#I just need to vent and I’m not capable of articulating the thing that just happened yet

[werederg]

Bro I really can not handle being alive right now

[sentient-cloud]

eaugh

Hi slaps this so i feel like im. talking to someone or doing anything without actually doing that </3

I wish I was better at being alive. <- nothing statement but I mean on the topic that’s literally All im ever capable of so.

I don’t know why being alive is so hard. In general but lately even. I feel like im going through everything underwater. Does that make any sense. I feel like inside my brain all of my thoughts all of my motivations body instructions everything is underwater

I want to be a real person so badly I want to be smart so badly I want to be able to hold any kind of real conversation I want to be able to produce anything worthwhile and I want to be seen as worthy of living

It’s really hard for me to be coherent. I get so scared talking about this because I’m convinced it comes off as like. A disinterest in other people and their things because sometimes I can connect brain wires. But I want so so so so badly to be able to have intelligent conversations and meaningful things to say but it’s always just sounds or the most empty mindless statements and its driving me insane and I’m certain it drives other people insane. I’m like so averse to not being able to say anything of note I just don’t interact much anymore if I can help it because I hate I hate how little I can be of any worth I want to have meaningful conversations I want to be able to think of any meaningful questions to prompt discussions. Or any statement ever. Or even when people ask questions to be about thinks I enjoy or like my ocs ro anything my brain just can’t think ever. It feels almost comically bad at how I can’t form any meaningful or coherent thought

It’s stupid I hate how stupid I am. How I can’t form any real opinion how like I struggle with like fucking. Reading comprehension or analysis of any kind of anything I know I’m stupid and I despise it. I like make jokes or call myself stupid constantly I guess as a defense against it because if I say it first it’ll hurt less or I won’t be ridiculed for being so dumb but it makes me want to blow up. I want to be able to think. Or say anything worthwhile so bad. Like I see and I know everyone else is running laps around me and I can’t stand it but like. I feel so stupid even complaining about this like ok. Why are you admitting to this idk I feel so so so much shame about just how. Fucking stupid I am. How i can’t contribute anything

Even this is like. Eaugh trying to articulate. Im mad at myself for not even trying to make it anything more cohesive or well put together but also who fucking cares about an inherently pathetic and immature tumblr vent anyway. Like what does this even accomplish asides from being an incredibly immature cry for help that’s probably extremely pathetic coming from someone who’s supposed to be a grown adult anyway.

This is nothing I’ve just. I’ve been doing extremely bad lately and just wallowing in how much I genuinely despite myself constantly and generally being convinced everyone hates me and is disgusted and revolted and annoyed and just. Angry with me. Idk hoping putting thsi out in the void helps me feel better at all.

I’m just tired of not feeling real and being unable to do anything or provide the slightest bit of meaning or worth into the world and I’m tired of being so fucking at stupid and I’m tired of thinking of literally anything being so hard. I know I’m not helping I feel like I’m actively decomposing and rotting and dying and atrophying constantly I know I have no actual intelligence or thinking skills or emotional intelligence or social skills to fucking anything and I’m just getting worse and worse and worse and it’s so frustratingly hard to think so I just sit there feeling bad and I know it’s making it worse and why am I just. Complaining about it. Admitting I’m just sitting here in my depression and general abhorridness and by admitting this I’m making myself even more like. Deplorable to everyone but fuck I don’t know. I know I need a therapist but I’m like. So scared of it and being told how much I suck.which is so. Anyway. Stops typing throws this word salad into the world. lol

[tiffdawg]

hello ma’am, yes i am still sitting on that ask you sent me. but uh i wanna ask for some hc’s for cv javi👉👈 if i may🥺

Julia, my love, I’m so sorry this took like three weeks. I’m still very unused to doing hc’s but I will try for you. You know I like my secrets so these are spoiler free, but I think compliment where we’re at in the story nicely. 

Headcanons on Javier Peña and Love in Curriculum Vitae

After leaving Colombia, Javier went back to Laredo. He figured he’d help his dad on the ranch until he figured out what to do with the rest of his life. He also tried to drink and fuck his problems away until Chucho finally told him, in no uncertain terms, to get his shit together. Javier took the first opportunity that came his way without putting much thought into it. He had no expectations for the job or himself. That moment when you chewed him out the first week of classes simultaneously doused him with cold water and lit a fire under him. Still, he had no intention of falling for you. He wanted to earn your respect. And he knew he needed your help. But once he caught a glimpse of your passion, he was done for.

Because the thing is, Javier falls in love easily. He has a big heart. And he cares so damn much about the people that mean something to him, even if he tries to cover that part of him. He loves his dad. He’ll always love his mom. He loves Steve and Connie and the few friends he deems worthy. He loved Lorraine. He definitely loved a few of his informants, even if it was a fleeting love. This man just… loves.

Usually, this leads to heartbreak. Either of his own doing or because of circumstances that are out of his control. He’s grown to equate love with heartbreak. It’s become the expected outcome for him.  

Sex seemed easier even if he was never able to keep his emotions completely out of it. Javier typically used sex for two, often overlapping, reasons: to vent his frustrations and to seek some sort of human contact and connection.

But with you, it’s the first time, in a really long time, that it feels like something more for him. It’s fun. It’s freeing. And it actually makes him happy. It feels so damn good. Even if he can’t figure out why it also feels different.

Javier mainly expresses love in two ways: through acts of service and physical touch.

Javier knows you’re a capable, independent woman. He doesn’t doubt that for a second. But when he sees you struggling, he’s not going to hesitate to step in. It doesn’t matter if it’s to curse at your landlord until he fixes your hot water or to pick up takeout when he knows your swamped with work. He always wakes up early, so taking Sunny out on her morning walk is a given. She’s already waiting at the front door for him anyway. He’ll happily let you drag him around Los Angeles to all of your favorite restaurants and museums and bookshops if it means spending time with you.

He also wants to feel you at all times. During sex, his hands never idle, always roaming your body. When you’re sitting across from each other at some dimly lit restaurant, his hand will automatically reach for yours. Better yet, he’ll opt for a booth so he can throw and arm over your shoulders and hold you close. He’ll drag a chair around to his side of the desk so that you can sit next to him while you both grade papers. He’ll probably sleep through whatever movie you rented on vhs that week, but he’ll happily sit on the couch and hold you. Better yet, he’ll curl up for a nap with his head on your lap, soothed to sleep by your gentle fingers running through his hair. And at night, when you finally retire to sleep, he will always want to hold you. There’s nothing quite like when you seek out his touch, whether it’s to hold his hand while he’s driving, to quickly press a kiss to his lips as you pass him in the department hallways, or when you climb onto his lap for something a little more heated. Knowing you want him like that drives him crazy in the best possible way.

On that note, you need words of affirmation and quality time together. He already wants to spend all of his time with you, so that parts easy. But speaking his feelings is less natural to him. This extends beyond the well-noted praise kink in the bedroom too. He is quick to reassure you that he’s happy to be with you, that he wants to spend time with you, that you mean something to him, that he thinks you’re amazing. Sometimes the words are clunky and feel strange on his tongue. Sometimes he has trouble articulating these thoughts. But he never wants you to doubt that he cares about you, so he tries his best.

The two of you learn these parts of each other quickly. Even if the word love is never used, you understand what the other needs and how they receive love.

When Lorraine teased Javier, saying “can you imagine if we were actually married?” it struck a nerve. Javier gives his signature little head tilt shrug and tries to brush it off. He walks away but he looks back at her interacting with her son and husband and has the saddest expression. The truth is there was some part of him that did imagine that future even if he thought it’s unavailable to him. That he didn’t deserve it. That he had to choose work over that life. He regrets the way he treated Lorraine, but he made his decision. He needed to get out of Laredo and see the world. Try to make some sort of difference.

Now, he’s got to decide if it’s something he wants. And if love and a family is something he’ll let himself have.

[sweeethinny]

#4 in fluff in the prompt list for hinny :D

Thank you anon! i hope you like it! <3

just because I LOVE Harry being a teenager completely in love with Ginny and please, let's ignore their true ages and say that either Harry is younger, or Ginny older, or even being a year apart they have some classes together. Imagine what you want.

#4  “I actually wanted to get your number…”

PROMPT LIST 

-----------------

She was so beautiful.

Harry couldn't even concentrate on the class with her nearby, sitting just two chairs in front of him and his right, holding her face with her left hand and looking completely bored with the subject that Professor Beans was talking about.

Her hair was falling to the side like lava from a volcano, shining against the sunlight that came in through the windows and looking golden in some parts, and in others, orange and red. Her freckles were the most beautiful thing in the world, spread across her pink cheeks, arms and some even went down her chest and disappeared into the neckline of her white T-shirt. And the eyes… oh, those caramel and chocolate eyes, always so shiny that Harry sometimes thought they might be precious stones.

She was gorgeous.

Ginny started to write something at the bottom of the notebook sheet, her delicate, ringed hand drumming beside the notebook, looking anxious to get the message out soon. Then, tearing the paper, she crumpled it and passed it to Luna, a few chairs in front.

Harry saw her bite her lips with laughter when the blonde got scared of the paper hitting the back of her neck, and he thought there was nothing more beautiful than her laughing ... Ginny was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Luna wrote back and hurled it at her, Beans didn't even notice the movement, with his back to the class writing something on the board, oblivious to all the students dying of boredom. Ginny laughed softly, and before Harry could predict it, she looked over her shoulder at him, still laughing.

His cheeks caught fire! He caught fire! Ginny had caught him staring at her like a complete lunatic! She would realize that he was in love with her since they were in kindergarten and she cut Pansy's hair because the girl stole her doll.

She was going to punch him in the face!

Harry quickly turned to the History notebook in front of him, feeling like a total idiot, and started writing down everything Beans was saying, not wanting to look up at all.

His sister had already said that girls hate to be stared at, and now, Ginny would hate him! And he didn't even have a chance to ask her to the Ball... Who does he want to fool? He would die before he managed to call her to the Ball without being completely embarrassed and humiliating himself in front of her.

Ginny was so beautiful. And so kind. Harry knew that she would not humiliate him, she would pull him aside and politely say that she already had another partner. A huge player from the last year who would crush Harry without he even knowing where the first punch came from.

He should try his luck with Susan.

When class was finally over, Harry ran out of the room like a little girl in a panic, throwing books in the school locker anyway and entering the cafeteria that was already filled with conversation and people everywhere, and sitting as far away from all possible.

He just wanted to be alone, listen to his music and beat himself up for being a passionate idiot who keeps staring at women like crazy.

Maybe he would die alone, after all. Alone and virgin.

‘’Hey there’’ The voice startled him, making him almost drop his cell phone and the piece of pie his mother had made for him.

Ginny Weasley was in front of him ... Ginny Weasley.

''Erm… hi.'' Harry said, a little nervous about her presence - little is an understatement - and trying to look behind her and see if any of her popular friends were filming it or laughing at the situation, but the cafeteria was in your normal mess.

‘’Can I sit down?’’ She smiled at him, not showing her teeth, but still a lovely smile that made his stomach churn.

‘’Sure, sure.’’ He fixed his glasses on his face and ran his hand through his hair, even though he knew he wouldn’t change in the usual messy look. He needed to vent that anxiety.

‘’So… Harry, right?’’ Ginny sat down, her hair flaming behind her shoulders, and those sweet eyes seeming to analyze every move he made.

''Yes. Myself.’’ Harry wanted to roll his eyes at himself. ‘’Ginny?’’ He tried, not wanting to look like he was crazier than before.

‘’That's what they say.’’ She smiled, this time showing her teeth. ‘’Look, I could come here and make up some shitty talk..’’ It was now, Harry thought, she would dump him. Harry was ready to just stick his head in a hole and never leave. ‘’But, I don’t like to mess around.’’ She crossed her arms over the table, never taking her eyes off him. ‘’I actually wanted to get your number… and know if you want to be my date at the ball.’’

The world stopped.

It was a joke, right? Ginny Weasley, the most beautiful girl... was she really looking for his number? And calling him to the Ball?!

‘’Er…’’ Harry froze, completely lost and not knowing what to say, staring at the girl in front of him who looked much more confident than he thought someone was capable of at 14.

‘’I think you’re beautiful, and I saw how you’re looking at me ... so?’’

Answer her! Answer!!!

‘’It would be… perfect.’’ He could barely think straight and articulate the words.

''Great. You can write your number here.’’ Ginny reached out a handful of rings and put her palm up. ‘’I have a pen.’’ She showed in her other hand, which she was holding a black pen that Harry hadn’t even noticed existed.

‘’Ok.’’ Harry tried not to shake too much while writing the numbers on her soft hand. ‘’Er… sorry to stare at you .. I don’t usually stare at anyone, I respect people, but today, I don’t know, today-- ’’

‘’ --Harry, I’m also staring at you. Nothing to worry about.’’ She took her hand away when he was done, smiling from ear to ear.

‘’This is not a joke… is it?’’ Ginny couldn’t be so mean, could she?

‘’No!’’ She made a face, raising her eyebrow then and approaching him as if to tell a secret. ''I was waiting for you to take the first step, but I hate to wait.'' Ginny blinked, causing all of Harry's organs to fall out of place. ‘’So… how’s your day going?’’ She asked, as if she hadn’t finished rock his world completely. As if she were not the most beautiful girl and had just asked him out.

Ginny Weasley was beautiful and would end with his life. Without a doubt.

''Fucking great. And yours?’’ Harry replied. ‘’Would you like some pie?’’

He couldn't care less.

[theregardedminecrafter]

This is your warning that I will be talking about the “Tommy’s Trapped in Prison with Dream” VOD, Please keeping scrolling if you don’t want to, or need a break, from these kind of topics. This is all just talking about the role play and the characters, not applicable to the content creators.

If you scroll past, I hope you stay healthy and take care of yourself!

I am not surprised that one of them died. They bring out the literal worse of each other, the argument being the epitome of all their flaws. This cell is a torture chamber that cultivates pain, stress, and suffering.

Dream was already in a dangerous and horrific state of mind cultivated by his environment and the people around him during the final confrontation before the prison. Shoved into a rough box, surrounded by lava, starved, and most definitely beaten with the “Warden’s Will Breaker” and then people pull out a shocked “Oh how could he?” When he beats Tommy to death with a potato. The fact that he was capable of doing something so horrific is just a reflection of the prison’s effects on his mental state. The first animal he’s seen since being locked up was beaten to death right in front of him.

I’m not saying Tommy deserved, after all I take his character’s mental health serious, especially when he was suicidal, and his traumas are valid. It is the fact that he was trapped in there, surrounded by multiple triggers, that led to the horrific argument that killed him.

The death, brutal and desperate and inhumane, perfectly reflects the prison in all its disgusting and morbid atrocities.

Now, I want to vent about Warden Sam. Tommy was right when he said that being kept in was a violation of the contract and should have been, if Tommy was still alive(sorry), suable. The contract stated that if there were to be a security breach, that any visitors would be locked in for a maximum of seven days. The reason being that if Sam were unable to find the cause or resolve the issue within the seven days, it would be pointless to continue keeping the one who signed the contract within the maximum security cell. I don’t care what excuses The Warden makes, because he has been a stickler to the rules, why did he make an exception. The Warden held a lot of faith that using the pickaxe to carve submission into Dream, which makes little sense to what character Warden Sam portrays, would keep Tommy, who hates Dream, alive. So what I’m saying is I don’t trust a single thing that comes out of Warden Sam’s mouth.

Sorry this went on a little long, I have a lot of thoughts that I struggle to articulate, and a lot happened in the prison and after with all of the reactions towards it. Thank you for reading through, stay safe out there and take care of yourself!

[mosonyusz]

Everything's alright

I had a horrible day today and I may or may not have been in a similar position as this, so have this vent fanfic I wrote about Wilford not being able to handle his emotions, by yours truly. This is a vent writing so yeah, look out for the angst. But Dark will comfort him I swear.

Everything's fine. No, really, everything's a-okay, a new kind of bubble gun just got announced and Wilford loves to try these bad boys out. So why not go to the store and steal, or if accompanied by Dark, buy one? Why can't he get up and just go? It wasn't a joke. Dark should be here any minute now, he has to leave if he truly wants to have fun. Everyone's dead. He really should get up from the couch. Or at least change the TV channel to something more fun than these stupid commercials. Yes, that should do it, let's just watch something fun! It's all my fault. Wrong channel. Everything's my fault. A cooking show without a kitchen in flames? Booooring! Why couldn't I die like the others. How many times can the same cartoon be played over and over again? Everything's because of me. I killed them. I am a monster. Maybe he shouldn't have thrown the TV remote so forcfully to the floor, but boring things repeated over and over and over again can be really fucking frustrating and Wilford takes no shit from nobody, especially not from a weird loud box. So TV is out, what now? I want them back so badly. He needs to find something fun. I shouldn't have done that. Quickly. Any of that. Why is his vision blurry? I'm so sorry.

— Wilford, what happened?

Wilford doesn't know when he got into fetal position on the couch, desperately grasping his head and sobbing uncontrollably. He also doesn't know when Dark got there, but he knows that they are concerned, as they always are at times like this.

— Come here. — Dark gently draws Wilford to themselves, hugging him tightly and gently caressing his back. Their voice is so much gentle now, echoing softly, and the static around them is strangely comforting.

— Are the memories back again? — to this at first only a hesitant nod is the response, then more silence between the loud and ugly sobs until Wilford is capable of talking again even if only for a short time.

— I... I couldn't distract myself... I tried... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... — Wilford tries to articulate something yet again but before he could force himself to talk again, Dark cuts him short.

— I know, but what happened, is in the past now. Know that I forgive you, I've forgiven you a long time ago. — Dark gently cups Wilford's face, forcing him to look at them and see their small but genuine smile — You are forgiven, Wilford.

A few hours pass until Wilford finally calms down and stops crying and Dark is with him through all of it, comforting him as best as they can, giving him the room to get out all these built up emotions. He must have been battling with these for days now, but he's finally free and hopefully by tomorrow he's gonna be his zany old self again.

[daxieoclock]

Today’s been fucking insane and I don’t even feel capable of like summarizing or articulating it it’s just been a busy mess of rescheduling and adjusting and really intense (good, but intense) conversations with my sister and therapist and I’m just like

Having a small breakdown about how just like. How BROKEN my parents have made me feel. (More graphic vent under cut)

How they have contributed directly to almost every single trauma in my life and how fucking awful our relationship is now and how shitty they treat my sister and how just like. How I have showed up constantly ALL MY LIFE to try and fix a relationship with MY FUCKING PARENTS that has been broken since day fucking one, and they have consistently not shown up, or made me feel like shit, or guilt tripped or fucking gaslit me for EXPRESSING MY BASIC NEEDS. I have a fucking eating disorder because of them. I got RAPED because they reinforced that I couldn’t trust them with my private life and left me feeling deficient and fucking unloved and unable to say no to people.

And I just I don’t know how to wake up in the morning in the tiny fucking room they assigned to me because someone had to get the small room and Im The Family Pariah so it’s always going to be me, and walk out into the kitchen where they immediately throw me curveballs and then struggle with an eating disorder they gave me by constantly controlling and criticizing my eating habits, and go into the bathroom and struggle with the dysmorphia and body image issues I got from their constant comments about their own weight and my body, and put on shoes that are literally five years old and full of holes because I have such bad financial anxiety about spending any money “I don’t absolutely have to” that is also their fucking fault, and then slog through the weekly triggers from the trauma my parents fucking contributed to causing, and spend all my free time in my room because being around my parents is overstimulating at best and at worst they’re having a screaming match with each other or my sister, and deal with a bunch of stuff on my own because they are fucking ABSENT emotionally and refuse to help me with anything I NEED that they don’t feel strongly about, and then be expected to like. Be grateful? Ask my mom about her day? Help my dad with dinner? Do nice things for them without being asked?

I. There is nothing else left for me to do with this relationship besides leave it. I have tried EVERYTHING and given EVERYTHING, I showed up in every way I can for TWENTY FUCKING YEARS with a few compromises to show for it. They don’t call me a retard anymore. They don’t misgender me anymore. They don’t refuse to pay for essential medication anymore. All of which I have had to fight tooth and nail for. And I’m grateful for those victories, even as I’m miserable I had to fucking fight my PARENTS to treat me with some fucking decency. But there’s. There’s too much. I can’t fight them on every broken part of our relationship because it is ALL broken in some way or another. I can’t think of a single aspect of my relationship with them that isn’t in some way woven through with resentment and frustration and loneliness and desperation. It’s all broken. And I am no longer deciding whether to forgive them for my agony, I am no longer deciding whether they are responsible for me almost killing myself. I am only deciding whether or not I can trust them to be in my life in ANY capacity. That’s all the leeway i have left in me.

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

Compass (SFW)

Summary: Xenia of the Autumn had been in mourning for over a decade when MC enters her life, sweeping Xenia into a whirlwind of excitement that was sure to suck the breath out of her lungs. After a night of stargazing that was a romantic date to anyone else who witnesses it, Xenia realizes that MC was someone she could always rely on--even when she was unready for anything romantic. Without her sweet freckled compass, where would Xenia be in the darkness that veiled Altadellys?

Word Count: 2,848

Genre: Fluff (SFW)

Warning(s): none, just enjoy spider wife being fluffy with MC :)

A/N: This is based on the song Compass by The Neighbourhood, I recommend plugging in some headphones and listening to it while you read this; it’s great!

Everything was perfect.

There wasn’t a hair out of place or a word missaid under the dark sky and everything was right. Beside Xenia, MC was a flame hooded by the dim starlight--burning bright beneath the shadow of the sky. Her hand, soft and warm and pleasant against the night chill, was furled with one of Xenia’s. It was a gentle touch--nothing overwhelming but nothing too unnoticeable to fly under Xenia’s radar. She was grateful for the touch and for the companionable feeling that simmered in her chest--a feeling Xenia hadn’t known the true vim of until this sweet heir came into her life. “Xenia?” MC’s sweetly toned voice pulls her from the spiral the spymaster had been swirling down and she turns her head, offering MC the attention she had spoken for. “Yes?” The emerald hue of MC’s eyes was almost as beautiful as the array of light speckling the sky--like a fallen emerald star had been engraved in her eyes. “I vaguely remember that you said you loved the stars; might I ask why you feel that way? Not that loving the stars is an oddity, I just want to hear what’s most appealing about them for you.”

If I don't have you with me, I'm alone You know I never know which way to go

Xenia’s eyes waver from the heir to the sea of light above her, her white eyes catching on the magnificent points individually. A saccharine lull falls into their conversation right before Xenia speaks again, pleasant aura building. “I believe a cluster of people have their particular reasons to love the stars,” she begins slowly, “but for me, I enjoy their lucid shine. Compared to the dark sky behind them, the stars offer a glow that is unable to be simulated with mankind’s architecture. Uniquely birthed from nature, meant to hang ceremoniously where no one could reach them. An untouchable beauty. They’re as much a conjuncture of the world as the ground is to the sky. Stars are simply... wondrous and have a remarkable shine in the nighttime, that is why I love them.” Her heartfelt monologue ends there, a sweet foundation beneath it all, one that was so tangible that it felt intrusive for MC to be listening. Yet she does, sensing that Xenia had to ramble a little for sake of spilling her heart--she was vulnerable, MC quickly notes. Xenia inhales and breathes in the serene yet earthy scent that surrounded them; a detail that only strengthened the comfortable air between them. “That’s endearing, Xenia,” MC chirps as her own eyes suffuse the gallery of white light above her, gaze tearing away to marvel the spymaster beside her, “I suppose I never thought of them like you do. I always just viewed them as a beautiful setting.”

I think I need you with me for all-time When I need new direction for my mind

Then there was a peculiar thing that happens. A rarity that changed the atmosphere. The two had gathered here as friends--accomplices, Xenia thought better--to further discuss their plans in terms of pinpointing a weakness of Tansy. But not a word of royalty left them mouths thus far; the only monarch being the severed string that stemmed between their hearts. A connection severed was a new joined, Xenia found. Even though the two of them wouldn’t speak of the harmony their hearts spoke, there was an air of understatement to it--the women knew of this bulbous feeling, of this... furnace that raged on every meeting they had. Even passing words were the strongest fuels at times, feeding the fire that connected them and specialized their bond. There wasn’t another she could treat the same pleasure to; only MC.

“Perhaps you’ve just been soothed by their luster all these years. I know I was at a checkpoint in my life.” Xenia murmurs quietly. She doesn’t elaborate anymore than that and MC was content with that; ever since she had come to know the Spymistress, she had realized that Xenia only shared excerpts of her past when she wanted. Xenia glances at MC out of her peripheral vision and notices the faraway glare in her eyes. What was that girl thinking? Was she mulling over the countless years lost to the starlight? Was she delving into the depth of Xenia’s words, picking apart every word to form an opinion? It was hard to divulge how the mill worked beyond the cape of fire that covers her head. Xenia wished she knew just a little more--it’d make her feisty little companion a much more predictable force to reckon alongside. The spymaster doesn’t realize her gaze has stayed on the redhead for far too long until the redhead blinks, swiping a hand in front of her eyes quizzically. 

You'll listen to my lectures on the phone,

“Is there something wrong with the starlight? Because you seem to have found something else to marvel tonight.” MC quietly jests, a faint smile lighting her lips. That causes Xenia’s head to swivel back to the sky and a blush to cherry her face, something that hardly been seen in the dark and through her mourning veil. She was the last person that would ever be caught staring at another person rudely, and yet here she was, as guilty as a thief. “The star’s are exceptional tonight but-” “but what?” MC dices Xenia into even more futile pieces with the simplest words, her freckled face aglow silver from the moonlight. Xenia finds her breath after a moment more of averting the heir’s emerald inspection. “I find that you have a mouth that never closes, you seem to be abnormally talkative this evening. A penny for your thoughts, my dear?”

You'll help me find the treasure in the hole

As easy as the stars blanket their gathering, Xenia swivels the conversation away from her bashful flush, the pink dwindling into the standard grey of her skin. MC slumps, disappointed, before she recoups and speaks her mind--the mill begins to churn her shrouded thoughts. “There’s nothing individually weighing down on me--everything’s at a loss. Tansy is Queen of Lysende, I’m her little play thing for her entertainment, and worse yet, we are to not be seen together unless it is in terms of a council meeting. But even then, I am unable to converse with you, Xenia” MC vents as her orange-haired brows pinch together, forming a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows. Before, Xenia had never spotted the small detail prior to now and she finds her eyes drifting towards it, just like the various other minutia that MC possessed. Like the harp’s strings feathering against Xenia’s fingers, the heir’s voice flutters wonderfully around her, pulling her in as effortless as her touch. A chorus to a melody Xenia had never heard plays through her head as she ponders over what to say next--and when the pianist of her mind taps a rhapsody that was treacherous to Xenia, the spymaster is perplexed. Just how has she changed in MC’s presence?

You'll tell me if I'm acting like a fool I know that you're not something to lose, now

“I know it is all tough at the moment,” Xenia gently commiserates, the hands not supporting her weight seeking MC’s hand to soothe the heir. She squeezes MC’s thin fingers and offers a sad smile, one that is brewed off the fumes of the reality they were facing. “But do not lose hope. Soon, Tansy will be a pesky vexation of the past and you will be on the throne, fixing every wrong Tansy articulated.” The spymaster assuages quietly. MC’s stare lifts from the ground and she meets Xenia’s eyes; her own sparkling. “You truly believe so, Xenia?” She has a look of utter dismay and helplessness set in her features, sharping the softness of her face. The sight was a kick to Xenia’s heart, and she trusts her bottom to brace her weight for the sake of sparing all of her arms to assure her sweet heir. She had a cunning feeling that MC was being dismantled because of Tansy but she had never known it to be this strong--it was like the floodgates of her emotions had been lifted and she was pouring her emotion until she ultimately felt better. “I know so, MC,” Xenia affirms, “you’re a wondrous woman capable of the world. There is not another that I trust to ascend the throne and trust that you will not exploit your power--only you.” 

Though the tension drains from her shoulders, the dismay in her features is flushed into doubt and uncertainty; a second wave of insecurity lashing out. “But you don’t speak for all of Altadellys,” MC argues as she peers back up at the stars, their points of shine mirrored in her eyes, “who is to say that they will doubt my credibility. After all, I failed the Red Queen test and therefore no one has faith that I’m the heir. How could I possibly reassemble the public’s viewing of me?” Her sighs peels off into the darkness, taking flight with the scarce breeze that whispers this way and that. Xenia’s grip on MC doesn’t subside but her constant flow of comforting words does, her eyes fluttering close briefly. Was there even enough words in the world to say what Xenia wanted? There were so many adjectives--all pleasant--that Xenia could prescribe MC but was there enough time to speak every one? They had snuck away to meet and if Xenia knew any better, their rendezvous should end very soon. Her brilliant eyes open again and just the like the stars above, they shine brighter than any artificial light. “I understand that you must feel the future is uncertain but that isn’t true to me,” Xenia smiles wide, her lips curved in such a way that told MC that it was unguarded and sincere, “you are more than what Altladellys needs.

You'll tell me if I'm acting like a fool

“As I said before, there is not a thing in this world that you are ultimately unable to do.

I know that you're not something to lose, now

“There as many reasons to have faith in you as there are stars in the sky, my dear,

I've got something to confess,

“and the public will come around to bask in those reasons once you’re their queen and you prove your magnanimous heart and immense credibility.” Xenia finishes, her smile impenetrable, her soft fingers unyielding and a weight that MC could memorize for every moment they’re there but forget the luxuries of the moment Xenia lets go. The heir slowly registers the spymaster’s words, mulling over the swell of infection that weighed the words heavier, and a gradual blush the color of blood seeps into her cheeks. Xenia had just said that she was worth countless reasons to be believed in--to confide in--meaning that Xenia thought she was incredible and only expressed so through counting every star piercing the navy sky. It was hard not to get so flustered over praise that sublime from the Mistress of Spies herself--and during a star-dotted rendezvous at that. Xenia’s smile dwindles into something miniature but still saccharine, one that goads MC’s heart to pound harder in her chest. Those uncanny glowing eyes inspected her, watching the rouge coalesce on her cheeks and the emerald of MC’s eyes dilate with shock, then swivel away from hers for bashful reasons. 

I'd keep you in my pocket to use

Typically, when MC became this flustered to the point of unable to meet Xenia’s eyes, she’d be gifted a husky quip--one that always hinted at something more yet something unreachable by her own hands. But that doesn’t come and neither does Xenia’s teasing smirk; just a soft gaze and delicate groove of her dark lips. MC attempts to recoup by pulling a Xenia and taunting her, hoping to alleviate the red infecting her face and the tips of her ears. “Does that mean that you stargazed to find my ultimate value? No one has scrutinized me so thoroughly before.”

You're my only compass,

Xenia’s smile doesn’t chip away but rather intensifies slightly, enough to crinkle her eyes with a fondness MC dared not question. Still, MC caught a wisp of mirth twinkling in her eyes and she made sure not to hold her breath like she wanted to. “Perhaps,” she relents, passing a glance to the sky, before returning her gaze back to MC, “or maybe I just took perspective in a way that others didn’t; I had faith that those reasons were as much a part of you as your freckles and elven ears. After you demonstrated the true utility and quality you offer to any ally you acquaint with, it was perspicuous that you’d be a constellation of light that’d enlighten more than just my mission. It was simply improbable to not trust your bubbly charisma.”

I might get lost without you

MC was awestruck. There wasn’t a single syllable that could filter from her throat--none comprehensible, at least--and she feels her lips move without her consciously ordering herself to do so. The flush returns and climbs up her nape but weirdly enough, she doesn’t mind it in the least. Xenia made her heart somersault and her spirit lift, as easy as the stars and their silver radiance. “Thank you, Xenia,” MC credits, her green eyes a lost constellation of pleasant sentiment, “I appreciate your beneficent words. You’re too kind to say such things of me--who was an orphaned barmaid of the Wilds before you swooped in and danced me into royalty, mind you.” She muses aloud, her heart a stampede rioting in her chest. The earnest openness of Xenia’s features spools into something much more guarded--much more measured, the way MC was familiar with when it comes to the spymaster. Still, a benevolent edge laces her mouth and she squeezes MC’s hand. “Perhaps at that juncture in your life, but now, it has been proven before your very eyes that you were destined for greater beyond the Wilds.”

Could you tell me where to go?

Xenia pauses as she eyes the moon stapled to the sky and the gears within her head groan to life and spin; rusty after a period of such little use. It was much later than she anticipated staying out with MC and she knew they had to return to their positions--return to their charades. Impertinent as it was, Xenia wished she could remain beside MC for longer than she was premeditated to, ignoring all of Altadellys for a stolen moment under the stars. Perhaps... perhaps she could configure something like this; something shrouded from suspicion but so unguarded that the whims of enjoyment and professionalism are worn down. Xenia chews the thought around in her head for a second, discovering its potential through every corner and curve, before she sighs and shoots MC a sympathetic look. “I’m deeply sorry, MC, but I think it is time we end this here. We are already remaining out longer than we originally coordinated.”

You're always there to help me when I'm down,

That disturbs the elation coating MC’s face and the heir frowns softly, her hands reluctant to pull away from Xenia. But the Spymistress was right: by staying out this late, that would rouse potential suspicion with not only Tansy but any nobles who noticed their conjoined absence. With a deflated sigh, MC lets go of Xenia’s fingers--stealing away the only bit of right she’d felt in this constancy of wrong--and dusts off her skin, rising to her feet. Xenia follows more elegantly and the two of them exchange stares that expressed sorrow in having to depart; to separate.

I'm lucky you've been keeping me around

“Until next time, Xenia,” MC softly remarks, her eyes softening at the idea, “good luck dealing with Tansy.” That severs the unfortunate tilt of her mouth and Xenia chuckles warmly, her face briefly lighting with a small smile. Even her mourning veil abruptly billows with her sharp breath. “You as well, Stargazer. 

You're the star I look for every night,

“But in regards to our Queen: Tansy is more so a nuisance than anything else so the wish is unnecessary but dearly appreciated.”

When it's dark, you'll stick right by my side

With that, Xenia retreats into the shadows and her form melts within the darkness and MC is left alone. But she is giddy and warm, her heart still clutching the words Xenia left for her; from the name she kindly gave to MC to the ruthless dissection she did of Tansy’s character.

MC was glad that she was able to speak to Xenia that night. Without the Mistress of Spies there to strengthen her confidence in herself, who else would be her compass, there to guide her through thick and thin?

There were little names to come to her mind and atop them all, Xenia’s stood out as the most illustrious of them all.

Bold and beautiful, intelligent and cunning; everything MC had ever wanted to rely on.

~FIN~

[joylessnightsky]

As a dyslexic person…

You know, often times people hurt us without intending to. Us just meaning humans in general. We’re a stupid species, and we make mistakes. That’s okay. And everyone’s feelings are different, I know. Still, sometimes I have to really wonder how people don’t realize how what they are saying is hurtful.

And this post is half a vent and half a cautionary thing. If you ever talk to a dyslexic person, please be mindful of these things. Whether or not they’ll actually be hurt by some of these is not for me to tell you but for them, but you should still be mindful of it. Conversation and stuff, works with people of all kinds, you know?

If you have dyslexia yourself, please feel free to add on with your own experiences. And please read the post yourself, too. Because, as I already said, sometimes we hurt each other without wanting to, because different things hurt different people.

Now, let’s get to it:

1) A lot of the time people will say something like “That’s great for someone with dyslexia!” And I know they mean to compliment me. I know they mean to say that it is an accomplishment. And it probably is. But by saying that, you’re actually devaluating my accomplishment. It’s basically the same problem as if someone said “You’re so nice for a man.” or “That’s such an impressive career for a woman.” There’s a serious difference between giving a compliment and giving a compliment in relation to something about you.

I worked for the reading speed I have. I worked for the capability to write with so little misspellings that I could pass as just another student. I worked for being able to read a text I haven’t read before. I worked for being able to read out loud to the class without making an utter fool out of me. I worked, for years, about an hour a day, in therapy and at home, until my head hurt form the effort, despite the frustration, despite the insults, despite questioning if anything would ever actually help. So the last thing I need is for you to tell me that my efforts and my work make me “good for a dyslexic person”. Tell me I did good. I’d love to hear that. Tell me my work can be seen. But don’t remind me that my efforts will only ever be seen in the context of my diagnosis. At one point, I managed to become one of the top students in my literary class when it came to spelling in exams. And I still only got praised with that phrase. It’s honestly gotten to the point where the compliment makes me feel bad about myself. It’s not a compliment anymore! Just… Don’t. Don’t.

2) One time I was talking with my teacher about how the others would call me pretentious and say I only relied on my diagnosis and the “advantages” I supposedly got (they meant the stuff that was supposed to make my disadvantages less bad, I think). And she said that I shouldn’t take it to heart, that they didn’t know what they talked about and “whoever says someone like you shouldn’t be here is stupid.” A little context, we have a system with different forms of schools, the one I choose to attend is the form with basically all advanced classes.

Now, in on itself, this was a really great thing to say. The reason it’s still stuck with me years later in a negative sense is because no one had, in fact, questioned my position at said school. I had never even heard anyone say that dyslexic people being at this form of school was weird or anything. Never. The first time the idea that I had to prove myself capable of belonging there had been placed in my head at that very moment. She didn’t meant to do that, I know she didn’t. And that makes it all the worse, because she was trying to make things better and she was so kind about it. I can’t even be angry at her for planting that thought in my head! And the way she so casually said that, as if it was a known fact that people would think I didn’t belong there, as if it was only natural for people to say something like that to me - even if she said they’d be stupid and wrong to do so - really hurt. A lot.

So all I’m asking is, please check what was said to someone. Don’t assume what they might have heard others say about them. If you’re wrong, knowing that people could possibly think that on top of everything else can feel… icky.

3) I’ve meet a lot of ignorant people in my life. We all have, haven’t we? And one of those people was my teacher for one horrible year. I pity everyone who ever has to live through her classes at this point. Why do people who can’t respect others have a mind of their own become educators again?

Anyways, I’ve posted about this before, but she was sure that she knew better than me what dyslexia meant, as well as that dyslexia had to be the same as reading and writing disorder and I had my facts wrong. Surprising no one she never really cared much that I couldn’t do the things my classmates could do. And one day she had the nerve to tell me that “class is over and you should have been able to write that down in time if you’d actually worked. So, if you really need these notes, just ask someone for them. I’m sure even you can manage that, right?” and take the notes down from the board. She didn’t have to do that, and she had put those notes there in the last minute. I’d told her they were too small for me to read and that I couldn’t tell the letters apart like that. She hadn’t cared. Yeah… That was one of the few times a teacher made me cry in the bathroom.

So, even though I can’t believe I have to say that, don’t assume you know what someone can or can’t do, and listen to them when they talk about their experience. If they say they can’t do something, they can’t. And no matter how much you think to know about a disability, when someone lives with it, they know what it’s like in a way that you could never know.

4) I’ve also had a math teacher, and he was great! One of those teachers that just make sense and that actually really care about their students and them understanding things rather than learning them like vocab cards. He was the only math teacher who I’ve ever felt comfortable with enough to confess that measurements can be tricky on some days. Does it say “cm”, “dm”, “km” or even just “m” there? Is it “L”, “cL” or “dL”? “g” or “kg”? He was really nice about it and we made a deal: In every class test I got the measurement would not change within one task. Helped a lot. And yet…

Students talk. They noticed. Because what my teacher had done, you see is adjust just my class test. I didn’t need to switch between measurements, the others did. and I see why that wasn’t considered fair. It really isn’t, because that doesn’t have much to do with reading or writing. Yet the issue at the bottom was still there. What I’m saying is that if you change a task so that a dyslexic person can work with it, don’t change it just for them. Especially not if the task itself changes then. Dear teachers, if you’re reading this, do it for everyone or not at all. Yes it helps if you do that, but no it isn’t fair if it’s just for one person. And I honestly still feel like I cheated after hearing what my classmates said.

5) Sometimes people will tell me that it’s impressive that I work against the dyslexia, you know, did the therapy and everything (even though many people just can’t afford it and would do it if they could). In that context a little sentence often fell that I just hate from the bottom of my heart: “If only everyone would do as much. It’s great that you don’t just rely on your diagnosis to take care of everything.”

First of all, I was lucky. I was lucky my health insurance covered not only one but two therapies. It didn’t for my brothers, my parents had to pay for that themselves. And that is not cheap! Not everyone can afford to do therapy. Not everyone has the chance to do therapy. That the therapy worked as well as it did was, again, luck. That my dyslexia was on the lighter side to begin with was also luck. That I knew I was at risk and got tested early on, so that I was diagnosed at an age where a real difference could be made through developmental psychology was also luck. Don’t ever make the mistake to think that one person who got lucky can be used as the bar.

Secondly, everyone’s dyslexia is different. You can’t compare mine to other people’s struggles. Again, my form of dyslexia isn’t that bad. Both my brothers have it worse. Sure, it might not be the easiest to deal with and it’s not the bare minimum for the diagnosis, but others have it worse than I do. And they have different symptoms. I can’t even deal with most of mine, they are just easy to conceal until I have a better day. We’re not all the same, so don’t compare us in a way that makes it look like we are.

Third, a lot was my own research. No one told me that there is a fond that was developed for dyslexic people to read easier (”OpenDyslexic”, if you are interested. It’s free to download). No one told me about all the side effects, no one told me “hey, this might actually be because of your dyslexia, too”. No one told me having subtitles on in a language I already spoke would help remembering the spelling of words. No one told me how to articulate things. I didn’t get an awful lot of help along the way, you know? Keep in mind, I come from an environment in which I got more help than on average. And you saying that is basically pushing the responsibility onto us. You made a world in which we have little to no access to help, and you’re shaming us for not finding any.

Last but everything but least, you make it sound like the treatment and the way we handle this is what makes the dyslexia valid. If you’re really thinking so, you’re wrong. Like, really wrong. I chose to work my ass off to teach my brain how to keep up. I managed to find information on it. I was lucky to get the possibility to do so, because of the way you are handling this. None of that makes my diagnosis valid. It doesn’t, because it already is. My struggles, my feelings about it, my experiences, my symptoms are what makes this valid. The diagnosis, dyslexia? That just gave it a name. 

6) “That might be hard for you to do. Are you sure you can handle this?” I’m glad that you are concerned on my behalf. But as someone who also has a lot of anxiety and has lived with this shit in my mind for my entire life, I can guarantee you that I do, in fact know my limits. I have lost many opportunities in my life because I wasn’t sure I could handle it, or because I couldn’t tell beforehand if I would have a “good day” or a “bad day”.

I’m aware of the risk. I decided to take the risk, or am in the process of decided whether or not to take that risk. You aren’t helping. If you are concerned, offer to help me should I struggle. If you can’t help me, offer support. If you can neither help nor support me, I don’t know you well enough for you to be meddling with my choices so you should just leave me alone.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for taking your time to read this. I hope this’ll help. And if you do make a dyslexic person uncomfortable or hurt them with something you say or do, please remember that that will happen, no matter what someone’s dealing with. Even my brothers will hurt me sometimes and I will hurt them sometimes, even though we are all dyslexic and have known each other for literally all our lives, because we all experience this differently. And that’s okay. You can’t always know what will hurt someone and it’s not you job to read their mind and figure it out on your own either. Important is that you recognize you’ve made a mistake and that you make a conscious effort to avoid said mistake in the future. And remember: Sometimes it’s not what you’re trying to say but rather how you’re saying it that hurts. Formulations can make a huge difference.

[andtheniwrotemarvel]

Valid (Approved Alternate)

dad!Steve Rogers/Peter Parker x Reader

Assumed female reader

Word Count: 1274

This is for @pparkerwrites ‘s 5k writing challenge! It’s been a really rough semester so it was nice to get back into writing after all of that. Enjoy!

Also here’s Approved.

"We can get her back."

"You don't understand, I left her!"

"She knew what she was doing, Parker. She told you to get out of there--"

"That shouldn't have mattered!" Peter huffed, his anxiety apparent in his posture. He was curling up into himself, his hands furled around each other close to his face. "It was my responsibility to keep her safe, and I failed."

"Kid, come on," Steve said, placing a steady hand on the boy's shoulder. "Give my daughter some credit here. She told you to leave her there for a reason."

"I--no, I was the senior agent," he argued. "I could have--I should have--"

"You don't work that way," Sam reminded him. "You've never been a commander and a unit, you're a team."

"And if one of you does have to take charge, it's almost always (Y/N)," Natasha added. "It's doubtful that she would have taken no for an answer."

"She knows what she's doing better than you do anyway, punk," Bucky pointed out.

"Hey, I thought I was punk," Steve complained.

"Your daughter is trapped alone at a Hydra base and you're more worried about a nickname?" Peter questioned incredulously.

"Peter, you need to chill out," Tony said.

"Chill out? I'm the only one thinking rationally here!" he exclaimed, standing up rapidly. "She's alone and we don't even know if she's okay! Our comms are jammed, so we don't have a way to communicate with her, and the last time I saw her, we were being attacked by so many people that I couldn't even see her! Why don't you all--" Peter's breath hitched-- "Why can't you--" he fought back tears as he continued to work himself up.

"Peter?" Steve prompted.

"Why wasn't I enough?" he agonized.

The boy fell back into his chair and buried his face in his hands. Shrinking into himself once more, he fought to control his breathing as his emotions became overwhelming. Never before had he failed like this. The one person he had promised to protect with his life he had left alone, and why? Because she had promised the same thing to him. She was stronger than him; she hadn't backed out of her promise.

Above all else, Peter felt weak.

Peter felt weak and incapable and ashamed for having left. All he wanted was for you to hold him in your tight embrace so that he could know that you were all right, but that couldn't happen because he had abandoned you. Why didn't he stay? Why wasn't he capable of taking you with him?

"Why wasn't I enough?" he whispered again.

Steve reached out to put a hand on Peter's shoulder to try to comfort him, but Peter recoiled as if Steve's touch were caustic.

"You don't get it, Captain Rogers, I left—" Peter stuttered— "I left your daughter because I wasn't strong enough to get her out with me."

"I'm not blaming you."

"You don't get it!" he repeated angrily, meeting Steve's eyes. Peter's shone with tears ready to spill over. "You weren't there."

"Walk us through," Bruce requested. "What would we have seen if we were there?"

"What happened to make her feel like she needed to tell you to leave?" Natasha added.

Peter took a breath to stabilize himself, swiping his arm over his face. "We were stormed by at least twenty men twice our size," he related.

"Those are bad odds," Steve sighed.

"But we're Avengers," Peter argued. "Everything we do is based on bad odds."

"We're adults that have built our lives on beating the odds, but you're just kids with barely more than a couple of years of experience. It's okay not to be perfect."

"We still make mistakes sometimes," Sam added. "Not to mention that we all know to listen to (Y/N) Rogers of all people when she tells us to do something."

"Don't hold yourself accountable for this. You did your best, and that's what matters," Natasha said.

"Let the kid tell his story," Tony complained. "You're interrupting him every three seconds to try to make him feel better."

"For the record, it's kind of working," Peter shrugged.

"Keep going," he prompted.

"Right. Well, um, the first thing they did was to separate us. If I had been able to stay with her, we would have been able to beat them without a whole lot of issue."

"Synergy," Bruce interjected.

"But I let myself be separated from her. We were pushed into corners, plus they were airing some kind of static over the comms so that we couldn't communicate at all."

"That's really smart but really scary to think about," Natasha worried. "You two are practically undefeatable when you're working together. You're a better team than Steve and Bucky."

"I've watched you two kick their butts enough times to confirm," Sam snarked.

"So when did you decide to leave, Peter?" Steve interjected suddenly, turning a little pink in the cheeks.

"When she told me to," he answered. "The static on the comms let up, and she told me to get out. Wouldn't even let me argue."

"What did she say exactly?"

"Oh, I have the transcript," Bruce offered. "(Y/N) told him, quite articulately, I might add, 'Get your cute little butt out of here before I make you, Parker.'"

Snickers rose up from around the room. Even when you weren't here, you were still able to add the perfect touch of comic relief when it was needed.

"Where did she get her sense of humor?" Sam asked Natasha quietly. "Not her parents, that's for sure."

"Her uncles, I think. Probably you and Barton for the most part," she answered, smirking.

"She said more after that, didn't she?" Peter asked Bruce.

"Ah, yeah, she did. After you tried to argue for a second, she said, 'Tell my dad I'm sorry, but tell him that he knows I can hold my own, too. Don't take too long coming back, 'kay?'"

"I'm not the one she needed to convince of that. She knows that I trust her," Steve said. "I thought you did, too, Parker. When did that change?"

"I--I don't--" The question caught Peter off-guard. "It's not (Y/N) I don't trust. I know that every decision she makes is the right one for the situation."

"Then what has you so worked up?"

"The whole situation!" he exclaimed. "It's so frustrating that she had to make the decision that she did. I'm frustrated because I wasn't good enough to prevent it."

"None of us would have been," Steve said firmly. "There's not a single one of us that could have prevented this. You were the most likely if we're being perfectly honest."

"That does not make me feel better."

"Let's talk about extraction," Tony interrupted. "FRIDAY was able to connect to (Y/N) for a second just now and it turns out she's fine as of now. She's been hiding in the vents this whole time."

"Another thing she picked up from Barton," Sam snickered.

"Unfortunately, we don't know exactly where she is except for the second floor. That's all we have to go on," he continued. "Who's up for the mission?"

"I'd like to volunteer Peter," Steve said.

"I'll second that," Natasha said. Most everyone else nodded in agreement. "Who do you want to take as backup?"

"Hold on, I didn't agree to this--"

"Too bad," she dismissed. "We can have a spider-people mission."

"Or a bug-people mission," Scott volunteered, speaking up for the first time.

"Um, how about..." Peter looked around the room, pushing down his self-doubt. "Cap? Do you want to come with me?"

Steve clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I'd be honored."

Tag List: @shamvictoria11 @cookies186 @sweeneytoddler @shuriwithparker

[pelikinesis]

i dunno if it’s because this hasn’t happened in awhile, or due to the occasion, but i am incredibly aware that during the last hour or so of conversation with my friends tonight, i basically got interrupted three times and they never got back to me. 

it might be because we were celebrating my birthday, and so i felt like maybe i should be able to get in a word edgewise in a group conversation with friends during such an occasion. But to be fair, the person who ended up taking center stage was a friend whose birthday was the day before mine, so we were celebrating hers as well.

and she needed the attention and the speaking time more than i did. that’s basically how it always has been. Other people need to vent or pose questions for the group or reserve time while struggling to articulate a thought more than i do. i’m the chill guy who cracks jokes and shit. i was the one guy talking with three women so it becomes responsible to second-guess every time I got the acute sense that there was no space in the conversation for me, because maybe that’s just my subconscious sexist bias.

probably the most notable thing is realizing i used to feel this way a lot, especially in high school, but also that at the time, i learned to deal with those feelings of feeling marginalized in my own friend group by castigating myself for wallowing in self-pity over such a first world problem. that’s the adventist filipino upbringing for you.

because in contrast, what i’m realizing now is that it makes sense that i feel left out right now, and yet i also realized the conversation they had from interrupting me was ultimately more acutely necessary. i’m too lazy to contextualize this, but my friend benefited more from being the center of attention that time than i would have, because being allotted that time and attention went a ways into helping her process difficult emotions. 

were I to have taken up that time and attention instead, we would not have ended up addressing anything quite so urgent or great in magnitude. it’s okay to feel left out in an instance even as you recognize that such a thing will not likely be a recurring thing and you understand good outcomes resulted, even if they didn’t directly benefit you.

thing is, that wasn’t something I was capable of perceiving for the first 25 years of my life, which is fucking ridiculous. My upbringing really wanted me to hate myself into perfection. same trick played a dozen different ineffable ways.

so i’m going to mope about a little bit, and see how i feel later, because i no longer allocate much time for people who would try to shame me for practicing self-compassion. Any time someone makes you feel like you’re “wallowing in self-pity” you gotta ask yourself if they resent you for trying to treat yourself like a person too. i’m going to sulk by myself and if anyone demands an apology i’m going to kick their fucking teeth in

[echodrops]

Issues with Voltron Season 6 (Part 3)

A continuation of my extremely long vent about the most recent Voltron season.

<-- Part 1 is back here.

<- Part 2 is back here.

This time it’s (mostly) about Keith and Shiro!

All right, so while I think the treatment of Lotor’s character was the true worst offender of this season, the entire clone Shiro plot line has just driven me nuts from start to finish, and the culmination of it in this season just heaped more salt in the fire.

Let me preface this by saying I love Shiro--I genuinely love this character and have felt like the EPs had no idea what they were doing with his character since the end of season one. Everything I say in this post is an extension of the fact that I feel like this poor man has been mistreated and misused by the writers since practically day one.

At least as far as I understand it, the EPs’ original intention was for Shiro to disappear at the end of season two and not return until this point in the show, which would have been an absence of a season and a half (19 episodes). I absolutely understand the higher level executive meddling from Dreamworks that forced them to scrap this idea and bring Shiro back into the story earlier. Simply removing a character from the plot for over a year’s time and then expecting to bring him back in and have some major emotional payoff would have been utterly stupid. No one would have cared at that point, and everyone would have been left wondering why they bothered to return Shiro to the plot at all.

But that doesn’t mean that the route the writers took to “fix” the issue is any better. Why in the world does this entire clone plot line exist? It’s honestly like they sat down at the table and said “What is the most roundabout, complicated, and unnecessary way to fix our Shiro problem?” and then went “Okay, let’s do exactly that.” There are so many ways they could have chosen to solve this problem instead:

1) Leave the real Shiro on the astral plane, and have periodic cuts throughout other episodes to Shiro struggling to “survive” on the astral plane, possibly dealing with apparitions of Zarkon etc. Experiencing difficulties due to the extreme isolation, trying to reach out to the team in critical moments--hell, he could have been there with the manifestation of the Black Lion, and and the writers could have shown him learning awesome things about the lions, the universe, the Alteans, etc. etc. Meanwhile, outside, Keith could have stayed with the team and grew into his Black Paladin leadership role organically instead of the artificial “Well, we aged him two years so now you know he’s mature and leader-worthy!” The drive to find Shiro could have continued to lead Keith and could have served as a more logical reason for Allura and company to be swayed by Lotor--he could have tried to convince them that Shiro might be trapped in the rift or something, and that could have been their reasoning behind being willing to explore the rift despite the imminent danger. Hell, it could still end with Haggar controlling Shiro into a Shiro vs. Keith showdown--maybe gaining the secrets of Oriande would allow her to reach out and control Shiro on the astral plane--they could have used literally any other excuse! And then we’d get our Shiro and Keith showdown on the astral plane as a perfect parallel to the Zarkon vs. Shiro showdown from the earlier season! It would have been great!!

2) Scrap the astral plane idea entirely and just put Shiro somewhere on the other side of the universe with like... minimal working tech. The show cuts between Shiro’s antics across the universe and his attempts to make it back to the team--allowing for greater world building--and the team, where again, Keith is allowed to organically grow into a leadership role. Same reasoning as above, the team could engage with Lotor after Lotor makes a promise to help them find their missing Black Paladin or something. Meanwhile, Shiro is being mind-controlled remotely from Haggar, whose magic got into him from the glowing wound way back in season one or something. We still get our Keith vs. Shiro showdown, tada.

In essence, what I’m trying to say is that literally any other possible plot would have felt more natural and been a better addition to the story than going with “Shiro’s an evil clone and the real one died inexplicably 19 episodes ago.”

I mean, can someone actually articulate any positive gain from the clone plot line? In what way did this particular plot--these particular events--actually make the story better? Is there something here that I am just flat out missing? Was there something in this plot that could ONLY be done via this particular clone story? I am honestly struggling here to see any profit in this. I can only see this as an example of writers choosing the worst possible solution to a simple problem, possibly even out of spite.

As an aside, I think my true biggest problem with the clone Shiro plot line is the the underlying issue of why the EPs thought it was a good idea to get rid of Shiro in the first place. Several of their interviews have led me to conclude that they never expected people to actually like or care about Shiro, and that they themselves never saw him as more than a stepping stone for Keith to overcome in order to achieve his ultimate role of leadership.

But that entire thing doesn’t make any sense, because it hinges on one major premise that the writers never actually sold to us: Keith needs to be the leader.

Why? We’re literally never given a single compelling reason for this in the show itself. There is nothing in this show to support the idea that Keith should be the destined leader of Voltron. There’s simply no logical explanation for this in the show at all. 

The only remotely reasonable excuse is that Keith was the leader in the original Voltron, so he should be the leader here too. Except “Keith” in the original show had an entirely different personality and was a perfect cookie cutter of the hero archetype. Sven wasn’t leader type in the original series; he bears minimal resemblance to the Shiro of this show.

So why does Keith need to lead Voltron? What does he bring to the table as Black Paladin that he could not have brought as the Red Paladin? Why are there so many parallels between Keith and Alfor, the Red Paladin, if Keith was just going to end up as the Black Paladin all along?

Am I genuinely supposed to believe “Because Keith was the leader originally” is the only valid reason the writers had for giving us this massive tumor of a plot--a plot that resulted in Keith’s leaving the team, Shiro becoming a clone, Lance being shoved even further aside, Allura getting a lion despite the EPs saying they wanted to make her a cool enough character she didn’t need one, and undermining essentially all the efforts of season one to show a meaningful lion/paladin bond?

I have never seen--from the very first episode of this show to the most recent--a shred of convincing evidence that Keith being the leader is, in any way, shape, or form, necessary or what’s best for the plot.

The entire lion swap plot line is, to my eyes, utterly unneeded, convoluted, and reductive. So much time was wasted on this that could have been dedicated to better examining the characters’ motivations and reactions to the numerous serious issues the show chose to instead gloss over...

Which is not helped by the writers’ lack of commitment to the color swap in the first place. If perhaps, from season three on, the show had consistently insisted that the color swap was permanent and we were never going to see Keith back in Red or Lance back in Blue, I might have accepted it. But the show writers are wishy-washy about even this!

This is literally how we ended season six:

Haggar deliberately says “the Red Paladin” in reference to Keith in this season--in a freaking episode titled “The Black Paladins.” The lack of consistency in messaging is actively painful to my sensibilities as a writer.

To sum up what I’m trying to say here: The clone Shiro plot line was the worst possible solution to a problem the EPs created for literally no reason, and the trajectory of the “Keith becomes leader plot” so badly shifted the tone of the show that tens of opportunities to better examine the world and characters were lost in order to progress a story line that the writers never convincingly sold to us as an audience in the first place. I can’t think of any word for this but “bad.”

(PHEW. THERE. I SAID IT.)

And this of course doesn’t even touch on the other issues raised by this season in regards to Shiro, namely:

1) How much of the clone body is actually organic material? Because in the flashback from season 3 (or was it 4?), the clone Shiro that was shown lying on the table made a camera sound as his pupils dilated, indicating that at least part of the body was mechanical, not to mention that the prosthetic arm literally grew to extend past the organic part of Shiro’s arm in the Shiro vs. Keith fight--did they put real!Shiro’s self back into a mostly robotic body? Are we ever coming back to this? Is it ever going to be discussed? Why do I get the feeling it won’t?

2) The fact that the clone’s existence was entire overwritten by real!Shiro is super creepy and maybe just because I’m coming from a long history in the Kingdom Hearts fandom, the idea of someone’s existence being absorbed despite them functionally being capable of being different people is super saddening. I was never emotionally invested in clone!Shiro because he was obviously a clone from day one, but the fact that he was a fundamentally good person who was trying his best, then had to face the horror of losing control of himself, fighting someone he thought was his best friend to the death, and then literally being swallowed by a person who wasn’t around to personally experience any of these things is discomforting. Not to mention that “Shiro just inherited all the clone’s memories!” makes absolutely no sense scientifically (and isn’t even explained magically in the show) and is, once more, a cheap way to handwave character growth--of course Shiro hasn’t missed out on more than a season’s worth of development! It’s all still there, even if he wasn’t the one to experience it! Now it’s just like he did, promise!) Miss me with this nonsense, please.

3) What kind of government does Earth have in place that a minor can leave foster care to go to military boarding school at the tender age of what looks like 12 on the apparent recommendation of a man who likely wasn’t even 21 years old? (It’s like, if the main plot itself was going to be completely illogical, couldn’t they at least make the backstories somewhat viable?) And not to mention, but... didn’t the Keith and Shiro backstory deserve more screen time? There was so much build up to this, and we got less flashback for Keith and Shiro than we did for Krolia and Tex! Matt and Pidge got more! I feel incredibly short-changed, especially because I feel like that was probably it and we’re probably not going to get many more flashbacks for Shiro and Keith specifically. I think their placement in the Keith versus Shiro episode was good, but there just wasn’t enough material there to really satisfy the longing I had to see Keith and Shiro grow up together.

“What I got wasn’t what I needed and I wanted so much more than what I got” is the summary of Shiro and Keith in season 6, essentially.

ALSO I CAN’T UNSEE THIS.

I burst out laughing at this scene when I actually watched the season--it wasn’t supposed to be funny but I could not stop laughing. Sorry Keith, or something.

Anyway, all of this also relates to one of the other major issues I have had with Voltron since season one:

4) The writers have no idea how to handle an ensemble cast, but they keep adding characters anyway!

Matt was introduced and effectively erased, Slav might as well no longer exist, Olia? Not sure why we even bothered to give her a name. Kolivan? Probably died off screen! Lotor’s generals? I have no idea why they even bothered to animate them into this season given how little impact they had! All the other existing Alteans on the colony? Erm... I’m sure we’ll get back to those guys eventually.

There’s a difference between “We don’t have time to dedicate entire episodes to side characters” and “These characters just functionally stop existing when we no longer have an immediate role for them in the plot.” The attention in this series is all over the place--Matt gets a ton of screen time in season 4, enough to make it seem like he’s going to be a recurring character--and then his existence is entirely ignored two seasons later. Slav could have proven useful at any number of moments in this plot--and yet he’s nowhere to be found. The allegiances of Lotor’s generals are so cheap that they could basically be swapped out for any random helmeted Galra cannon fodder with zero impact on the plot. I’ve genuinely never seen a show deliberately add so many characters to its cast and then so badly under-utilize them.

This is actively jarring because any new character that appears, you have to first ask yourself “Is it worth getting invested in this person’s story? How likely are they to never appear again after this season?” And there’s seemingly no rhyme or reason to who disappears--even people who could and should still be active in the plot get shoved entirely to the side without any explanation or justification for their absence.

And all this mistreatment of the side characters might be okay if the main characters were at least getting to grow and develop consistently instead. But that’s not the case either! We have Lance’s character back-pedalling, Hunk fans excited over mere scraps of their favorite getting screentime that isn’t a food joke, and Pidge... I was honestly concerned that some of her hacking footage from this season was stock reused from previous seasons. 

Screen time in this series bounces around like a ball--whoever catches it gets to do something cool for ten seconds then has to immediately pass it to someone else. Keith is a ball hog but somehow STILL doesn’t get his issues dealt with respectfully.

This show sold itself on the tried and true premise of “power of friendship.” The entire first season was really about becoming a team. And yet the show writers seem entirely adverse to letting these characters grow together. All the best moments of the show are moments in which the relationships between characters are expressed in believable and meaningful ways. Lance’s pep talk to Allura on Naxela. Pidge’s moving mourning for Matt. Keith’s refusal to let go of Shiro. The show writers KNOW how to believably develop more than one character simultaneously--they know how to let characters share the spotlight--and yet they continually fall back on scenes which give the foreground to a single character, leaving the audience with the constant feeling that other characters are being short changed. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge fans have every right to be upset.

There’s no reason that Keith and Pidge’s character developments have to take place in entirely different episodes. There’s no reason that Lance’s insecurities and Pidge’s fears about her family need separate screen time. All of these characters’ issues--everything they need to overcome in order to become stronger, happier people--could be dealt with together, saving time and animation budget in the process.

I have never come across a show about being a team that so violently rejects the idea of its characters being you know... an actual team.

And I guess, while I’m here, one last little gripe:

5) Chekov’s Gun is a serious issue for the writers of this series.

Lance unlocked a sword in season 4. Where is it? Why has it not been used? Keith got a dog that can teleport. Why not just teleport the dog into the Sincline ship and let it eat Lotor’s face while he was in a cramped and defenseless position??? When elements like these are introduced to the story, viewers are trained to expect something to come from them. We can only assume that Lance’s sword and Keith’s dog will be plot relevant at some point. But when? The timing is terrible in this show--why make us wait more than a season for Lance’s sword to pay off when there were plenty of opportunities to work it in before now? Did the EPs really give Keith a wolf just because they thought it would be cool for him to have a “lone wolf” to relate to, despite the fact that part of the entire trajectory of his character has been teaching him the importance of relying on others and making meaningful bonds to other people? (How does it make sense to even deem it a “lone wolf” if Keith adopted it when it was just a tiny puppy?)

I mean, I LIKE the dog and I still think its inclusion was nonsensical and pointless... They could have introduced this dog in any number of ways, but “randomly dropped on the back of a whale in a space-time continuum with no logical origin point or reasonable explanation for being there” is what the writers went with.

This is nitpicking, I know, and don’t get me wrong, I’m all for Keith having a cool space wolf--but did the show really need another example of badly shoehorning in the EPs’ whims? Did the none of the editors really stop to go “Maybe we should do this stuff later or in a different way”?

At the end of the day, there are just a lot of problems with the story. Enough that, at this point, I feel ready to divorce myself from it. I’m going to continue watching the show--there’s no point in stopping now, at the end--but at this point, Voltron is always going to go down on paper for me as a show I loved for what could have been, not for what really was.

I don’t say any of this stuff with a light heart. I definitely give my all to shows and games when I get invested in them, and Voltron has dominated my fandom time for two years now. I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words about and for this show. No one can accuse me of not caring about it.

But it’s because I care about the show--and the heights I know it could have reached--that I do feel this upset and let down. I know this show could have been better. I wanted better for it. I’m not spewing senseless criticism because my favorite ship didn’t come true or something... I really believe that the show has tons of untapped potential, and I’m saddened by the fact that I feel like it’s all going to waste.

I’m not asking anyone to agree with me, nor am I telling anyone that they have to suddenly start disliking the show just because I dislike where it has gone. People all have their own opinions, and like things for their own reasons. My reasons for liking Voltron are essentially gone, but for the other people that are still enjoying it, rock on.

I really do wish I was still there with you.

[princessmovieticket]

Letter/vent/dealing with shit through typing this out:

I work so hard to prevent getting sicker. I know things have to be better to prevent early death.

But what's the point?

You guys are all just going to let me decline and leave this up to me.

And I don't have it in me.

It seems no matter what I communicate to you, no one takes it's seriously since it's being articulated. As if that means I have some sort of handle on things, rather than the fact is I have been working hard on it so I could effectively communicate so you guys would understand. Because I desperately need your help.

But you can't seem to see that.

You just hear self aware words.

What's happening to me goes unseen, only to be noticed when things get much much worse. Become an emergency.

Then everyone goes back to their life until I get worse again.

It's left me destroyed. To have this happen over and over again. Each time worse than the last.

It's to the point my body is getting absolutely every signal that it's time to die.

when a body gets like that, death feels inevitable.

Like when an older person loses a spose, and they decline into death.

I am losing everyone.

24/7 I'm isolated. Losing my cognitive abilities. Unable to leave my small apartment. Barely able to feed myself. A shower once every 7-12 days.

In a whiplash of emotional chaos and trying to keep things in order.

I tell you guys, and I am so confused. Because you know it's the truth. You acknowledge it and act sympathetic.

Yet not one of you is actually helping my health.

Which feels messed up. Like it's okay for me to endure this as long as I'm not dead.

I'm not the one holding on to have to accomplish things. I'm holding onto it because I have this messed up idea that one of you is going to value me more because of them, and finally say "this is enough. This needs to end. You're 26. You are special to me. You're getting out of this alive."

But no one comes

You act so proud of me.

Proud and sympathetic.

Not a single person says "this needs to end and I'm going to make sure it does. Rachel needs our help"

I don't understand

All I can muster is that you guys think it's not actually that bad.

Or you think someone else will do it.

Or that I'll do it. Even though I have already done my best and no longer have the skills, energy, or will to take this into my own hands.

And I want this to be over.

I am regressing. I am eroding. I am decaying.

I don't want to keep facing these days where I did my best but it's not enough for the people who "love me" to finally step up

It's never enough

I am so scared everyday

I am ripped to pieces

I want to be done

This needs to be done

I don't understand

What am I doing wrong?

I don't understand why you all think this is okay

I dont understand why you all do nothing

Do you still think of me for who I use to be? Capable? Independent? Self reliant? Disciplined?

Are you not seeing me for who I am now, for what has happened to my body

I CANT FEED MYSELF

I AM LIVING OFF CHIPS AND BOTTLES OF WATER

It's fucking messed up

It is so fucking fucking FUCKING MESSED UP

Someone do SOMETHING

[fandomaestheticxo]

Ted Bundy Documentary!!!

I know a lot of people are talking about Ted Bundy because of the movie that’s coming out and the documentary that’s on Netflix.  I’m going to add to it because I just finished watching it and no one is talking with me about it and I’m itching to.   I’m just going to say that I ended up feeling angry after watching.  Bundy was a very infuriating sick man and I’m honestly very happy that he got the death penalty.  I’ve learned that a lot of people who interviewed him or were involved with the case ended up getting really tired of him because of his cocky attitude and narcissism.   One thing that made me very angry was when he was on trial for the two college girls he murdered, I hated how he could just walk around the room like he owned the place, and the way he was able to talk himself and try to DEFEND what he did.  And how he could request things.  He got a lot of stuff that he wanted, better lighting, maybe better food, I don’t know if he ever got that, but he acted so self-righteous and like he was owed all that stuff.  

I know it was a different time back then and maybe it was also a more innocent time, where things like killings didn’t really happen, but I really don’t understand how they couldn’t have suspected him of being unhinged.  I know he was very good at being kept together and that he was smart and very articulate and I guess had a certain charm to him, but there must have been other things that made them question it.  The first red flag I picked up was when he was a kid and how he enjoyed making tiger traps in the woods where he KNEW kids liked to play.  Shouldn’t that have sparked questions?

The judge who was there for the first hearing for those two college woman he murdered, he angered me a bit too because he was so relaxed about a lot of stuff, and then at the end when Bundy got the death penalty, he talked to him like he almost felt bad for him!  Because he liked him, talking about how he would have liked to see him as a lawyer and telling him to take care of himself and how he has no animosity towards him and all that, it irked me so much.  He KILLED woman and didn’t feel sorry for ANY OF THEM, he was standing in HIS COURT ROOM DEFENDING HIMSELF like what he did wasn’t horrific.  

I don’t know.  It blows my mind to think that people like him actually exist.  People who are capable of killing other people and not feel an ounce of guilt or remorse.  He was fucking proud of himself for what he did to all those woman and that little girl.  

I didn’t know much about him before I watched this documentary, but I’m glad I got a better insight on who he was. He was absolutely vile.  Many times I wanted to punch that stupid ugly smirk off his smug face. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t post this because it’s giving him attention.  Like, I’m talking about him and thinking about him and he lived off that shit.  It made him feel so powerful that he had an affect on people, no matter how it was being perceived, attention was attention. And even though he’s dead, it still feels wrong because he’s still getting attention. But I just feel like I need to vent about it because I feel so angry! I honestly don’t know why I’m so angry, but I am.  He’s just.. ugh! Disgusting. 

[kooshmeister]

The Doctors of Doom Fan Script, Part 3

INT. SWAMP LAIR - DAY Murky daylight floods through the filthy glass of the mullioned windows, weakly illuminating the laboratory interior. Flanked by his mushroom monster, Dr. Viper stands mixing up some ingredients in an enormous cauldron-like metal beaker whose contents are being heated to a bubbling froth over a bunsen burner. Street paces impatiently behind him. We can see the four converted convicts, including Murdoch, standing off in a corner. The mushroom monster keeps eying them suspiciously, wriggling his tentacles in agitation; he doesn't like them, or Street. Street, for his part, ignores the big mutant. STREET How much longer, Doctor? Viper doesn't reply. He just pours chemicals and adds bits and bobs to the bubbling brew. A dash of this, a dab of that. Finally, he seems satisfied. VIPER There. It'sss ready, my good Dr. Ssstreet. Street comes over and looks in, making as much of a disgusted face as an almost fully transformed Ci-Kat-A is capable of, and then turns and nods to his accomplice, antennae twitching. VIPER Now then. I've done my part. Now it'sss up to you to go and get-- STREET (having heard all this before) Zzzuper-Katalyzzzt Five Zzzixty Zzzix. I know. VIPER I want to sssend-- He turns towards the mushroom monster. STREET (interrupting arrogantly) He won't be nezzezzzary. Viper whirls around. Both his and his mushroom monster's eyes glow with mutual fury, yellow and red in the semi-darkness. VIPER He knowsss the way-- STREET And so will I onzze I bite someone who workzzz there and gain their... "cooperation." Viper twists his mouth into a foul scowl. He isn't liking this rebelliousness from his "partner." STREET Nor do I need him for protection. Or azzzistanzze. (looks at Murdoch and the other prisoners) I have all that I need right here. VIPER (trying to argue) But... Street holds up a hand. STREET Relax, my dear Dr. Viper. My Ci-Kat-A brotherzzz and I have everything under control. He walks down the steps leading out of the lair interior. STREET You'll soon have your precious katalyzzzt. And zzzoon I will have what I want as well. My brotherzzz, to me! The other four converted kats follow him. Once they're gone, Viper goes and opens the window. EXT. SWAMP LAIR - DAY With the mushroom monster looming over his shoulder, Viper watches Street flying off over the desolate, swampy landscrape of the Dead Forest. The four converted prisoners trudge through the water in the same direction. VIPER (under his breath) Jussst don't screw thisss up, you brainless bugsss. Dr. Viper doesssn't look kindly on failure. He shuts the window and he and the monster away, receding into the darkness of the lab interior. EXT. MEGAKAT CITY - DAY An Enforcer chopper flies along. Inside, LIEUTENANT FELINA FERAL is flying. An ENFORCER PILOT is sitting beside her. Riding in back is a rookie Enforcer, CORPORAL GRAY TAYLOR, who can barely contain his excitement. He's dressed in the uniform of an Enforcer commando, but with a necktie added to show that he's a graduate of the Enforcer academy, and he has the visor of his helmet up, allowing us to see his eyes unlike an ordinary commando. TAYLOR Oh, boy, my first mission! FELINA (amused) Calm down, rookie, nothing exciting happening yet. TAYLOR Sorry, ma'am, I mean, sir, I mean... how do you address a female Enforcer officer? ENFORCER PILOT (droll) You say "Lieutenant." TAYLOR (blushing) Sorry, sir. (to Felina) Sorry, Lieutenant... Felina shakes her head and exchanges smirks with her co-pilot. ENFORCER PILOT Not even a week out of the academy and he's already itchin' for action, huh, Lieutenant? FELINA Don't I know it. (over her shoulder) Don't worry, Corporal Taylor. This is Megakat City. The chopper continues to zoom through the city. FELINA (a little darkly) Trust me, you won't lack for excitement here... INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL LABS - HALLWAY Belljar walks off down the hall toward the elevator. BELLJAR I'm going back upstairs to run some more tests before I meet with the Deputy Mayor. And I need to call Dr. Konway over at Enforcer Headquarters. I'll be back shortly. STEVEN Sure thing, Doc. Belljar gets on the elevator. The doors slide shut. Settling back into his chair, Steven does his best to stay awake. He futzes with things on his desk. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL LABS - TOP SECRET LAB We behold another change in the captured Ci-Kat-A's behavior. Their antenna twitch, and they start becoming restless, even though no one is in the room, as though they sense something. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL LABS - HALLWAY Steven sighs tiredly, using one finger to spin his articulated desk lamp around in an effort to entertain himself, which suddenly the duct cover of an air vent flies off and lands on the floor. Suddenly very attentive, the big guard gets up. STEVEN Huh? The converted Murdoch slithers out of the air vent. He's still mostly katlike except his compound eyes. The other three converted convicts follow suit. As Steven goes for his gun, the four hurriedly overwhelm and subdue him. One covers his mouth. Another prevents him from drawing his laser pistol. Emerging from the vent last of all is Dr. Street. He glides down to the floor using his wings and lands in front of the group. He studies the door, eying the keypad. Turning, he grabs the front of Steven's uniform, jerking him out of the cons' grasp. Before the guard can yell for help, Street's mandibles sink into his throat. Releasing Steven, he steps back as the guard collapses, writhing. After a moment, he stops, rising, his eyes green and insectoid, and walks over to the keypad, where he enters his security code. The light turns from red to green and the door opens. The converted convicts enter one by one, Steven following. Murdoch lingers with Street. MURDOCH What about Zzzuper-Katalyzzzt-- STREET (cutting him off angrily) What that zzzmall-minded fool Viper wantzzz can wait. This izzz more important. Come... Murdoch doesn't press the issue any further. They go inside. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL LABS - TOP SECRET LAB Street pushes his way to the front of the small group, and looks around angrily at the imprisoned converted guards. He spreads his arms like a preacher about to give a sermon. STREET My brotherzzz! In a moment you shall be free! And together we shall have our new queen and conquer not only Megakat Zzity... but the world!

EXT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - DAY CALLIE BRIGGS' dark green sedan pulls up to the curb and parks. Opening the gull wing door, the Deputy Mayor gets out. Callie is dressed in her usual attire, but has her jacket off, slung over her shoulder, tie slightly loosened, the top button of her dress shirt undone; concessions to the heat. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - DR. BELLJAR'S OFFICE The lab administrator's office. Spacious but sparsely furnished. Framed diplomas and certificates as well as picturesque paintings adorn the walls. Bookshelves of medical and scientific volumes. There's a painting of Dr. N. Zyme on the far wall lit by track lighting. Dr. Belljar's desk is neat and orderly, with decorative glass awards, an antique graduated cylinder with gold measurement etchings - a graduation present from Dr. Zyme, his mentor - and a few framed family photos, plus the usual telephone, with Belljar is on. It's cordless with a long antenna. Belljar isn't sitting at his desk, though, he's standing over by the window by a big fish tank, sprinkling in some fish food. BELLJAR (on the phone) No, Batch B was a complete failure, too. He sighs, peering into the tank, watching the fish dart around and gobble up the little flakes. BELLJAR I don't know what to tell you, Sam. It just isn't working. He squints. The fish tank abuts the office's only window. He sees a murky, distorted image of Callie Briggs putting her jacket on, and stands, looking over the tank top and out the window unobstructed, watching as Callie shuts her car door, shoulders the burden of her purse, and starts towards the front entrance. Halfway there, she stops and looks up, offering a smile and a wave. He waves back. BELLJAR Listen, Sam, we're gonna have to cut this short. Deputy Mayor Briggs just here. (a pause; we hear Dr. Konway say something) Yeah, my new hydroponics project. I'm really hoping she can get Manx to invest in it. (more of Konway speaking unintelligibly on the other end) Yeah. Right. Thanks a lot, Sam. Bye. He hangs up. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - LOBBY A stone-faced SECURITY GUARD is at the front desk. A little desk fan is blowing over him nonstop. He glances over disinterestedly as Callie comes in. Dr. Belljar rushes in from offscreen to greet her. BELLJAR Ms. Briggs, thank you so much for coming. They shake hands. Although she's got her blazer back on, Callie has elected not to button it, or her shirt, and has left her tie loosened. CALLIE It sure is a scorcher out there today, isn't it, Dr. Belljar. She fans herself. BELLJAR Yes it is, isn't it? Thank goodness for the miracle of air conditioning! They turn and head towards the elevators. CALLIE Sadly, the AC in my car is busted. It was like riding in an oven all the way over here. Belljar presses the "up" button on the elevator. CALLIE (half-jokingly) I don't supposed you can make this presentation a long one, can you, Doctor? The elevator doors glide open and the two get inside, Dr. Belljar chuckling. The doors shut. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - RESEARCH LAB Callie and Belljar enter. BELLJAR I'll do my best to ensure you remain to enjoy our facility's air conditioning for as long as you require, Deputy Mayor. This is the primary research laboratory of the building. Big windows from floor to ceiling letting bright sunshine in. Rows and rows of shelves containing neatly arranged and carefully labelled bubbling flasks and canisters of katalysts. Gently humming electronic machinery, computers and the like. There are a few workstations and desks, although the primary one, Dr. Zyme's (from The Origin of Dr. Viper), appears to have been left unused for quite some time. The chair is pushed in and the entire thing is draped in a shroudlike opaque tarp, giving it an almost funerary appearance. The former administrator's computer, files, books, diplomas and so forth can be seen on the desk underneath the tarp. Callie spares it a sad glance, but then follows Dr. Belljar over to a big presentation table containing an HO scale model of Megakat City. We can see familiar landmarks like City Hall, Enforcer Headquarters and Megakat Biochemical itself. The Megakat Tower and Old Megakat Bridge lay to one side on the corner of the table, intact but pointedly removed; currently, nothing crosses Megakat Bay, represented by clear blue plastic filling an indention in the model city's terrain. Callie smiles at the craftsmanship of the model. BELLJAR Obviously, as the world's population grows larger, katkind needs more and more food. Feeding the world has long been a dream of my predecessor's. (sighs sadly) Unfortunately, his idea to use the Viper Mutagen backfired horribly. Callie lays a sympathetic hand on his arm. CALLIE Believe me, Doctor, I know. I know. (urging him on) So tell me about your ideas. BELLJAR (smiling) My idea, Deputy Mayor, is to create a subsidiary to Megakat Biochemical Labs, Nutronics, which will have state of the art hydroponics facilities here... From a shoebox, he produces a little model of such a facility, and places it on the outskirts of the city, near the salvage yard. BELLJAR ...here... A second model is put on the opposite end of the city, near where the mountain range begins. BELLJAR ...and here. The third and final model goes in the spot where the thrice-destroyed Megakat Tower used to be. Callie nibbles at her lower lip a bit. BELLJAR It won't be cheap, which is why I need you to help me persuade Mayor Manx to give Nutronics his official endorsement. CALLIE I can try, but this one's going to be a tough sell... She points at the one in the Megakat Tower's spot. CALLIE It's sort of, um... BELLJAR (chuckles nervously) Ah, yes. I gather it's something of a sensitive issue with the Mayor. Callie sighs. CALLIE But it's a good idea. And worth a shot. I'll see what I can do. She frowns and looks at her wristwatch. CALLIE I've got another half hour to kill. This didn't take as long as I thought. (frowning and thinking) What about Megakat Biochemical's other ongoing project? Belljar squirms uncomfortably. CALLIE There's five anxious families awaiting answers. They're calling my office night and day. I need to give them something, Doctor, even if it's that you've made no progress at all. BELLJAR I just got done checking the latest results and they aren't encouraging... He trails off. Callie sternly adjusts her purse's shoulder strap. CALLIE Take me there. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - HALLWAY The two get off the elevator and start down the hall. BEL;JAR I just got off the phone with Sam Konway down at Enforcer Headquarters, and he has a few interesting ideas. He's a little more openminded than I am, which is probably why Feral headhunted him to head their biotech division. I can show you what I've managed to get done so far, and then what Konway has in-- He stops short as they 'round the corner. They see the ventilation grate on the floor - and the top secret room's door wide open, various figures filling the doorframe. BELLJAR What in the world? They walk closer, more cautiously, and duck down behind Steven's desk, peering over the top into the room. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - TOP SECRET LAB The five converted MASA guards in their glass-encased cells are jumping up and down excitedly. The bug-eyed Steven goes to each one in turn and enters the security code to open it. The glass doors slide open, and the former MASA security personnel step free to mingle with their new "brothers," making particularly grateful buzzing noises to Dr. Street, who offers soothing pets and strokes. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - HALLWAY Callie and Belljar continue peering over the desk. BELLJAR (whispering) This is bad! CALLIE (also whispering) It's... it's Dr. Street! I thought he was dead! INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - TOP SECRET LAB STREET And now, my brotherzzz, we muzzzt complete our zzzecondary mission for our "friend and benefactor" Dr. Viper... More excited buzzing from the assembled converted kats. Murdoch glances towards the open door. INT. MEGAKAT BIOCHEMICAL - HALLWAY The two onlookers Callie and Belljar duck down behind Steven's desk. But it seems Murdoch has seen them. Or at least he thinks she saw something. Enough to go and investigate. Convicts #2 and #4 accompany him. BELLJAR We'd better alert someone...! CALLIE A good idea! They turn and begin crawling away. She's reaching into her purse for her communicator when suddenly - MURDOCH (from behind them) Aha! Gasping, they turn, rolling over onto their backs, sitting up. Murdoch is standing on the desk, pointing at them as though in accusation. He's flanked on either side by the other two converted prisoners. Behind them, through the open door, Street and the others stop what they're doing and turn, antennae twitching in agitation. MURDOCH Zzzzpiezzz! He hops down from the desk and runs towards them, salivating, arms outstretched like a zombie. Callie swings her purse to hit him, knocking him slightly off balance. Convict #2 rushes forwards. Having seen Callie in action, he grabs her purse and rips it from her grasp, throwing it aside. It smacks into the wall, spilling out its contents, including the SWAT Kat communicator. Jumping up, Callie resorts to fisticuffs, punching the converted prisoner in the face, sending him staggering backward. He falls onto his back and lays spread-eagle on the carpet, shaking his head, dizzy. She then kicks Murdoch in the diaphragm with the tip of her high-heeled shoe, making him double over in agony, ripping her skirt all the way up past her mid-thigh in the process. As he collapses and Convict #4 advances, Dr. Belljar grabs a potted plant and throws it at him. It smashes across his face, and he falls to his knees, clutching his head. Dr. Street emerges from the top secret lab, growling, and with one great sweep of his arm, knocks everything off of Steven's desk, and then, with superhuman strength you wouldn't think his spindly stick insect arms would have, he grabs the desk and lifts the entire thing over his head. STREET (straining under the desk's weight) All thozzze who oppozzzze the rule of the Ci-Kat-A... MUZZZT DIE!!! With a grunt, he hurls the desk TOWARD CAMERA. SMASH CUT TO BLACK END ACT I

[musicmaking-basics]

Opinion: Frustrating Fanboys

Oh, how I would like it if this were about frustrating the fanboys, but no... it’s about irritating fanboys, the likes of which you run across when you frequent social media for a while.

To me a fanboy is someone who is so emotionally attached to a product or line of products, they start to irrationally defend things worthy of criticism or can see no wrong in a company’s behavior.

In general fanboys cluster around companies that make quality products on average. The two examples I’m listing are high profile companies that make popular products and in general have a good reputation.

FL Studio All Plugins Edition

The recent controversy is FL Studio by Image-Line. Apparently usually FL Studio doesn’t go on sale, but this year one edition did - the “All Plugins Edition”. It is their most expensive offer currently. They offer quite a rebate, too!

Where it gets fishy is that apparently the All Plugins Edition is not only new - maybe introduced with this sale? I couldn’t verify, but people on social media claim it - but named almost alike to the previous All Plugins Bundle which came for a similar price point (non-rebated).

People have been confused by the wording. The All Plugins Bundle contained all of FL Studio’s plugins also as VST versions you could use outside of FL Studio and many people like that. In contrast, the All Plugins Edition contains only plugins internal to FL Studio - what many people would consider an inferior offer. The information is not exactly hidden and not exactly advertised. They say “native” plugins and if you go into the details of any plugin on offer you get this:

All of this were kinda fine were it not for the fact of the way the product is named. It is not named “All Native Plugins Edition” - but it is named almost but not quite alike to the popular “All Plugins Bundle” which you can still buy from resellers.

For me that was a hard pass. But cue the fanboys... People started to point this out and complain about it in social media, calling it basically misleading marketing.

Fanboy defense #1: Do your due diligence. Read everything, all manuals, EULAs, whatever. (And people who don’t do this are ignorant, etc.)

But... None of this changes that the name is intentionally misleading. It’s a shite move intended to confuse buyers. And it seems to work. Why blame customers for this? They didn’t pick the name!

Fanboy defense #2: All major DAWs contain internal/native plugins mostly in their bundles. Everybody does it.

But... They didn’t release an almost identically named product that allures to a previous product, making it seem that a much coveted product had gone on sale and then perform a sleight of hand hiding behind asterisks and the word “native.”

Fanboy defense #3: You can use FL Studio as a host plugin in another DAW.

Technically correct, but the overhead of using a full host plugin instead of an instrument plugin consumes more CPU and memory. It probably also adds to the latency. These things aren’t trivialities when you try to make any kind of moderately complex projects, even with modern computers. This is the main reason why people buy VST versions of popular Imagine-Line plugins, after all. To get efficient access to their capabilities.

Hey, nobody was saying FL Studio isn’t good. But fanboys put all blame solely on anyone voicing criticism of a company that just is trying to pull a 400 bucks fast one. 

Things that fanboys will do: Never concede a single point, and if you actualy do, immediately raise another smoke screen as diversion. The company can do no wrong...

And we’ll see more of this.

Spitfire Audio Refund policy

I recently ran afoul, admittedly unexpectedly, of the refund policy of Spitfire Audio. I bought a plugin by them and it just wasn’t really good - in my opinion. So I researched if I could get a refund for my 100 bucks purchase.

You should have seen the vitriol I found when others opened such topics. (I did some research.) It’s one of the worse corners of the internet. People who even brought up the topic were ridiculed, basically called ignorant, and made wrong in every possible way. Quite hostile!

The refund policy of SA is quite easy - if you downloaded it, you can’t refund.

Now there’s the justification that you already got the samples and could do whatever you want with them - they are sample-based instruments after all. And furthermore you can watch the walkthrough videos and listen to sample pieces to get an impression.

And that’s just silly. What did they promise me for eDNA Earth? Thousands of of interesting presets. The walkthrough video seemed interesting, I watched it. I knew what the software can be roughly expected to do. What I couldn’t know: The presets accompanying it sound all alot the same. Lots and lots of slow-evolving sounds, kind of drone-ish. There was no true variety. It does mostly one thing. Try gleaming that from a video intended to market it.

And that’s something you find out by trying things. Since this is a Kontakt instrument they probably could have encrypted the samples or definitely have made a demo you can fool around with. But they didn’t.

I didn’t take to social media to vent my frustration. I didn’t have the heart for it, seeing how people had behaved on previous occasions. I just chalked it up as a loss and learning experience.

Fanboy Defense #1: It’s all there in the EULA.

This is indeed correct, but the first question is - why should we defend them for refusing refunds? I think this no-refund policy actually penalizes people who are willing to put down money for their products in the first place. Why do we defend this circumventing of good consumer protection practices?

Fanboy Defense #2: You should have read the manual.

People on a forum (KVR Audio) were acting like reading the manual of a Spitfire Product is an eye-opening revelation that would have prevented any mistakes from being made.

I read the manual for the nearly-a-thousand-bucks BBC Symphonic Orchestra Pro. At 43 pages it isn’t very informative! I couldn’t even ascertain whether the Leader microphones meant you could use the section leaders as soloists, in fact the manual gave me the opposite impression - that they just make the group sound smaller. (Not true.)

Out of these 43 pages a lot is installation and such and the topic of available articulations, techniques, etc is basically handled in 5 pages of plain lists at the end. There is no level of detail here, and pointing to such a manual and claiming this will answer your questions is... bollocks.

Fanboy Defense #3: They do walkthrough videos, really detailed ones.

They do! Often really impressive, highlighting the strengths of each product. But also a marketing tool, so they won’t tell you what it can’t do, it’s always obviously good for everything, too. All is fair in marketing!

But this is where it gets highly annoying - it’s not only the fanboys who voice that this is enough. They are repeating SA’s stated policy back to you. And it’s a weak one - because a marketing video is at odds with the idea of fully informing you.

Having said that, another user helped me out with my questions about section Leader mikes and the walkthrough of BBCSO shows how to use them to solo the section leader. You can gleam a lot of information about what a thing can do from their walkthrough video.

But... try to find out what it cannot do? That’s detective work.

Fanboy Defense #4: All other orchestral vendors do it too.

This is... just facepalm territory. You can’t call out something bad because nobody does it better.

Fanboy Defense #5: There’s no way to protect the samples.

Well, it seems like Kontakt has a way. (eDNA Earth, for example, is a Kontakt library.) You can encrypt samples. (Cue fanboys: “NOOOO. I don’t want encrypted samples!!” I’m talking about a demo here.) This is an industry requiring multiple authentication solutions to exist on your computer, which watermarks your samples to prevent piracy, which requires USB dongles, logging into online accounts, and what not.

And you tell me they can’t do a demo that protects their intellectual property? In the age of DRM? I would be willing to accept DRM in a demo if it leads to both sides winning - the customer can try before buying, and SA protects its IP. Fine with me, nobody has to use the demo after all.

Case in point: BBSCO Discovery is beautiful demo of the basic capabilities of BBCSO. It actually excited me about the library. Can I try every feature? No. Can I collect my own impression? Yes. And there’s a good chance I will upgrade it on their next sale. Both can win - SA and me. Why not always this way? (This one doesn’t even require DRM or sample encryption, so that’s an awesome bonus.)

Conclusion

And much more would be possible. Maybe if we stop drinking the industry’s Kool Aid they would actually improve their offers in these regards too. They are, after all, there to earn our money. That is their purpose.

I don’t fault them for wanting to earn money. I am aware they put a lot of work in to make quality products. They should get fair compensation.

But that doesn’t shield them from all criticism in areas where they are clearly lacking. Unfair marketing practices need to be called out. Refund policies undermining basic consumer rights because they can get away with it (thanks, politics!) need to be called out.

You need to be able to at least voice your frustration or annoyance without being belittled by a rabid horde of fanboys. Love the products all you want, and I sure don’t hate them, either! I just find things worthy of criticism and criticize them. They can continue making great products without these policies. Why find ever new ways of saying “No, this is really great! (Except for you.) They shouldn’t change anything! (Especially not for your benefit.)”

People who bring criticism are not saying a product or company is shit. They are saying something is not right here. I have no idea what the fanboys get out of their behavior - is it a self-righteous validation? Or is their identity so tied into a product that any criticism is taken personal? These are companies, folks. They want to make money. They need checks and balances from the consumer side because clearly no one else will do it apparently.

As I said: Love the products. Enjoy your purchases. Make great music. But don’t hate on people who disagree or run afoul of a corporate policy.