIER

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‘i’m sure the ravens wouldn’t have taken neil in if they’d known he was the son of a mob boss!!’

uhhhhh…

i don’t know how to tell u this buddy

-

dude i just cannot stop think about the whole new world of fanfics we’re gonna get now that tsc has come out like the aftg universe is expanding and becoming more detailed it’s gonna be crazy

chapter 14!!!

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Jean eyed him. “For what purpose?” ​Jeremy looked to the ceiling for patience. “For fun.” ​Jean sighed as if Jeremy was the one being unreasonable.

oh jean we’ll get there eventually

-

Jean was a starving dog on a short chain who’d learned years ago not to bite back.

OH MY FUCKING GOD GIVE ME PEACE

MY CHEST IS ACHING AT THIS METAPHOR

-

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP THE PARALLELS ARE DESTROYING ME I CANT FUCKING TAKE IT ANYMORE

“You are Jean Moreau. Your place is here with me, with us. I’m your captain. You’re my partner. We’re supposed to be doing this together, aren’t we? Stop leaving me behind. Look at me.”

-

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that he hurt you, I’m sorry that you’re still afraid to talk about it, and I’m sorry that you think I’ll never understand. I’m sorry that he tricked you into thinking you deserved it. But I’m not sorry he’s gone. I can’t be.”

“Neither am I.”

TEAR MY HEART OUT AND STOMP ON IT NORA JESUS CHRIST

-

everytime one of the trojans says ‘we’re here to listen whenever your ready to talk and open up to us’ and then they go and demand he tell them every secret he’s ever kept

-

kevin and jeans relationship in this book is so fucking well written, it’s tearing me apart and giving me so much life

they have so much shared trauma and the relationship is so complex but they understand eachother so deeply

He is not used to having a voice, and he has never had power. I cannot promise he will ever talk to you.” ​“I will wait as long as it takes,”

“Be careful with it,” Kevin said. “Be careful with him.”

-

“Night practices with Andrew and Neil,” Kevin said. ​“Obsessed,” Jeremy

exy fiend kevin day representation

also

“No, Jean is fine. As fine as he can be, anyway. Yes, I know.” (kevin when talking to someone ‘offscreen’) i just know he was talking to neil

-

She crossed the room and leaned over, catching Jean’s head in her hands so she could plant a kiss to the top of his head.

this is the love jean deserves

chapter 15:

“Your fourth line has a smart mouth, Coach,” Jean said. “I was hoping he would bite his tongue off in the fall and save us both some grief in the long run.”

jean i love u

-

Jean wished he had the common sense to shut up,

he’s so me

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“And keep Kevin’s name out of your ignorant mouth,”

THEYRE SO IMPORTANT TO ME UR HONOUR

-

i keep forgetting that jean only learnt english after he moved into evermore and that kevin probably taught him but i love the subtle little reminders every now and then when he has to clarify a word, like when he has to ask what a ‘floozy’ is and:

due to egregious injuries.” ​Jean didn’t recognize that word, but since Lucas was already running his mouth, he didn’t get a chance to ask.

it’s such a good detail that just adds so much more depth to his character

-

“Permission to break his face, Coach?” Jean asked. ​“Denied,” White said.

SCREAMING

THIS IS SO NEIL AND WYMACK CODED I LOVE IT

-

JEAN MOREAU ON A MOTHERFUCKING MOTORCYCLE HOLY SHIT

catalina alvarez u wonderful human i love u

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jean realising how big the world is and the fact that he’s explored more of california than any other place he’s been before is making me tear up he never should’ve been kept trapped inside he deserves to see the world

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So long as she existed as fractured memories, she was safe and small and sheltered.

oh god don’t do this to me

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Jean gazed out at the endless horizon, feeling small and infinite from one moment to the next.

beautiful, just beautiful, absolutely immaculate

A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads.

A COOL EVENING BREEZE. RAINBOWS. OPEN ROADS

-

SECOND LAST CHAPTER!!! LETS GOOO

“He is not going to hit you. Okay? We don’t do that here. You said you’d try to do better and that’s enough for us.”

starting off strong

-

You’re one of my kids now.

don’t mind me i’m just sobbing

-

no no no no no no no no no

holy shit no what the fucking fuck

don’t do this to jean rn oh my fucking god i’m sick to my stomach on the verge of fully crying right now

actually dreading reading on right now

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um ok yeah so i read it and to anyone who hasn’t finished the book yet beware there is a graphic violent scene followed by an intense panic attack in chapter 16 that’s is very difficult to read

i did cry and all i can say is thank fuck for lisinski’s timing

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Jeremy’s response was low but unhesitating: “I will not look away.” ​“I do not want you to look.” ​It frightened him how much it sounded like a lie,

-

only redeeming part of this chapter is that neil’s back but i’m still in so much shock over what’s just happened that i cant properly appreciate him

chapter 17 the finale:

feeling incredibly somber as i reach the end of the book

please god destroy anyone who has ever hurt jean moreau

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nora’s really filling in all the plot holes left from aftg - why did nobody question why neil’s hair was dyed after evermore ????? why did nobody question neil being at evernote in the first place???

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i’m laughing at neil’s map print-outs he’s so uncool, also i keep forgetting this is still meant to be 2007

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jean-yves moreau oh my fucking god

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“says who?” Stuart asked. “The dead kid?

stuart hatford u are so funny, is this where neil inherited is sarcasm from?

stuart hatford says fuck riko and so do i

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Neil shrugged. “Do you have anyone who can take on local work?”

NEIL JOSTEN U ARE MY HERO I LOVE U U BADASS MOTHER FUCKER

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Neil offered her a disarming smile that would never sit quite right on his face.

devouring these scraps about my boy

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YOOOO WTF NORA RLLY JUST WANTED TO GIVE JEAN THE WORST FUCKING DAY HE COULD POSSIBLY HAVE HUH?? JUST DROPPED THE FACT THAT HIS SISTER IS DEAD MY POOR BOY

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Neil filled in the finer details with an ease that would have been impressive to listen to any other day

- yes neil is incredibly smart, thank u jean for confirming to us

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The only thing left to ask for was something he barely understood: “I want to go home.”

oh the complicated nature of home and one’s sense of belonging that persists throughout these books will never fail to make me feel absolutely everything. nora knows exactly what i want in a book

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“I can see the kitchen. There should be a door out to where the dumpsters are. We can make it back to the garage from there.”

to be loved by neil josten is to be offered a way to evade the fbi together

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“Tedious,” Neil said. “I’m trying to eat.”

my hero

Neil waited until he was done before deciding he wanted to finish his drink. Neither agent was impressed with their absolute lack of urgency,

i love u neil josten pls give me ur autograph

Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to its front bumper and said, “That’s illegal, just so you know.” ​“Shut up and get in the car.”

i wish neil josten was real

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He couldn’t fear a government who was so easily infiltrated and manipulated

FUCK THE GOVERNMENT

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Neil flipped his takeout box open and started eating. “I’m allowed to visit people.”

he’s everything to me 🥰

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“You’re one to accuse others of intolerable attitudes,” Browning said, and Neil only shrugged indifference.

and—for once—without any of your usual bullshit.”

- browning u love him just like the rest of us don’t lie rn

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ngl i’m never getting over the fact that jean and neil are the same age like this is crazy to me nora whyd u have to do this i cant cope

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“The more people I hold onto, the less of a threat I am, because I won’t want to endanger them by acting out.”

oh neil look how far uve come, i’m so proud

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“Lock your door tonight if it will help, but Grayson will never bother you again.”

THANK U LORD FOR THE BRILLIANT NEIL JOSTEN HES ANSWERED MY PRAYERS U BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL HUMAN IM SO THANKFUL FOR UR PRESENCE

all my favourite bamf! neil fics have him taking out a hit on someone for the benefit of the people he loves and i’m so glad that’s canon

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i’m going fucjing crazy i didnt think it was possible to love neil anymore than i already do

best friends ❤️

-

jean tearing up and throwing away the notebooks and realising he trusts the trojans and the four of them going to eat one of cats new recipes after they waited up last midnight for him

A COOL EVENING BREEZE RAINBOWS OPEN ROADS AND FRIENDS

!!!!!

I CSNT BELIEVE ITS OVERRRRR I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS HOLY FUCK

[wellthebardsdead]

Falûne: *dressed in nothing more than a sheer cloth draped around his waist and a top of cascading pearls barely covering his powder blue skin. The pupils of his moondust eyes pointed like daggers as he sets his eyes on the room before him, filled with vampires, all eagerly awaiting to see Astarions ‘pet’ devil*

Astarion: *seated on his throne before the room, grinning darkly and beckoning him with his outstretched hand* don’t be shy darling~

Falûne: *feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him. Acceptance. For the first time since Astarions ascension, since he started his year long torment of stalking him across the swordcoast until he finally imprisoned him in his palace with a contract… He feels… at peace* … *smiles and walks to him, hooves echoing through the now silent ballroom as silver meets marble, his hips swaying with each step and tail flicking with anticipation as he comes to a stop before sliding into his lap and ‘shyly’ covering himself with one of his wings as he hides his face in his neck* they’re looking…

Astarion: of course they’re looking my sweet, even a blind man wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of you~

Falûne: … *grins bearing his fangs* Good~

Astarion: wha- *blinks in shock as the vampires all suddenly drop to the floor writhing in agony as they foam from the mouth, being killed from the inside as their wine soaks the floor* What in the- *grabs the carafe of wine from a servant and sniffs it, eyes watering with the sting of holy water mixed with a vintage red and the ever present warmth of Falûne’s blood* what- GAAGHHH-

Falûne: *claws wrapping around his throat as he straddles his lap and leans in close* You. Violated. Our. Contract…

Astarion: *grasping at his hand trying to break free* I-I didn’t- I kept my word- I never harmed an innocent person-

Falûne: So am I a guilty person then?… *leans in closer, lips a breaths touch from his as his eyes bore into his soul* What did I do, to deserve the pain you caused me?…

Astarion: *eyes wide in horror realising his mistake too late* I-i didn’t- I-

Falûne: *squeezes tighter* I’m going to give you, the worst punishment you could ever. Receive… *raises up his hand and snaps his fingers*

Astarion: *frozen for a moment in terror wondering what’s coming, only to nearly rip the cushioning off of his throne as his heart beats back to life, every change the ascension made to him now reversed completely leaving him as he was before ever becoming a vampire. Everything from his eyes, to his soul, to his personality. All him before he made the ultimate betrayal* L-lûne-

Falûne: *let’s go and slides off his lap, staring at him with a malice he’d never shown before* Live. Live now with the knowledge and memory of what you’ve done…

Astarion: F-Falûne I’m sorry! *gets up and reaches for him with trembling hands* I acted out of fear I was overwhelmed I never-

Falûne: meant to hurt me?… *head tilting to the side as he reaches up and slides his claws beneath the pearls, grasping at something unseen, before closing the distance between them and placing his hand to his chest* That’s too bad… Because I want you to hurt, the way you hurt me…

Astarion: *pauses hearing first a faint moaning, then a pained whine, before suddenly his mind is overwhelmed with the screams of the 7000 souls he sacrificed, 7000 souls Mephistopheles forced into falûne to create the ascended fiend that would destroy the world. 7000 souls, and cazadors screeching echoing the loudest in his mind* N-no-!

Falûne: you have your wish… Well be together forever now… no matter how far you go no matter how long apart we are… You will hear and feel their torment… just as you have forced me to suffer myself… you will suffer with me. With them… I will never. Let you forget how you betrayed me… *pushes him back into his throne and turns, walking over the corpses of the vampires who for months had feasted on his blood, blood astarion drained from him day in and out into vats upon vats of wine… wine now nobody will ever drink again, as he heads down to the cellar and lights a match*

*several hours later*

Falûne: *draped in a blanket in Dammons house as the blacksmith cuts the back out of one of his softest shirts so Lûne can sleep comfortably, his eyes focused on the window, staring at the warm glow illuminating the city streets as Astarions palace burns to the ground* …

Dammon: *gently removes the blanket and slides the shirt around him, buttoning it around his wings* there… Falûne?…

Falûne: I wish… I stayed with you… that night back at the grove when you kissed me as we danced… I wish… I spent that night with you…

Dammon: … *takes his hands and kisses his cheek* we have forever now to make up for it…

Falûne: …Forever… *smiles* with you…

*meanwhile*

Astarion: *staring up at the palace as it burns, the screaming in his mind and soul louder than the roaring of the flames and the commotion of the gathering crowd, knowing in life or death he’ll never escape this punishment* I’ll live… and I’ll spend forever making up… for all the harm I’ve done…

[soft-potatoe]

Okay unpopular opinion and spoiler alert, but i really didn't like the new Wednesday series. The aesthetic was very pretty and well constructed i give it that. But the plot was basically a fishing net, the dialogues were really bad and the characterizations weren't believeable at all.

The show in general feels like it was filmed for the plot, the dialogues feel so forced and unnatural, but that would be okay i guess if the plot was at least well written. I really liked uncle fester and i think he was maybe one of the most memorable characters out of this whole thing but he obviously just showed up randomly for one episode just to give the fans uncle fester.

Same with the school director hating Morticia ( first of all chlichee and boring af and if she really hated her she could have just not accepted her kid into her school) they only wrote that in to stirr the plot pot a bit and raise suspicion around her to tension it up a bit.

Also it was filled with so many overused tropes, the mean girl that the pick me girl character hates just because girls always hate each other, the love triangle between an average white artsy guy, an average white barrista guy (they literally said coffee shop au) and a girl that showed no romantic interest in either of them. (Worst of all: none of the actors had any chemistry whatsoever with each other.)

The funniest thing was probably the whole wednesday getting her own special black school uniform just because she is the main character bit, they took that trope and shamelessly used it and i kind of admire that actually. Also shows how they just didn't give a shit about realistic worldbuilding.

(I mean cmon they could have given wednesday a normal uniform and let her dye it black herself or something like that would have made it so much more realistic than the school director just going "yeah well we resepct your commitment to your aesthetic and bc you are the mc we will let you be the only one at school to wear a different uniform eventhough that defeats the entire purpose of having a school uniform").

(Like seriously nobody complained about her having a diffefent uniform? I would have been at the directors ass if the new girl just got to wear a black uniform bc she felt like it, while i was stuck in an ugly blue one) .

Also this whole werewolf conversion therapy camp thing really made me a bit mad, bc this is something queer teens in real life suffer under and they just used it in a way that gave off major "remus lupin being a werewolf is a hiv metaphor" vibes idk.

Yeah so that was my little rant about wednesday. I think it's about as badly written and made as first kill and I also think it sucks that there are barely good written shows out there that are targeted towards (queer) teenage girls. As a former teenage girl myself I can confidently say that they deserve way better than this.

->another thing that really irked me wrong was that medusa guy getting turned into stone bc he saw himself in the mirror like tf. because MEDUSAS CURSE GETS BROKEN IF YOU LOOK AT HER ONLY THROUGH A MIRROR LIKE THATS THE WHOLE POINT OF HER STORY, legit this made me so mad lol, also i have so many more questions like how long did he stay as a stone, how did he manage to like wake up (i mean he was in direct sight line of the mirror everytime he turned human again he must've seen himself again and turned back into stone) and also why does a school that has many students like him not have like sturdy mirror covers in every bathroom to prevent this type of situation, this feels like an osha-violation

[arhvste]

❝ haikyuu boys reacting to getting headlice ❞

an - i couldnt possibly tell you where the motivation to write this came from but here you go

HINATA SHOUYO

-> he doesn’t care. they’re little bugs living rent free in his head? who is he to kick them off his head when they’ve probably settled, made a nice home and got a growing family started? considerate king but disgusting

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

-> disgusted. but also thinks just a few rinses of water will do the trick. he doesn’t understand he’s actually got to get in there and pull them out. miwa is horrified walking into the bathroom to see tobio leaned over the bath with a tub full of cold water he’s ultimately wasted. he’s lucky miwa knows what she’s doing

TSUKISHIMA KEI

-> no mercy. rips the little mfs off his head like nobodies business. his brother can only stare in awe and disturbance. kei isn’t scared over a few bugs they’re only a minor annoyance. he won’t tell a soul he had headlice though and if anyone were to snitch on him, he’d probably shake a few off his head and onto yours.

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

-> stressed. his hairs kinda long so they’re a pain the ass to get out some may think he’d be a little hesistant to tackle them alone but yams has several lice killing lotions in his bathroom ready to use. he is sympathetic but no way is he letting little bugs crawl around his head while he’s around tsukki

TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE

-> the bugs don’t even get to step on this kings prestine head,, next caller !!

NISHINOYA YUU

-> merciless. who tf do these bugs think they are stepping onto his territory? feral. probably put a few in a jar after pulling them out to bark at them and show them that they’ve crossed the line stepping onto his head

ASAHI AZUMANE

-> have sympathy for the guy they’re gonna be a nightmare for him. more upset than anything. now he’s being reduced to being ridiculed by tiny ass bugs too? give the guy a break. gets them out within the first day because he’s not going to suffer longer than he has to and continues doing the treatment for the rest of the week even though they’re certainly long gone

SUGAWARA KOUSHI

-> brutal. like tsukki he’s got no shame in just ripping them out. suga is the type of guy to catch spiders and gently let them out the window and not kill them. lice don’t get that treatment from him. will straight up throw them down the drain and smirk in the process

DAICHI SAWAMURA

-> just another minor occurrence for him. he’s got short hair it’s no biggie. will probably get his mother to help just to make sure he does it right but overall he’ll get rid of them effectively and quickly you wouldn’t even be able to tell he had them in the first place

KINDAICHI YUUTAROU

-> good. he deserves them. maybe this will teach him to get a good haircut. at least the lice like your cut g

KUNIMI AKIRA

-> tortures them after. probably wets a paper towel to keep them stuck to and jabs at them with a thin needle after he’s got them out. sadist little bitch probably has a deadpan expression while doing it too. the lice fear him across the country and avoid him from now on

KYOTANI KENTARO

-> again he’s got short hair so they’re not too big of a pain to get out but why the hell did they have to pick his head? probably picks them out and just throws them wherever he has no regard for where they land and who might catch them from him

HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO

-> little bugs are just chilling no biggie. probably tells the team he’s got them and shakes his head near them to piss them off. oikawa keeps his distance approximately 5 metres and refuses to be included in any rotation makki is in during practice. even after he gets rid of them he doesn’t tell the team and continues shaking his head near them just to ‘keep them on their toes’

MATSUKAWA ISSEI

-> won’t tell anyone other than makki. the two probably pick them out and throw them in oikawas direction leaving their captain confused as to why the hell the two of them keep throwing ‘nothing’ at him. probably gets rid of them within a week and sleeps with a shower cap on so they don’t touch his pillow, that’s his only rule while they spend their vacation on his head

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

-> isn’t scared of no bugs. probably would keep one and press it down just to stick in his childhood bug diary and sneers at how inferior the lice is compared to the other cooler bugs he’d caught before. his hairs short so again it’s not a huge issue for him. he’ll get rid of them quickly and effectively without too much hassle

OIKAWA TOORU

-> screams. begs iwa to take them out for him insisting that it’s his hobby but iwa rejects and leaves oikawa to handle it alone. oikawas sister dips as soon as she finds out and oikawa believes this is the end of his life. after a week of moping and being a brat, iwa gives in and sorts it out for him to finally give him a peace of mind.

LEV HAIBA

-> never had lice before and is genuinely interested rather than concerned. where did the little bugs come from? why do they like his hair so much? is he the chosen one? probably let’s them live on his head for a while until they become infuriatingly itchy and yaku finds out he’s been letting a cult of lice live on his head and forces him to get treatment

KOZUME KENMA

-> thinks bleach with solve it. everyone who hates kenma’s dark roots better be ready for them to go because he will just bleach the shit out of his hair and assume it’s killed them all. for the next few months his hairs gonna be nice but he’ll let his roots grow out again and you’ll secretly hope for him to catch lice again just so he’ll touch up his damn roots again

TAKETORA YAMAMOTO

-> it’s the blonde mohawk that’s the issue. why tf did he have to make his hair to awkward to work with. doesn’t take him long to get out but he probably picks them out walking home from practice or school and just chucks them in bushes or drains he walks past

MORISUKE YAKU

-> you really think he’s about to let some stupid bugs live on his head and not pay rent? absolutely not. has several different brands of lice treatment lotion and uses at least 4 in one go. that amount of chemicals probably isn’t good for you in one go but his only goal is to kill the lice which he achieves. these bugs are mercilessly killed, revived and killed again all in one treatment session

KUROO TETSURŌ

-> this hurt to write knows exactly how to kill them and won’t hesitate in doing so. by that i mean he’s going straight to his grandmother to do it for him because as much as he knows about treatment and such, nobody does anything better than his grandmother and he’ll sit in a chair with a towel around his neck chattering on about his day as his poor grandmother slaves over his head ripping out the stupid bugs from his inconviently styled hair. kuroo’s lucky his grandmother knows he’s her boy

AKAASHI KEIJI

-> bless his soul he’s horrified. disgusting little creatures, believes they’re vermin of the world. mutters in disgust at them as he watches them drown in the pool of water in his bathtub sink eventually sending them down the drain where he hopes they suffer a painful afterlife

KONOHA AKINORI

-> he’s grossed out but doesn’t make a huge deal about it. probably violates himself and gives himself the nickname ‘nitty nori the bug explorer’. he can take a joke and get rid of them in the same week. ugh king shit

BOKUTO KOUTARŌ

-> pain in the ass. he’s excited about these bugs but also worried? do they want to suck his blood? will they crawl into his ears at night? his sisters are the ones responsible with dealing with them and the whole time he’s asking a abundance of random questions regarding the lice and why they chose his head to make their residence

TENDŌ SATORI

-> probably sings at them to make them uncomfortable as he pulls them out. his fingers work magic as he flawlessly picks them out and sends them on their way down to the depths of the drain. the last thing these bugs hear is the terrifying voice of the man who mercilessly sent them to their death beds

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

-> his hairs short it’s okay it’s not the end of the world but rather than killing them he believes they have more use to them. he’s going to throw them in this soil in the garden and assume they work the same miracles worms do. he’ll be disappointed to know that they had no effect on his soil and he wasted his damn time making sure to evenly spread them out of the compost heap

MIYA OSAMU

-> will eat with a hat on. if these bugs are gonna live on his head no way is he sharing his food too. they’ve already taken enough from him. atsumu probably bullies him for his lice but freaks out when osamu tells him that because they’re twins, the lice will seek out his head too and they’ll both be infected. he only survives the short period of time with his lice because of the amusement he gets from watching atsumu consciously stay away from him even to the point where atsumu moves onto the couch. maybe he should let the lice vacate a little longer next time

MIYA ATSUMU

-> hates them. calls them every name under the sun but doesn’t actually effectively try to get rid of them. he doesn’t actually know how to get rid of them but is too embarrassed to admit it so he just lives with it. luckily, the lice decided to move in a few days before his hair was due for a touch up so like kenma, he just bleached the shit out of them and it seems to do the trick. it would be concerning had his hair not needed a touch up though who knows how long he would’ve had them.

SUNA RINTARŌ

-> his little sister notices his hand scratching his head constantly and begins to refer to suna as ‘nit boy’ and only ‘nit boy’. he doesn’t really care at first because surely a single shower will do the trick but his sisters provoking gets so annoying he just ends up treating them 7 times over but not before threatening to leave a few dead ones on his sisters pillow if she doesn’t stop calling him names

ARAN OJIRO

-> again, the lice don’t even get to step on his head. they see aran and they respect him. he seems like a nice and reliable guy so why would they go to the efforts of bothering him? probably nod their tiny ass antennas from atsumu’s hair and let aran go about his day in peace

KITA SHINSUKE

-> lice simply don’t exist in kita’s presence. the second a lice stepped foot on kita’s head, he senses it and ripped the mf off before it could even find a nice area to settle. lice keep away from kita at all times and never intend on crossing paths with him

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

-> an indescribable level of disgusted. refuses to accept it at first, insists that lice simply wouldn’t have been able to touch his head but alas he is wrong. tempted to shave his hair off but then again why should he have to suffer just because some stupid bugs said so. has no mercy, will treat his hair every day for the next month and a half and cusses the bugs out as they fall down the drain

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @tsumue @peteunderoos @tsukkisbean @saturnfarie @dear-kozume @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff @27kei @dai-tsukki-desu @angrylittleriri @tsukkaria @kuxredere @warakou @mattsuny @lovinnoya @sophiashortcake @wompwomphq @waitforitillwritemywayout

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2020 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

[kadavernagh]

Pick a Squirrel by the Tail || Regan & Sam

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @kadavernagh @samjacksonwc SETTING: The Common TEASER: Sam is all too eager to help, and Regan is all too eager to have someone carry a deer carcass for her. And then some.

More and more, the carcasses Regan collected were tempting her stomach. As she picked another one up, half-decomposed with its skin matted into the grass, the coyote skull came to life from inside of her bag. She could practically see the saliva dripping from its bony maxilla. But as much as it wanted to devour them, they never agreed with Regan’s iron-sensitive stomach, and she always suffered the consequences. Not to mention, she couldn’t eat them all. The whole point of strolling through the Common and plucking them up was to add them to the mound, the site of death she was creating at the skull’s behest. Only she could understand its importance. “You,” Regan growled, eyes landing on a man who happened to pass by. Or perhaps he was observing. Many would consider her behavior odd, though she did not care. “What is it you’re doing out here? I don’t want you accidentally stepping on my squirrels.”

Taking a quick, ill-advised sip of his piping hot coffee in its trendy container not unlike that very popular coffee place uses, maybe even ripped off from its intellectual property, Sam walked towards the woman who seemed to be looking for something on the ground. Realizing that she was collecting dead squirrels when he got near enough, he grimaced and tried to look for any identification on her, maybe a name tag attached to her clothing, or like him, a government ID dangling from the boring lanyard around his neck. “Your squirrels? That can’t be right… No one owns the squirrels. Well, not privately. Pretty sure this lovable, livable town owns them. Most of them. What’s your name? Do you have, like, a receipt or something?”

For a moment, the Tourism Board member blew on his coffee cup again and silently tried another sip, discreetly burning his tongue. If he was looking away, perhaps he might have forgotten she was right there and swear the word that first came to mind when he felt that familiar pain of hot coffee violating his innocent tongue. Fortunately for Sam, his dark brown eyes reminded him that he was still in a very public place, and the public deserved a less hostile and violent sight. “If you can show me that receipt,” he continued, almost lisping because of the coffee’s assault on his tongue. “I can even help you retrieve your squirrels.” He immediately regretted that when he caught sight of some of the corpses, disgust plain on his face as the day to see. The fuck is animal control not on this right now. So gross.

“The receipt?” Regan rounded on him, hissing her disbelief. This man thought she needed to prove that they were hers, that she and she alone had the right to decide what to do with them? While some part of her could appreciate the diligence, the coyote in her bag was enraged, demanding that she assert herself. “I am Dr. Regan Kavanagh, one of the Medical Examiners here. Is that enough for you?” Her eyes narrowed, taking him in. He was nothing, a nobody. All of them were, the humans. That thought made her shiver. She used to think herself among them, used to want nothing more, but she saw things so much more clearly now. “And who do you think you are, talking to me like this? It’s obvious to me that you don’t understand the present situation. And I don’t particularly feel like explaining it to you.” She shrugged, though his offer to assist was… interesting. She already owned that man from the cemetery, but another wouldn’t hurt. “Are you saying that if I show you… my ID, let’s say, you will help me retrieve the many deceased squirrels in town?” Her eyes sparkled with possibility.

Sam jerked back in surprise, almost spilling his coffee on his shirt. It was actually more surprising that he didn’t. Sure, dodged that bullet this time. He normally isn’t as graceful, but maybe the threat of his assistant Yoo-ara finally returning to work, at the office, was enough motivation to keep himself from being a complete idiot. Well, looking like one at least. “Whoa, calm down, Doctor…Kavanagh?” He looked her over, instinctively, before shrugging and taking another sip of his unnecessarily expensive coffee. “What’s an M.E. even doing, needing all these…squirrels.” Looking around, his eyes grew wide when he turned back to her, a dark realization coming to him. Well, more like a dark theory. “Did something happen here? Did someone get murdered? With a squirrel or something? Yikes.”

“I mean, yeah, sure,” Sam shrugged again, stealing a glimpse of that bag she had with her. Felt like something important was in there but it was most likely her M.E. tools. “If it’s important to an M.E.’s investigation, of course!” He tried to extend a hand to accompany the introduction, oblivious to the insult hurled his way. Truth be told, he’s been thrown so many over the years, it’s sort of like a routine occurrence to him now. Don’t even get him started on his shitty childhood. “I’m Sam Jackson, from the White Crest Tourism Board.” Moving his face closer, he tried to whisper the next part under his breath, not wanting any eavesdropper to get their eaves. “It’s not a tourist, is it? The murder victim? It hasn’t been a good month for us, if you know what I mean. Last thing we need’s another tragedy so soon and during this time.”

Well, that was one way to lie: not lie at all. Regan had a feeling that if she simply provided Sam with her job title, he would leap to conclusions. This was for a crime scene. A squirrel-related crime. Sure. She wasn’t going to deny it. Let him spin tales in his head and ask her questions that she would continuously dodge. “I know you,” she said, nodding at his introduction, “I remember talking to you online.” She stared at his outstretched hand before blinking at it in an alien way. “You see, I have been touching dead squirrels all morning.” She offered an excuse if only to grant this unfortunate man a single social nicety. If she was going to string him along, she needed to stick to the rulebook at least a little. That was something she needed to remind the coyote about, at times. It kind of wanted to chew Sam’s scalp off instead. “How kind of you to help,” Regan said, stepping away a bit just to ensure she resisted the aforementioned temptation. “Why don’t you start over there, by that corpse – copse of trees? There should be at least 4 squirrels there. And something bigger. I am not sure what, yet.” She headed there herself, waiting for him to follow her like a naive pup. “Or, if you’re not skilled enough at finding them, you can simply carry all of the ones I find. Carefully. I don’t want you sullying them.” She plucked a dead chipmunk from a clump of grass between her feet, holding it up in show. “Start with this,” she said, forcing it toward him.

Proudly, but for no other reason than simply being half-remembered for an online conversation, Sam grinned from ear to ear, his ears red from being acknowledged. That wasn’t usually a thing for normal people, but for someone with his childhood? Hell, even being accidentally waved at, props if a smile goes with it, would make him blush like all those uwu interns his secretary Yoo-ara loathes with every fiber of her being. “Ah, so my reputation precedes me,” he half-jokingly proclaimed in a terrible accent that was supposed to be a reference to something he couldn’t even remember himself. It took him a few more seconds than normal to realize his handshake was being shrugged off, which shouldn’t surprise him anymore really, mostly because it happens a lot of times, so he pretended he was instead about to comb his hair, proceeding to awkwardly do just that before quickly coming to his senses and realizing it was a pretty stupid thing to do. “Yes, of course, Doctor Kavanagh! My pleasure!”

Sam had already taken a step, turning around to find the aforementioned squirrels, before realizing he did not have gloves on his hands or even a bag to put them in. “Uhm, that’s—” He cut himself off, instinctively moving his face away from the sad reminder of his childhood’s own demise. Poor Chip. Or Dale. You have ranged your last rescue. “Do you have extra gloves? Maybe even an extra bag for me to dump these, uhh, warm bodies into? I don’t have pockets.” He actually did, obviously did. But he wasn’t going to just stuff these animals in them. Right? That would be pretty disgusting and also very rude. To the animals. And his cleaning lady. God, I hope she doesn’t suggest stuffing them in my coffee. What would dead squirrels and chipmunks even taste like? Nutty?

“It is your pleasure.” Humans were too often unaware of when they were in the presence of greatness. And in this case, Sam not only was in the presence of a banshee, but also the superior entity currently in her bag. While Regan wouldn’t tell him that, she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to remind Sam of his place. “Your obedience is appreciated – and expected.” Regan frowned at the request for gloves. Better than him touching them, she supposed. They were too good for human hands. It did demonstrate a weak constitution on Sam’s part, though, making him a less than ideal candidate for further work. She would find use for him yet.

“Here,” Regan said, pulling a pair of latex gloves from her pocket, “I always have a few on me. For humans.” There was once a time where she wore them while handling animal carcasses too, but her desire to do that evaporated along with her doubts about what she was. “Now take the chipmunk.” She pushed it a little closer to him. Like this was a test. His first. “It will only grow more difficult from here.” And it was true. It reminded her of her own progression in the woods, bursting apart animals that were increasingly intelligent, increasingly heart tugging. It ceased to matter now. Sam would need to adopt the same numb apathy today if he was to succeed. “Sam, what else would you do for me?” She looked at him curiously. How amusing would it be if she didn’t even need to bind him with his own words to have him obey her whims? “The bigger animal over there might be a deer. You’re at least an adequate physical specimen with some musculature. Would you assist me in carrying it?” 

“That’s what she said,” Sam quipped, even before his tiny brain could come to the rational conclusion that this was the most inopportune moment for such humor. Almost immediately, he clenched his jaw at his mistake and shook his head, regretting what he perceived as his quick wit and denouncing in his head his lack of a time-turner. Obedience? That’s a little weird, but okay. His dark brown eyes immediately wandered towards the latex gloves, quickly accepting them and putting them on. “For humans?” Okay, that’s a whole lot weirder.

For a moment or two, Sam just stared at the doctor, wondering if she wasn’t human herself, just by how weird she was sounding to him. Then he came up with an excuse for her strangeness in his tiny little head: I mean, of course the gloves were for humans. There wouldn’t be gloves for a moose or squirrels, right? That’s what she meant, right? He winced as she forced the chipmunk on him but followed suit, holding the tiny furry corpse for the doctor. As if he were a genie bound to her wishes, or more appropriately, a tiny furry dog bound to her commands. This is for the good of the town, this is for the good of the town, this is for the good-looking medical examiner of the town…

“Oh,” Sam was surprised by the question. He didn’t expect her to be interested but she had been so direct, so it wasn’t— “Ah, yes, you meant the, uhh, larger animal corpse… Sure,” Sam offered her a weak smile before walking close to the supposed deer’s remains, still with the chipmunk in one hand. With his other hand, mostly the back of it, just under his nose, the White Crest Tourism Board member was already bending his knees to get closer to the body when the Doctor finished her line of questioning. “I have been working out. Thanks for noticing. Is your lab or car nearby?” He grunted as he tried to move the deer on his own, almost already forgetting that he had another smaller body in his hand.

There it was, in all its decomposing glory, and surrounded by a cloud of green bottle flies: the deer. Regan took a minute and gazed down at it, beaming with the affection and dedication of a new parent. She had felt its presence long before she had visually confirmed it was here, and of course, it exceeded her expectations. Somehow they always did, she thought, as the remnants of its maggot-filled eyes glistened in the sun. Part of her didn’t want Sam or any other human near it, but as always, Regan was a realist, and all of the self-adulation in the world wouldn’t allow her to carry such a large animal on her own. “I am glad you will listen. Now come here.” He seemed to require no further instruction. Good. At the very least he was self-sufficient. “My car is across the Common. We have a walk ahead of us.” Regan held a hand out, offering to take the prized chipmunk. He needed to concentrate on the deer… for now. “I would like you to ignore the squirrels at this time. We will return for them later. I fear someone else may notice the deer and steal it for themselves if we don’t move it now.” Though it pained her to step past the other carcasses. “If you damage this carcass in any way, there will be consequences. Can I trust you not to mishandle such extraordinary remains? I don’t tolerate sloppiness at the morgue, nor out here.”

Sam stole a glimpse of the doctor as she made googly-eyes at the corpse, and he couldn’t help but grimace at the entire thing. Well, for as long as he could ignore her beauty anyway. It was one thing to be weirded out by someone who didn’t seem disgusted by a rotting animal body, more in love with it, but it was another thing for that someone to be a woman and Sam to be, well, Sam. In his heart of hearts, even if he would never admit it out, he fancied himself a hopeless romantic, though this was not the right place and time for that, not even the right person, and Sam has always been more hopeless than romantic. 

“Oh, you want to hold—the chipmunk, yes, of course. Gotcha.” Sam, in fact, did not gotcha. At least not until after a few seconds later when he remembered that he was still holding the chipmunk’s corpse in his hand. Relinquishing that gross thing to the not-gross doctor, Sam offered her a quick smile, which again was not the right time and place for, before heaving his way through attempting to drag the entire deer towards her car. Wherever it was. “S-sure, deer… Now… Squirrels later…” Who would want to steal a carcass, was Sam’s immediate thought before he remembered what kind of town White Crest was. Stranger things have been stolen. “D-don’t you worry, Doc… For you, I’ll…” He let out a discreet yelp after almost slipping on his own two feet. Fortunately, his desire not to embarrass himself in the Doctor’s presence, which was probably already too late by now, helped him regain his composure. And a-heave! “…do my best.” 

“Wait, at the morgue?” Sam blinked a few times. “I thought you just wanted me to drag this deer to your car?” He blushed at the incorrect idea that the Doctor wanted to spend more time with him. Oh, no! I can’t be caught in a scandal this early in my career!

Regan watched, unimpressed, as Sam seemed to struggle with how to find purchase on the deer carcass. It should have been simple. Ideally, he would be strong enough to pluck the deer off the ground, swing it over his shoulders, and walk forth with remarkable might as the animal was draped around his neck like a decomposing boa. But he was not Kaden. Her stomach twisted up like entrails. Kaden… what was he doing? He wasn’t in jail. He was still alive. She had seen him. So what – it didn’t matter, the skull reminded her, a soft whisper against her cheek. She had it, now. Nothing else mattered. And certainly not a human she mistakenly wasted her time with, even if thinking about him made something ache deep inside of her bones. “Careful,” she said, more a threat than a helpful warning, “it may not look it, but it’s delicate. Precious. And if you’re not careful, you could ruin everything.” 

At least Sam seemed to want to help, almost madly so. She wasn’t sure if it was because of his job – the notion of doing something good for White Crest – or because he felt something for her. Regan never used to pick up on such cues, but it seemed all that was needed was a confidence boost. Her worth was clear to her now. And really, everyone ought to admire her, Deirdre, Marina, and others like them simply for existing.

“Yes, my car; keep up.” Her eyes rolled deep into her skull. Humans. “I can’t blame you for wanting to see the morgue, though. There’s nowhere better. Unfortunately, you strike me as someone with a rather weak constitution.” That was the case for most people. And Sam didn’t even want to hold one measly dead chipmunk with his bare hands. “But perhaps… how helpful would you like to be, Sam? Once we return here for the squirrels, you should assist me in the woods. Then I may show you the morgue.” 

“My constitution’s fine, Doc! I can handle myself,” Sam grinned, even though the good doctor was right: Sam had a rather weak constitution. He would never admit it, or he would just find a way to put a spin on it, but he couldn’t even survive his assistant Yoo-ara’s spicy Korean noodles. Which was probably why she loved cooking it for him every chance she got. Like an assassination attempt but no one dying, only Sam’s inferior bowels. 

It wasn’t that fixed, however. Sometimes, Sam could handle disgusting things. Other times, he would gag. Like when he brushed his teeth in the morning. Sometimes, he’d finish without delay. Other times, he would gag. He had no problem keeping his constitution, however, when he was going down—swinging! I'll be your number one with a bullet. A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it!

Sam began humming an archaic tune as he tried his best to keep up with the good doctor as they made their way to her car. “As helpful as I can be, sure. Anything for the town!” And especially you. He preened in his head, as if he was some charming playboy, despite just looking like an idiot having trouble with the remains of a dead game animal. Fortunately for him, when they finally arrived at the doctor’s aforementioned car, it only took him two tries to get that deer settled for the lovely medical genius. It wasn’t his best work—it was sloppier than any other fool could accomplish—but at least the carcass wasn’t that ruined. Or so he believed. “So, back for the squirrels then the woods then the morgue?” He shrugged, still grinning like an idiot, his hands reeking of the corpse’s scent.

The first time Regan noticed Sam’s fingers begin to slip across the deer’s festering skin, she nearly speared him with a scream. But some nucleus of hesitation still lived within her, or maybe the skull just didn’t want to create a scene, so she was allowed to reel the instinct back in. But the casual humming. And the way he toddled two and fro as if the carcass was some great burden. As if it was an object. As if he wasn’t honored to be carrying such magnificence. No, the slipping fingers would not be the end of it. He needed intense supervision. Regan led with brisk steps, peering back over her shoulder every few paces to assess Sam. And his fingers. And the state of her beloved. The car was in sight. Surely he couldn’t fail so spectacularly in such a small space.

The breath she was holding vibrated in her mouth, still wanting to find Sam’s ears. Almost there. Regan opened the trunk and looked expectantly at Sam. The deer’s head lolled to the side, its swollen tongue poking through its bony teeth. His hands were unsteady, and she didn’t like the relief that radiated from him as he was finally able to set the carcass into the trunk. He was careless. Shoved it. A smear of skin and fur sloughed off on the side of her car. A bone snapped as it was pretzeled into an undignified position it was never meant to be in. Regan snarled, rounding on Sam. She wanted to rip the grin right off of his face. “I should have known you would ruin this,” a screech rippled across her tongue, “instead of carrying the deer with pride and respect, you desecrated it.” She stepped closer to him, lungs itching to release their righteous anger, but the coyote was faster and evenly matched in its fury. Several coyotes took wispy form at her heels, and Regan acquiesced as was expected of her. They would act in her stead. “You have done enough, Sam,” she said, straining slightly to not allow more than a sharp whine to escape along with her words. “You said you would help me. I have a new request for you. Go find a carcass of your own. Stare at it until you appreciate its beauty and place in this world. Only then will they leave you alone.” They. Froth bubbled from their mouths. They knew what to do. With a howl, one of them led the charge, leaping and snapping in Sam’s direction, Regan’s words winding through their ethereal bodies.

Sam’s stamina wasn’t great. One look at him and you’d be right if you tried to assume that was the truth. Boy can’t even run up a flight of stairs from the first to the third floor without breaking into a sweat, followed by a lot of panting. It wasn’t that he was unhealthy or unfit. It was just that he didn’t quite know how to conserve energy, always blasting it out of him as soon as he could and immediately regretting it. Like one of those jumpy hamsters that tire out easily off their wheel. Sam had killed, unintentionally, three of those in grade school.

When the Doctor started going at him aggressively, Sam’s grin slowly dissipated, turning into fear and alarm. He was at a loss for why she was acting that way, so aggressively. It was just a carcass. “W-wait a second, Doc! What are you even saying? I’m just trying to help. It’s just a dead body.” And then the coyotes came, and after staring at them and back at the Doc with those dark brown eyes fully wide, Sam didn’t even say anything else. Instead, he just bolted the hell out of there. Screaming. Like a mad man. As the coyotes hunted him down like their hapless prey. “Gah! I’m being attacked! Wolves! Wolves are after me! Someone call animal control! Someone call my assistant! I’m allergic to rabies!” Legend says he’s still running to this day.

[ashleyfableblack]

So, bit of a brain-dropping...

Earlier today my wife and I went To the grocers. She'd had a rough day at work and I thought something nice from the deli might cheer my gal up.

We picked up some hot case deli goodness and snacks and headed up front to check out. While we were checking out some young-ish fellah in sweats jogged out the front door. Shortly afterwards, this elderly man, mid-80s or so, came to the counter asking for a manager announcing that he'd just been robbed.

Turned out, the thief had approached him, asking for money to put some gas in his tank, stranded, out of town, bad times. When The older fellah took out his wallet and began to fish out a tenner the guy snatched the wallet from his hands and took off.

This was in front of the deli counter, back of the grocery store, in front of multiple witnesses, middle of the afternoon, "broad daylight" and all.

As I understand it the thief dropped the wallet but made off with some cash. While the victim spoke with security Krissie offered to give him a few bucks to help replace his funds but he politely refused. I'm not sure what happened past that. As I understand things, it was all caught on camera.

I'm glad no one was hurt and I'd like to see some measure of justice done, what there is to be done, but for my part I can't help but wonder at the "why?". What circumstances brought the thief to this?

Make no mistake. This isn't some "BUht iT's cHriStmuSs!" bullcrap. This is empathy for another human being who just did a very stupid, awful, selfish thing that will probably put them in jail.

The victim was ACTUALLY going to help him. He was giving him The money when he robbed him. It's vexing, picturing how violated, betrayed he probably feels. He was showing kindness, generosity, care. Moving forward- The victim and probably every person involved will likely now think twice before helping anyone panhandling.

Why betray such a person? You have to be high AF or desperate to pull something like that, I'd hope. I'd HOPE. I know better but I still hope.

I don't know the parties involved. I'm not aware of their moral character or ethics. Maybe the older guy said "the ___-word" online and the younger guy felt he deserved being robbed? I'm sure there's a forum full of people who'd agree. Maybe he was a war criminal in hiding? OR Maybe he was just some good-hearted person who was taken advantage of. There's NO shortage of those. Maybe the robber was a crackhead. Maybe he was mentally ill. Maybe he has a sick child in the hospital. OR Maybe he was just broke, scared and stupid.

I dunno. I doubt I ever will.

All I keep thinking is "I wish he'd talked to me first."

Dumbass, if you're that desperate for money, I'll help you if I can. I'll give you a few bucks, We can get you a job, look into things and talk it out over a taco. I will buy you a Damn taco, hombre.

Nobody needs to be hurting people like that and I've no sympathy for what he did but I can and do empathize with a person in such dire straits that they consider something life-altering and Damn stupid as a solution to their problem.

Sure, there are unrepentant, horrible people who harm others, repeatedly and without care. There's a crapload of them. There are people who glamourize victimizing others and take joy in their suffering. Many of the biggest smiles in ALL of the most openly warm and accepting groups conceal horribly narcissistic beings who think nothing of the lives they continue to poison and destroy. For them, I have nothing more than a claw-hammer, a can-do attitude and a woodchipper.

Was the thief one of them? I wish I knew.

Kindness. Mercy.

Empathy.

It's the first tenet.

It's OUR power and our responsibility- a freedom we can choose to give or not.

I know that the me from a couple decades ago would've made some snarky, dismissive crack about the thief and washed my hands of him. I'm FAR from perfect but I'd like to think the me of today is a better woman than that. Ave Lucifer.

[kitchensunflowers]

"i want my legacy to be speaking up for people who are suffering. for voices who nobody wants to hear."

...so this line in the most recent ep of lone star really bothered me.

content note: brief mentions and occassionally brief discussions of euthanasia, ableism, suicide, and eugenics in my discussion of this line, below the cut

first, i want to make it clear that my frustrations here are not with this character's desires, or with anything pertaining to the real life topic of dnr requests or dnr violations.

my issue is that this episode took on a complex topic that needs handling with nuance and care, and used it in a subplot to create a storyline whose ultimate message, as represented by the above line - which, given the context of the terminally ill character wanting not to be resuscitated, and talking about the difficulty of her illness immediately prior to saying this line - could easily be read as "sometimes, disabled lives aren't worth living anymore. and you know what, people don't think about that enough"

bc that's how it came across to me (a chronically ill/disabled viewer). in particular, with the above line punctuating that scene, the dnr subplot was turned not into a storyline about respecting people's agency and body autonomy, in particular disabled people's, but instead, it became a story that pontificated about how no one ever considers that some people's lives, because they are chronically ill or disabled, aren't worth living.

and that message, to me - especially as a one off line by a guest character in a one off subplot, and especially as relates to the idea that this is something abled people don't believe and need to think about more - feels ignorant and even dangerous.

it feels harmful, when there is actively legislation going into effect that has doctors suggest 'assisted dying' before offering or as an equal option to things like pain management, therapy, community resources and support.

(not dead yet's blog lists multiple different cases from the past year alone, and in their toolkit explains from disabled advocate's perspective why this is a complex issue)

it feels harmful as we enter year three of a pandemic whose spread has been aided by the philosophy, both colloquially and as represented by government policy, of 'well, only people who are already sick will die, and you know, they're already sick'.

(see the head of the US's CDC recently saying that it was "encouraging news" - actually her words - that, around the time of her statement, most of the people dying from COVID already had other comorbidities. rolling stone has a p good article on this cdc incident)

it feels harmful because actually, plenty of people already feel that many chronically ill and disabled people would be better off dead- something we've actually seen represented on screen this season when the nurses made their comments while tk was in a coma -

and actually, major media is actually more likely to represent disabled and chronically ill people when they are part of storylines where they are either completely cured, or they die - and where their deaths can be seen as better for them, better the people around them, and even quite a romantic thing to do. (me before you anyone?)

eugenic practices and philosophies are alive and well, ableism is still rampant in this world, and actually, the story - the reality - that is actually underrepresented in major media? it's the one where disabled people do want to live, do have lives worth living.

again, this is not to comment on this character's choice or anyone's w/r/t dnr requests. this is not to say that a dnr is the exact same thing as assisted suicide, or to comment on real world issues in general.

what i am directing my comments at is at the writing team, at the storytellers who decide to tell stories with complex real-world histories, interconnectivities, and applications, and then not giving those storylines the care, nuance, and importantly, specificity that such storylines deserve. its at the failure to consider what generalisations a lack of that specificity and nuance could lead to. To forget the potential implications of leaving in a line just because it sounds powerful and pretty.

so, as i said earlier in a different post, @ 911-verse writers room, producers, etc, if you're out there, next time you attempt to write about disability justice, please get a disability justice advocate in the room to guide you through it.

(or you know what, just consult with activists for any storylines about mis- and underrepresented communities in general. hollywood, it is possible make sensitivity reading a practice for movies and tv shows, too.)

[alwaysmarilynmonroe]

Firstly, I want to apologize in advance for any insensitivity or inaccuracies in this post. I cannot pretend I am as educated as I would like to be, but I am extremely passionate in learning about others and using my privilege for good.

Since the horrific murder of African American, George Floyd on May 25th 2020, rightful outrage has broken out worldwide over the injustice and disgraceful blatant racism that is still going on in 2020. Fifty seven years since Martin Luther King Jr. spoke his, “I Have A Dream” speech during the March On Washington For Jobs And Freedom on August 28th 1963. Fifty one years since Marsha P. Johnson, a Black Trans Woman, Sylvia Rivera, a Latina American Transgender Activist, Raymond Castro, a Latino gay man, Miss Major Griffin – Gracy, a Black Trans woman and Storm Delaverie, a Mixed Raced lesbian, fought during the Stonewall Riots on June 28th 1969. Which begs the question, why is it half a century later so many Black Lives are being taken mercilessly each day?

With June being the month of PRIDE and as I am hugely passionate about LGBTQ+ Rights, I feel it is important to note that the first riot protesting was led by Black Trans Women and Gay Men. I must mention that Black Trans Women have an average life span of 35 YEARS – just let that sink in for a moment.

We are all the same, we are all human, nobody is born racist. It is so wonderful to have so many colours and cultures within our world and yet a huge number of people are hurting this. Without variety we would not be able to educate one another and learn about each others history.

For the people that are posting about how, “All Lives Matter” I can’t emphasize enough how frustrating this is. No one is saying that white people don’t matter, the injustice is not harming white people, there is no racial prejudice and harm coming to myself because of the colour of my skin. Yes, every single person in the world suffers and has hard times, but BAME are the only ones being persecuted because of their skin. The “Black Lives Matter” movement is bringing awareness to the dangers so many people suffer every single day, living in fear doing the most mundane things that we so often take for granted. It is worth noting that white people will never understand this pain and fear, but we can understand the suffering so many people of colour go through and try and prevent it from continuing. I have started a thread on my Twitter, to share each petition I have signed, hoping that others will take a few minutes to do the same – it is the least we can do.

I’m also going to share each of the petitions in this post, with information about the victims who have suffered such pain. People may have seen the murder of George Floyd and think this is the first of it’s kind and tragically, it is not. Police brutality is extremely real and not only is it happening in the USA, it is happening in the UK too. Inquest, have stated there have been 1741 DEATHS in police custody or otherwise following contact with the police in England and Wales since 1990, with 14% and 183 of them being of BAME . In 2019, mappingpolicebrutality states there were only 27 DAYS IN 2019 where police did not kill someone, 24% of the victims were black, despite being 13% of the population and in 99% of the killings NO ONE HAS BEEN CHARGED.

I simply must take the time to thank the amazing Nico, who runs blacklivesmatters, because of you I have been able to educate myself and sign petitions on incredible people, that I admittedly had no idea existed. Thanks to thehindu website, I have learnt that between 2013 – 2019, 42 PER MILLION populations of African Americans were killed in police shootings – the highest among races, with statistics showing they are THREE TIMES more likely to be murdered than white people. Furthermore, over 17% of African American victims were UNARMED.

Here are a few of the many lives which have been lost and families which have been destroyed. It is important to remember these victims and share their stories. I’m ashamed to say that I had only heard about one of the stories that I am posting, which goes to show how many are ignored, and never spoken about. This is not acceptable, no one deserves such inhumanity and suffering. I am aware that these facts are hard to read and may be triggering to some, which I do apologize for, not because they have to be read, but because they ever happened in the first place. It is our responsibility to educate ourselves and not turn a blind eye to the injustices and tragedies which is happening daily in our world.

Marsha P. Johnson (left) and Sylvia Rivera (right) at the Christopher Street Liberation Day Gay Pride Parade photographed by Leonard Fink on June 24th 1973.

Black Trans American Gay Rights Activist, Marsha P. Johsnon.

Derek Charles Livingston walks in the Million Man March in Washington DC by Roderick Terry on October 16th 1995.

Black Lives Matter Artwork by @Beccallen_design

I can’t find any information on the people, protest or photographer, if anyone knows please contact me!

______________________________________________________________________________

SAY THEIR NAMES.

TRAYVON MARTIN:

A 17 year old African American teenager, who was fatally shot in Sanford, Florida by George Zimmerman, on February 26th 2012. Trayvon was walking alone to his father’s fiancée’s house from a store and Zimmerman, a member of the community watch, saw Trayvon and reported him to the Sanford Police as suspicious. Several minutes later, there was an altercation and Zimmerman fatally shot Trayvon in the chest. Zimmerman was NOT charged at the time and when he eventually was tried, he was ACQUITTED of second-degree murder and manslaughter.

SANDRA BLAND:

A 28 year old African American woman, who was found hanged in her jail cell in Waller County, Texas, on July 13th 2015. Sandra had been pulled over for a minor traffic violation, three days earlier by State Trooper Brian Encinia, who ended up arresting her with the charge of assaulting a police officer. Part of the exchange was recorded and after authorities reviewed the footage, Encinia was placed on administrative leave for failing to follow proper traffic stop procedures. However, in December 2015, a grand jury decided AGAINST indicting the country sheriff and jail staff for any misdemeanors regarding Sandra’s tragic death. Encinia was eventually indicted for making false statements about Sandra’s arrest and was fired. However, in June 2017 the perjury charges against him were DROPPED, with the confirmation he would end his law enforcement career.

KATHRYN JOHNSTON:

A 92 year old African American woman, who was killed by undercover police in her home on Neal Street in northwest Atlanta on November 21st 2006. They broke down her door and fired 39 SHOTS at her, with five or six hitting – she fired one, which didn’t harm anyone. The officers were found to have falsified evidence, stating drugs were present in her home, which was the original cause for the raid. Jason R. Smith, Gregg Junnier, and Arthur Tesler were tried for MANSLAUGHTER and sentenced to only 10, 6 and 5 YEARS.

SEAN BELL:

A 23 year old African American man, who was killed the morning before his Wedding, on November 25th 2006. Detective Paul Headley fired one shot, officer Michael Carey fired three times, officer Marc Cooper shot FOUR TIMES, and officer Gescard Isnora shot ELEVEN TIMES and officer Michael Oliver shot 31 TIMES, reloading his gun AT LEAST once. Two of Sean’s friends, JOSEPH GUZMAN and TRENT BENEFIELD were severely wounded but thankfully survived. Isnora and Oliver were charged with first and second degree MANSLAUGHTER, whilst Cooper was charged with RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT. All three were ACQUITTED, only being fired or forced to resign from the force.

ERIC GARNER:

A 43 year old African American man, who was killed by New York police officer Daniel Pantaleo, after he was placed in a chokehold whilst being arrested on July 17th 2004. The medical examiners actually RULED HIS DEATH AS A HOMICIDE however, Pantaleo was NOT charged with murder and was only fired on August 19th 2019, MORE THAN FIVE YEARS after Eric’s death.

REKIA BOYD:

A 22 year old African American woman, who was killed by an off-duty Chicago police detective, Dante Servin, on March 21st 2012. Rekia’s friend, ANTONIA CROSS was also shot in the hand. Over a year later, in November 2013, Servin was charged with INVOLUNTARY MANSLAUGHTER, but was CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES, by Judge Dennis J. Porter on April 20th 2015. Servin resigned two days before his departmental hearing on May 17th 2016, FOUR YEARS after Rekia’s murder.

AMADOU DIALLO:

A 23 year old Guinean immigrant, who was murdered by four New York City plain clothed police officers, Sean Carroll, Richard Murphy, Edward McMellon, and Kenneth Boss, on February 4th 1999. They fired 41 SHOTS, of which 19 HIT AMADOU and were charged only with SECOND DEGREE MURDER – all ended up being ACQUITTED. In 2015, Boss was PROMOTED to sergeant – he had already murdered PATRICK BAILEY, a 22 year old Jamaican born American Citizen on October 31st 1997.

MICHAEL BROWN JR.:

A 18 year old African American man, who was murdered by Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson, on August 9th 2014. Michael was UNARMED with his friend, DORIAN JOHNSON and his body was left in the street for FOUR HOURS before he was removed. On August 11th, a Civil Rights Investigation was opened, but on March 4th 2015, CLEARED Wilson of any civil rights violations. He was NOT charged. On November 29th, Wilson resigned from the force, citing security concerns.

KIMANI “KIKI” GRAY:

A 16 year old African American boy, who was murdered by two plain clothed New York City police officers, Mourad Mourad and Jovaniel Cordova, on March 9th 2013. He was shot at ELEVEN TIMES, and was hit by SEVEN of them. Mourad was nominated for, “Cop Of The Year” in 2014, despite being named in THREE FEDERAL LAWSUITS FOR VIOLATING CIVIL RIGHTS along with another shooting in 2011. Both have NOT been charged.

KENNETH CHAMBERLAIN SR.:

A 68 year old African American man, who was murdered by police officer, Anthony Carelli after inadvertently triggering his LifeAid medical alert necklace. The officers broke down his door, even after Kenneth stated he did not need assistance and had asked them to leave. They stayed for one hour trying to force the door open and an officer called Stephen Hart, swore at him and called him horrific racist words. Kenneth was UNARMED, which DNA evidence has proven and was TASERED and shot at TWICE. In 2012 the case was reviewed by a grand jury and the officers were NOT charged.

TRAVARES MCGILL:

A 16 year old African American boy, who was murdered by security guards, William Patrick Swofford and Bryan Ansley, in a parking lot on July 16th 2005. Originally, the two men were NOT charged, it wasn’t until FOUR MONTHS later in November, that Swofford was charged with MANSLAUGHTER and both with SHOOTING INTO AN OCCUPIED VEHICLE. The charges later ended up being DISMISSED.

TAMIR RICE:

A 12 year old African American boy, who was SHOT TWICE in Cleveland, Ohio by police officer Timothy Loehmann, on November 22nd 2014. He was simply playing with a TOY GUN and ended up dying in hospital the next day. Loehmann was NOT CHARGED and was only fired THREE YEARS LATER in 2017, after it was revealed that he had been labelled an EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE RECRUIT and UNFIT FOR DUTY in his previous job.

AIYANA STANLEY-JONES:

A 7 year old African American girl, who was murdered by police officer, Joseph Weekley, during a house raid, on May 16th 2010. In October 2011, Weekley was charged INVOLUNTARY MANSLAUGHTER and RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT WITH A GUN. Weekley ended up having two mistrials and the judge actually DISMISSED the involuntary manslaughter charge in the second one. Five years later, on January 28th 2015, Weekley was CLEARED of his reckless endangerment with a gun charge, meaning the third retrial would not happen.

FREDDIE GRAY:

A 25 year old African American man, who was arrested on April 12th 2015 by lieutenant Brian W. Rice, officer Edward Nero, and officer Garrett E. Miller, after running away from them, whilst they were patrolling. Freddie was subsequently charged with having a knife in his possession, although no harm was caused and the knife was not used. Freddie was then placed in a transport van within 11 minutes of his arrest and half an hour later he was IN A COMA. He died on April 19th, a week after his arrest, with his cause of death being stated as injuries to his spinal cord. The medical examiners ruled his death a HOMICIDE, saying that his injuries had been sustained whilst being transported and that the officers FAILED TO FOLLOW SAFETY PROCEDURES. Six officers were filed with various criminal charges, including MANSLAUGHTER, ILLEGAL ARREST, RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT and SECOND DEGREE “DEPRAVED-HEART” MURDER for officer Caesar R. Goodson Jr., who was driving the van. Each officer was granted a separate trial, Porters resulted in a MISTRIAL, whilst Nero, Rice and Goodson were all ACQUITTED. Any of the various other charges were subsequently DROPPED.

SEAN RIGG

A 40 year old black man, who died following a cardiac arrest whilst in police custody, in South London, England on August 28th 2008. Sean suffered with paranoid schizophrenia and was in a vulnerable mental state, resulting in the hostel staff he lived with calling 999 FIVE TIMES over a period of THREE HOURS. They were informed by operator, Maurice Glove that Sean was NOT A POLICE PRIORITY. Response was eventually made after members of the public had observed Sean acting strangely in the street. Four police officers chased him and he was handcuffed and restrained in a face down position, being LENT ON FOR 8 MINUTES. FOUR YEARS LATER in 2012, Southwalk Coroner’s Court concluded police had used, “UNSUITABLE AND UNNECESSARY FORCE” and their failings, “MORE THAN MINIMALLY” contributed to his death. In March 2013, sergeant Paul White and officer Mark Harratt were arrested on perverting the court of justice, regarding the evidence presented at Sean’s inquest. However, in October 2014, the CPS decided NOT to charge them. Sean’s family did request a Right To Review policy and White was charged with PERJURY – ultimately, he was ACQUITTED in November 2016.

______________________________________________________________________________

PETITIONS TO SIGN:

Here are some of the petitions I have came across to support, it simply takes a few seconds of your time and every signature helps. Please also take the time to read the victims stories and share, together our voices have power and can hopefully help in moving towards a happier and healthier society.

• MINNEAPOLIS DISTRICT ATTORNEY: RAISE THE DEGREE • JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLOYD (1) • CHARGE MINNEAPOLIS POLICE OFFICERS FOR MURDER OF GEORGE FLOYD (2) • JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLOYD (3) • GET THE OFFICERS CHARGED: JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLOYD (4) • SENATOR BLUMENTHAL: GEORGE FLOYD: WE NEED NATIONWIDE POLICE DE-ESCALATION (5) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (1) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (2) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (3) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (4) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (5) • DISBARMENT OF GEORGE E. BARNHILL • JUSTICE FOR AHMUAD ARBERY (1) • DISTRICT ATTORNEY TOM DURDEN: JUSTICE FOR AHMAUD ARBERY (2) • GOVERNOR BRIAN KEMP: JUSTICE FOR AHMAUD ARBERY (3) • DEFUND MPD • MANDATORY LIFE SENTENCE FOR POLICE BRUTALITY • JUSTICE FOR REGIS KORCHINSKI-PAQUET • JUSTICE FOR TONY MCDADE (1) • JUSTICE FOR TONY MCDADE (2) • JUSTICE FOR TONY MCDADE (3) • JUSTICE FOR JOAO PEDRO • SAVE INNOCENT JULIUS JONES FROM DEATH ROW • JUSTICE FOR BELLY MUJINGA • GOVERNOR KAY IVEY: FREE WILLIE SIMMONS • HANDS UP ACT • NATIONAL ACTION AGAINST POLICE BRUTALITY AND MURDER • ILLINOIS GOVERNOR: CORRECT WRONGFUL CONVICTION OF KYJUANZI HARRIS • JUSTICE FOR ALEJANDRO VARGAS MARTINEZ • CENSORSHIP OF POLICE BRUTALITY IN FRANCE • JUSTICE FOR SEAN REED • MAYOR JOE HOGSETT: JUSTICE FOR SEAN REED • JUSTICE FOR KENDRICK JOHNSON • JUSTICE FOR TAMIR RICE (1) • JUSTICE FOR TAMIR RICE (2) • FIRE RACIST CRIMINAL FROM THE NYPD • JUSTICE FOR JAMEE JOHNSON • JUSTICE FOR DARIUS STEWART (1) • JUSTICE FOR DARIUS STEWART (2) • ABOLISH PRISON LABOR • FREE SIYANDA MNGAZA • JUSTICE FOR CHRYSTUL KIZER (1) • JUSTICE FOR CHRYSTUL KIZER (2) • JUSTICE FOR ANDILE “BOBO” MCHUNU • FREE ERIC RIDDICK • JUSTICE FOR AMIYA BRAXTON • JUSTICE FOR EMERALD BLACK • JUSTICE FOR ELIJAH NICHOLS • JUSTICE FOR ZINEDINE KARABO GIOIA • RETRIAL FOR WRONGFUL CONVICTION OF ANGEL BUMPASS • SCOTLAND POLICE: INVESTIGATE THE DEATH OF SHEKU BAYOH IN POLICE CUSTODY • JUSTICE FOR JENNIFER JEFFLEY • FREE ALBERT WILSON • MADISON SOUTHERN HIGH SCHOOL: JUSTICE FOR MACIE • JUSTICE FOR AMARI BOONE • JUSTICE FOR CRYSTAL MASON • JUSTICE FOR RASHAD CUNNINGHAM • GOODWOOD MAGISTRATE COURT: JUSTICE FOR TAZNE VAN WYK • PORTLAND POLICE: JUSTICE FOR TETE GULLEY • DROP CHARGES ON MARSHAE JONES & CHARGE THE SHOOTER OF HER & HER UNBORN BABY • TEMPLE POLICE DEPARTMENT: JUSTICE FOR MICHAEL DEAN  • STAND WITH #BLM • MOVEMENT4BLACKLIVES • PHOENIX POLICE DEPARTMENT: JUSTICE FOR DION JOHNSON • FIRE RON FREEMAN • MANCHESTER POLICE: JUSTICE FOR SHUKRI ABDI • DISTRICT ATTORNEY JIM WARD: JAIL TIME FOR DYLAN MOTA AND JACOB ROBLES • NSW POLICE: MANDATE THE POLICE FORCE ACADEMIES TO TAKE RACIAL BIAS TEST • JUNK THE ANTI-TERRORISM BILL AND UPHOLD HUMAN RIGHTS • NIGERIA POLICE FORCE: JUSTICE FOR YOUNG UWA • SCHOOLS MUST SPEAK UP NOW • SEATTLE POLICE: ARREST JARED CAMPBELL (1) • TERMINATE JARED CAMPBELL (2) • POLICE DE-ESCALATION TRAINING • PARDON CRYSTAL MASON IMPRISONED FOR VOTING. • JUSTICE FOR CAMERON GREEN • UNITED NATIONS: BAN THE USE OF INHUMANE RUBBER BULLETS (1) • UN AND US GOVERNMENT: BAN THE USE OF RUBBER BULLETS (2) • STOP USING ICE TO POISON IMMIGRANTS • THE TRAYVON MARTIN LAW – STOP THIS FROM HAPPENING AGAIN • COOKS COUNTY ILLINOIS POLICE: FREE CHAFFIN DARNEL Y • SUPPORT FORMER BUFFALOE POLICE OFFICER CARIOL HORNE TO RECEIVE HER PENSION • IMPROVE WORKING CONDITIONS FOR BLACK PEOPLE IN ITALY • DEFUND DALLAS POLICE DEPARTMENT AND INVEST IN THE LARGER DALLAS COMMUNITY • JUSTICE FOR BRITTANY CHRISHAWN WILLIAMS • RICHMOND CITY COUNCIL & MAYOR STONEY: MARCUS ALERT & CIVILIAN OVERSIGHT OF RPD • JUSTICE FOR QUENTIN SUTTLES • SAVE INNOCENT KENNETH REAMS FROM DEATH ROW • KING COUNTY POLICE OFFICERS GUILD: REQUIRE DASH AND BODY CAMERAS • DEFUND THE POLICE • JUSTICE FOR JAMES SCURLOCK (1) • JUSTICE FOR JAMES SCURLOCK (2) • CLASSIFY WHITE SUPREMACISTS AS TERRORISTS • JUSTICE FOR DAVID MCATEE • NO POLICE PRESENCE AT TACOMA BLM PROTEST • DEFUND SDPD • FIRE LAPD CHIEF MICHAEL MOORE • MAKE WASHINGTON STATE POLICE ACCOUNTABLE FOR POLICE BRUTALITY • FIRE OFFICER CAMILLE STEPHENSON • STOP ILLEGAL EXPORT OF RIOTING EQUIPMENT • JUSTICE FOR SHELLEY FREY • JUSTICE FOR ASHTON DICKSON • BAN/RESTRICT TEARGAS • KNOCK DOWN SLAVE MARKET CENTER • FREE ANTHONY WITT • JUSTICE FOR SANDRA BLAND • PROTECT UK BLACK TRANS WOMEN • REJECT TRUMP’S VIOLENCE TOWARDS PROTESTORS • MAKE POLICE BRUTALITY ILLEGAL • FIRE AUSTIN CHIEF POLICE • JUSTICE FOR BRAD LEVI • JUSTICE FOR JONAS JOSEPH • JUSTICE FOR DOMINIQUE CLAYTON • JUSTICE FOR ANDERSON ARBOLEDA • FREE CURTIS PRICE ______________________________________________________________________________

DONATIONS:

From reading various sources of information, it is advised to not donate to change.org, as it is a private corporation and none of the funds go towards the organizations or people that have put the petitions together. Of course, continue to sign the petitions, but please take the time to read their FAQ regarding donations.

Here is a list of recommended websites via blacklivesmatters: ______________________________________________________________________________

VICTIMS:

• GEORGE FLOYD MEMORIAL FUND • GEORGE FLOYD’S SISTERS FUND • GEORGE FLOYD’S DAUGHTERS FUND • BREONNA TAYLOR FUND • AHMAUD ARBERY FUND • REGIS KORCHINSKI FUND • JAMEE JOHNSON FUND • DESTINY HARRISON FUNERAL FUND • ERIC ROSALIA FUND • BELLY MUJINGA FUND • DION JOHNSON FUND • AARON JAMES FUND • TONY MCDADE FUND • HEALING FOR DARNELLA • DESTINY’S DREAM SCHOLARSHIP • JAMES SCURLOCK FUND • SUPPORT FOR LESLIE FUND • TREVER BELLE FUND • TAMPA BAY COMMUNITY SUPPORT • BRAD LEVI AYALA FUND • ALAJUNAYE DAVIS FUND • SAID JOQUIN FUND • DAVID MCATEE FUND • ITALIA KELLEY FUND ______________________________________________________________________________

* PROTESTORS *

• BALI FUNDS BY STATE • TAMPA BAY COMMUNITY SUPPORT • SPLIT DONATION TO 37 BAIL FUNDS • NATIONAL BAIL FUND NETWORK • BAIL FUND GOOGLE DOC • BAIL FUND TWITTER THREAD • GAS MASK FUND • UNICORN RIOT FUND • MESSIAH YOUNG AND TANIYA PILGRIM • EZEQUIEL VALDERAS BAIL FUND • BLM FRONTLINE FUND • FUND PROTESTORS IN THE UK • SUPPLIES FOR DC PROTESTORS • VENMO: FEMME EMPOWERMENT PROJECT ______________________________________________________________________________

* BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES *

• BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES THREAD • BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES ATLANTA • BURGERIM DALLAS TEXAS • EMW WOMEN’S

* EMW is the ONLY abortion clinic in Kentucky and is 1 OF THE 6 black owned clinics in the country.

• REBUILD SCORES SPORTS BAR FUND • REBUILD SACDELUX CONSIGNMENT STORE FUND • HELP TRIO THRIVE • ATLANTA BLACK OWNED BUSINESS RELIEF • REBUILD GUNS & ROSES BOUTIQUE FUND • SOMALI OWNED BUSINESSES • REBUILD SHOE MOUNTAIN FUND • REBUILD THE BLOCK FUND • MINNEAPOLIS BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES • LONG BEACH BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES ______________________________________________________________________________

* ORGANIZATIONS *

• Reclaim The Block • North Star Health Collective • NAACP Legal Defense Fund • Black Visions Collective • Black Disability Coalition • The Marshall Project • ACLU • Campaign Zero • Advancement Project ______________________________________________________________________________ * OTHER IMPORTANT PLACES *

• SUPPORT SYBRINA FULTON, TRAYVON MARTIN’S MOTHER WHO IS RUNNING FOR OFFICE IN FLORIDA • SUPPORT LUCY MCBETH FOR RE-ELECTION HER SON JORDAN DAVIS WAS MURDERED AT 17 BY A RACIST • BLM FUND • BLM LA FUND • SMALL BUSINESSES REBUILD • BAY AREA BLACK BUSINESSES FUND • LOVELAND THERAPY FUND • BLACK TRANS WOMEN FUND • NATIONAL POLICE ACCOUNTABILITY PROJECT • CHANGE THE NYPD • LAKE STREET CLEANUP • UNTIL FREEDOM • REBUILD NATIVE AMERICAN YOUTH CENTER • REBUILD VIETNAMESE RESTAURANT FUND • CAMBODIA TOWN RELIEF FUND • REBUILD JOY’S BEAUTY SALON FUND • LOCAL RICHMOND BUSINESSES (VA) • FORDHAM CLEANUP FUND • REDISTRIBUTION TO BLACK CENTERED GROUPS • DONATE TO END PERIOD POVERTY ______________________________________________________________________________ * USEFUL RESOURCES * • BLACK LIVES MATTER • BLACK MENTAL HEALTH RESOURCES (1) • BLACK MENTAL HEALTH RESOURCES (2) • CAPTAINS FOR DEAF OR HOH ______________________________________________________________________________

“PLEASE, I CAN’T BREATHE. MY STOMACH HURTS. MY NECK HURTS. EVERYTHING HURTS. THEY’RE GOING TO KILL ME.”

– George Floyds last words.

BLACK LIVES MATTER. Firstly, I want to apologize in advance for any insensitivity or inaccuracies in this post. I cannot pretend I am as educated as I would like to be, but I am extremely passionate in learning about others and using my privilege for good.

[zutaras-where-its-at]

21: “He’s a bad kisser”

I’ve been busy the last week with moving to a new place and trying to get everything set up, so I apologize for the lateness of these requests, but don’t worry, I’m still attempting to get through as many as possible!

Every prompt is ending up longer and longer than I had originally intended, but I’m not mad about it lol. This one is definitely my cheesy shipper heart talking, so it’s mostly fluff and dialogue, and wholly indulging my shameless wishful thinking.

[Set during “The Ember Island Players.” The conversation we all wish had happened.]

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

He doesn’t really know why he edged Aang out to sit next to her. He doesn’t really wanna think about it. Call him a coward, but the realization waiting for him at the end of that particular rabbit trail isn’t one he’s necessarily prepared to confront.

What he does know, however, is that he possesses incredible hearing, even with his scorched ear. And when the two actors on stage portraying Jet and Katara begin to incessantly flirt with one another, Zuko almost chokes on his spit when he hears Katara mutter under her breath beside him.

“He’s a bad kisser.”

Zuko shoots her a bewildered look and hisses, “What?”

She startles, apparently not realizing she had spoken aloud. “I—uh, what?”

Zuko whips his head back to stare at the actors, who are now grossly entwined with one another, and he can’t unsee the image of the real Jet and Katara locked in an embrace.

“You and—“

“Shut up!” She cuts him off with a harsh whisper, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Her eyes flick to the others behind them, but they’re too busy watching the entrance of their own characters. “Just shut up.”

“But he was insane!”

She blinks, then leans closer, dark brows scrunching together. “Wait. How do you know Jet?”

Before he can answer, Toph punches Katara in the shoulder and tells them to quit gossiping.

Zuko crosses his arms and tries not to glare through the rest of the play. His foul mood only worsens as the night wears on. Intermission comes and goes. The cringeworthy moment between his actor and Katara’s passes with discomfort from both parties and light teasing from the others. The traumatic end goes up in literal flames, and finally, they’re free to leave.

The night air is cool and dry against his skin, and Zuko takes a deep breath, attempting to calm the convulsing fire within him. Sokka and Toph attempt to cheer up the group, and even succeed in bringing out a few laughs from the others, but the mood refuses to shift beyond that.

The moment they step foot in the beach house, everyone disperses to their respective rooms. No one seems up to any games or conversation anymore.

Zuko lays in bed, eyes staring blankly at the wood panels above him. His mind is still racing and his head feels like it might explode, so once the noise of people moving around in the house finally dies down, he throws on a shirt and makes his way to the kitchen. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to scrounge up some of his family’s old alcohol in one of the cupboards.

Zuko is in the midst of cursing at all the empty bottles of wine and whiskey he finds in the pantry when she walks in.

“What are you doing?”

He jerks up on reflex, smacking his head against the shelf he’s leaning over and curses again. Apparently, his incredible hearing only picks up on disturbing and uncomfortable information from his enemy-turned-friend, but is useless when that aforementioned friend actually sneaks up on him.

Zuko throws a look over his shoulder to see Katara standing in the doorway looking mildly amused.

“I’m trying to get drunk, but it looks like I’m shit out of luck.”

She snorts and walks to the wicker basket sitting on the counter. Her nimble fingers glide over the assortment of fruit before she picks up a ripe looking mango. Her other hand grabs the small knife beside the basket before she’s walking out the way she came.

“Well, I’m going to get some fresh air. Have fun.”

He stares after her for a moment, rubbing at the bump that’s beginning to form on the back of his head. Making up his mind, he finally ditches the disappointing liquor cabinet, grabs an ash banana, and follows her to the porch.

She’s already slicing the mango into halves when he joins her. She doesn’t look up when he sits down next to her, but she does tip her head up in acknowledgment.

He watches her shave off a piece of the mango and stick it in her mouth, watches the pale juice slip down her fingers and over her wrist. He blinks hard and focuses on peeling his banana. They eat their fruit like that, just sitting on the front steps in a mutually maintained silence.

Zuko would even go so far as to call it peaceful. That is, until she takes it upon herself to violate the quiet mood.

“Did you really dump Mai in a letter?”

It’s so far from what he expected her to say that a sharp laugh manages to escape him. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t exactly trying to dump her, but she took it that way anyways.”

“What were you trying to do?”

Zuko sighs and throws his banana peel into the shadowed bushes at the bottom of the steps with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t know. I—I guess I just didn’t want to drag her into my mess. Things were already complicated between us, even after I returned to the Fire Nation. In a way, I thought I was doing her a favor by leaving without saying goodbye. She doesn’t deserve to suffer from my choices.”

“Well, it sounds like she’s suffering anyways.”

He bristles at that, voice growing cold. “Don’t act like you know her or our relationship. Everything I did was—“

“Zuko, relax.” Her eyes are wide, caught off guard by his biting tone. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything. I just...I can imagine how she feels—knowing that you’re doing what you think is best, but she can’t help you. That’s probably a tough spot to be in.”

Slowly, Zuko let’s the tension seep out from his shoulders, resuming his previously relaxed state. “Yeah.”

An apologetic smile tilts her lips. “In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best time to sympathize with her side. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs and fiddles with the hem of his tunic. “You’re right though. Even when I try to do the right thing, I end up hurting someone.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her shift a little, her body turning just the slightest bit more towards him.

“Look, Zuko. If the right thing was always the easiest thing to do, then nobody would struggle to make the right choices.” She hesitates for just a second before continuing. “Do you regret leaving her and coming to join us?”

He feels his heart beating slow and steady against his rib cage, and before he can really process the question, his answer is slipping out with a confidence he hadn’t realized he possessed. “No, I don’t. If I had stayed, a part of me would have hated myself for ignoring my destiny, and I know that I eventually would have hated her for it too.”

She reaches over and briefly squeezes his arm before letting go again. The skin there tingles in the seconds after her hand withdraws. “Then you’re okay. You can’t control anyone else’s feelings, only your own. Mai is strong. She’ll be alright.”

Uncle would love you, Zuko thinks.

He doesn’t realize he’s said this out loud until she laughs and shakes her head.

Suddenly, he remembers a part of the play that had him puzzled.

“Were you really the Painted Lady?”

Her laughter abruptly cuts off and she sheepishly tugs on a lock of hair. “Only for a little bit. The part about healing the people and cleaning the river is true, but the playwright added about twelve more explosions than there actually were. Plus, I had Aang, Sokka, and Toph to help me out.”

“But did you actually destroy a Fire Nation factory?”

A defensive look shutters her face, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes, but the factory was polluting their water! And the soldiers from the factory were—“

“Do you wanna be my partner sometime?”

“—taking all the medicine from—what?”

He tries valiantly not to laugh at her incredulous stare.

“Do you want to be my partner sometime?” He leans back on his hands, legs straightening out in front of him. “The playwright got a lot of things wrong. That time Aang got captured—Zhao was the one who caught him. I was the Blue Spirit that broke him out.”

She gapes at him, lips struggling to form words.

He grins. “I just think that the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady might make a good team.”

Her mouth opens and shuts a few times before she lets out a soft “huh” and squints her eyes at him.

“So...Between chasing after us and commanding a squad of soldiers, you somehow found the time to be a street vigilante?”

“Between running away from me and helping the Avatar save the world, you somehow found the time to make out with a teenage terrorist?”

It slips out before he can stop it, and a pang of guilt sweeps through him. He winces, afraid that he’s just ruined a perfectly civil conversation because of his irrational jealousy curiosity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I wasn’t—“

His rambling cuts off when she starts to laugh. It’s a little brittle and a lot loud, but it’s laughter all the same.

She stops, smiling ruefully up at the night sky. “Yeah, I guess it does sound pretty stupid when you put it that way.”

“It’s not stupid.”

She lets out a long sigh and flops onto her back, arms splayed haphazardly above her head. “No, it is. I mean, in my defense, he was one of the first boys my age that I’d pretty much ever met, and he did happen to be extremely charming. That was also back when life didn’t feel like it was always on the cusp of the end of the world. But all of that...I mean, the kissing and stuff...it’s all just a waste of time right now.”

Zuko doesn’t quite know what to say to that, an odd mix of sympathy and disappointment swirling his stomach.

“Surprisingly, he kisses better than Jet. But only by a little.”

“Who?”

“Aang.”

Zuko’s eyes almost bug out of their sockets for what feels like the millionth time tonight. He scrambles to twist around and look at her. “You’ve kissed Aang?”

She hardly moves, eyes trained on the stars stretching above them. “Well, he kissed me. Twice, actually.”

There’s a beat, and then Zuko is bending over his knees with his head in his hands, half-groaning, half-chuckling.

“Of course he did.”

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“No, no! I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

She covers her face with her hands and Zuko leans back on one elbow, stifling his chuckles.

“I’m not laughing at you. I just find the situation kind of ironic.”

One droll eye peeks out at him from between her fingers. “Ironic how?”

He blanches, realizing too late that this conversation has taken a rapid turn for a topic that he has shoved (guiltily, shamefully) deep into the recesses of his mind. Stuttering, Zuko gestures emptily with one hand.

“I just meant—well it’s—,” a half-grunt, half-squeak escapes his throat and Zuko would very much like to die right about now, “I’m just saying that—“

She isn’t covering her face anymore, so he can see the delicate lift of her left eyebrow in all its judgmental glory. He looks away.

“I just think your taste in men is interesting.”

He continues to avoid her eyes, but he can still feel her searching gaze on the side of his face.

“That’s not what you were going to say.”

“What? Yes it was.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Zuko, you’re a terrible liar. What were you really going to say? Why do you think it’s so ironic that Aang and I have kissed?”

The logical part of his brain warns him that telling her the truth would be a very large mistake, strictly cautions him that it would only complicate their hard-earned friendship. But the other part of his brain—the part that fully soaks in her un-ruffled, overly-composed appearance and longs to just smudge it with a streak of his own insecurity and embarrassment—that part quickly bashes the logical part in the face with a tsungi horn and leaves it to bleed out in a ditch.

“I find it so ironic, Katara, because a genocidal homeless kid and a twelve year old monk have managed to accomplish what I’ve been wanting to do for ages now.”

She blinks, and Zuko feels the sharp sting of a blush crawling up his neck, but the damage is already done and he refuses to be the first to look away.

A string of emotions shifts like shadows over her face—confusion surprise embarrassment. Realization.

Her lashes flutter, her lips part, and her eyelids lower to half-mast. Zuko has to clench his teeth to hold back a groan.

“You,” her breath skates across his face (when did they get so close?), “want to kiss me?”

He doesn’t trust his voice at the moment, giving her a jerky nod instead and then immediately wanting to sink into the floor.

But she hardly seems to notice his jittery body language. Rather, a slow grin curls at her mouth, and a cheeky glint makes her eyes sparkle up at him in a way that warns of danger. He doesn’t know why, but it turns him on a little.

“Well, clearly, you have quite the challenge waiting for you in the kissing department. How do I know you won’t be just as terrible of a kisser as Jet and Aang? Really, I don’t know if this is worth the risk for me.”

His nervousness begins to fade with her teasing, and he lets out a huff of laughter before doing what he does best. He rises to her bait.

“I might just be the best goddamn kisser in the whole Fire Nation, and you would never have the privilege of experiencing that unless you kiss me.”

Katara guffaws and levels him with an appraising look, her face tilting just the slightest bit up.

“Oh, so now it’s me who’s kissing you?”

He gives her a sage look, hair falling across his brow and tangling with his dark lashes. “That’s right. You better seize this rare opportunity before it slips right through your fingers. I have plenty of other suitors waiting for me, you know.”

Her snort nearly pulls a chuckle out of him, but he manages to maintain some semblance of a straight face.

“Plenty of other suitors, huh?”

“Plenty. Appa is the next on my list.”

One of his long fingers lightly coils around one of her dark, thin ones. With their faces mere inches apart, Zuko can see the mirth bubbling in the blue of her eyes mixing with something even brighter, something he can’t put into words but he can feel in his bones.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be shown up by Appa, now would I?”

When she finally presses her lips to his, Zuko swears that a Katara-shaped hole has just been carved into the puzzle that is his fate.

[valkerymillenia]

Umbrella Academy

season 2, episode 6

I couldn't resist. More live-blogging of this episode.

My poor Allison...

Oh so that's what Handler wants from Five...

Ahah, Luther and Diego pointing out what Reggie did to Vanya and her reaction is awesome.

"no more number 1 or number 2 bullshit" -yes, Diego, baby, you're growing up! Also, him trying to bond with Luther and Vanya on his own accord is so fucking cute...

Klaus doing yoga 😆

Oh, so confirmed that the cult started by accident.

"you're a narcissist"? Ben, you've been watching him closely for 16 years, you know that's not true, you know the narcissism is just a mask, you know Klaus is actually insanely empathetic and compassionate.

Oh, wait, Ben is only saying this crap because he doesn't want Klaus to disband the cult. I get it now, Ben is the one being selfish here.

Oh, so the girl Ben likes is Jill... Boy is smitten.

Ahahah, Ben freaked out by the yoga poses 😆

Jesus, they really don't give Klaus space to breathe.

"my name is Klaus's and I'm an alcoh--- Ah, sorry, that's the wrong meeting" 🤣🤣🤣

Oh God, this is turning into a Spartacus thing... Oh, it's not.

There they go objectifying him and only hearing what they want to hear... These dudes are almost as bad as the ghosts.

Oh so it DID turn into a Spartacus thing!

Klaus tries to do the right and it always blows up in his face, huh?

Ray's priorities though 😆

Ahahah, Allison and Ray pulling a 'Pretty Women' rodeo drive scene 🤣 love it

That's a beautiful dress, Allison 😊

Wait! She's using her powers without the 'rumor' prefix! 😲 Yes!!!!!!

Oh, Allison is losing control... Is this the cost? Getting lost in the power trip? I mean, we already knew but not too this extent.

Lila, your mom is actually protecting you here. Listen to her.

Handler teasing Lila about Diego really is such a mom thing to do.

"I know you fancy yourself a spiritual guru..." - no, Ben, have you not been paying attention? That's literally what Klaus thinks he's NOT but nobody will listen to him. You're right that he needs help though.

Ok, Klaus is right. Ben keeps contradicting himself about what Klaus should do.

"you sound just like Dad" Oh, shit that's a really mean insult in this family 🥺

Holy crap, was that possession?????

That looks severely uncomfortable.

"I think I was inside of you" -.... No, no, too easy, I'm not going to say it. 🤐

DAVE?

Awww, Klaus doesn't even care about the punch.

Dave likes Dune, huh? Good taste.

Oh, the dog tags.... 😭

"it's an honor to die for my country" -no, honey, not like this

Oh shit, timeline changed, timeline changed! Dave is going to wear early. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The shaking... Poor Klaus... How hasn't he snapped yet?

Swedes in the sauna, of course.

Strategically placed steam 😆

Ah! The Swedes FINALLY talk!

Ouch! Right for the balls. I'm starting to really like Handler.

"unharm my wiener" 🤣🤣🤣 poor boy

Handler, is this your attempt at protecting your daughter from feelings? It's twisted and evil but almost cute.

What the hell does "lavender" mean? Her perfume or something?

Southland Life?

The elevator scene! They really did all come together, I love it when Five is right.

AHAHAHAHAHAH What's with Luther and the stink jokes this season? 🤣🤣🤣🤣

'Daddy's girl' 😆

"team zero" I actually like that Diego keeps harping on the no numbers thing.

"classic" 😆

"hey pop, how's it hanging?" 🤣

"dead, yes, but I'm here! Klaus! Tell them I'm here!" -yes, please, Klaus, it's so cruel that you keep denying him that... 😣

"what are you writing?" Everybody leaning in and Diego getting all nervous. XD they are so conditioned, poor children.

The punch! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

"no, Vanya, don't!!!" Everyone is so scared of her but yet they are still making an effort to include her and that's so important!!

"oops" -that is not the smile of someone that means that oops, Vanya 😆

Reggie's sarcasm 🙄 I can see where half these siblings got their sass now.

Jesus Christ, Reginald is emotionally tearing Diego apart 😭 as much as Diego claims not to care what their father thinks, he cares, he really cares, they all do. I doesn't matter if you know that your parent is abusive, you will always have that visceral pain response of betrayal when they attack you and you will always in some way crave their approval. It's the terrible power imbalance of parental abuse.

There's the stutter! Poor Diego... Don't cry, baby...😭😭😭

Oh shit, Ben!

Reggie is not impressed. I get a feeling that they might have accidentally convinced him to NOT to adopt them...

"you in the cullotes" 😆 Reggie immediately tagged who the leader is

"I feel so violated" -why are they playing this for laughs?? It's horrible!

"oh, possession is a strong word, I'd like to say 'borrowed you'." -ok, so I get why Ben did that, Klaus pushed him too far and he got desperate. But please, PLEASE tell me Ben understands the seriousness of what he did and doesn't start abusing this ability without Klaus's consent.

ok, a serious thought now: no wonder Klaus did drugs, it was the only thing he could control in his life, the only way he had to take some control back, and this possession thing now only makes that more obvious. He has no control over his body if someone decided to take it, no control over the powers that make him see the dead everywhere, no control over his family life (the fact that Reginald locked in the mausoleum is just the tip of the iceberg in his lack of power), no control of the circumstances that killed the love of his life, no control over the masses that objectify him no matter how much he tries to tell them he isn't their savior and to leave him alone, he just has no control and nobody seems to get that, that's why him falling off the wagon is so serious and should be addressed by the family. Klaus deserves a family that cares about his suffering!!!

Congratulations to Luther for standing up to dad for the first time but Vanya is the only one with her priorities straight and goes straight to comforting Diego. And Diego immediately goes back to his passive-aggressive defense system...

I need more Diego-Vanya bonding in my life.

Poor Klaus... At least hold him properly, Luther.

I get a feeling this Grace is going to end up dying and I really don't want that to happen...

"technically I'm older than you right now" -no, Five, your not, you have no idea how old Reginald really is, he arrived in the US a full grown adult in the beginning of the century, he's inhumanly old (I never understood how he suddenly looked old in 89 when he adopted them considering that in 63 he looks almost as he did when he first arrived in the US so those decades before).

Ah, so that's what the ancient Greek was.

Reggie actually dishing out some wisdom and doing so patiently... Who is this?!

Don't you dare apologize, Five! You have nothing to apologize for!

Geez, Reggie and Five acting like they could be friends in different circumstances is actually surprisingly creepy. It also speaks to how fucked up even Five is about Reggie's abuse, even at almost 60 he's still clinging to the idea that maybe Reginald knows everything and has all the answers, he's still hoping that their suffering was for a reason and that Reginald might be proud of him. It's sad.

A cat? Are Swedes... Yes, the Swedes are in Elliot's house. Please don't let Elliot die, I like the poor weirdo.

The Swedes were more interesting when they didn't talk. (Still want to know what the glittery stuff they were drinking is).

"they do not abide women like us around here" -there or anywhere else, Sissy, it's 1963, homosexuality is literally illegal and considered a mental illness

Sissy actually makes a very good point.

Ok, this conversation is already veering their relationship into much healthier territory! Good. But now I'm scared for Sissy...

Damn, I hadn't even finished typing that last sentence and my fears were already proven right. Fucking Carl saw them.

Oh please, let Elliot be alive...

Noooooooooooo!

Damn it, I liked Elliot. He was so good to this family... 😩😠😢

"öga för öga"? Seeing as Elliot has something stuck in his eye, I'm going to guess that means 'eye for an eye' or something?

Ok, I googled it, yes, it's 'eye for an eye'.

I LOVE THIS HANDLER DRESS! 🤩

1982, huh? I'm guessing where about to see badass Five? I hope so.

[inkedfingersat4am]

August 11, 2016

“There’s more important shit in the world than slut shaming please just shut up with all your feminist bullshit you teenage girls are so retarded” “You’re all just making up excuses so you can be skanks ” “OA MO NAMAN, WALANG PANAHON ANG MUNDO SA GANYAN” Given na yun, other worse problems exist. Problems like world hunger, poverty, human trafficking, war, racism and so on but why do we acknowledge the existence of these dilemmas? Why do we make a big deal out of it? Why do we exert effort to stop these or to minimize the implications of such? BECAUSE IT CONCERNS HUMANS, IT CONCERNS US. IT CONCERNS LIVING BEINGS WHO HAVE RIGHTS THAT ARE NOT BEING GIVEN TO THEM. IT CONCERNS OUR KIND WHO ARE SUFFERING and what are victims of slutshaming but humans too? People just like you. Slutshaming basically glorifies rape culture, it gives off the impression that once someone is wearing a “skimpy” outfit, doing something that is “improper” he or she is a “slut” or “asking for it”. When you slutshame or wrongfully judge a person because of what they wear and what they do to express themselves ( with the exception, of course, of the situations in which they are violating another person’s rights or personal space), you are technically telling them that you own them, that you have the right to tell them what they should do to their bodies. YOU DO NOT FKING OWN THEM, YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY CLAIM ON THEIR BODIES. You are degrading them, you are canceling out their worth. And on top of that, you are giving those doggone rapists and other sexual predators an excuse to go on with their filthy crimes because you believe that when people act or dress this way, they are simply saying, “I AM NOW A PIECE OF MEAT I HAVE NOW MADE MY SELF INTO THE SMALLEST AND MOST PATHETIC VERSION OF ME WHICH GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT WITH MY BODY” so, if they get raped or sexually abused it’s their fault. TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THAT BEING SEXUALLY HARASSED/ABUSED IS JUST AS EXCRUCIATING AS BEING TORTURED TO DEATH, MURDERED, NOT BEING ABLE TO EAT FOR DAYS, OR LOSING A LOVE ONE. BECAUSE WHEN THEY INVADE YOUR BODY, THEY OBJECTIFY YOU AND REDUCE YOUR WORTH  TO THE SMALLEST LEVEL IT CAN BE AND THEN YOU JUST FEEL LIKE THIS SORT OF EMPTY VESSEL, SOMETHING THAT HAS LOST IT’S PURPOSE. YOU NO LONGER FEEL HUMAN BECAUSE YOU WERE DENIED THE RIGHTS THAT WERE SUPPOSED TO BE GIVEN TO A HUMAN LIKE YOU. THE WORST PART OF IT IS BECAUSE OF SLUTSHAMING YOU ARE TELLING THEM THAT THEY BROUGHT IT UPON THEMSELVES, THAT THEY DESERVE IT. NO ONE DESERVES TO BE SEXUALLY HARASSED, NO ONE. SO IF I STABBED YOU ( BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T WEARING SOMETHING TO PROTECT YOU) I COULD BLAME YOU FOR DYING BECAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW SELF-DEFENSE/YOU DIDN’T AVOID ME THUS RESULTING TO THE AFOREMENTIONED INCIDENT? Sexual abuse is not something you just get over with in a matter of days or weeks or months. The trauma is forever there, it is a ghost that haunts you even in your waking hours. At night, you cannot sleep because you feel the hands again, ravishing your body, you cannot sleep in peace because you feel those monsters again, debasing you. The trauma of sexual abuse is an evil creature that chokes you,pierces it’s sharp nails into your skin,that tells you over and over again, “ You are dirty. No matter what you do or what you say, you are still dirty. Nobody likes dirty. You are nothing and you will remain that way.” And you will never fully understand the intensity of the pain unless you have experienced it all first hand. My dear bigoted friend, that is why we must address this issue properly.

[pidgezero-one]

Repost from facebook, in case anyone cares about Canadian sports TV

I usually try to take one or two days to think about a hot-button issue and avoid making kneejerk emotional reaction statements in response to it, so a little late to the party: Don Cherry, eh?

There's a lot to talk about here. I'm not going to tell you whether or not he deserved to get fired, because frankly I don't work for Sportsnet or have any first-hand exposure to anything he may have said in the past that led up to this decision. I can't tell you if it was this comment in particular that sent his employers from 0 to 100, or if it was just the latest in a series of flack-catching events that they're tired of doing damage control. I don't particularly care either way, that matter is between him and his former employer. I will tell you, however, that the Government of Canada was not involved in this decision, and his firing was not a violation of his (albeit limited by Canadian laws) freedom of expression, as a television network is well within their rights to dismiss a representative who is delivering content to viewers that is incongruous with what the network wants delivered on their behalf. Moving on.

I have seen some people argue that Cherry was addressing everyone in Canada, and not only immigrants, so since apparently some short-term memories are not so great, I took the liberty of transcribing his comments:

"...Downtown Toronto, forget it! Downtown Toronto, no poppy... How bout [running?] it for the people that buy them? Now you go to the small cities, and you know... you know, those p--... the [rows and rows?] ... You people love, you that you come here, whatever it is, you love our way of life, you love our milk and honey, at least you could pay a couple of bucks for poppies or something like that. These guys pay for your way of life that you enjoy in canada, these guys paid the biggest price..."

So, if you only heard every word past "you love our way of life", then I could understand the opinion that he was addressing all Canadians. But that isn't what he said, he used the words "you people ... you come here". Where is "here"? There were three places listed in this rant:

-small cities

-downtown Toronto

-Canada

He's clearly not talking about small cities, since he implies that poppies are everywhere in small cities.

Is he talking about downtown Toronto or Canada? In that case, who "comes here"? It's not Canadian citizens from downtown Toronto (since they did not "come to" a place they were already living), it's not Canadian citizens from outside downtown Toronto (since as mentioned, those people tend to wear poppies proudly in large numbers), so who's left? You already know the answer, it's immigrants.

So, some of you may now be wondering, "so what, what's wrong with that? Should people who move here not be expected to respect our military?" I would say, sure, if moving to another country means adopting some of their ways of life, and you believe patriotism in support of donating to the Legion falls under that, you could make that argument. But why single out immigrants to Canada, when just a few seconds ago people agreeing with him were entirely convinced he was addressing all Canadians? What purpose does it serve to single out immigrants?

Furthermore: why are we pointing fingers at new arrivals to Canada to blame for a decline in poppy sales? Full disclosure: I did not buy a poppy this year. That wasn't on purpose. The part of town I work in has been plagued with construction reducing major arterials to a single lane, so lately I've been resorting to "creative" suburban bus routes to get home.

Did you know that the Legion maintains a list (https://legion.ca/remembrance/the-poppy-campaign) of places where you can get a poppy? I didn't, and I also have not been passing by the listed businesses on my way home lately. It didn't enter my mind, as pretty much the only way I really remember what time of year it is on a day-to-day basis is "is my rent due today?" and "is there snow on the ground?" and I did not enter any of these businesses for any reason as of late, and just forgot to get one. There are countless other adults like me -- what changed over the years?

Compare Remembrance Day to other national days of importance like New Year's. Everyone knows when New Year's is coming up, because its presence is ubiquitous. Everyone talks about their plans, their resolutions, their parties. Remembrance Day is much less culturally ubiquitous in the days before it, meaning there are less frequent "oh yeah, I should do something" reminders entering your field of vision. 15-20 years ago, I would see commercials on TV frequently, and that was a good reminder. Today, I don't subscribe to any cable or streaming services, and I browse the internet with an ad blocker. A lowered frequency of passive reminders is a real factor in your day-to-day decision-making, and perhaps there's room for people much more knowledgeable about marketing than I am to discuss targeting demographics who weaned off TV in the information age. That's not for me to propose any solutions to, just pointing out a cultural source of decline that isn't pre-existing bias against immigrants.

Going back to the immigrants point -- not only is it creating a scapegoat, but it's also just plain wrong. "World War I" and "World War II" are aptly named, check out this table: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_II_casualties#Human_losses_by_country

World War II killed military members from literally all over the world. Indonesia, Brazil, Iraq, Ethiopia, China, India, Thailand, just to name a couple. Countries like Mexico who suffered no military losses also suffered civilian losses. World War II ended over 70 years ago, but generationally, 70 years is not a long time. Children growing up without their parents and siblings lost to war, they have to live with that forever. Survivors living with PTSD, that is a condition that affects your entire life and those around you. Economically, that much loss in life and prosperity affects the entire world, and always hits the poorest the hardest. The effects of war on a person and their family last for generations, and this is true around the world. People immigrating to Canada, statistically, are probably already well acquainted with this fact first-hand. They do not need to be lectured on the importance of military service any more than a born Canadian citizen does, chances are they already know.

World War II also ended, like I said, a very long time ago, but as we are all already aware, it certainly wasn't the last military effort Canada participated in. While we honour the sacrifices made by veterans in wartime, the CAF and the Legion still need funding for things like supporting veterans living with PTSD (https://www.legion.ca/support-for-veterans/mental-health-ptsd), such as services like the Family Information Line (https://www.cafconnection.ca/National/Stay-Connected/Family-Information-Line/Connect-With-Us.aspx). If you didn't know those services existed, what separates you from a new immigrant who also didn't know about them?

There is a separate discussion to be had by people much more knowledgeable than me about the morality of the CAF intervening in some foreign regions or being involved with cracking down on illegal marijuana, but that's a discussion I won't open up here and am not confident in discussing. However, some of the existing services offered to veterans that are funded in part by poppy sales are what I would consider altruistic and good to know about no matter how long you've lived in Canada, especially if you know somebody who served in wartime.

So how does all of this relate to Don Cherry? Ultimately, it's disappointing that he chose to single out immigrants in this way, when immigrants have no less understanding than born Canadian citizens about what exactly wartime sacrifice means. Interestingly, I was browsing some discussions about this yesterday, and came across some comments from people who do not understand a word of Punjabi, but enjoy watching the Punjabi broadcasting of Hockey Night In Canada because of the genuine unbridled enthusiasm of the commentators for the game. A broadcast program like that exists to do an example of exactly what Cherry and his supporters are critical of "immigrants" for supposedly -not- doing, and that's integrating with and participating in Canadian culture. There is no widespread attitude from new arrivals to Canada to reject Canadian values and culture. Nobody goes to a new country with the intention of having nothing to do with the country around them, that's a miserable way to live and is not something anyone wants to do by choice.* Look at Sweden, the vast majority of people learning Swedish on Duolingo are refugees living in Sweden. His comments were unfairly targeting certain Canadians in a way that singles them out as "others", and that's really unfair for them to have to hear coming from someone who is a Canadian cultural icon commentating a game that countless people from all walks of life, from any part of the world, take great joy in watching as part of being in Canada. All he had to do was apologize, and he didn't, and that's really unfortunate and has made a lot of Canadians who grew up with him as a household name very sad.

* (This is not even getting into the unspeakably horrific sacrifices imposed on our Indigenous populations, which make the whole judgmental comments about "immigrants" an entirely different and gross flavour of ironic.)

It's even worse that it comes at a time of heightened political "us vs them" tensions. We don't need more of that. The line between left and right is getting wider and wider every day. You can even see a visual representation of this courtesy of our neighbours to the South in this video: https://youtu.be/tEczkhfLwqM -- not that you need to, really, just look at our election 3 weeks ago where suddenly a bunch of provinces threatened to leave the country because they didn't get their way. (Speaking of, the election was three weeks ago, holy. Your negative comments about immigrants in the wake of Don Cherry's firing contrasted with your faux-concern about Trudeau's racist makeup has been duly noted. Maybe note that Trudeau's damnable actions happened 20 years ago, aka what some of you consider to be "the good old days" when people were "not so easily offended", as in, a time when Cherry likely would not have been fired for his comments, like Trudeau wasn't fired for his racist makeup. Think about that for a second before sharing that nonsense meme.)

Cherry's words and a refusal to think outside the box or apologize to Canadians just trying to live in Canada and enjoy a hockey game were ultimately promoting political tensions that don't need any further promotion, and that's unfortunate. Ultimately, whether you were born in Canada or not, both you and your neighbours just want to provide the best life you can for yourselves and your loved ones, and some of you actively chose Canada as the best option to achieve that goal in. And that's a pretty special thing to reflect on and unite over in the face of tension and division.

[truethingsiwishicouldsay]

What is your opinion on trans people? Like, the trans people who have transitioned and such?

OK, well, here are my thoughts, which are pretty nuanced so this gets long. I have bolded the main points to help break up the textwall.

First, the surgery thing. Whether or not a trans person has had gender reassignment surgery does not change my basic perception of them as a human being. They do not “qualify into womanhood or manhood” by getting surgery. They are not more or less valid as people because they treat their dysphoria with surgery or treat it in some other way. That’s an individual choice that should between them, their doctors and their loved ones. 

It may change their bodies to inspire people at large to treat them according to their gender identities, which in turn helps their dysphoria. But I honestly feel like the FIRST goal of all people who are considering surgery that drastic shouldn’t be surgery to get others to accept your womanhood or manhood so you can accept yourself. It should be radical self-acceptance. You cannot afford to define yourself by others’ perception of you. There are just too many shitty people in the world.

If you can get to the place where you can truly say, “other people’s issues with me don’t define me” and have a basic foundation of self-respect to stand on, you’re in a better headspace to contemplate things like whole-body surgery, or deal with the side effects of a lifelong hormone regimen.

Now for the rest of my thoughts.

Unless they’ve done something awful, like Yaniv, I don’t come for individual trans people. Anyone who does that is a huge asshole and an actual transphobe. If I have a problem with a trans person it is 100% with something they did or with their politics, not their transness.

I am highly critical of modern transactivism and the way it eats away at the rights and boundaries of others, tries to politicize sexual entitlement, fucks with the definition of words, seems to specifically target cis women with demands, boundary violations and antagonism, is homophobic in its demands for sexual “access” to same-sex-attracted people, and encourages behavior such as nailing dead rats to rape recovery center doors, threatening people, and in my sister’s and my case, beating them.

Yeah, I got my ribs cracked by a trans woman tree times my size on the RUMOR that my sister was a TERF. A rumor spread vindictively by a drunk because she wouldn’t cheat on THE AWESOMEST WIFE IN THE UNIVERSE with her. I fucking HATE the TERF patrol. They silence and harm women. But that doesn’t give me the right to hate trans people.

Trans people are human beings who should be able to live their lives without abuse. That includes everything from idiots marching into their journals and bullying them and their partners on up to the Hell trans POC face in places like Brazil. 

There is a difference between biologically-based sex and socially defined gender. “Trans women are women” doesn’t mean trans women are biologically female. Otherwise they would not be trans. 

You can’t deny biological reality to cater to your dysphoria without putting yourself at risk healthwise, and without ending up at odds with pretty much everyone. I will call my trans brothers “dude” and laugh at their dropped-my-packer-in-the-bathroom stories and acknowledge their gender as male, but I’m still going to feel like I should say something if they’re having PCOS symptoms or something and won’t go to a doctor because dysphoria. Your body may not fit your soul, but it doesn’t deserve neglect.

Because gender is socially defined and often toxic, it’s up for grabs. Defy it, redefine it, jump gender boxes, set up new ones, whatever--do you. 

Just don’t scream at people with no experience of it who don’t quite get it at first. I have no fucking idea what gender box you’re sitting in if you give no outward signs at all, so don’t yell at my scramblebrained self for not being psychic. 

I try not to misgender people because I don’t like hurting people who aren’t even part of the conversation. That does not mean I don’t believe there’s no difference between the life experiences of transgender people and (what’s most commonly called) cis people. Of course there is.

Sex criminals who reinvent themselves as trans women to try and get into female prisons are absolutely fucking suspect. 

If you want to change your body to match your sense of gender, that’s your business--so long as you pay real attention to the medical implications. I hear about trans guys hurting themselves with binders and my response is 100% like “Ow, oo honey, please be careful” and 0% like “look at this crazy person blahblahblah here’s some transphobia”

Puberty blockers and transing kids horrify me, in part because I know a kid going through it and he’s already suffering massive side effects. He’s. Nine.

I get pissed off when historical female heroes get transed. Let us have our heroes. Don’t try to redefine every brave, gender-defying woman as a man.

I am wary of self-ident because of the ways it is being abused. 

Dysphoria sounds like absolute Hell. Personally I’m not sure surgery and such is the answer, but it’s not something I have ever dealt with. I certainly don’t think people should be pressured into surgery and hormones as “the answer” or “the only answer”.

Cotton ceiling activists are fighting for the sexual coercion of women and are loathsome. Nobody owes anybody sex, and thinking otherwise is a sign of toxic male socialization, full stop.

Many of the problems such as bathroom bills could be more easily addressed through physical innovation rather than political arguing. What we need is better design of public lavatories to provide everyone with both truly private and accessible public space. This would include everything from protecting from predators and privacy-invaders, to making sure everyone can pee without having a damn sex/gender debate at the door.

Biological males do not belong on girls’ high school or college sports teams, or in women’s competitive sports. Growing up male gave them physical advantages whether they acknowledge it or not. Also if a man in his fifties is on a high school or college women’s sports team because he “feels like a teenage girl” and you don’t think that’s suspect...

Girlhood and sexism are experienced by cis women and non-passing trans men. Boyhood and male privilege are experienced by cis men and non-passing trans women. People treat you according to the sex they perceive you to be, not the gender you perceive yourself to be. How people perceive and treat you determines your socialization and experience of sexism and privilege, not how you identify.

Screaming transphobia because a conversation about biological female health “doesn’t include trans women” is simply irrational. If you don’t have the plumbing or deal with the issues, the conversation doesn’t apply to you. Derailing conversations about female biology to nitpick about the words used is also a silencing tactic.  On the other hand, I will gladly bitch about periods with trans guys and acknowledge that when it happens they’re probably wrestling with an additional burden of heavily triggered dysphoria.

Female erasure is real. The tendency of transactivists to demand that words like “front hole” and “uterus holders” be used on us to spare their feelings COMPLETELY IGNORES WHAT BEING REFERRED TO LIKE THAT DOES TO US. Half the human population should not face dehumanizing language and treatment so that a small percentage of the population can feel a little better.

Feminists have also noticed that 99.9% of the time, it’s women who are expected to give ground, change our language, and change our behavior to accommodate. Men don’t face the same expectations. They are not confronted online, their organizations are not attacked, their buildings are not defaced. Transactivists have a huge sexism problem.

It is absolutely possible to be of the female gender and yet rampantly, blatantly and deeply discriminate against members of the female sex. Any wariness I have of trans women largely stems from negative experiences of trans female sexism and assault against trans men and cis women. 

Sexism, sexual entitlement, out of control tantrum-throwing, taking pleasure in threats and use of violence, demanding to be at the center of every movement you are in (whether transgender or feminist, for example), and the demand that biologically female people cater to you are all signs of toxic male socialization. I used to rather arrogantly say that trans women should jettison these as part of their transition, but the truth is that every human being should. But it’s still causing problems.

TLDR: it really depends on the specific trans issue and how it intersects with Feminism, social pressures, self-image, and scientific fact. Transactivism has huge problems, but trans people are human beings who deserve basic consideration and respect regardless.

[geneshaven]

Goodbye Emily, And Thank You

So, I wanted to throw down some final thoughts on the past seven years of Arrow. I say final because, for me, the show ended when Emily announced that she is leaving it. There is nothing and nobody who can ever fill that empty place her departure has created. Where can the show go from here? Oliver shooting a bunch of arrows and fighting bad guys alone? He started his journey that way. Does he really have to end it the same way? Felicity was his anchor. She kept things in perspective. Without her to guide him, without the core of OTA, Oliver was destined to be a lone wolf. And apparently, to die alone as well.

I have a whole gambit (no pun intended) of emotions going on inside my mind and heart, bits and pieces of pure joy I’ve experienced throughout Arrow’s run. But I also have waves of disappointment and even some anger at what the showrunners have decided to do to this show.

So, here comes some venting, some negativity over all the fuckery this fandom has had to endure, followed by some happiness and platitudes I got watching Arrow. Yes, things have not always been bad. There were moments during the show’s run that took my breath away. There was beauty and hope, magical acts of kindness and happy tears. I will always be grateful to have been a part of that.

But first up---the negative. This one is easy. It seems there were more bad moments than good. There were many feet to place that blame at, but I will offer up something current to stem my flow of bad feelings.

Soon after reading about Emily’s decision to leave the show, I was over on YouTube checking out all the articles written about it. I must admit, I kept waiting to discover that it was all some cruel April fool’s prank, that everybody would get a good laugh out of it and the show would go on. But then I thought that Emily would not do that to her fans. She has too good of a heart to create that kind of cruelty. It was all true. She was leaving. I can only imagine how hard it was for her to make that choice. But maybe it wasn’t so hard. Maybe she caught wind of what was coming in season 8 and wanted no part of it. Yet, it was more likely because she wanted to try something new and different. Emily has way too much talent to just be on the sidelines, which is where she seemed to be put after Oliver came home from prison. But whatever the reason, I feel it was the right one for her.

Anyway, back to YouTube. I began to read the comments to the news articles on her departure, and lo and behold---the haters were having a field day with her leaving. “It’s about time,” one said. “They waited too long to get rid of her,” another chimed in. “She ruined the show…blah,blah,blah.” There was even some poor sap who opined that they can now bring Laurel back and get her with Oliver again, fulfilling this pathetic person’s comic book fantasies. These are the people who have been hovering over the show for the past seven years, waiting to pounce on the hope that Olicity would implode and bring back their cannon all of them have been dreaming of.

It was sad. The depth of these people’s denial is astounding. I could only take so much of it. I mentally wished them luck and moved over to some Olicity clips, mainly from seasons 2 and 3. These are the early times in the show that hold a special nostalgia for me.

Yet, as I was watching those scenes, I found myself conflicted. My heart was full of happy memories, but my mind was filled with the knowledge of what was waiting for them ahead. It seems that Olicity’s journey is to end in the darkness of what the flash forwards are showing us. I feel that the satisfaction and enjoyment I got from watching those happier times has ebbed away and into the darkness of a shattered endgame. I feel that my happy bubble has been violated and that, (according to the writers of Arrow) there is no such thing as a happy ending. Nice guys and girls do not win out. They finish last.

I can’t help feeling that my time has been wasted, sitting in front of my TV all these years waiting to see what suffering and loss and pain brings about to those who aspire to being a hero. I kept waiting for my due from watching their journey as saviors of a city, for what they deserved as a reward, for what I deserved by watching them and for putting up with all the roadblocks in their way trying to stop them.

Of course, I could be wrong about all this. All of us could be wrong about this. By some hand of luck or in the spirit of doing what is right, the writers may have crafted an ending that will give us all the warmth of riding into the sunset, happy and fulfilled. And maybe I am only indulging in the same denial all the haters have been thriving on.

*

And now for the positive things I have to say.

I am truly happy for Emily. I think that she will achieve great things in her post Arrow life. Going to Broadway, even off-Broadway, to reprise her role in Reborning, is a great way to shine the light of her talent outside of the CW. Yes, she made herself a household name by creating Felicity Smoak, but that is not the limit of her abilities. I don’t think it is out of the realm of possibility that we may one day see her clutching a Golden Globe or an Oscar.

So Godspeed, Emily. You are destined for greater things. You have inspired legions of women (and this one man) to hold faith and believe that there is achievement in abundance out there for anyone who dreams enough to reach for it.

Again, Oliver and Felicity may not find their happy ending. To paraphrase Oliver---people change, hearts change and minds can change. But love is the ultimate hero’s journey. They built that love right in front of our eyes. And if they’ve shown me anything, it’s that love is what makes us all better people I will always see them in the light of that sunset, riding off to live the life they were meant to have.

And I will happily wave to them goodbye.

[elioetoliver]

This Life, destiel fic, 1.6k words

a little something inspired by the 14x03 trailer

It’s Dean who demands it, the first time.

He stumbles into the bunker, supported by Sam’s colossal frame, feeble and fresh off the tail end of months sitting shotgun in his own body. When he spots Castiel, dumbfounded and disbelieving in the library, he releases his hold on his brother and staggers the final few steps into the angel’s arms. “Hey, Cas,” he says into his shoulder, voice just shy of breaking. Relief seeps into every crevice of his aching body, settling into his tired bones as they hug. The warmth of Cas, the feeling of him, real and tangible under Dean’s reclaimed hands, envelops him, salves the lingering traces of Michael’s putrid presence he still feels.

But it’s inconceivable that Dean is really here. He knows this, and Sam and Cas, with their cautious-teetering-on-hopeful expressions, know it too. In this life nothing is handed to them, and Dean returning so soon, seemingly unscathed save for a scar on his arm, fully in control of himself, is simply too good to be true. They’re right to be worried. God, Dean is terrified of the thought of Michael still kicking around in him somewhere, but more terrifying than that would be going on pretending that all is well, knowing the people he loves are fearful of him, all their well-intentioned interactions undoubtedly underlined by trepidation. Even now, clinging to Dean to keep him upright, Cas seems tense. “Hello, Dean,” he says, nonetheless. “I missed you.” That, at least, is wholly genuine.

Dean has to know for sure that Michael isn’t there. He needs to spare his family false hope, and himself the disappointment of moments like this, of Cas not fully accepting a touch that, months ago, he would have chased.

“Cas, get in my head,” Dean begs. It’s the only way for them to be sure. It’s frightening, letting someone access his thoughts when he only just got them back himself, but when Cas’s hands press gingerly against his head, Dean finds he’s not afraid.

Cas rebuilt Dean, once. Atom by atom he reconstructed his soul, breathed life back into his body. He can read Dean without a touch: he needs not direct access to his mind to glean the nature of his thoughts. Dean is always warm. When Cas senses bubbling magma, he knows it’s because Dean is riled up, passionate, fiercely protective of his loved ones. Sometimes he’ll sense a hot iron poker, a cruel jab of fear striking him. Sometimes Dean is on fire, consumed by grief or indignant of injustice, furious at himself for a life he couldn’t save. Even when he’s calm, happy, Cas can feel smoldering ash: regret for indulging in time for himself, when others have no time left at all.

He knows Dean intimately already.

But truly seeing inside Dean’s mind, seeing the thoughts and visions that catalyze his warmth: that’s something else entirely. Dean’s mind is beautiful. Though worn threadbare and fragile from decades of battles lost, it persists in its brilliance. Cas has seen the birth of stars, and even they did not burn so brightly. There is nothing in Dean’s mind that suggests he is anything short of righteous, despite all he has suffered. Cas’s exploration reveals no trace of Michael. Dean seems, for all intents and purposes, to be fully himself.

But they’ve been fooled more than once. They have no explanation for Michael’s swift departure from Dean’s body, and no leads as to where he has gone with which to confirm it. Considering their track record, it would not be surprising for him to be squatting inside Dean’s mind. Their working theory is that he may have receded so deeply into Dean’s subconscious that he’s virtually undetectable, and will only rear his ugly head when the moment is right, will reclaim Dean’s faculties when he’s deep in sleep, or finally lets his guard down.

Consequently, Dean is afraid to do either of those things. That night, when the occupants of the bunker have succumbed to sleep, Dean sits in the stillness of his room, willing himself to stay awake. It’s a challenge, exhausted as he is from the horrors of the past few months. Such is how Castiel finds him, jaw set and staring blankly at the wall, dark bags under his eyes. There’s an empty pot of coffee on his bedside table.

It’s Cas that demands it, the second time.

He doesn’t have to sleep, anyway, he argues. And sleep is something Dean needs in excess. He can check into Dean’s dreams every so often for traces of Michael while Dean sleeps off his exhaustion. “I won’t let harm befall you, Dean,” he assures. “Trust me.”

Dean’s reply is immediate: “I always trust you.”

If Cas thought Dean’s mind was beautiful, his dreams are transcendent. They are Dean, unrestrained and unfiltered. They reflect a man whose essence has been touched by the tribulations of his turbulent life, not plagued by it the way his thoughts are. It’s all optimism, all love and passion. Cas lays beside Dean, watching him in slumber, occasionally ghosting his fingers across his jaw, catching a moment of his dreams to vet his subconscious for any trace of Michael. He never finds any.

What he sees instead are snippets of a life that could have been.

Sammy graduating from Stanford. Celebrating at the Roadhouse. His whole family alive. Dean working days at Bobby’s garage and coming home to a fridge fully stocked with his favorite beers. No apocalypses, No monsters. Weekends away LARPing with Charlie. Cas, somehow, still there, in this world without the supernatural. The two of them, in bed together much like this, only Cas, too, is under the covers. A house out in the country. Dogs running in a yard. Baby on the open road, headed towards the coast, Cas riding shotgun and children bickering in the back. Their toes in the sand at the beach, matching bands on their ring fingers.

He sees a life that could have been, in a universe where God didn’t deal the Winchesters such a dismal hand.

Seeing these dreams feels too intrusive to Cas, even though he has Dean’s consent, and even though he himself is the subject of so many of them. Seeing flashes of this other life, being privy to Dean’s base desires without Dean having any modicum of control over what he does or doesn’t wish to reveal, feels like a violation. Cas restrains himself from dipping into Dean’s mind the rest of the night, figures there’s some things they should talk through, if he is to continue with this practice.

Dean sleeps through the rest of the night unaffected and undisturbed.

In the morning though, the moment Dean wakes, Cas brings his hand up to his face, swipes his thumb against his cheekbone before he can lose his nerve. The contact offers him a vision of exactly this scene, no deviation. Dean does not flinch, does not pull away from the touch. He leans into it, eyes wide and curious. “Your past cannot be rewritten, Dean,” Cas begins, “And many of your dreams are for a life you deserve but can never have. But you must know that you have always had me.”

A host of emotions, all exuding warmth, flit across Dean’s face before he captures Cas’s lips with his own, desperate. He does not test the waters - they’ve spent the past ten years doing just that, after all. His hands pull Cas flush to him, and the angel whimpers into the fervent kiss. They’re touching everywhere, and Cas sees Dean’s thoughts and desires, uninterrupted. Through Dean he seems himself, flustered and blubbering, hands clutching desperately at sweat-soaked bed sheets with Dean’s head between his thighs.

Later, Dean outsources that vision.

From then on, Cas always has an excuse to get inside Dean’s mind. He gives himself over to Cas so easily that the slightest touch grants him access to his thoughts. And they’re always touching. In the mornings, tangled around each other in bed. At the breakfast table, Cas’s hand resting on Dean’s thigh, thumb teasing the hem of his boxer leg. Their hands brushing against one another on the job, at hospitals and coroners’ offices. Dean’s fingers dragging across Cas’s shoulders, lingering at the the faint hairs at the nape of a neck as he passes through the bunker library, where Cas is sat reading. Dean straddling Cas’s lap to kiss him when Sam goes to the kitchen for more coffee, because for an hour now they’ve been reduced to sock-clad footsie under the table and that’s far too long without touching properly. Dean’s calloused hands untucking Cas’s shirt from his trousers, coming up his back, palms pressed against the heated flesh. Cas leaning over to kiss Dean’s cheek before sliding out of the impala before every hunt. Dean’s fingers pushing grime and blood and Cas’s sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes and staring at him in relief because it was such a close call, before pulling the angel to his chest. Teeth nipping at jaws and collarbones in the throes of passion between i love yous and don’t you ever scare me like that agains. At night, asleep, holding each other close.

Never does any touch suggest Michael’s presence.

No, each touch is wholly Dean, and bears the promise of now or a dream for the future. It’s visions of lazy sunday mornings, washing dishes together after dinner, and salt and burns where nobody gets hurt. It’s vows and an exchange of rings, a weekend with toes in the sand. Sometimes it’s a house in the country. But mostly, it’s just this, precisely what they’ve been awarded: days beginning and ending with them side-by-side. It’s love and companionship and trust. 

The dreams are no longer of a life reimagined. They are of this life - his life - shared with the one person who understands it.