#a person who unironically calls people social rejects?

[rametarin]

I wanna nip this in the bud, early..

"Egg" is not some sort of right wing anti-trans thing. If it could be comparable and analogued to anything, I'd say it's similar to the Political Lesbians of the past; Straight feminist women that believed sexuality was a matter of choosing your team, and sexuality was belief, not hardwired neurological preference. They believed you could make yourself a good, woman-loving feminist if you just tried to get over your, "patriarchal propaganda bias," and embraced same-sex relationships. Which turned out to not be true.

Or the Baedels, who were gay or straight men that idolized being a woman and willingly agreed, "men are shit," and perpetuated anti-male/misandrist things.

Those that run around using the term, "Egg to be cracked," are what in the past might be labeled, "Tucutes/2-tcutes (too cutes)." People that believe being transgendered is little more than a choice, that gender is not in any way inherent to your neurology (or being cis, for that matter) and that cis or transgender are imaginary things created by a culture, not things that are ingrained and inherent to your biology- whether cis or trans. They believe gender is purely a social construct and the idea of cis or trans is just people making sense of biology as truth, which they reject.

The egg-crackers believe they can make people trans with propaganda. Many of them, like the baedels, mix fetish with ideology. Many of them dig feminization fetish stuff and think because that's how they see the world, that's how everybody's relationship with gender and orientation works.

Unironically it's not at all unlike the way, in the past, people assumed if you propagandized being gay, you'd have gay kids, and the people propagandizing it were gay people that wanted to have sex with your kids. Just, instead of people thinking that's a horrible thing, they think it's a good one.

But the egg-crackers aren't using it like a slur, they're being, "cheeky." They're saying, "you have potential as a sexy trans person!" It's still an insult and disgusting and an ideological affront to how being trans (and, honestly, cisgendered, as well) works, but they aren't right-wing transphobes.

This transphobia is purely home grown left-wing and comes from within the ranks of pro-trans rights stuff. And recognizing this will help further refine transgender advocacy and rights. Because it would be a shame to misappropriate this particular headfuck kink in the discourse to thinking there's a bunch of skinheads or milquetoast pew sitters running around sneering, "Crackable egg" or something. 'Cause that ain't where it's coming from. The call is coming from inside the house! And it's awful!

Fandom Problem #4321:

I'm a cis woman. I recently posted some pics of me in a cosplay for a character whose gender doesn't match mine. I was super excited to see everyone's replies until someone called me an egg, and that I'm going to come out as trans. It reminded me how many years ago, one of my sibling's friends assumed they were gay for dressing up as a character of a different gender for Halloween, even though they weren't gay. They simply wanted to dress up as their favorite character, and that character just happened to be a different gender than them. I wish people would just let others dress up as characters without making assumptions about their gender or identity. This goes all ways. Sometimes we're just dressing up as characters and those characters don't always line up with our own gender identity, there isn't anything more to it. It feels wrong to try and "predict" a person's identity based on that.

[little-irish-rabbit]

RIGHT I NEED TO STOP FOLLOWING PEOPLE I'M ATTRACTED TO ON TIKTOK. THE LAST THREE HAVE HAD ABSOLUTE DOGSHIT PERSONALITIES

[cvlutos]

Ciel ❤️

Any headcanons for how the obey me brothers would ask you to prom? Like what would their promposals look like? And do we think they’d get a yes or no just based on what they do.

Thank you, Scar <3

♡ OBEY ME BROTHERS ASKING YOU TO PROM

♡ Lucifer: His Prom Proposal is extremely simple. A nice dinner, most definitely somewhere private and with classical music. He's bring you a bouquet of red roses, and simply asking you. He doesn't need it to be a grand gesture merely an honest one. (And if you reject him, you won't, but if you did he could keep it rather private instead of it being a public announcement that the Lucifer was just rejected.)

[Accepting]: He's happy when you accept, continuing the evening as planned, though he's slightly softer and gentler then he was when the night began. He won't make it a big deal and would let people find out on their own that you an him will be going together.

[Rejecting]: If you do reject him, he will have a small frown and furrowed brows but will keep his displeasures throughout the night to himself. He won't be mean nor cold, but simply accept it and move on. Even if it slightly annoys him that you rejected him.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Mammon: He went through 15 different ways to ask you to prom. Half super romantic gestures and other half super embarrassing gestures. He thought of asking you Infront of a auditorium of people and get a ring and everything. Until I thought it sounded less like prom and more of an proposal for marriage. He can't settle on a idea and accidentally asks you randomly while you both are walking. He tries to backtrack expeditionously.

[Accepting]: He's so happy. Will hug you immediately but in the same breath try and play it cool. Like he'd totally know you'd say yes. He's bragging. Making a big announcement about it, will not shut up about it. He's convinced you're practically dating and bound to be married. Will unironically start calling you his spouse.

[Rejecting]: He will ask you again. Before huffing and acting like it's not a big deal. You will see him complaining on socials and try and remain anonymous. Most definitely cried to Levi, who promptly kicked him out.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Leviathan: He refuses to ask you in person. Would rather dig a one foot wide hole to the center of the earth and have to crawl through said one foot wide hole before ever asking you in person. He will ask you over text or in a game then proceed to go offline for hours. Before screaming in fear as he checks if you responded.

[Accepting]: If you said yes, he's calling you a liar. Loses the ability to type for a good hour. Cries. Does a lap tryna hype himself up. Sobs. Talks 100mph to Henry about you accepting. Then trying to act like a cool anime dude by being like 'yea cool. Whatevs.' Like you can't hear him shouting and sobbing.

[Rejecting]: Will leave you on read and ignore you for weeks for the embarrassment to wear off. He's sobbing. Then rants in his discord server about how much of a loser he is and that you'd never say yes. Will 100% act like he never asked you.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Satan: Another one who's extremely simple, though he he finds out Lucifer took you to a nice dinner, he's either scrapping the idea or taking you to an even nicer dinner. He'll eventually settle on writing on a sticky note and placing it on the book when he gives it to you, with a little cat doodle.

[Accepting]: He will invite you as a celebratory dinner. He will be slightly sweeter and put far more weight on your opinions. He's happy and excited for prom, even though usually, he'd never go.

[Rejecting]: Disappointed is an understatement. He respects your decision and even thanks you for being honest. He probably won't go cause he feels slightly bitter about it.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Asmodeus: He's not asking you. You're asking him. He's giving you clues how to ask him and that he wants you to ask him specifically. If someone else asks him he'll reject them kindly, for awhile but only grows more and more bitter when you don't get the hint. Will send a passive aggressive text, "so, when are you and I going prom dress shopping?"

[Accepting]: If you get the hint, he's excited. While laugh with a smile as he makes fun of your for not getting the hint, with several eye twitches. But he's super happy, skipping and hugging you whenever you see him. Will post several prom photos.

[Rejecting]: He wants to make you regret. Gets super done up and goes with Solomon if you're not going with him. But honestly he's heartbroken, a major hit to his ego and for a moment he thinks somethings wrong with him.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Beelzebub: Doesn't even think about it, hears about prom and while eating together, he'll simply ask. Super casually about it. Don't get him wrong, he wants to go with you. He won't go with anyone else but you (and Belphie).

[Accepting]: He's so happy. Give you the literally the biggest food stuffed cheek smile. He won't parade you around, but is happily telling everyone he's going with you. Lowkey bragging and very happily matching with you.

[Rejecting]: He simply nods. He's a little bummed, but he knows he'll still be able to see you at the dance. He won't really change his stance on anything, he's still extremely sweet and kind.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Belphegor: He wasn't planning on going. So if you wanna go with him, you'd most likely have to ask him. But if you really really want him to ask, you'll most definitely have to tell Beel to tell Belphie to ask. And he will ask, just very nonchalantly, half asleep, and like it just hit his mind to ask. He will tease you though by asking Beel to tell him. He won't let you live it down. If he asks you on his one fruition, then it'll be in similar fashion.

[Accepting]: Gives a subtle head nod with a smile. Will Lowkey brag that you choose him to go to prom with. He'll go through any rituals or weird things you wanna do for prom, sometimes with a small smile and very not so subtle innuendos as compliments.

[Rejecting]: He will be offended and glare before rolling his eyes and stalking off. Decides then and there he's not going to prom. He's lowkey mad, cause he went outta his way.

ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[hilichurlrights]

Vibe Checking You Based On The 4* Character You Main

Amber: you’re the eldest sibling and your parents fight a lot, or you’re an only child and they don’t give you the kind of attention you seek

Lisa: you are both self-absorbed and hate yourself. you’re smart when you try but you wonder if you’re not as smart as people said you were as a kid so you never try because that way you can’t fail

Kaeya: you are at least one of the following: brown, has mommy/daddy issues/both, bisexual

Barbara: you had a falling out with the religion you grew up with as a kid but you feel kind of isolated and hopeless now and wonder if you made the right choice

Razor: you were the weird kid who roleplayed as a warrior cat in elementary school (you were bullied)

Bennett: people think you’re annoying and/or stupid, you’re pretty sure they’re right on at least one

Noelle: you have a borderline obsession with cleanliness and performing anything less than perfect causes a nervous breakdown

Fischl: you grew up in an incredibly average, middle-class, boring family and you desperately want to be interesting, you read a lot of those books about the kid who discovers they come from a long line of something or inherited some power and you want to be that kid so bad

Sucrose: you want to be a teacher or work with kids some other way but you also have crippling social anxiety

Beidou: you’re lonely even in a group of friends, you yearn for a call to adventure and a family you find along the way and you really wish you lived in some fantasy world of magic and excitement but you do your boring school and boring job anyways waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet

Ningguang: you grew up lower middle class or poor and your current style is looking classy rich, you want people to love you and fear you, maybe both, and you can’t handle rejection or criticism

Xiangling: you always do your best with what you have and never ask for help even when you definitely should, you’re usually unsatisfied with the results of your work and you wish you were good at art but you think your work is okay at best

Xingqiu: you only read YA fantasy and you really want to live in one of the worlds you read about instead of this one. you write your own original fantasy works but you’ve never finished one and you’ve abandoned dozens by now

Chongyun: you’re incredibly introverted and you only make friends with people who seek you out, you’re too scared of failing to ever talk to new people (go socialize, no one will bite!)

Diona: you’re a cat person and you’ve always felt disconnected from your father, even if he’s still around

Xinyan: you’re really into music or at least listen to a lot of music, red is one of your favorite colors, and half of what you do is out of spite

Rosaria: you’ve accepted the simp life and/or you’ve read/watched a lot of trashy supernatural romance and unironically liked some of it. you’d be ok with dating a vampire tbh

Yanfei: you want to become a lawyer, or you wanted to when you were younger, but you’re not a lawyer and you won’t become one because you don’t want to defend someone who’s guilty

[corpsentry]

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

[levihantrash]

new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

[renardtrickster]

Should we be surprised someone who unironically calls themselves a "conservative punk" is anything but a slur-spewing brainlet?

We really shouldn't. "Conservative Punk" is an incoherent position. Punk is a rejection of tradition, the status quo, regressive social and cultural norms, and when you get down to it, conservatism as a whole, while Conservatism is fundamentally pro-all of this (especially the last one for reasons I don't think I need to explain). "Conservative Punk" is a Frankenstein aesthetic where you seek to rebel against something that's keeping you down and ruining society, but then mis-identify it as gay people who aren't quiet about it, trans person in any circumstances, and women (especially if they have dyed hair). Punks rebel against the establishment through protest and direct action, Conservative Punks rebel on behalf of the establishment by yelling at teenagers on the internet.

[popwasabi]

Civilization is coming: “Black Sails” and when rage is justified

(SPOILERS ahead! You’ve been warned...)

There’s a moment late in the first episode of the highly underappreciated series “Black Sails” that hints not only at the troubled past of its lead character Captain Flint but also describes the larger theme of the story.

Flint has gotten himself into trouble. Along with his crewmember Billy “Bones,” in an effort to secure the financing he needs to capture the gold from the Spanish warship known as L’Urca de Lima, his recklessness has gotten Nassau’s governor shot and injured and his plans all but evaporated. Billy feels they are now in too deep and they should not only turn back but perhaps new leadership is needed for Flint’s crew. It is here that Flint reveals a bit where his true ambitions lie.

(Toby Stephens, ladies and gentlemen.)

On the first viewing, Flint ominously declaring the pending arrival of “civilization” to the new world could mean anything from simply the imperialistic tendencies of the British and Spanish empire, to the draconian rulership of the crown or just “taxes” as he makes light mention of in this speech. But as the series progresses, especially in the second season, “civilization” begins to take a darker, more personal meaning.

The story begins to reveal that the dangerous pirates of Nassau are not at least inherently dastardly, although certainly violent, but victims of their various circumstances; a former slave turned prostitute turned keeper of secrets in Max, a neglected daughter becoming the bookkeeper of the pirates with Eleanor Guthrie, another former slave turned ruthless pirate captain in the vicious Charles Vane, and an abused woman turned deadliest pirate on the island Anne Bony, and none more painfully revealing than that of Flint himself.

You see Flint didn’t always go by this name, he used to be a prominent officer in the British navy named James McGraw until he met Thomas Hamilton, a wealthy proprietor tasked with solving the problem of the pirates of Nassau many years prior. Thomas had the radical idea of pardoning the entire island to bring them back into society, to avoid violence and bloodshed, and to better understand the people who would turn to piracy.

As James gets to know him more and his revolutionary philosophies of empathy and enlightenment the two unexpectedly fall in love and thus seal the fates of both their downfalls from “civilized” society.

With England unwilling to see any other way to end the pirates without exterminating all of them and looking to exploit weaknesses in Thomas to Parliament, he is outed and imprisoned. James along with Thomas’s wife Miranda, who lives in a polyamorous relationship between the two, are persona non-grata-ed and the two flee to Nassau to finish what Thomas started in an act of rebellion.

(This is seriously one of the most heart-wrenching, tragic reveals I have ever seen on TV. I totally knew it was coming at the time and I was still not prepared for how it was delivered.)

There are few things as personal as love and “Black Sails” uses this to show how far society can go to villainize people. Flint wasn’t born a monster, and he is not one for loving Thomas; he is a monster because “civilization” wanted him to be one.

As our own civilization enters a timeline that may promise great change, people who have been othered and victimized by society are finding themselves grappling with their pain and grief in the same way as Flint. People have tried peaceful reconciliation and conformity into society to avoid violence throughout history despite the labels they have been given for no other crime than being who they are, but civilization’s need for a monster always brings people down no matter how hard they try to do it the “right way.”

(Tell me if you see a justice system in this picture that looks interested in listening...)

Native Americans tried playing by the white man’s rules when America began moving west. Compromising over and over again and yet they were killed and still killed and neglected today for it.

African Americans tried becoming rich like their white counterparts in places like “Black Wallstreet” in Tulsa, Oklahoma  and were still bombed and massacred for it.

Asian and Latin Americans immigrated here to flee war and death largely caused by white imperialist countries, to survive and work jobs white Americans would not. Both are othered as foreigners, face violence from the state, and are deported everyday.

Poor working-class Americans try fruitlessly to keep their head above water as they become mired in debt, fighting a pandemic on slave wages essentially, all while our government cuts wealthy companies a fat paycheck annually with our own tax dollars. And anyone who fights back finds themselves without an income and health insurance during a recession and a pandemic.

And the LGBTQ+ community ask for the dignity to be left alone and treated normally but not only are they harassed for it but they are beaten, tortured, and killed for being different.

(Remember, Stonewall was a riot.)

Flint, himself, tries one last time, toward the end of season two, to peacefully resolve his vendetta with England and save Nassau from a war with them but instead finds himself facing the gallows anyways by the Charlestown government.

As they read out his charges, many of them real heinous things he did but also many that were fabricated, Flint stops them from proceeding any further and delivers a final act of defiance to the court.

“I have one regret,” he begins to the court of high society folks who are only interested in seeing him punished before the masses. “I regret ever coming to this place with the assumption that a reconciliation could be found. That reason could be a bridge between us. Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.”

It is at this point in the story that Flint, perhaps like other revolutionaries of the past, recognize that the system doesn’t want to reason with him, that these people aren’t looking to understand or empathize with him or even try for that matter. They wanted a monster, they made one in him, so he decides there that “civilization” as he had noted in the series first episode is not worth reconciling with and certainly not worthy of forgiveness.

And Flint spends the rest of the series in bloody war with them.

(From season 3. Again Toby Stephens, ladies and gentlemen)

“Black Sails” is about queerness, race, social politics, and the way conformity by force is used against it. It’s about the rage that boils underneath many of us as we are wronged over and over again by society, while being exploited to no end, and what happens when someone finally says “enough.”

Anyone who has experienced what it is like to be othered can find something deeply personal with the anger that Flint carries around with him in each scene of this series. We feel his pain of rejection by society, his grief for feeling ashamed of himself when he and the audience know he shouldn’t.

It's what makes the eventual reveal of his relationship with Thomas so cathartic, as we see the rage-filled guard of Flint drop as he reads Thomas’s words left for him in a book they both loved and shared.

(Again, I cannot emphasize enough how much of a gut-punch this reveal was watching this...)

"Know no shame” is so important to growth of this character and the message of this story. Civilization and those who wish to keep the status quo want those who do not fall in line with their authority and judgments to feel shame for who they are. They not only want monsters, they want you to feel like one and the reason Thomas line speaks so much to both Flint and the audience is that it reminds us there is no shame in who we are.

The country we live in is a powder keg right now experiencing the same rage that Flint feels and more specifically how he felt at the end of season 2. Though this country’s racist attitudes and subjugation of the vulnerable hardly started with this presidency it cannot be argued that it has brought all that hatred in our government and the people who support those views painfully to the surface. When people peacefully protest, peacefully assemble, and peacefully try to cast their vote and are still met with resistance, still met with hatred and violence, people have to start to wonder if operating within the system’s rules can actually affect change.

A lot has been made about the way protesters may have violently lashed out over the past three weeks, with media talking heads and privileged elites asking unironically why they couldn’t do things peacefully but more has been done as result of the rising tension than the previous 50 years combined. You can tell people to “#vote” all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that people have been trying that for decades and people are still getting quite literally killed for it.

(Again, I gotta ask, who is this protecting? Who is this serving?)

If there’s one takeaway I hope a viewer gets from “Black Sails” is that revolution, no matter how serious you are about it, should never be off the table when confronting systemic inequality. A racist, sexist, classist, and/or, in the case of Flint, homophobic power structure does not concede their power if you play to their convenience and when people are being put down, beaten, and often killed for showing their anger at this, calling for “law and order” becomes a slap in the face to the victims.

A government or system that treats you unjustly doesn’t deserve peace.

I’ll say it again.

A government or system that treats you unjustly doesn’t deserve peace.

No one wants it to get this far, I definitely don’t, and certainly not every peaceful mean has been exhausted yet in this fight perhaps but this country was literally founded on violent rebellion after being slighted all the same by out of balance power structures. I’m not advocating for violence or to take up arms against the state right now BUT no one should ever rule it out when the social contract keeps being broken and broken and broken again by those in charge who clearly don’t want to listen.

A government should always feel the threat of an uprising if it keeps wronging its people.

(See my blog post about “Do the Right Thing” if you need help understanding this quote.)

As the more fiery weeks of the protests seem to be in the rearview mirror and we find less activity and calls to action on our social media timelines, I want to remind you all to not let up with whatever you are choosing to do to help and keep fighting back out there. The people who stand to benefit from having angst of the general public leave and dissipate from our collective consciousness want us to forget how angry we are, they want us to feel fatigued and disinterested in continuing the push forward because “this is how they win” as Flint would say.

(Again, Toby Fucking Stephens, everyone.)

We have so much more power than we realize, just look at how much got done just by everyone uniting behind one marginalized group finally over the past three weeks. When we realize we are fighting essentially in the same battle for respect and dignity, justice in our society can be achieved. It can be done, and maybe just maybe we can finally change the world. Afterall who else has been as close to achieving it as we are right now?

Fight for your dignity and respect and stand in solidarity with others in their own fights as well, and always remember “know no shame.”

Raise the colors and Happy Pride, everyone! (credit: Luluxa on Tumblr)

[sepublic]

Now that I think of it, Belos has many things in common with Grace from Infinity Train. Both are cult leaders, Grace never had the love of her parents and maybe Belos never had the love of his peers. Grace controls the kids of the Apex just like Belos runs the Empire and his Coven. Both have a right hand man (Simon and the Coven member with the owl mask) and that makes me think that like Grace, part of why Belos controls others is because he's afraid of being alone again, to dissapoint others and to go back to being powerless people aka outcasts.

           Well! I already liked Grace BEFORE, as a very messed-up yet meaningfully complex and twisted character who ultimately turns around and overcomes her mountain-sized flaws in one of the most compelling redemptions I’ve ever seen!

           But this… Oh, this makes me love her even MORE, and I feel almost beholden to you for this beautiful comparison! Again, I’m mostly comparing Grace with my read/speculation on Belos and who I THINK his character will turn out to be… But to look over the wonderfully messed-up similarities;

           There’s this shared idea of Grace and Belos being social outcasts as children and wanting companionship, wanting to be surrounded by friends… So they arrive in a ‘magical world’ and they get to work compiling countless allies around them, be it Grace’s Apex, or Belos’ Coven System of followers! But at the same time… There’s this desire to be at the top, to be better than everyone else!

          With Grace this additionally came from her parents’ harsh expectations, but otherwise her and Belos have that issue of… Trying to cope with their previous status and ostracization as outsiders, and rationalize their mistreatment in a way that makes sense to them; In a way that’s flattering to themselves while maliciously downplaying those they see as having ‘wronged’ them! Grace decided to see the other girls as jealous of her for being better than them, and perhaps so did Belos… To Belos, he was actually a Chosen One this whole time, he was ALWAYS superior to those who didn’t recognize him! So of course he had to be separate from the rest as someone above them!

          So Grace and Belos not only feel entitled to some sort of universal compensation for their suffering, but their desire to be at the top also comes from a position of fear; Because neither are good with feelings, neither are used to letting others in, both are conditioned for rejection and hurt! Being above others in the form of a power imbalance, it allows Grace and Belos both to maintain control and distance from those they get attached to…

          Keeping their ‘followers’ at a proper distance thanks to the different positions in the hierarchy, to keep themselves from getting hurt! It’s a way of getting adulation without going through the uncomfortable pain of actually having to open up to others, because the work for unconditional love is too much and too scary for either of them! Not that they could differentiate between reverence from a distance and close, personal love of course… Not to mention, having power and control makes them feel safe and ‘in charge’ of their relationships, like Grace and Belos are always operating from a safe position where they can retaliate and defend if necessary!

          By having control, you can keep others from hurting you, and get a handle on them, forcing others to listen to you for once, to open up so YOU can be safe while they can’t expect the same of you because you’re already better… Belos and Grace want others to become dependent upon them, so they can feel good and needed and loved, while at the same time reassured that they’re necessary to those they know and thus can’t be disposed of, even if hated! Grace and Belos see themselves as giving consolation to the desperate and dependent, when in reality THEY’re the epitome of those personality traits! Clinging onto others and hurting them in the process… Like Grace with Hazel, or Belos with –possibly- the Titan itself!

           But while they want to be above their friends, Belos and Grace still see the people they surround themselves with as THEIR people, as others they personally understand and relate to, and want to take care of as a result! But they don’t want their beloved subordinates to be at the bottom, and if they want to uplift their subordinates with them (because the idea of hierarchy justifies and makes Grace and Belos feel special), there needs to be others BELOW those they call ‘friends’!

           So for Grace, she seeks a scape-goat in Denizens, and the fact that she herself was treated more like a toy and an object by her own parents doesn’t help! She puts the Apex above the denizens, enabling her own friends to be uplifted above others, while still beneath her! And Belos, well… He artificially manufactures hierarchy through his Coven System, restricting the magic of others and deciding that the natural ability to access all forms of magic will now become a privilege that one must EARN if they intend to keep it into adulthood; And his ‘friends’ are his Emperor’s Coven, people he sees as hardworking and ingenuitive like him! Separate from the others because they’re better than that and focus their time onto more important things anyway!

           Grace and Belos are both entitled deconstructions of the Isekai trope, dark reflections of your typical Isekai protagonist in that they project their fantasies and delusions onto the new world they enter, expecting it to cater towards their personal desires and needs… Instead of recognizing this new place as its own separate world with its own history and people who are living their own lives and are not beholden to these new arrivals! Instead of seeing the reality of these new worlds for what they are, they bring up what they’d like to see, and then treat it as objective fact!

           There’s also –canonically for Grace and in speculation for Belos- a lieutenant that they’re closer to than all others… Someone who welcomed them from the very beginning, the first to give them open arms and provide companionship! But in some ways this person was also their first ‘victim’, the first to be deluded and adopted into this cult of personality of theirs… Grace brought in Simon, while Belos potentially had Kikimora! Obviously the parallels between THOSE relationships aren’t exactly the same, and my speculation on Kiki has her as starting out as the one in charge actually…

           But there’s still the concept of someone they’re close to, but they also unfairly keep at a distance while expecting them to open up for them! And both relationships have both participants toxicly enabling one another to varying degrees (though I feel Kiki is more likely to ‘turn good’ than Simon, who never did while Grace at least changed), encouraging the other to bring out the worst and unironically supporting it!

           Grace and Belos have that desire to be the center of attention by any and all means, because for so long they were overlooked, ignored, and outright forgotten! Neither like to confront negative emotions, because why let it bother them, feeling sad about it isn’t going to change things! They’re both crippled by an apprehensive fear of rejection… And they operate on a Messiah complex (to varying degrees), with Grace completely misinterpreting her one sighting of ‘The Conductor’, and then preaching a bunch of lies mixed in with her own projections to others! A part of her is doing what she’s convinced herself is truthful, but another part is also being a little flattering to what she wants her worldview to be…

          And Belos… Well, I can’t say for sure, but he possibly operated on truthfully being the Titan’s messenger, before he became more invested in what HE had to say, and likewise, I think Belos is at least somewhat aware that what he’s saying isn’t really what the Titan says, but it doesn’t matter because more like Simon than Grace, he’s decided that HE knows better after all! I do believe that like Grace, he’s somewhat willingly lying to create a narrative that sets himself and his own worldview as real and objective, all for his own sake and those he sees as ‘companions’!

           In the end, both Grace and Belos operate from a place of willful ignorance, although in Grace’s scenario, her mistakes were at least a lot more understandable in that she WAS a child and had no way of going back to verify what really happened… And then when fully confronted with the truth of Amelia, actually began to change! Not to mention a lot of her entitlement and the idea that she did no wrong likely came from her elitist parents! Whereas Belos, I think by this point Belos is fully aware, or at least mostly, that what he’s saying is nothing but propaganda, that he’s twisting what the Titan actually had to say and is doing so deliberately… Because he’s rejecting the Titan’s message as not fitting what HE wants to hear, again more like Simon than Grace!

           I’ve already loved Grace, but now she’s extra-fascinating to me, because she’s like my read on Belos, except she’s actually the main protagonist in this narrative and was actually able to grow beyond her flaws and fix them! I can’t say for sure if Belos will or won’t have that opportunity though… I mean it IS worth nothing that while Grace did kill a LOT of people, I don’t think it’s nearly to the extent that Belos did, and as I’ve speculated before; I think Belos is WAY worse a person than Grace Monroe ever was! It’s like if early into his flaws and mistakes, a younger and healthier Belos was given the chance to change… That’s what Grace is like for me, in a sense, and that just makes her A-MAZING!

           Obviously there is the danger of me projecting some delusions and fantasies onto a different reality, as I am describing of Grace and Belos… But even if it isn’t true for BELOS, I think it could be true for Grace! And so she’s that twisted narrative I mentioned earlier, but actually fully confirmed, and so I love this beautiful, messed-up lady and I want to see her get well, her mind is fascinating and she’s SUCH a good protagonist! Good for Grace, good for her that she managed to overcome her flaws in the end and turned out happier for it!

           A lot of the times Grace only has herself to blame for her issues in life (and the Infinity Train, Amelia, and Simon too admittedly), but in the end she’s learned to confront herself and start making a change! She learned to see the truth, to set boundaries between what IS her fault and what isn’t, and similarly, not wallow in self-pity but instead make and effort to start turning things around! I’m so proud of her for it, she’s inspiring to me as a symbol of someone who can do SO MUCH wrong, but still make the effort to turn around!

[threewaysdivided]

I appreciate the response. Yeah, among other adjustments, had the plot been handled a little differently, I feel like Sam’s relationship with her parents could have evolved into something like that of Danny and Jazz and their parents. And don’t get me wrong; I still like Sam, too.

(In reference to this post and follow-up ask.)

Good to hear from you again 😊

I think there were a lot of things across the board that could have been tweaked or edited to improve the integrity of the series.  If I had to boil down the problem with DP to a single point I’d probably say it’s that the most interesting parts of the show are the characters/world/implications but the writers (or some of them anyway - I suspect there might have been some conflict between Hartman, the lead writers and the execs’) wanted certain plots, aesops and gags, and chose to brute-force them in regardless of whether they actually worked with what was already there.  Basically, it lacks consistency and internal logic.

For Sam in particular I think there are a few things that could have been handled better:

First one’s more a general complaint at the show and might light a fire under my notes but heck lets go there anyway but the writing has kind of a sexist bent that really doesn’t fit the characters or need to be there. Considering how much Danny and Jack are shown to love and respect Maddie and Jazz there’s no way they’d call their involvement in Genius Magazine “the swimsuit edition”.  Paulina might be traditionally feminine but “She surrendered her individuality for a boy! I’m so proud of her!” is not a line that any human girl in the history of human girls would say unironically.  There’s also a few too many jokes that basically boil down to “male character is emasculated/ vulnerable/ likes feminine-coded things, hyuk hyuk hyuk”.

I’m bringing this up not just because they’re gross cheap gags but because for Sam specifically, this pervasive low-key contempt for women and femininity in the writing, especially the tendency to portray almost every non-sympathetic girl her age as one-note, brainless boy-crazy cliches that she can’t connect with, really does not help her character.  I would have loved to see more genuine interaction between Sam and the other girls, even if it most of it was Kim Possible-Bonnie Rockwaller style antagonistic rapport.  We could have seen her develop some kind of tenuous connection with one of the A-listers, or even just have a secondary-female-character to be cordial towards - kind of like Mikey is for Danny and Tucker.  Hold up, outside of Valerie, Star and Paulina are there any named secondary girls at Casper High?  Sam doesn’t seem to have a single female friend in the show and considering how vocally judgemental she is, it can almost read like she’s rejecting them outright for being girls, which really undercuts attempts to make her seem feminist. (I mentioned it in a past tag but this feels like an early-2000s-male-writer mistake of equating Female Empowerment™ with the ability to tear down other women and belittle traditional femininity - which isn’t so much Feminism as it is Internalised Misogyny.)  Even just mixing up the pairings to put her with Star instead of Kwan in Lucky in Love would have helped.

I’d have also liked to see more awareness of and consistency in the conflict between her activism and her wealth.  It kind of undercuts the significance of her activism when you realise that she’s wealthy enough to make these choices with little cost to herself; it’s much easier to go vegan or buy renewable/ recyclable /sustainable /fair-trade when price isn’t an issue, especially if you also have serving staff to offset the time cost.  Once you notice this it makes her activism feel more tokenistic, and also like she doesn’t really understand her own privilege when she tries to push her agendas onto the school/ her classmates without considering why they mightn’t be able to do so as easily.  It’s also weird because the source of her family’s wealth is a cellophane-toothpick-wrapper (i.e. something that basically produces litter) but she still seems very comfortable enjoying the material benefits despite her pro-eco anti-consumerism sentiments.  It’s bizarre that she’s more concerned with the social consequence of ‘fake friends’ than the ethics of capitalism.  It can come off a bit “do as I say, not as I do”. 

It would have been nice for the show to give more screen time to reinforcing that Sam is aware of that conflict and is making an active effort to hold to her principles even at the cost of personal comfort; maybe showing some unease at the source of her wealth, trying to live below her means and only spend up on ethical/ eco-friendly/ sustainable products, op-shopping or hand-making her goth accessories, going out of her way to re-use or re-purpose things even if buying a new one would be ‘better’, actually showing or referencing her doing substantial hands-on activities (e.g. going off-screen or taking the boys to do tree-planting, litter pickups, soup kitchens, animal-shelter work etc).  Just something to help make it clearer that she genuinely cares and isn’t just doing the low-mess lip-service activities because she enjoys indulging in the image of Wokeness™.

These things would have helped regardless of how her family was written but let’s hop back on topic and talk about them.  I don’t have any prescriptive preference but let’s spitball a few different options and how they could have played:

#1 Sam’s parents don’t respect her interests and want her to fit a mold

In this case I’d make it that they don’t really pay attention or show much caring for who Sam really is as a person; their image of and interactions with her are more of a fantasised version of the ‘perfect’ daughter they want, they make very little effort to encourage her actual interests and are perhaps restrictive about what they let her do in the few moments when they do bother paying close attention (you might compare to some versions of Tim Drake’s Parents from DC Comics).  Classist, overly image-conscious, snobby and superficial.  

This would be the most sympathetic portrayal of her character without changing it very far from how it is in DP canon - helping contextualise why Sam is so fiercely defensive of her autonomy, why she pushes so hard when trying to get her opinions across and why she’s so judgemental of rich people and disdainful towards classic femininity - even possibly explaining her more hypocritical/ manipulative/ entitled traits as learned behaviours.  It would also give her more legitimate reason to be less empathetic towards others - after all even if they have struggles and family troubles it’s still better than what she’s dealing with (Danny’s parents may not be attentive but hey, at least they love him for himself, right?)

For this version I’d probably put her arc around growing past the “suffering olympics” model of viewing other people’s pain, but also in her finding family in Danny/Tucker/her Grandmother’s circle of connections, learning how to have healthy power-balance and communication in her relationships with others (aka: getting over her hypocrisy and realising that assertiveness is about communicating that “I matter, and so do you”) and pulling away from her parents’ influence - maybe even living with Ida a lot of the time.

#2 Sam’s parents are well-intentioned but overbearing

For this one, Sam’s parents would genuinely want the best for her… only they have an overly old-fashioned and restrictive view of what “the best” is and are a bit set-in-their-ways.  They’d probably view “hippies” and “goth” stuff as “dangerously rebellious hooligan-activities” and likely to be somewhat patronising about Sam’s passion for it being “just a phase”.   They’d be worried about her hanging around “the Fenton Kid” and “the Foley Kid” both because Danny’s parents are kind of irresponsible screwballs about safety but also because they put a lot of value in image due to their belief in social connections being the way to get ahead.  Them pushing Sam towards classic femininity and specific activities would be less about disrespecting her identity and more about their overly narrow view of “success” and worrying that she’s going to end up losing valuable opportunities and “wasting her life” if she keeps on down her current path.

This would still give Sam more sympathetic context for her views on femininity and pushiness about self-expression. 

Personally I think the arc I’d like to see here is one themed around responsible/considerate assertiveness and valuing alternative perspectives.  Sam coming to realise her own hypocrisy - that she can’t push her views onto others while complaining about her parents doing the same - developing more sympathy for Danny as she realises that he’s in a similar position with Jack’s insistence that he’ll inherent Fentonworks and his parents’ narrow-mindedness about ghosts, interacting with other girls and seeing their perspective, learning how to assert her opinion while making allowances for others’ (maybe an alternative version where she connects with Star in Lucky in Love and, after Aragon’s defeat in Beauty Marked, Sam still says she personally thinks it’s dumb but then steps down and lets Star win because she understands that Star values it), and getting her Grandma’s help in convincing her parents to widen their perspective while still responding to their concerns.

(This one has the overall kindest message and I think I like it best).

#3 Sam’s parents are trying and Sam’s actually the problem 

This one is the one that’s the least sympathetic to Sam.  Her parents still don’t get the Goth/Activist thing and they have some concerns about safety but they understand that it makes her happy and they’re okay with it so long as she’s not getting into trouble or mixing up with anyone that could hurt her.  Them pushing her towards more feminine/optimistic things is less pushing and more trying to encourage some hobbies that offer a bit more common ground.  They might have reservations, and they might not always have time, but they would like to be part of their daughter’s life… except for the problem that Sam has wrapped herself up in a teen-drama persecution complex and got it into her head that they “won’t accept her” are “pushing her to be someone else” and “don’t understand” so there’s no point even trying to explain or connect.  In this one Ida isn’t taking sides on purpose but she ends up accidentally enabling Sam a little because Sam reminds her of her younger days and she likes spoiling her granddaughter (and doesn’t much care for her daughter-in-law).

In this case Sam’s flaws would be framed much more as flaws born of her making superficial snap judgements, thinking she knows better and being too proud to admit she’s wrong.  There would definitely be moments of her coming across as an entitled, privileged holier-than-thou brat who invents problems because she likes feeling sorry for herself, especially early in her arc.

This version of the story would go the hardest on Sam with the general lesson being “you need to respect that other people are people who have their own problems, feelings and needs that are as real and valid as yours”.  She’d still have good qualities and Danny and Tucker would still obviously like and value her but there’d also be times of strain where they don’t want to hurt her feelings but are clearly getting worn out with the nonsense.  At its worst, maybe a “you’re like mustard. Great in small quantities, but a lot of you is…a lot” type confrontation.

I’d also give the secondary cast the most fleshing out, agency and sympathetic-ness here, and have beats where Sam has to realise that they’re lot more complex than her 2D stereotyped view of them and are dealing with actual serious problems to which hers are largely non-issues by comparison.  I’d probably play Dash and Paulina similar to in the fic Alibi (go read it, it’s good) - Dash being gay and performing aggression because toxic masculinity, insecurity, and being terrified of anyone outside the A-listers finding out (still not okay that he’s a bully but at least more understandable), while Paulina is hiding high emotional perceptiveness behind her pretty face and deliberately bearding for him to keep bigoted parents/ teachers off his back.  I’d also probably have a subplot in an alternate Life Lessons where Sam follows Valerie around because jealous/possessive and, like Danny, ends up realising that she’s working two jobs to help her Dad with their financial problems.  Basically she’d be getting hit with the Reality Stick a lot.

There’d also be more instances of Sam getting directly called out by the other girls. Fleshing them out as people and showing that their dislike is less superficiality and more because she unfairly judges and antagonises them all the time.  Giving them more agency in Beauty Marked and have them be direct about “we know you’re just here to be smug about how much ‘Better’ you are but have you considered that we’re doing this for ourselves and actually enjoy it?”.  Having Paulina be less “tee hee I am indeed a Witch” in Parental Bonding and more “Ugh fine, fine, I don’t really like him that much but you were being so obviously Jealous and Judge-y and I figured if I played a little you might actually step up.  But fine, if you’re sure.  Here’s your necklace back, I’ll let your dorky ‘friend’ down tomorrow.  But pro-tip?  You like someone you gotta go for it - otherwise don’t complain when your boy-toy gets taken by someone who actually means it.”  (Still petty, but emotionally intelligent pettiness, which… not really much better, but at least more interesting.)  A lot more of Sam realising that she’s not a particularly good feminist and that she’s no more entitled to Danny’s affections than anyone else.

To be honest, while I could say the most about this version and there’s a lot of potential drama there it’s the one I like the least because it means canonising my least favourite proto-abusive bad-faith narcissistic reading of Sam, casting her as an almost-villain and essentially punishing her over and over until she character develops into a decent human being.  Sure it’s an important message about how you treat others but it’s not a very nice or kind story and while there might be the odd fic that makes it cathartic I can’t say I’m a huge fan.

Again, if I had to pick, I’d probably go with something like #2. 

But there we go.  Another thrilling instalment in the “overly long posts about Sam Manson” saga.  

Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for stopping by!

[elareine]

Misperceptions

Rating: Teen  Warnings: Swearing  Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd (side), Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Tags: Brotherly Bonding, Future Fic, 5+1 Things, Pining, Misunderstandings, Jealousy, Fluff, Guilt, Family AO3: /21199679 Companion to Reasons to be jealous. 

Five times Dick was jealous of Tim and Jason’s relationship, and the one time he wasn’t.

One

Dick couldn’t tell you how he ended up here.

Jason didn’t even work with him all that often. They usually stuck to clearly demarcated lines in their cases. The last attempted homicide between them might’ve been a while back by now; that didn’t mean Dick was necessarily comfortable around him, and he refused to apologize for that.

This time, there had been no way to avoid cooperation. Considering everything, it had gone okay. Two human traffickers were behind bars that hadn’t been before, so Dick considered it a win. After the arrests, Jason had suggested a drink, and Dick, not wanting to reject him without reason, had taken him up on it. One or two beers, and then they’d head home.

One beer had turned into fruity cocktails had turned into tequila straight from the bottle. Maybe it was their competitive nature that wouldn’t allow them to back down when the other ordered something, maybe it was the stress of the past few days slash years, but Jason was basically spread all over the booth now, Dick comfortably nestled into the corner beside him, their shoulders touching as they passed the bottle back and forth.

“So, little wing, are you seeing anyone? Or is there a hot chick waiting for the Red Hood in every city by now?” he settled on. That was what a big brother was supposed to ask, right? Never mind that he had to look up at Jason as he said it. He’d never asked Damian that question—but that was a bad thought, and bad thoughts deserved tequila.

Dick took another sip.

“Nah.” Jason took the bottle from him and examined it critically. “Goddammit, Dick, are you trying to kill yourself? How much of this did you drink?”

He was one to talk, slurring as he was. Dick graciously overlooked that fact, insisting: “What do you mean, nah? There’s gotta be someone.”

“Well, yeah, Tim.”

Jason grimaced at his own words, though Dick wasn’t sure why. His head felt slow and fuzzy. “What does Tim have to do with this conversation?”

“I’m in love with him, dickhead.” Jason snorted. “Hah. Dickhead. That’s never not funny.”

Dick had heard that joke about a million times before; he was drunk enough to chuckle anyways.

“How long?” he asked when he’d calmed down. Kinda embarrassing, him not noticing his little brothers dating. Urgh. Phrasing it like that made it sound weird.

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Years.”

Funny that he was so blasé about that. Dick had pegged him to be the type to remember anniversaries to the minute. Not like Tim really cared about that stuff, though, so it was probably fine.

Now that Dick thought about it, they were sweet to and about each other all the time. Fighting crime together counted as, like, a prime dating activity in vigilante circles. Dick remembered all the times Tim had mentioned he was grabbing breakfast or dinner with Jason.

And it made total sense. Tim was the main reason Jason had calmed down considerably in the killing department, and Jason had been loyal to Tim whatever happened, arguing his side every time, even with Damian. Dick didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before. They were so obviously a couple.

It was unfair, he thought mutinously. Jason and Tim had just seemed to click from the beginning. They were clearly made for each other.

“What the fuck are you talking about. Are you forgetting what I did when I first met him?”

Jason’s voice was both incredulous and ashamed, but Dick wasn’t paying any attention, his thoughts going down a path they had traveled, many times before. Only this time, he spoke them out loud. “You two are so… I just—I just want Damian to—”

And then, to his utter humiliation, Dick broke down in tears.

Fucking tequila.

He didn’t remember anything that happened after that. That was probably a blessing.

Two

Jason was in his late twenties now. It had been almost ten years since he’d returned to Gotham. Dick got drunk with him less than a week ago. Talking to him shouldn’t feel like making polite small talk with a stranger, but it did.

“Yeah, I tend to turn the heater up, too,” Jason was saying, sounding bored with himself. He’d been tapping away on his phone for most of the day. “Tim likes it a bit chilly, though, so I’m getting used to it.”

Dick didn’t take his eyes off the target as he sighed. If only the man would do anything more exciting than sit in an office all day. He mournfully remembered the Mafiosi of his youth, all of which would rather have been caught dead (and in many cases were) than sit in front of a computer all day.  

Jason’s phone buzzed again. His brother didn’t even bother to apologize before grabbing it to reply.

“Tim?” Dick finally asked, more to start the conversation again than because he had any doubts.

Jason hummed in agreement. “He needs important mission intel.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “He’s bored at work, isn’t he?”

“So am I.”

“Oh, excuse me, is my company that terrible?” Call him a hypocrite, Dick still felt insulted.

“No, but trying not to talk about the elephant in the room is. You know. Our little tequila evening.”

…Dick had really hoped they could just keep ignoring that. Jesus Christ, go right for the sore spot, won’t you, Jason? Dick had never regretted the bluntness his family was famous for more than at this moment. Well, there had been that time Steph had described ‘pegging’ to Damian after he, being twelve, had asked why Dick was walking so funny after visiting his then-girlfriend… and the time Bruce had given him The Talk again after noticing he was interested in boys… and the time Babs had—okay, maybe this wasn’t even top five, because there had also been that time where—

Jason’s voice interrupted that thought process, which was probably for the best. “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Dick searched his face. Jason looked calm, open, a little bit hopeful—as if he was willing Dick to trust his word.

“Okay, cards on the table, I don’t actually remember what I told you,” Dick finally admitted. “So, uh, please describe the elephant to me.”

Jason hesitated. “Oh. I could forget about it, too, if you like.”

“No,” Dick decided, though he did consider it. Still, he was curious now. And surely it couldn’t be that bad? He couldn’t have been drunk enough to— He couldn’t have been. “Tell me.”

Jason’s phone buzzed. This time, he ignored it, still looking strangely hesitant. “You told me that you’re in love with Damian.”

Dick stopped breathing.

Literally; the ringing in his ears grew louder and louder until he felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Dick. Dick! It’s fine. You’re fine. No one else knows.”

Dick took a gulp of breath, then another, forcing out: “Don’t tell him.” Then: “Don’t tell Bruce.”

“Never,” Jason promised. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Dick wasn’t so sure about that, but—what choice did he have? Weirdly enough, it was that thought that calmed him down. There was nothing he could change about it now. All that was left was running damage control.

At least Jason had waited until they were alone to bring it up and hadn’t told anyone else. That had to count for something, hadn’t it?

“I haven’t—I never told anyone.” He’d barely admitted it to himself.

“I know.” Jason’s smile was sheepish, but there. “You, uh, made me promise the same thing about fifteen times already.”

Dick groaned, embarrassment finally setting in. “God, I’m so sorry. Fucking tequila.”

“Tell me about it. My head hurt for a whole two days after.”

The target chose that moment to move, and they both moved into instant alert—but it was only to the bathroom. Once the man was typing away at his desk again, they relaxed, and Jason finally answered Tim’s texts.

Then he leaned back on his hands casually and peered at Dick. “So. Damian, huh?”

Dick seriously considered ignoring him, but—it might feel… nice. To talk about it with someone. Even if it was Jason.

“Yeah. I know you two don’t—” Dick gestured with clasped hands.

“Hey, no, Damian and I, we’re good,” Jason reassured him. “Tried to kill each other a few times, laid down some ground rules about how to not insult people the other person cares about, and voila, no assassination threats in months now.”

Something in Dick wanted to protest. Damian was so much more than threats of violence, always had been, and it annoyed Dick to no end that people still held his upbringing against him.

Then he realized how ridiculous he would sound saying that to Jason of all people, and instead settled on: “So you just don’t talk about Bruce and Tim at all?”

Jason shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Huh.” That sounded exhausting, but who was Dick to judge?

“Gotta say I’m a bit surprised, though. Didn’t think you’d go for him.”

Dick tensed, expecting any of the reasons he told himself at night—Damian was too young, too vulnerable, too much his brother—

Jason continued, grinning: “He’s not even a redhead.”

Dick threw his com at Jason’s head, but he was laughing.

Three

Dick unironically loved it whenever a group of bats gathered to work a case (or an Arkham breakout, as it might be.) Sure, there was a lot of bickering happening, but wasn’t that what family was about?

Honestly, it was even better without Bruce. Less tightly run, more fun. Seeing Damian in Bruce’s cowl instead was still weird, though. It wasn’t like Dick himself hadn’t donned it plenty of times. Hell, even Jason had done it once or twice, which had been one hell of a trip for everyone involved.

All of which was a good thing—Damian should have more than being Bruce’s mirror image. Dick was so proud of the way he’d grown into himself, had taken on his own vigilante identity.

However, it was a reminder that the child he had helped socialize, the Robin to his Batman, had, indeed, grown into a man. A man that didn’t smile often, to be sure; one that still liked to keep the world at bay, that trusted few, showed his heart to even fewer.

Something sharp dug into his side. “Earth to Nightwing, Earth to Nightwing.”

Dick started. Fuck. He’d been staring at Damian again, hadn’t he?

With a grateful smile, he elbowed Jason right back. “It’s called thinking, ever tried it?”

“Not your particular kind, no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I occasionally suspect there are fluffy clouds moving behind these eyes and nothing more.”

“Aww, Little Hoodling,” Dick sang, sliding his arm around Jason in a deceptively friendly move, “one day, you’ll be a real boy, too.” Then he moved—or tried to.

It was like trying to flip a car.

Dick tried again. Sure, there was little leverage like this, but he’d been able to flip Damian (who wasn’t that much lighter than Jason, and just as tall) the other day without much effort; why was this so much more difficult?

But Jason didn’t move. “Bit heavier than you remembered, Nightwing?”

Dick made a show of sticking out his lower lip to cover how startled he was. Had it really been that long since he’d been roughhousing with Jason? He could swear it had been a thousand times, but… apparently not.

Dick couldn’t regret getting away from Bruce back then. It had been necessary. But he was glad they now had a chance to move on as a family.

Okay, maybe some people would be a bit more worried about the dozens or so homicidal criminals heading their way disrupting any reconciliations. Dick never had been one of these people. Tim and Jason fought together like a well-oiled machine. As for him and Damian…

Well. They were the best, weren’t they?

Coming back to the cave, high on adrenaline and full of cravings for Alfred’s cookies, had always been one of the best parts of the job for Dick. Add in the all-too-rare opportunity to spend some quality time with Damian… the night, or morning, was looking up.

Jason, God bless him, headed right for the showers. Tim, however, lingered, looking ready to set up camp at his workstation.

“Why are you here and not in the shower?” Dick waved a hand in the direction Jason had disappeared to. It wasn’t meant to imply anything dirty, except it was.

“I need to write a mission report,” Tim protested, true to his little workaholic form. Dick would’ve expected that to lessen a bit now that he was getting some. Though now that he considered it, Jason was a workaholic, too.

“We can do that, right, little D?” Dick smiled at Damian, who grumbled but acquiesced. “Go ahead and have an early night, dude. You look beat.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Damian said, already sitting down and spreading maps on the table. Dick, not wanting to annoy him further when he’d basically forced Damian to stay for the rest of the night, made haste to join him.

When they’d gathered the full picture of the events of the night, he frowned. “What I can’t figure out is: Where did they get those supplies from? There does not seem to be a single origin point.”

“Hmm.” Damian was chewing on a pen again. It was adorable. “Flyover?”

“No planes detected.” Dick rechecked the flight radars.

“Plenty of people know how to hide from our equipment. You said it yourself: Someone paid a lot of money to stir up this much trouble.”

“We would’ve noticed the packages, though.”

Damian nodded, conceding the point. “Water?”

“The river is meant to be well-guarded…” Dick’s voice trailed off, and they both sighed at the same time.

“We should go over the guard postings; check for suspicious activity.”

Engrossed as he way with their discussion, Dick barely noticed Tim and Jason leaving, only calling a cursory ‘Take care!’ after them before Damian demanded his attention again. Eventually, they had to begin writing their reports, though, and Dick concentrated on his laptop to do so. The silence was comfortable, and time flew by.

Damian silently vanished at some point, returning some minutes later with a plate of cookies and two mugs full of steaming hot chocolate. It smelled heavenly.

Dick smiled up at him as he took the mug—his favorite superman one, he noted. “Thank you.”

Damian didn’t smile back, but there was a slant to his mouth that told Dick he was pleased. When the other sat down again, he did so right next to Dick on the bench, their thighs touching. “Show me the surveillance video again.”

“Of course.”

Dick was pretty sure Damian had it on his computer, but maybe not. Not like he was going to deny the opportunity to be this close to Damian. Bruce was away, after all. And even if he checked the surveillance footage from the cave, what was there to see? It wasn’t like he was doing anything untoward, Dick told himself. He just took a little more comfort from being close to Damian than he did when it was any of his other siblings, that was all.

Their heads were bent over the video for almost an hour; neither broke focus up until a new figure entered the cave.

“Morning, Duke.” Dick waved at the newcomer.

“Hi, guys. How was the breakout?”

“Fine. We handled it.” Damian seemed annoyed. Dick didn’t know why; he’d been fine until just now, and he and Duke usually got along well in their own way.

Duke seemed unfazed, merely looking around. “Where’re the reds?”

“They’re fine,” Dick reassured him. “Just headed out already.”

“Let me guess.” Duke’s voice was dry. “They’re feeding each other waffles.”

“I think it’s pancakes today.” Damian matched him in tone, and Dick chuckled.  

“Let them have some fun, eh? At least Tim gets fed this way.”

“Too. Much. Flirting.” Duke shook his head and moved to the back of the cave, presumably getting ready for his shift.

When Dick looked up, Damian was staring at him in a way Dick had never seen before. He felt himself flush, wanted to ask—but Duke returned with his uniform and a question about the new batarangs, Damian looked away, and the moment passed.

Four

“If he’s coming to Wayne functions now, we might as well make Jason officially a part of the family again.”

Dick did his best to smile at Tim reassuringly, unsure if this was Tim’s way of floating the idea of Jason being reintroduced to the public as his boyfriend. Playing it safe, he pointed out: “Bruce doesn’t know how to ask, and he thinks Jason will say no.”

“He might not.”

Of course he wouldn’t, not if Tim asked him to. Jason was so whipped. Dick wasn’t kidding himself: If Tim hadn’t been complaining for weeks about having to attend this event, Jason wouldn’t be here. He was even making nice with some socialites to give Tim a break, for God’sGod’s sake.

Dick let his gaze wander over to where he’d last spotted Jason and flinched when he saw that Damian had joined him.

Their youngest had been late; out on a call as Flamebird. Dick was sure it had been important and all that, but he didn’t think it warranted him being deprived of this sight for so long.

If Dick liked seeing him in the batsuit, Damian in formal wear was… The dramatic lines of Damian’s suit, a close approximation of the styles his maternal family favored, made him look like royalty.  

The people around him seemed to think so, too. There was a woman at Damian’s elbow, laughing and touching his shoulder whenever he spoke. The man across from him couldn’t tear his gaze away, either, visibly undressing Damian in his mind.

Dick kind of wanted to punch him. Or better, yet: Go over and show them that Damian was supposed to be his, mark him and dishevel him and have him look at no one else; let him do the same to show that Dick belonged to Damian in return.

His hands went to his own throat without any conscious input, pressing into bruises that weren’t there. For cover, he loosened his tie, clearing his throat as if to force himself to breathe normally.

When he dragged his thoughts back to his own conversation, he saw that Tim, too, was staring at the group with hunger in his face. For a second, he felt an unexpected kinship with his brother, the urge to share what was plaguing him growing strong—but no.

He just couldn’t.

“Well, you would know better than anyone else,” he absently pointed out the obvious instead.

“I know that if he keeps throwing Damian to the wolves like that, he won’t live long enough to answer Bruce.”

Dick laughed. “Aww, you know Damian only means his death threats 30% of the time these days. Still, I’ll go rescue him. Coming?”

Tim waved him off, and as Dick advanced on the group, he noticed Jason peeling off. Well, about time. Jason had left Tim’s side for a whole twenty minutes already, surely a new record. Dick had no idea how those two thought they were being subtle.

Even before he began to speak, he felt Damian looking at him.

All attention was welcome to Dick, but being the focus of Damian’s… It was like no one else existed to him but Dick, and Dick craved that feeling more than anything in the world. Damian, he knew, judged everything and everyone. Being regarded like that and still found worthy was headier than any wine.

Buoyed by the feeling, he turned his best smile at the group: “Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen, but I need to steal Damian away from you for a few minutes. Our host has been asking for him.”

Damian nodded gravely, turning to leave immediately. There was a fleeting touch to Dick’s elbow that spoke of thanks for extracting him from the situation.

He himself stayed for some minutes before making his own excuses, vaguely ambling back towards the buffet. It never hurt to look drunker than any of them would allow themselves to be at this kind of event.

The sound of laughter drew his eyes to the dance floor.

Jason and Tim were dancing. If Dick tilted his head at a thirty-two-degree angle and squinted just so, he could call it a quickstep. They looked ridiculous; two very-grown men, twirling each other like they were delicate princesses and giggling the entire time.

And yet.

There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He’s never been someone to hide his love. If Damian were his, he’d want to proclaim it openly and proudly, just like Jason and Tim were doing now.

They never could. Even if, by some miracle, Damian returned his feelings, they were siblings in the eyes of the world. There was no coming back from that.

“They’re making a spectacle of themselves.”

Dick shivered. He hadn’t noticed Damian coming up behind him. Now the warmth against his back and Damian’s low whisper against his ear were unmistakable.

Damian had grown so tall, almost towering over Dick; tall enough that he could rest his chin on the top of Dick’s head, and for one long moment Dick thought he might do precisely that, pull Dick into him by the hips and envelop him so fully—

But Damian cleared his throat and stepped back. Dick swayed on his feet, shame and arousal burning in his stomach in equal measure.

Immediately, Damian’s hand was on his elbow, steadying him with care most would not suspect him capable of. Dick leaned into it gratefully before he knew what he was doing.

Christ. He needed to get out of there.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m not feeling so well,” Dick blurted out, immediately wincing at how obvious a lie it was.

Incredibly, though, Damian let him get away with it. He merely looked over to Jason and Tim, and nodded as if he understood; though what it was he understood, Dick didn’t know. “Do you require assistance? I will call Pennyworth, let him know you are coming.”

Great, and now Dick felt terrible for making Damian worry.

“No, it’s fine.” He smiled, hoping it was convincing. “I just need to get some rest, I think.”

“Take the night off,” Damian ordered. “We will cover for you at the office.”

There was nothing for Dick to do but agree. Maybe a night off would help him get his shit together. Ever since he confided in Jason and found out about his relationship with Tim, his mood had gotten worse. A good night of sleep could only improve things.

Impossible as it was, he felt Damian’s gaze on him all the way home.

Five

“Damian is back,” Tim told them through the coms. “Everything is set up for tomorrow.”

“Alright. Get some sleep, babybird.”

Jason’s voice was so soft. Something in Dick ached, listening to it.

That was the one good thing to come out of this mess: being privileged to see this side of Jason. Dick had to admit to himself that he hadn’t let himself see it before.

Still, he wouldn’t be Jason’s older brother if he didn’t tease him: “Getting all sappy on me, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

The genuine confusion on Jason’s face was hilarious. “Babybird.”

“Oh, that.” Jason tried to shrug it off. “Just a nickname.”

“You’re so sweet.”

Jason grumbled to himself. “Watch yourself, or next time I’ll let you act the loving couple with Damian.”

Images rose unbidden in Dick’s mind. Damian smiling down at him, pulling him into his arms at the reception, pressing a kiss into his neck… And then later, Damian shirtless, looming over Dick, caging him in, looking for all the world as if he wanted to devour him…

Dick swallowed. Maybe Jason had a point.

They got ready for bed in comfortable silence. At least it wasn’t awkward being half-naked around the other anymore. Dick was pretty sure there was a gun taped underneath Jason’s nightstand, but at least he was polite enough to hide it.

They slid under the covers, though neither of them turned off the string of fairy lights that were probably supposed to add to the romantic atmosphere. As it was, lovers staying up all night was exactly the image they wanted to create, so it served their purpose.

Still neither of them slept, too alert to their surroundings. Dick was content to just lie here, maybe doze off a bit, until morning came.

Then Jason inhaled and rolled over to his side. “No, you know what, I’m gonna ask. Why are you not hitting on the brat again?”

Dumbfounded, Dick sputtered: “Because—reasons!”

“What reasons?”

Jason sounded genuinely curious, and it felt like the kind of thing you shared with your brother, or maybe, a friend. The thought lifted Dick up enough to finally voice the thoughts in his head every night.

“He’s a lot younger than me.”

“Always knew you would turn into a cougar,” Jason teased, but there was nothing mean about it. “Seriously, Damian knows his own mind. He’s not underage, or even close to it. Somehow I don’t think you were attracted to him when he was a teen.”

Dick thought of Damian as a particularly gangly teenager and grimaced. “No.”

“Let me guess—realized one day that he’s a man now and boom, there were all these feelings?”

Dick smiled at him. “Was it like that for you and Tim?”

“Not really. I always saw him as an equal, even when I shouldn’t have,” Jason admitted.

Dick sometimes forgot that Jason was only four years older than Tim. When he’d come back from the dead, he’d been a grown man to Dick (and, he suspected, Bruce,) not a nineteen-year-old. Trying to kill everyone and start a criminal empire did that to you.

“You both got over that, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we did.” Was that a blush spreading over Jason’s cheeks?

It was funny. For all that he was encouraging Dick to open up to him, Jason didn’t seem all that used to talking about his own feelings.

“Anyway,” Jason deflected, “I know you fucked people much older than you, so that’s not the only reason. Neither are the murderous in-laws, though they frankly should be. So what’s holding you back?”

“He’s my brother. I know Bruce wanted me to be his brother.”

Jason considered the point. “Are you actually morally concerned, or is it mostly about not wanting to fail in Bruce’s eyes?”

“The latter,” Dick admitted. It was difficult to explain. He considered both Jason and Tim his brothers, yet ne he wasn’t bothered by them dating at all. With Damian, there was a strong feeling of loyalty, similar to that of a family member, but the love itself had changed. And theirs was a peculiar family, anyway. Roy had often joked that dating another vigilante was a little incestuous because of how small a group they were. Maybe it was no wonder that shit was all getting mixed up in his head.

So that was… fine. Weird, but fine. Dick could rationalize that to himself. But failing Bruce? Even after all these years, all those arguments, the thought still made him physically recoil.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but: There’s nothing you could do that would make that man love you any less.”

And Dick could see that hurt to admit, the ‘unlike me’ unspoken but present, so he joked weakly: “Oh, please, we all know Duke’s his favorite.”

Jason looked grateful, but he persisted: “I mean it, though. Why do you regard Damian as more Bruce’s son than the rest of you? Don’t tell me it’s the blood thing, because we both know that’s utter bullshit.”

Dick didn’t have an answer for that.

“You know there’s an easy way to settle this, right?” Jason asks when Dick didn’t speak. Throwing the blanket off, he got up and rooted through his suitcase. Dick watched as he pulled out his laptop and declared: “We’ll just call Bruce.”

Dick sat up in alarm. “You’re going to bother Bruce in the middle of a JL mission to ask about—this?”

Jason shrugged, though he couldn’t fool Dick. His neck muscles were tense. “Damian’s gonna kill me tomorrow anyway; I have nothing to lose.”

“Why would Damian kill you?” Dick felt very lost.

“No reason, Dickiebird, no reason.”

Dick decided to ignore that, and Jason’s amused tone, to focus on the important thing here. “We can’t call Bruce. He’s on another planet, and anyway, there’s no need—”

“Look, you want me to talk to him? I could ask him.”

Dick couldn’t think of a single less subtle thing for them to do. Bruce would know Dick was listening right away, and if not, as soon as he checked their mission log when he returned.

Maybe that was Jason’s point, though. Was he really going to keep hiding this?

Dick took a deep breath. “I’ll call.”

When Jason slid the laptop over to him, he looked almost proud.

It seemed like ages until the connection was set up. Finally, Batman’s familiar cowl appeared on the screen.

“Nightwing,” Bruce’s voice was crackly with static, but the concern was audible. “What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” Dick reassured him. “I hope. Just. Do you have a sec?”

Bruce looked torn. Dick saw Jason twitch and guessed he was tempted to interfere, to tell Bruce this was important. Pity that neither of them could be sure if that would help or hinder.

In the end, Bruce nodded.

It was, perhaps, a good thing Bruce seemed to be pressed for time. There was no way for Dick to prevaricate; he had to come straight out with it: “I think I’m in love with Damian.”

And then he held his breath as he waited for Bruce to lecture him.  

Bruce didn’t miss a beat. “I trust you and have no reason to doubt your choice in partners. I trust Damian to know what he wants, too. Please don’t hold back on my account.” He paused. “Just… don’t tell me any details.”

It was a terrible joke, but Dick laughed nonetheless.

He couldn’t be sure, but there was a sound in the background that sounded like an explosion. Bruce looked away from the screen for a moment. “I have to go. Be safe.”

“Thank you,” Dick told him, sincerely.

Bruce shook his head. “Not for that.” The connection closed.

The room was quiet as Dick tried to digest the fact that one of his top ten fears (after, you know, everyone dying) had been laid to rest in the span of five minutes, just like that. What did you even say?

“That went better than expected,” he finally settled on. “Thank you.”

Jason shrugged. “Yeah, look, there are a few trauma points he can’t deal with it—” he pointed at himself, then shaped a gun with his fingers, “but he’s a detective. He knew and had plenty of time to chew it over. That speech was practiced to hell and back. You probably just released him from the misery of wondering how the fuck to bring it up with you.”

Dick chuckled. If it sounded a bit wet still, neither of them mentioned it.

“Also—I like the kid, I do,” Jason said, “but we’re all glad if he doesn’t end up with a civilian.”

It felt different, seeing Damian now that Dick was allowing himself to hope, to want. He had no idea if Damian would even be receptive, had never allowed himself to consider the notion before. When they all met in the cave after the mission had ended, Dick let himself smile at Damian openly, full of delight at being able to do so without wondering what would be caught on camera.

Damian didn’t smile back. He grabbed Dick by the arm, scowling, and told him: “We’re leaving.”

“What about the—” Jason began to ask, but Damian was already dragging Dick away.

Resistance seemed futile. He shot an apologetic glance at Jason, who waved him off, looking way too amused.

It was only when they were alone that Damian let go of Dick, glaring daggers at him and the world, but not speaking. Dick patiently waited him out. Damian would tell him what was eating him, or he wouldn’t. No prodding in the world would speed up the process.

“Why Todd,” Damian finally demanded to know.

Dick frowned. Apparently, Jason’s statement about him and Damian getting along hadn’t been truthful. Well, after all that Jason had done for him last night, and the weeks before that, he wasn’t going to just let Damian question his place. “He has proven himself an able and trustworthy partner on these missions.”

“I’m not talking about the mission,” Damian hissed.

“Then what—”

But now that he had begun, Damian wouldn’t stop talking. “I don’t understand. You were looking at me, and I thought maybe—finally—but then there was Todd, and I don’t want you to be in love with him. He’s going hurt you. What does he have that I don’t? Tell me and I will change it.”

Oh. Oh.

“Damian,” Dick couldn’t help but smile as he reached out to touch Damian’s arm, “I’m not in love with Jason. He’s with Tim.”

Dick hadn’t realized how tense Damian had been until that tension left him to be replaced with hope: “You’re not in love with Todd?”

“I’m not.”

Damian’s other hand rose to cover Dick’s. “Then—”

“Yes.” Dick knew his feelings must have been written all over his face. He didn’t care. “Yes.”

Damian made a sound like a sob and bend down to kiss him.

Dick’s plan: Test the waters. See if Damian was interested at all. Maybe start some slow romancing if there was hope.

Dick’s reality: He was swept away by the force of Damian’s kiss. It was unpracticed, to be sure, but there could be no doubts about the feelings behind it. Damian’s hand on his cheek spoke of devotion, his teeth on Dick’s lip of passion, and his eyes were on Dick’s the whole time, never once looking away.

It was being devoured, and Dick loved it.

And One Time He Wasn’t

Unsurprisingly, Dick didn’t get to do much work that day. Or the next. When they finally emerged from their rooms to debrief with Tim and Jason, he was feeling stiff and bruised in the best of ways. To his surprise, Damian pulled him close as they walked, his hand heavy on Dick’s hip. Dick melted into him, pulling him close in turn.

Now that he had it, Dick didn’t know how he could have denied the two of them this feeling for so long.

Thus tightly wound, they entered the cave—and stopped. It took a second for the image to sink in: Jason was sitting in Tim’s lap, their fingers linked in front of his stomach.

Like so many things with those two, it should’ve been funny—Tim was by no means tiny, but he was considerably smaller than Jason. Instead, it looked right.

Jason grinned at him. “So. We’re together now.”

Dick, still high on the events of the last day, said: “Oh, how nice.” Then: “Wait, you weren’t before?”

Tim groaned and hid his face in Jason’s back, only the red of his ears still visible. Jason, however, didn’t look embarrassed at all, just distinctly unimpressed. “Dick. Are you telling me these two geniuses thought the two of us were dating, while you thought I was already dating Tim?”

Dick blinked. “Tim thought that too?”

“That’s it,” Jason said, “I’m revoking your detective licenses. All of you.”

[arcticdementor]

Thread: I was sent this and felt the need to thread it here on Twitter. It will be long. It is purported to be an anonymous, open letter from a professor at UK Berkeley in the History Department. The only comment I will make is to say it is worth every moment of the read.

C Berkeley History Professor's Open Letter Against BLM, Police Brutality and Cultural Orthodoxy

Dear profs X, Y, Z

I am one of your colleagues at the University of California, Berkeley. I have met you both personally but do not know you closely, and am contacting you anonymously, with apologies. I am worried that writing this email publicly might lead to me losing my job, and likely all future jobs in my field.

In your recent departmental emails you mentioned our pledge to diversity, but I am increasingly alarmed by the absence of diversity of opinion on the topic of the recent protests and our community response to them.

In the extended links and resources you provided, I could not find a single instance of substantial counter-argument or alternative narrative to explain the under-representation of black individuals in academia or their over-representation in the criminal justice system. The explanation provided in your documentation, to the near exclusion of all others, is univariate: the problems of the black community are caused by whites, or, when whites are not physically present, by the infiltration of white supremacy and white systemic racism into American brains, souls, and institutions.

Many cogent objections to this thesis have been raised by sober voices, including from within the black community itself, such as Thomas Sowell and Wilfred Reilly. These people are not racists or 'Uncle Toms'. They are intelligent scholars who reject a narrative that strips black people of agency and systematically externalizes the problems of the black community onto outsiders.

Their view is entirely absent from the departmental and UCB-wide communiques.

…

A counternarrative exists. If you have time, please consider examining some of the documents I attach at the end of this email.

Overwhelmingly, the reasoning provided by BLM and allies is either primarily anecdotal (as in the case with the bulk of Ta-Nehisi Coates' undeniably moving article) or it is transparently motivated. As an example of the latter problem, consider the proportion of black incarcerated Americans. This proportion is often used to characterize the criminal justice system as anti-black. However, if we use the precise same methodology, we would have to conclude that the criminal justice system is even more anti-male than it is anti-black.

Would we characterize criminal justice as a systemically misandrist conspiracy against innocent American men? I hope you see that this type of reasoning is flawed, and requires a significant suspension of our rational faculties. Black people are not incarcerated at higher rates than their involvement in violent crime would predict. This fact has been demonstrated multiple times across multiple jurisdictions in multiple countries. And yet, I see my department uncritically reproducing a narrative that diminishes black agency in favor of a white-centric explanation that appeals to the department's apparent desire to shoulder the 'white man's burden' and to promote a narrative of white guilt.

If we claim that the criminal justice system is white-supremacist, why is it that Asian Americans, Indian Americans, and Nigerian Americans are incarcerated at vastly lower rates than white Americans? This is a funny sort of white supremacy. Even Jewish Americans are incarcerated less than gentile whites. I think it's fair to say that your average white supremacist disapproves of Jews. And yet, these alleged white supremacists incarcerate gentiles at vastly higher rates than Jews. None of this is addressed in your literature. None of this is explained, beyond hand-waving and ad hominems. "Those are racist dogwhistles". "The model minority myth is white supremacist". "Only fascists talk about black-on-black crime", ad nauseam. These types of statements do not amount to counterarguments: they are simply arbitrary offensive classifications, intended to silence and oppress discourse. Any serious historian will recognize these for the silencing orthodoxy tactics they are, common to suppressive regimes, doctrines, and religions throughout time and space. They are intended to crush real diversity and permanently exile the culture of robust criticism from our department.

Increasingly, we are being called upon to comply and subscribe to BLM's problematic view of history, and the department is being presented as unified on the matter. In particular, ethnic minorities are being aggressively marshaled into a single position. Any apparent unity is surely a function of the fact that dissent could almost certainly lead to expulsion or cancellation for those of us in a precarious position, which is no small number.

…

The vast majority of violence visited on the black community is committed by black people. There are virtually no marches for these invisible victims, no public silences, no heartfelt letters from the UC regents, deans, and departmental heads. The message is clear: Black lives only matter when whites take them. Black violence is expected and insoluble, while white violence requires explanation and demands solution.

Please look into your hearts and see how monstrously bigoted this formulation truly is.

No discussion is permitted for nonblack victims of black violence, who proportionally outnumber black victims of nonblack violence. This is especially bitter in the Bay Area, where Asian victimization by black assailants has reached epidemic proportions, to the point that the SF police chief has advised Asians to stop hanging good-luck charms on their doors, as this attracts the attention of (overwhelmingly black) home invaders.

Home invaders like George Floyd. For this actual, lived, physically experienced reality of violence in the USA, there are no marches, no tearful emails from departmental heads, no support from McDonald's and Wal-Mart.

For the History department, our silence is not a mere abrogation of our duty to shed light on the truth: it is a rejection of it.

…

Most troublingly, our department appears to have been entirely captured by the interests of the Democratic National Convention, and the Democratic Party more broadly. To explain what I mean, consider what happens if you choose to donate to Black Lives Matter, an organization UCB History has explicitly promoted in its recent mailers. All donations to the official BLM website are immediately redirected to ActBlue Charities, an organization primarily concerned with bankrolling election campaigns for Democrat candidates. Donating to BLM today is to indirectly donate to Joe Biden's 2020 campaign. This is grotesque given the fact that the American cities with the worst rates of black-on-black violence and police-on-black violence are overwhelmingly Democrat-run. Minneapolis itself has been entirely in the hands of Democrats for over five decades; the 'systemic racism' there was built by successive Democrat administrations.

…

Given the direction our history department appears to be taking far from any commitment to truth, we can regard ourselves as a formative training institution for this brand of snake-oil salespeople. Their activities are corrosive, demolishing any hope at harmonious racial coexistence in our nation and colonizing our political and institutional life. Many of their voices are unironically segregationist.

MLK would likely be called an Uncle Tom if he spoke on our campus today. We are training leaders who intend, explicitly, to destroy one of the only truly successful ethnically diverse societies in modern history. As the PRC, an ethnonationalist and aggressively racially chauvinist national polity with null immigration and no concept of jus solis increasingly presents itself as the global political alternative to the US, I ask you: Is this wise? Are we really doing the right thing?

As a final point, our university and department has made multiple statements celebrating and eulogizing George Floyd. Floyd was a multiple felon who once held a pregnant black woman at gunpoint. He broke into her home with a gang of men and pointed a gun at her pregnant stomach.

He terrorized the women in his community. He sired and abandoned multiple children, playing no part in their support or upbringing, failing one of the most basic tests of decency for a human being. He was a drug-addict and sometime drug-dealer, a swindler who preyed upon his honest and hard-working neighbors.

And yet, the regents of UC and the historians of the UCB History department are celebrating this violent criminal, elevating his name to virtual sainthood. A man who hurt women. A man who hurt black women. With the full collaboration of the UCB history department, corporate America, most mainstream media outlets, and some of the wealthiest and most privileged opinion-shaping elites of the USA, he has become a culture hero, buried in a golden casket, his (recognized) family showered with gifts and praise. Americans are being socially pressured into kneeling for this violent, abusive misogynist. A generation of black men are being coerced into identifying with George Floyd, the absolute worst specimen of our race and species. I'm ashamed of my department. I would say that I'm ashamed of both of you, but perhaps you agree with me, and are simply afraid, as I am, of the backlash of speaking the truth. It's hard to know what kneeling means, when you have to kneel to keep your job.

It shouldn't affect the strength of my argument above, but for the record, I write as a person of color. My family have been personally victimized by men like Floyd. We are aware of the condescending depredations of the Democrat party against our race. The humiliating assumption that we are too stupid to do STEM, that we need special help and lower requirements to get ahead in life, is richly familiar to us. I sometimes wonder if it wouldn't be easier to deal with open fascists, who at least would be straightforward in calling me a subhuman, and who are unlikely to share my race.

The ever-present soft bigotry of low expectations and the permanent claim that the solutions to the plight of my people rest exclusively on the goodwill of whites rather than on our own hard work is psychologically devastating.

No other group in America is systematically demoralized in this way by its alleged allies. A whole generation of black children are being taught that only by begging and weeping and screaming will they get handouts from guilt-ridden whites.

No message will more surely devastate their futures, especially if whites run out of guilt, or indeed if America runs out of whites. If this had been done to Japanese Americans, or Jewish Americans, or Chinese Americans, then Chinatown and Japantown would surely be no different to the roughest parts of Baltimore and East St. Louis today. The History department of UCB is now an integral institutional promulgator of a destructive and denigrating fallacy about the black race.

[endlesslovewitch-blog]

Busted myths about fictophilia / schediaphilia

Hi! I’d like to get the word out since I’ve seen lots of wrong assumptions circulating about this. Fictophilia is a romantic and/or sexual orientation which covers exclusive attraction to fictional characters in animation and movies (no, not the actors). It’s not a fetish, disorder, or solely a type of attraction, but an orientation one is born with, just as valid as any other*. It has nothing to do with lusting after those characters sexually as a fan. *There are people who are attracted to other people and fictional characters in that way. In that case, their orientation is whatever they identify with. I’d like to help you understand who we are and what we’re not by responding to the most common statements aimed at us. This has gotten pretty long so I put all the answers under a cut.

It’s not real! / You’re kidding, right?

No, it’s very much real. We feel genuine romantic and/or sexual attraction of the same sort that alloromantics/allosexuals experience towards people.

How can you tell if you’ve never been in love with a real person?

We can compare our romantic feelings to others’ and reach a conclusion that way. Furthermore, once you fall really hard for someone, you just know, right?

But they’re not real! How is that possible?

Oh, are they not? I’m so sorry, I totally didn’t re– yes, we know they don’t exist, you don’t have to pretend showing concern for our mental health. They have a personality. Many of them have a voice. Isn’t that enough for falling in love?

If not, you can also say you can’t have a crush on someone you’ve never interacted with. It’s essentially like being in love with a celebrity (although we don’t get why loving a celebrity is far more accepted since all the circumstances are the same, except that those characters don’t exist.)

You’re saying that because no one likes you!

It’s actually the opposite. If someone falls in love with us, we’ll have to reject them because we lack attraction.

You’ve just never been in a real relationship!

This may be true for some of us, but not for all. (Those who haven’t been are better off than the others, trust me.) 

However, we don’t contend that we’re fictophiliac for that reason.

We simply lack attraction to other people, so we have no reason to get into a physically intimate relationship in the first place. Just like everyone else with a non-heteronormative orientation, we don’t have any obligation to try all kinds of different things before we can be sure who we are. You’re in no place to decide that. I’m 24 years old, I’ve been in love with the same character for 8 years, I’ve never loved a real person in the same way, but I’ve been in a physically intimate relationship I regret.

You’re exaggerating! / You’ve watched too many cartoons! / You’re taking fiction too seriously!

I suggest you take a look at your own fandoms and all the bashing within before saying that we’re the ones taking fiction too seriously.

You’re delusional.

Guess what, we still reconize the characters as fictional and know that we can never be with them unless we establish something for ourselves. Once that happens, it can be seen as a long-distance relationship. Where’s the problem? That we don’t get a response from their side?

That may be an issue that causes complications for us but it doesn’t make our emotions for them less real. And, surprise, it is entirely up to us how we deal with that. It’s not a problem you have to deal with. On the contrary, we’re not out there to hurt anyone - we’re literally just daydreaming like everyone else in love.

You’re those obsessed people who spend their days holed up in a room full of merchandise and claim to be married to fictional characters.

Again, no. That isn’t us. Many of us are capable of a healthy social life. Some may choose to get married to a character “officially”, but I am personally grossed out by that concept.

I’d never file for a marriage certificate because I’m not forcing anything on the character I love, I’m not disrespecting them, I’m respecting my own feelings, and I’m not into doing something so simple that everyone could do without a connection to them.

As a child, I created OCs to ship with the canon characters I had a crush on, but I never did so openly - only to cheer myself up because I knew from the beginning that it wouldn’t be taken seriously.

Most of us don’t claim the characters to ourselves. If so, chances are that the person is either very young or doesn’t really love them. If someone starts a fight, that’s a problem with the person, not the community.

Here, it’s important to stress the difference to fankids who keep shouting “THEY’RE MINE ALONE!!” (Guys, that’s embarrassing. No wonder no one believes us.)

Some of us forge a connection through dreams or on the spiritual plane in order to cope, but we still have ties to reality - remember that we’re constantly confronted with society’s standards wherever we go, from elementary school days on.

Even if we do collect tons of merchandise, that means we’re supporting the sales of something you enjoy, too.

Also, no real fictophiliac would present themselves in media like the otakus you see on TV. We have self-respect.

As a side note, anyone who uses the terms waifu or husbando to refer to characters unironically is most likely not fictophiliac. Being thrown into the same category as those is offensive to us with actual non-fanbased feelings for those characters. We don’t lust after them like overzealous fans, and it hurts being compared to them.

You can‘t compare yourselves to the LGBT community!

True. We don’t face any of the oppression the LGBT+ community does.

Let’s focus on a different aspect that matters: the self-discovery process in our minds which is similar to anyone else’s with a non-heteronormative orientation. We grow up in society and learn that we’re only supposed to love other people. We’re told our identity is childish and just a phase. In fifth grade, I was certain I’d soon grow out of this and fall in love. When I noticed I didn’t feel  attracted to boys, I believed I was a lesbian. So I mistook a strong platonic attraction for romantic attraction and got into a relationship (after all, I was taught that my feelings for those characters were supposedly different from what actual love should feel like). That is very similar to what aromantics and asexuals go through before they realize they’re not broken.

You’re making this up in order to mock LGBT+ individuals who face oppression in daily life!

Wrong. We’re not part of LGBT+. We’re also not asexual or aromantic for being fictophiliac. I’m writing this to let you guys know we exist, not to claim a label that isn’t ours to claim.

Aren’t you aromantic and/or asexual by default?

I don’t consider myself aromantic because a) going by that label would be unfair towards aros who don’t feel romantic attraction at all, and b) I don’t like erasing my own existence by claiming not to feel something that I do.

I’m asexual because I’m asexual, not because I’m fictophiliac. However, some may choose to go with either label to explain our lack of attraction to people without getting demeaned.

How exactly are you struggling?

- being unable to express our feelings to the character in question and getting rejected by them before we start getting too desperate

- dealing with friends and family members who expect us to date and have children (equally to aros and aces who are told “you haven’t met the right person yet” - but joke’s on them, some of us have indeed)

- if we open up about who we like, we’re always going to receive strange looks; dealing with prejudice, ignorance, dehumanization

- our feelings are constantly played down and mocked even by fandoms (I don’t understand - why are our feelings less valid than other people’s? It’s not like we value our platonic or family relationships less than anyone else.)

- even if we managed to establish some sort of relationship, we can’t be open about it like everyone else; there are always going to be others who like the same character; comparing ourselves to those makes us lose confidence in our own qualities

- getting insulted for no reason with ableist language

- being confronted with the importance of “real” romantic / sexual relationships and the fact that we’re never going to have what others call essential for happiness (physical partnership, marriage, children)

- if we achieve happiness without those things, no one believes us

- spending our whole lives feeling broken, hoping to fall in love “normally”, forcibly getting into unfulfilling relationships, betraying our feelings, trying to fix ourselves (plus getting demonized if said relationship doesn’t work out)

- feeling alienated as though we don’t really belong into this world

- if someone like us comes out to media, they are ridiculed and humiliated

- suicidal thoughts, mental illnesses, mental scars, lifelong lovesickness resulting from all the points above

I hope I could provide you with an insight. It’d be nice for our existence to at least be acknowledged instead of trampled on. Please feel free to ask if you have any other questions! What to do with this information is up to you to decide. (But come on, do you really think I’d waste hours on writing this post if I wasn’t serious?)

Thank you for reading!

[nightcoremoon]

God are 4channers cringeworthy and pathetic

ordinarily I wouldn't need a reason to say that but holy shit I have a short story

so I like memes. specifically music memes but some other kinds that aren't relevant to the story. there's a youtuber I watch, his name is jasonparadise, he plays guitar hero. he does a lot of custom songs by this dude, bandipat. he does things like down with the sickness and chop suey and through the fire and flames, but he fucks with the lyrics so it says things like "get down with the DICKness" or "TABLE! TABLETABLETABLETABLETABLETABLE TABLE!" or "through the fire and the MEMES we carry AAAAAAAHHHHHH *glass shatters*" and randomly throws in clips of darude-sandstorm and all star by smash mouth and in the end by linkin park. at first I liked the videos because jason's laugh is infectious and he's actually really fucking good at guitar hero, and I started to ironically like the songs. one of them was titled EXTREME MEME MUSIC MEGAMASHUP or something. it was crammed to the brim with gorillaz and twenty one pilots and system of a down and man's not hot and snow halation and never gonna give you up and a thousand miles and what is love and through the fire and the flames and and old spice commercials and the fresh prince of bel-air theme song and some of the undertale soundtrack, daft punk and ariana grande and eminem and owl city and a hundred other pop songs that got way overplayed on the radio. I kind of unironically liked it because it was such a masterful compilation & mashup. so I looked up more and downloaded a dozen different ones by different people. anyway I eventually found a batman parody of all star that was about bane from the dark knight rises. I thought it was hilarious and wanted to find the full video. so I did. I watched it. it was... meh. nothing to write home about or watch again. singer was nasally and kinda sucked. I joked and said "no memes here, singer sounds like social distortion" because he totally did.

one week passed.

today some guy was like "NO MEMES? LMAO NEWF@G"

I was like. fuck it, this loser wants to troll, I'll give him a troll. I basically called him out on being a social distortion fanboy.

he responded "you're either an amazing troll or a PATHETIC NORMALF@G"

I just responded with a smiley face.

holy

fucking

shit, guys.

I think that these neanderthalian cave dwellers actually believe the shit that comes flying out of their fingers and just pretend that it's irony or trolling. I think they really are that much of fucking moronic basement-lurking imbeciles.

the concept of newf@g and normalf@g and the self-fellating ego-stroking mob-mentality tribal barbarian circlejerk are way worse than even the fucking superwholocks, but it's even more embarrassing because instead of being twelve they're all like 27 and running management positions in some business that daddy greased some palms for. borderline-inbred acne-ridden neckbearded incel chucklefucks whose mental fortitude only allows the enjoyment of shrek (via projection) and neonazi terrorists (same), where the concept of people who are *GASP* into things that are different from them, or even *GASP* into things for different reasons than they themselves are, is just way too much for their feeble minds to handle.

like, I'll admit to some of the things I like to be a little cringey. anime, nightcore, my little pony: friendship is magic, 80s music, shitty lord of the rings licensed media... but nothing I do or like will ever hurt or offend anybody. I don't go out of my way to be an asshole slinging around slurs for the lulz because mommy won't let me stay out past 10:30 and forgot to buy me the steak and cheddar hot pockets again because she's a FUCKING BITCH ("I'm sorry I called you a mean name can I PLEASE have the xbox back because all my friends are playing fortnite right now!!!"). I don't sit there drunk and stoned with peanut butter on my dick and world of warcraft running on a second monitor so I can fill my bags with ore and sell it on the auction house for 10x profit and get another month for free because I need more monster and red bull.

and sure, maybe I'm assuming a few things for a person whose profile picture is piccolo from dragon ball z and seems to unironically enjoy what the rest of the comments section had affectionately referred to as "baneposting". and sure, maybe they're all trolls trying to confuse the shit out of the internet, but I see it for what it is. wasting time doing stupid shit because you don't have the intellectual fortitude to, I don't fucking know, contribute something worthwhile to the internet instead of wasting bandwidth on poorly-edited 480p chop cuts of blockbuster movies with loosely cobbled lyrics that make weird al look like fucking hp lovecraft and sung on a potato mike up the nose of one of the world's worst rejects from the american idol qualifiers? if that's a gem, give me an hour and I'll shit out the fucking mona lisa 2: electric boogaloo.

but I don't wanna hear one more person talk shit to me over the things I like when worse is out there.

[athena14044]

She-Hulk v2, my despised, and also Civil War and World War Hulk (kill me)

She-Hulk v2

They're like "we're lucky enough to have the original creative team back for volume 2!!" as if it isn't dan slott and the ugliest art I've ever seen in my life

Dump him. (She-Hulk v2 #2)

Imagine writing that line and then immediately paralleling it with Mr "I'm a nice guy why won't she date me." slott's problem is that even when he writes something semi-decent he undermines himself. (She-Hulk v2 #2)

Issue #4 is valid.

THIS FUCKING HORSE HAUNTS ME (She-Hulk v2 #5)

unironically love the two-gun kid though 🤠

WHY would you have the superhero lawyer cowboy in a superhero law series and then not even let him practice law

STARFOX NO I THOUGHT THAT WAS LATER

There is undoubtedly character assassination happening to Starfox as well so I'm willing to forgive it a little but I think he was always a little creepy

THIS JUST IN!!! DAN SLOTT HAS NO IDEA HOW WOMEN TALK TO EACH OTHER!!!! (She-Hulk v2 #7)

God her relationship with John Jameson is so toxic

I... I think Slott really thought he was writing some crucial social commentary... like the part with his self-insert comic nerd... bestie you handled this so badly

I just want to insert this panel from Avengers West Coast Annual #4

I- what the fuck. I don't even know which one won because they didn't upload the letters page from the next issue. (She-Hulk v2 #8)

...what if Two-Gun had killed John Jameson... I think he should've it would have added a little spicy drama...

I think that Thanos fucking with Starfox's mind makes an interesting parallel and could potentially be used to make him realize exactly what he's done, but that's addressed in such a detached way here and is then used to justify Starfox's actions and allow him to not face any real consequences. He gets his powers turned off and has to seek forgiveness? so what??

Also no mention is made of the woman who initially accused him. As soon as Thanos enters the picture the story forgets all about her and that's... not great.

Overall just. if that story absolutely had to have been written dan slott was absolutely NOT the person who should have written it.

JUSTICE FOR AWESOME ANDY

imagine writing a story arc where someone rejects their creator/parent and chooses for themselves how they want to live their life, chooses to do good and learns to love themselves, and then ending it by having them give up their free will and return to being a mindless slave. what the fuck slott.

It's absolutely insane that Slott had Jen sleep with Clay Quartermain, her boss, and then with Tony Stark, her other boss.

Maybe, if the book did anything to actually empower her instead of calling her "Juggernaut's sloppy seconds" and later slut-shaming her by reading off a list in court of every man she's ever slept with, it would actually do something to combat the double standard. (She-Hulk v2 #17)

And then it's all "you're already empowered you don't need clothes to be a superhero" to excuse having her fight in her underwear. At least Sensational knew what it was.

Not going to lie, I had like 4 paragraphs typed absolutely ripping Slott apart for the issue where he declares that Jen and She-Hulk are two separate people and then slutshames her in court and calls her an addict but to be honest... this is the only panel I really need (below) Just know that in my heart I have a rant prepared about what a hypocrite he is

Sensational She-Hulk #33

I'm practically grinding my teeth over here. The last thing he does before he leaves the book is reveal that Jen and Pug are soulmates on another world.

Slott admitting in his recent f4 interview that he puts everything back to the way it was before he leaves a book retroactively makes so much make sense. It's really funny to me that he sent Jen back to the law firm instead of leaving her with SHIELD and gave her back her powers and then Peter David was like "hmmm... no." Like I do not respect David's decision to revoke her law license but I do Respect his decision to directly contradict Slott.

I'm less violently opposed to Peter David but I still Do Not like him or his writing

There is a very slight possibility that I missed some crucial information by refusing to read some howard the duck issues that Jen is supposedly in but it's a max comic and I scrolled down and there was a naked woman in the shower with howard and that is where I draw the fucking LINE

I'm going to stab someone. (She-Hulk v2 #25)

Now David is also going on about the double standard! Maybe I'd believe he actually cared if he'd let the Juggernaut thing drop and not referred to her as a "sexual pinball" three times!

Biphobia? In a comic book? It's more likely than you'd think.

Top: Sensational She-Hulk #25, Bottom: She-Hulk v2 #30

I just. These released the same day. Do these writers not talk to each other. Where is the consistency in character development. 😐 (Left: Nova v4 #16, Right: She-Hulk v2 #32)

I'm really struggling to see what Peter David brought to this book that was actually worthwhile. Everything he wrote is pointless and bad. At the very least Slott had a couple interesting ideas that he executed in the town square.

Civil War Stuff 😔

I'm not listing out every tie-in I read for this but rest assured I read a lot of tie-ins

on one hand, I'm glad the mcu didn't adapt this accurately bc I'd hate to see the takes the mcu fans would come up with, but on the other hand, imagine reducing this to whatever the fuck the movie was trying to do. Anyway Cap is right.

Like... yeah if they were in the real world it's kind of scary to imagine people with unnatural powers running around unregulated, but it's even scarier to imagine them under government control as essentially a military force. Also, they're not in the real world. Get over yourself, you're just being edgy and the writing isn't even good.

I did NOT realize Storm and T'Challa got married in the middle of all this good for them idk

World War Hulk Stuff 😔

I'm aware it's a little strange since I've made She-Hulk my brand, but I actually Do Not Care about the Hulk.

Literally could not care less.

This was so painful to read.

Other

Marvel Monsters: Fin Fang Four, this is cute 🥺

Marvel Westerns: Two-Gun Kid, WEREWOLVES and COWBOYS :D DAN SLOTT >:(

If you made it this far enjoy this panel because it was the first one I found in my folder that wasn't saved because it upset me in some way. they're gay. (She-Hulk v2 #20)

It just occurred to me that I could be posting about my attempt to read all of She-Hulk’s appearances so let me get caught up to where I am currently

Savage She-Hulk, 1st time with the Avengers, Contest of Champions, Secret Wars, Time with the Fantastic Four, Secret Wars II

Keep reading

[doodleysloth]

Probabbly gonna do Bora’s info next… ;v; Feel free to ask questions about or for Jung as I want to start drawing more! More info under cut. Name:

Jung-Hwan Seonwoo (Hangul: 선우 정환)

Nickname(s):

Jung, Mr.Seonwoo (Work only; He becomes offended if it’s used outside his teaching job.)

Online Username:

Jung

Gender:

Cis Male

Sexuality:

Bisexual

Height:

6’5” | 198 cm

Weight:

210 lbs | 95 kg

Birth Date:

February 21st

Zodiac Sign:

Pisces

Occupation:

Language Teacher (High School) Translator (Mainly books and most of his income)

Personality:

Charming | Diplomatic | Resourceful | Responsible | Loyal ||| Manipulative | Vindictive | Callous | Entitled | Controlling

Surprisingly, Jung has a pleasant side to him, or rather the face he chooses to display outwardly. He knew how to make you feel important and cared for. Whether it is just words you want to here or sincerity is unknown. Due to his keen senses of observing others, he can be quite tactful if it does call for it. It’s often shown if he needs to cover for himself, and on the surprising occasion for others. Often left to his own devices, Jung has developed a rather quick wit about him. Difficulties to him seem rather than a challenge goading him on rather than a hindrance. Following rules is absolute to him, in a warped way he will do what he thinks is right. He has no shame in his actions and will be happy to admit to it as he has nothing to hide. Very rarely, Jung will exhibit a warped form of attachment because of this he becomes utterly obsessed with keeping the said party safe as to not taint them further. He will follow them until they threaten his perception of their relationship or reject him.

Having nothing, Jung has learned to be sly and quick-witted, unconcerned of others most of the time he has no qualms about disposing or using others for his benefit. Controlled by his emotions Jung lets his actions dictate his life, good or bad. The same goes for others; he will hold grudges and keep that resentment to better himself than the offender. Nothing will satisfy him more than coming on top of those who wronged him. Unsurprisingly he can be quite heartless in regard for others. At the end of the day, he only has himself and will have no problem stepping over anyone to reach his goals. They have done nothing for him. On the same side of the coin, Jung feels entitled to anything he desires as no one has given him anything worthwhile, he will take it by force. He’s a selfish man to his core. Due to the lack of structure in his life, Jung has the intense innate desire to control everything in regards to him. He keeps to a strict schedule and rules for himself that he refuses to break. He has gone so far to attempt to control what others think of him, or the person themselves.

Likes: • Sweets (Chapssaltteok and Butterscotch candies are his favorite) • Kids (Anyone younger than him he automatically treats as his student) • Structure • Different Cultures • Exercising • Drama shows/books • Tech gadgets • Manners Dislikes: • Idle flattery • Breaking of rules • Weak willed/meek people • Slackers • Impoliteness • Social gatherings • Unpredictable circumstances • Clutter History: At a young age, the moral lines of right and wrong were blurred for a child named Jung. His parents provided him an unstable lifestyle on the sensitive child. Smoke hung in the air, blood and sweat stained the carpet. The unsavory acts left a suffocating feeling in his chest. Learning quickly to fend for himself he often took care of his little sister, too tiny to witness the daily sin. Wising up quickly to his abnormal treatment, the child sought out help, despite the risks his parents posed. Soon they were subsequently arrested as Jung watched a smile tugging at his lips as he watched them spew obscenities. Oh, look at how hateful their eyes were! Was it so wrong he enjoyed the same suffering they toiled out on him? Old fashioned to the core, the children’s grandparents took them in raising them with strict rules and guidelines. Jung found the harsh way comforting, welcoming the stability and structure he was finally provided. Growing up, it caused him to be quite rigid and stiff with his views, his stubbornness not gaining him much support from his peers. Latching onto the rules desperately, he began to force his ideals upon others not caring for their opinions. Soon he was labeled as a thug by many of his schoolmates, gaining a poor reputation despite his scholarly feats. Deciding to run with this, the teen began to attack delinquents in his school, beating them into submission. Force was the only thing he knew; he would make others think his way. Was he using them as a scapegoat? No, it didn’t matter, they chose their fate when they decided not to listen to authority. He despised the whole lot of them.

Causing turmoil for the ones that raised him, Jung craftily hid from his grandparents prying eyes once they wised up. Playing coy came easily; he crafted a fake persona as he doled out his brand of divine punishment. Soon, it was put on the back burner as he was forced upon the college. Enjoying his language classes in high school the man decided to pursue his interests. Teaching seemed like a suitable job to force his passions upon others. Although he soon came to realize, most teens didn’t share the teacher’s enthusiasm for learning about other cultures. How disappointing. Irritated, the new teacher became quite strict falling back into his old ways. With his youth and inexperience, his students lack respect for Jung, which is his primary concern currently

Extra:

• His speech pattern is very formal and (usually) polite as he uses the speech level Hasipsio-che. Will use Haeyo-che once he is used to you. (Will not use any honorifics if you piss him off enough.)

• He expects the same politeness he gives others, if not; he will have a poor opinion of you and disregard you.

• Jung’s family is rather poor. He relied on scholarships and part-time jobs to get himself through school.

• Unironically enjoys Vocaloid songs due to his sister introducing them. Hums them to himself when he grades papers or when he’s bored.

• He has tech gadgets for almost anything in his house. Mainly for cooking. Jung names them.

• Can speak four languages fluently currently (Korean, English, Chinese, and Japanese). Teaching himself Arabic in his free time.

• Taught himself English out of spite to curse at a kid in his native language. Taught himself Japanese under similar circumstances.

• There are rumors that he is frightening when angered.

• A neat freak. Detests clutter and messes. Will end up cleaning after you even if it’s impolite.

• As much as he can be cruel, it’s only if you get on his bad side. He is usually indifferent to everyone unless they make a substantial impression on him, good or bad. His respect is earned, and he will treat you in kind. Someone you don’t want as an enemy, but it’s in your best interest to get on his good side.

• Internalizes most of his emotions. If you are close to him, he will show more to himself than being polite.

CV:

Sung Joon