#and i have the worlds worst fucking complex about being condescended to

[sallytwo]

not to complain but my job has been so sucks lately like i love being on the water and working on boats but i know nothing about keelboats (cuz i didn’t grow up sailing bro!) and everyone treats me like an idiot baby for it. like you hired me because NO ONE ELSE WOULD WORK FOR YOU there are literally 3 of us without me you wouldn’t be able to do half this shit. and i may not know works but i haul shit around all day and drive the giant ass truck i’m not useless. AND LIKE. i do know a lot like i fucking fly planes sorry i don’t know how to work boats but you’re not TWACHING ME!!! i could be working a job where i was appreciated for my experience but i wanted to learn how to do this even though it’s a challenge. so stop being such assholes. GOD!! i’m about to work as a camp counselor for 2 weeks which i’m looking forward to cuz at least i’ll be doing something i’m good at and won’t be treated like an idiot baby. ugh

[comradekatara]

Saw you mention a Sokka and Azula relationship some days back. Any elaboration?

@spacecuttle Sokka/Azula? I saw you say they could make each other worse.

well they share all the same flaws and complexes but are also scarily intelligent so they would just enable in each other in the worst possible ways if left to their own devices. like they could rule the world together but also feed into all their worst impulses to be condescending assholes who simultaneously negate their egos and consider themselves nonhuman vessels of obedience and sacrifice for their respective causes (both informed by the patriarchal logic they have internalized thru their fathers). they are so fucked up and insane, whether as rivals or as friends or even something more, because it’s like. well it’s the recognition of the self through the other but also they both refuse to look in the mirror (they both have their mother’s face btw) so it’s just this undefinable essence that exists within them both that they refuse to locate despite being so brilliant and observant otherwise, bc their biggest blind spots are themselves, but somehow they know the other like the back of their hand, except they don’t even know the backs of their hands. do you get what I’m saying no i think i sound insane. but they ARE insane. is the thing.

realistically i think postcanon they’d begrudgingly get along because azula genuinely respects sokka and sokka thinks she’s kind of funny and also just feels bad for her (again, he’s like “wow she’s so fucked up. glad I’m normal and nothing like her”) so he sort of just hangs out with her out of pity, but eventually does grow genuinely fond of her. adopts her as yet another little sister (which zuko thinks is crazy he’s just like “ummm you can have her”) and they play pai sho together and talk political theory and gossip about zuko and the gaang. azula tries to get into engineering and physics to help him with his research but realizes that she’s actually way more into politics and history than math and science (like she’s good at it, but it’s not as fun for her) so sokka starts giving her history books with slightly more accurate information in them so that they can actually have a conversation that isn’t just him attempting to dispel imperialist propaganda for two hours. and aang gets really into it too and they start a little book club where they read history and philosophy and go to archives and older libraries.

and they’re just vibing they’re just hanging out but everyone around them is afraid that one day zuko is going to do something so stupid that they’re just gonna snap and stage a coup d’état and take over the world. but thankfully they’re both so fucked up in the ego that even though they’re both constantly like “zuko is an idiot who should listen to all my advice” they never once consider actually deposing him. because their role is to serve not to rule. but no one else knows that they are loyal and humble before anything (because they’re also loud, condescending assholes) so everyone just lives in fear of them snapping. they don’t tho. but they could :)

[darklinaforever]

I swear that when I see people criticizing The Rings of Power in relation to its total lack of fidelity to Tolkien, the costumes, the treatment of the characters, particularly female, the geographical management of the middle earth, the narrative inconsistencies and actions on the part of the characters... But on the other hand love HOTD... I wonder in what world do they live ? HOTD has exactly the same flaws but more camouflaged. And the worst part is that readers of the book Fire and Blood find that the HOTD series enhances the book... Like, Wtf ?

Let's not forget those who think that the series treats its female characters brilliantly...

Then who on the other side criticizes Galadriel for being a fucking Mary Sue... The same girl who is stubborn, never thinks, who the characters yell at and who literally gave hope to SAURON ?! Like, if it's for her enormous, extraordinary abilities... she's a fucking elf ?! Oh, and that Galadriel is good at fighting is no surprise if you look at Tolkien's writings...

If it was adapted to the letter of what Tolkien had written for Galadriel people would also cry mary sue ! From @motziedapul :

"he described Galadriel as Amazonian, "man-maiden" and excellent in athleticism on top of generally being one of the most powerful Elves in Middle Earth and being the favorite of an angel [Maia] who she lived with for a while."

Also, the only one who seems to me to have understood that Sauron was a first-rate scammer when he was among the elves.

Galadriel was around 2 meters tall, much taller than the other Noldor women. (Which gave her the name Nerwen meaning young girl man by her mother. Her father had first named her Artanis which meant noble ladies. Galadriel was the name Celeborn gave her) She was vigorous in body as well as in spirit, capable of standing up to anyone in terms of knowledge as well as physical skills. She also always had the gift of clairvoyance, allowing her to read the hearts and minds of others. Her great beauty was recognized by all the Eldar and her hair was considered a wonder of this world. It would also be the gold and silver reflection of Galadriel's hair which would have inspired Feaonor for the creation of the Silmarils. For all these reasons, she was quickly considered the most illustrious of the Noldor. She had also quickly learned everything the Valar had been willing to teach her.

Don't make me believe that if we had an adaptation of the character of Galadriel including all of this, people wouldn't be screaming at the mary sue ?! Dare to say it ! Because it’s just obvious they would have done it ! (Which does not mean that Galadriel is a mary sue, since she has her defaults. But given the case that been the character of Rey, people wouldn't really care)

Damn, that's like calling Rey a Mary Sue. Any sense. People really use that word all over the place these days...

It makes you wonder if at this point people are content with our cheeks to call Mary Sue just a strong woman who knows how to fight... As well as considering stories like HOTD to be the pinnacle of well-written feminism. The big joke.

People think HOTD's writing about women is awesome, but it basically strips them of everything they were in the book and what made them strong. Now they're just the victims of the men around them... And I'm not going to talk about those who think Alicent is a great character of great complexity, because otherwise I'll want to vomit.

All this to say that both series are as bad as each other. But ! If there's one to save, it's The Rings of Power.

For what ?

Simply because at least the directors recognize their stupidity, instead of thinking they've written something extraordinary while daring to make fun of the fans who question their decisions... Ryan Condal and Sara Hess have reallh be disgusting in their condescending remarks.

All this to say that when I see people criticizing The Rings of Power for its lack of fidelity, its costumes, its poorly written female characters (especially since this Mary Sue story about Galadriel is completely exaggerated), the slammed geography, etc., but praised HOTD on the other ? I scream at royal hypocrisy.

[palmett-hoes]

hello!!!! how do u feel about the pairing of kevin day and allison reynolds, if u dont mind me asking

uuuhhhhhhhhhhh,,,

in all honesty i have very few thoughts on the matter

like i've scrolled past the handful of fics for them and seen maybe one fan art and just kinda went "okay" and moved on

it doesn't really do much for me, though i can definitely respect bi4bi relationships

so i did spend a little extra time thinking on it to answer this ask, and my conclusion is that i don't think it would really be a stable, healthy relationship, which is usually what i talk about when i talk about good ships bc i'm a romantic and a coward who tends to only like ships that i think should get married and grow old together

to comment on their dynamic though, i think they could be good bitchy, judgemental friends and i think allison would be a good person to pull kevin out of his head and force him out of his comfort zone and away from exy. as a romantic relationship though? i think she would steamroll him

look, i love allison, but she's a ball-buster tbh it's part of the reason i love her, she's totally unapologetic

we see it with seth, and later a little bit with neil, too: allison does not tip-toe around your problems, and she's not nice about confronting them either. she throws them right in your fucking face and she doesn't give a shit if you can't handle it. and then in return, she expects the same back. she likes to yell and she isn't afraid of being yelled at

in fact, the thinks that the yelling and the insults is all a part of airing out grievances. she's from a very stuffy, uptight world where no one actually says what they think, where issues never get addressed head-on and where resentment can fester underneath a smile for years or even generations

her attitude is a direct response to the superficial, two-faced world of the super-rich. it's a powerful statement of her own identity and individuality, and to her it's the most direct and most effective way to solve problems

unfortunately, this also means that her relationships with other people are going to be ROCKY

when she's upset, her focus is on feeling and expressing all of her emotions in the moment, not preserving someone else's. she doesn't care about harmony and she doesn't care about the long-term consequences of her words, but she also probably hits a lot of nerves that don't blow over in a day. just because she doesn't internalize insults doesn't mean everyone is like that

allison and seth had an explosive relationship, but they seemed to be on the same page about this, and it's probably because they were both the types of people that dealt with their emotions like this that their relationship lasted as long as it did. the other upperclassmen got used to allison over time, but it was rough, and it was clear in the summer practices in tfc that she wasn't always on their sides, and was just as open to starting fights with them as her boyfriend

and that brings us to kevin

kevin seems very tough on the outside. he's rude and condescending and judgemental and picky, just like allison. but unlike allison this attitude doesn't really go both ways. kevin is actually somewhat delicate

kevin is from an environment of open, constant criticism. of high achievers aiming for perfection. but that criticism wasn't a two-way street. he couldn't tear down riko or the master the way they tore him down, he could only transfer that censure by proxy onto the lower ranking ravens or take it to heart and internalize it

remember "As brutal as Kevin could be toward the rest of the team, he was hardest on himself"?

kevin has an inferiority complex enforced by years of abuse, and he's been taught to shut up and bend the knee to people with more power than him

i think that kevin and allison could go toe-to-toe, tit-for-tat for a while, but i think that there are lines kevin has that allison would be willing to cross that would bring him to his knees, and she wouldn't even realize. but once she did her relationship with kevin would never fully be the same

it's not the same as with riko, allison doesn't actually have power over him, but ince the association is there even subconsciously it would color the way he sees her. he would become afraid of her

she probably wouldn't even know what she'd done, let alone know how to fix it

but yea, that's my take on kevin/allison

i really think that kevin needs a partner who is supportive and kind. (in the same way, allison needs a partner who is confident and opinionated)

i think a good way to determine what someone needs out of a partner is what they look for when they're under stress.

when kevin is scared he seeks goes to abby. he seeks out comfort and compassion. he seeks out kindness.

people like allison or neil or andrew confront the issue head on. they prepare for the worst so they want the bitter, jagged truth

kevin wants to be told it's going to be okay

if there are any foxes that i think kevin would be compatible with, it's either matt or renee or maybe even nicky tbh. i also like,, just don't care for any of those options as ships so pls don't ask me for more on this i'm not about to become a mevin content machine

i'm also actually pretty shocked that kevin/jeremy isn't a bigger ship, given that it was all but stated out loud that kevin has a crush on him, and tbh it's kinda sad that kevin's crush gets written off as a joke because of the popularity of jerejean which ive spoken about my feelings on before. like,, jeremy is kind and genuine and fiercely committed to exy, and in just the one scene he appears in it's very clear that he's super familiar with kevin, knows that he's a grumpy asshole, and is extremely fond of him anyway

like,,, what's not clicking?

[eventidespirits]

Adam Allistair Freemont

Aliases: Edwin Lockhart, William Silva, Francis LaRue, Everett Brighton, James Fenwick

Apparent Age: "29"

Birthday: August 11th, 1897

Death Day: December 19th, 1926

Species: Vampire (Siren Bloodline)/Bloodbound Spirit

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Primarily Heterosexual

Occupation: Photographer

Residence: Santa Marta, California; Morgan Kendrick's Psychic Realm

Universe: Primarily original lore but also Vampire the Masquerade where he's a Camarilla Toreador who defected to the Sabbat.

Appearance:

Height: 6'0

Build: Tall and lanky with angular shoulders and long limbs. He has a trim, lightly muscled physique with long delicate fingers and soft hands.

Eye Color: Luminous Yellow/Gold with slitted cat-like pupils and a darker, amber band around the edges.

Hair Color/Texture: Black, 1b hair texture. Just long enough for the ends to brush against his shoulders. Partially brushed back and parted to the right but a significant amount of his hair ends up falling into his face.

Face: Angular with a square jaw and high cheekbones. He has a mostly straight nose with a slight convex curve to the bridge. He has deep set eyes with heavy lids and dark circles and usually looks somewhat sleepy but in a strangely sensual way. Defined lips that are usually curved into a sadistic little smirk. He's quite attractive but in a way that feels vaguely dangerous or even predatory.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Adam has bright golden eyes with slitted cat-like pupils. He also has a rather large, jagged scar on his back, located between his shoulder blades. I'd include his *other* distinguishing characteristic but that's kinda NSFW ;)

Posture/Body Language: Confident, even arrogant, chin up, shoulders back but not in a way that looks particularly stiff. His body language is generally relaxed and easy, bringing to mind a big cat at rest -- there's always something about the way he moves that implies a predatory nature laying beneath his cool, collected surface. Adam walks with clear purpose and long, smooth strides and always knows how to make an entrance.

Voice: Soft and smooth with a deep timbre and confident inflection. Adam's voice is somewhat like poisoned honey or arsenic laced velvet -- smooth and sweet but with something slightly off.

Clothing Style: Adam prefers dark colors -- burgundy, blood red, black, charcoal, rich deep browns and the ocassional pop of gold or cream or a white dress shirt. He wears primarily expensive, tailored button downs made from things like silk, velvet or very high thread count cotton with the sleeves rolled up and the top three (or four) buttons undone. Sometimes with brocade, floral or striped patterns. If it's cooler out, he'll wear a black blazer or something similar. When it comes to pants, it's almost entirely black or charcoal tailored pants or pitch black jeans. He usually wears very few accessories -- a nice watch, a belt, a silver and garnet ring and a pendant on a thin silver or gold chain. Generally wearing pointed toe oxfords or other dress shoes. When it comes to outerwear, Adam generally prefers things like wool coats and the ocassional leather jacket (always real leather, too) (to get a better idea, check out his [Pinterest Board]

Skills

Social: Manipulation, Lying, Gaslighting, Flirting, Proper Etiquette, Public Speaking, Blame Shifting, Negging, Seduction

Physical: knife combat, some hand to hand combat, basic combat training (circa 1914), long range firearms/sniping, Ballroom Dancing, Fencing, Horseback riding, the carnal arts

Talents: Photography, Drawing, Poetry, Lying, Being an Asshole, Manipulation, Painting, Seduction, Sex

Knowledges: Fluent in French & Italian, Masters in Psychology (circa 1926), Photo Development (wet plate, autochrome, modern methods), some basic knowledge of financial law and property law

Hobbies: Photography, writing, breaking pretty girls, avoiding his deep-seated psychological issues, general hedonism

Special: Emotional Influence, Telepathy, Emotional Transference, Enhanced Stamina, Enhanced Strength, "Immortality", Enhanced Senses (esp sight), minor regeneration, sweet blood, emotional radar/supernatural empathy, hypnosis/mind control

Psyche

Strengths: Charismatic, quick-thinking, clever, good at understanding the thought processes of others, empathetic, deeply romantic, treats service workers well, dedicated, generally calm, high emotional intelligence, has critical thinking skills, polite*, can be incredibly sweet, adaptable, pays a lot of attention to his partners in bed, passionate, artistic, creative, protective

Weaknesses: selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, manipulative, almost completley lacks compassion, disdain for basically everyone around him, dishonest, has a horrible temper, needs constant attention and praise, has a massive inferiority/superiority complex, overconfident, easily susceptible to flattery, deep-seated intimacy issues, can't stand being wrong, terrified of vulnerability, paranoid, detached from his own emotions/denies his own humanity, callous, sadistic, can be incredibly rude, actually a bit of a coward, condescending, possessive, jealous and generally kind of a dick.

Fears: genuine intimacy, abandonment/loneliness,true death, being buried alive

Goals: To finally create the perfect art piece (i.e., break someone in just the right way -- he's not even sure what this MEANS, he's just sure he'll "know" when he finally does it), to just enjoy his immortality.

Personality: On the surface, Adam seems likable enough -- at least, at first. He's incredibly charming and thoughtful, often anticipating people's wants before they're even able to articulate them, witty, intelligent and seemingly very polite...

But beneath that surface lurks a spoiled rich kid who learned early on in life that having money, being good looking and charming meant he could get away with almost anything. Adam is self-absorbed and arrogant and almost everything he does is a carefully crafted performance intended to get people on his side and manipulate them into doing what he wants.

Beneath even that, which he desperately tries to ignore, is a little boy who was spoiled by his mother and entirely ignored by his (largely absent) father -- a young man who was traumatized by being forced to fight in WWI and who is full of deep-seated fears and insecurities.

To make up for this, Adam is often sadistic towards the people around him -- but in that way where it's difficult to tell that he's actually being cruel until one looks back at the conversation.

He has difficulty genuinely connecting to others because of those insecurities and instead uses his powers as a Siren to make the people around him love and adore him-- no matter how badly he treats them.

Life

Best Memory: Being gifted his first camera, meeting his Maker.

Worst Memory: Somewhere between when he almost died during WWI and his actual death...

Biggest Achievement: Getting his Masters

Prized Possession: Silver and Garnet ring gifted to him by his Maker, his first camera, his black 2020 Ferrari Portofino (with the red leather interior), (he also has an engraved custom sniper rifle but a friend picked the model and shit for me and I cannot remember what it is for the life of me)

Favorite Color: Red, Gold

Favorite Food:

-Mortal Food: Partial to anything rich and flavorful, prefers food that's not pointlessly ostentatious (nothing coated in gold leaf, that's absurd), dry red wines, Italian Cream Cake, Eggs Benedict, Crepes Suzette

-Blood: Blood taken in the heat of the throes of passion from someone that's truly and deeply in love with and obsessed with him...

Favorite Scents: Blood, Gasoline, Cloves, Cinnamon, Resin, YSL Nuit, roses, vanilla, rain, the sharp smell of a cloudless winter night

Favorite Songs: Winter, 1st Movement - Vivaldi, Raindrops - Chopin, La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf

Can't Leave Home Without: At least one knife somewhere on his person.

Birthplace: San Francisco, California

Childhood: Adam is the only child out of six in his family to survive to adulthood with four older siblings who had either in infancy, had been stillborn or died of tuberculosis when Adam was still too young to remember them. He had one younger sibling, a sister named Mary who was killed in an accident at the age of 6 when Adam was 8 years old. His parents were already a little bit older by the time he was born and his father was the owner of an incredibly lucrative railroad line and had profited greatly from the Gold Rush as well as owning multiple properties in San Francisco and neighboring Santa Marta...

Due to the loss of her other children, Adam's mother doted on him -- giving into his every whim, supplying him with the best education she could and basically just spoiling the ever loving fuck out of him. His father, on the other hand, was always busy with work and when he was home, had nothing but criticism for Adam who desperately tried to gain his approval to no avail.

Adolescence: Adam developed a passion for photography as a teenager and discovered that being good-looking, clever and rich meant he could get away with A LOT more than most people and also meant that he rarely heard "no" and accepted it as an answer even less often (though he rarely resorted to force to get his way, relying instead on bribery, flattery, blackmail and implied threats). All of this gave him quite an interest in psychology and he intended to become a clinical psychologist. During his adolescence, Adam would have a great many girlfriends and despite being a selfish and manipulative little shit, was actually not the world's worst boyfriend and no hint of the violent temper and genuine sadism he'd develop after being Changed.

Adulthood: Adam's education would be interrupted by the outbreak of WWI,which if asked he will describe as "incredibly distasteful and personally inconvenient." He was a skilled marksman and sniper but was otherwise unremarkable -- much to his father's disdain. After nearly dying in one of the trenches of France after taking a grievous bayonet wound in the last few months of the war, Adam would be sent back from the frontlines and would shortly begin work on continuing his education...

However -- despite the fact that he would complete all seven years necessary to get his degree, Adam's interest in becoming an actual psychologist wouldn't ever come to fruition. In 1925, he would meet Amelia Madeleine Smith -- an unbelievably beautiful and charming socialite from Santa Marta who would see Adam's potential as a source of money and influence for the Nightingale Court of Northern California. She would spend the next year carefully grooming him to become her protege -- manipulating him much in the same way he would later manipulate the women he dates as a vampire -- using emotional transference, mind control and mundane manipulation to cause him to fall madly in love with her... In December of 1925, Amelia would finally perform the ritual of transformation on him and bring Adam over into the world of the Supernatural.

Unfortunately for Adam, his Change would take nearly two weeks to complete -- two weeks spent in absolute agony beyond anything he'd experienced before. Amelia, believing the most important first step for a newly born vampire is to break their bonds to humanity would kidnap his mother during this change and leave her for him to kill upon waking. Adam would remain with Amelia (who used her bond as Adam's maker to control most of his actions and her abilities as a Siren to continue to influence his emotions) until 1980 when she was killed by a member of the Bram Park Wolf Pack in Santa Marta, leaving Adam behind. During this period, Adam would end up being "taken in" by a bonded pair of Stryza -- Camille Belikova and Lucy DeSantos and would act as their primary draw for new playthings.

Recent: Adam met Morgan Kendrick at the Velvet Box goth club in Santa Marta when Morgan was twenty two years old and would sweep her off her feet, intending to make her into his "masterpiece"... Three years into this relationship, Adam would finally Change Morgan, which would break the initial control he had over her and result in her, in a fit of rage, completely draining him and through a magical fluke, causing his spirit to become bonded/fused with her blood...

Recently, Adam's presence has disappeared from Morgan's psyche due to the machinations of Miss Belikova and her wife -- though it appears that the two of them are still inextricably linked in a way beyond the usual bond between Maker and Fledgling.

Relationships

Family: Lawrence Freemont (Father; Deceased), Anne Freemont (Mother; Deceased), Mary Freemont (Sister; Deceased)

Lovers: Amelia Smith (Maker; Deceased), Morgan Kendrick (Fledgling, Ex, Soulbond), Many other unnamed girls.

Friends: Camille Belikova, Lucille DeSantos, Jonathan Andreason

Enemies: Morgan Kendrick, the Bram Park Wolfpack

Acquaintances: Miranda Cortez (Queen of the Nightingale Court of Santa Marta)

Income: Moderately Wealthy

Vehicles: 2020 Ferrari Portofino

Residences: Penthouse Apartment in Vista Rosa, a small Victorian row house in Val Del Mar and a 1br/1ba apartment in Park Verde (all located in Santa Marta)

[afflicted-ascendant]

Random Observations ‘bout the Mars Signs

Mars in Aries: Aggressively pursues whatever they’re after, whether it’s a goal or a person or a victory. “Short fuse” is an understatement. Not afraid to say or do anything they believe in. Can have a bit of a childish view of the world, no patience for the complexities. Often become heroes in the eyes of others for their diehard strength of will, but also get a lot of eyerolls and facepalms from people who think they’re too reckless or reactionary. They like to go hard and fast in relationships (in more ways than one), so they don’t have the time for people who aren’t upfront, honest, and confident about what they want. They’re the type of person who would leap into a burning building to save someone, without a second thought.

Mars in Taurus: Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. Get really grouchy sometimes. The hardest workers you’ll ever meet, especially in blue-collar job environments. Artistic types with this placement will actually finish their projects because they’re willing to power through the nitty-gritty boring bits that so many of us flaky, flighty artists get stuck on. If they enjoy sex, they really enjoy it and have the stamina to go all night, but a lot of them seem to be uncomfortable with sex or even outright asexual. Many of them have literally the worst opinions on politics. But they’re solid, dependable people who will do anything to protect the ones they care about -- they don’t just say it, they do it.

Mars in Gemini: Their brains are always buzzing, they have a natural taste for knowledge. Their childlike curiosity is so freaking cute. Very good with words, they speak and type compulsively and even if their grammar/punctuation is shit, the spirit of what they say is almost always worth reading or listening to. They have many interests and many people “interested” in them, if y’know what I mean. Funny and charming is their default state and they probably don’t know how to turn it off. They also don’t know how to stick to one person, goal, or idea because there are so many tempting options that set the wheels in their heads a-spinnin’.

Mars in Cancer: Extremely moody people, but they hide it fairly well. They build up a thick shell to conceal how sensitive they are to changes in scenery and circumstance. They get very attached to people, places, and pets. Likely to be very clingy and needy when it comes to love and sex, but also very giving. Cuddles are recommended, though they’ll need to really trust you before they’re comfortable with physical contact.  Like all Cancer placements, they complain a lot to blow off steam and deflect their nervous energy. The more time you spend with them, the more you can pick up on the roiling, boiling stew of emotions that’s constantly bubbling underneath their defensive crabby surface.

Mars in Leo: Can be obnoxiously arrogant and oblivious to how they’re perceived. Self-awareness is not one of their strong suits, but self-expression certainly is. They really crave attention, admiration, and appreciation. The good ones are worth giving it to because they mean well and have a generous loving heart, but the bad ones won’t shut up about how great they are and go into a red-hot rage when they don’t get what they want. Very pushy people, no concept of boundaries. They treat love like a performance art, which is why the courtship stage is their favorite part. They’re usually very selfish sex partners who come up with some wildly imaginative roleplay scenarios. You’ll either love them or hate them, which they proudly proclaim because they get a kick out of being dramatic like that.

Mars in Virgo: Always strives for perfection in everything they do. Workaholics. Often come across as condescending or judgy. Their sarcasm is legendary. When they talk about sex, they describe it clinically and bluntly, it’s not something they romanticize as sacred. Many of them honestly do despise their fellow humans and will stick their nosy asses in everywhere to “fix” things. The nice way of putting this is that they “just want to bring out the best in you”. If nothing else, they certainly do put in a lot of effort for the people they care about, which they will aggressively guilt-trip you over when they want you to do something in return. There can be a lot of friction between them and their children if they become parents, mostly because they have no idea how to give praise without turning it into a critique.

Mars in Libra: This is an odd place for Mars to settle in because these people get really stressed out and upset by conflict of any form. Doesn’t mean they won’t fight back if you push them, but for the most part they recoil from arguments and will try to subtly nudge everyone into getting along. Because of this, it’s especially painful for them to have a falling out with a friend or family member, and they will always try to move toward forgiving and forgetting the issue even if it’s unforgivable. One of the least sexual placements of Mars -- they might have an aversion to even discussing sex. But they’re also skillfully flirty and charming, so don’t assume they don’t have an active love life. They usually believe in the power of “peaceful protests” and “civil disobedience” as a way of changing society for the better. Storytellers with this placement will often write stories where people ultimately talk out their problems and come to an understanding of each other, maybe even achieve world peace in the process. Basically, they’re hippies~

Mars in Scorpio: Even when they’re in a good mood, you can feel hostility suffused in the air around them. Scary as hell when they’re angry. Living with them means walking on eggshells. If they’re artistic they can make beauty out of the most fucked-up subject matter. Fascination with death. Does not know how to compromise, would rather die than give ground on what they believe in. Has the force of will to do pretty much anything. Usually not afraid to talk about sex, for them it’s like discussing the weather. Might be into some really kinky or taboo sex acts, might even be horny 24/7. They dominate others without even having to try. Probably has resting bitch face. When they’re not screaming with rage, they usually maintain complete calm and control in public because they loathe vulnerability of any kind. Being near them is an intense experience no matter who you are.

Mars in Sagittarius: Irreverently funny and playful. No matter how old they get, never stops acting like a kid. Enjoys being physically active in some way, getting out and doing things. Always itching to try something new. Has no attention span. Gets bored before finishing projects and drops them for months at a time. Their energy is infectious. Likes sex to be more physical and raw than emotional. Has no trouble laughing and having fun while doing the deed, and people who make them laugh and excite them are the ones who most attract them. They prefer friendships and romances to work pretty much the same way, relaxed, easygoing, with no pressure to commit to anything. This is why so many of them get into friends-with-benefits situations. When things get serious or the relationship runs into an iceberg, their first instinct is to wimp out and run away instead of stick around and make an effort. Can be absolute hypocrites to the point where it’s shocking how self-unaware they are. Will complain endlessly about things people do that they don’t like, not realizing they do those exact same things all the time. Will bristle at the slightest criticism, they can dish it out but they can’t take it. Their convictions/beliefs are usually based on gut reactions rather than research. Enthusiastic about their passions, can be adorable when they get excited. As frustrating as they can be sometimes, there’s just something so lovable about them that you can’t help but forgive them anyway.

Mars in Capricorn: Have this serious, broody aura about them that can be kind of alluring and intimidating at the same time. Will present themselves as rock-solid even if they’re on the verge of a breakdown. Will put in as much work and dedication to get a job done as it takes, without a single word of complaint. And they really like sex. Like I”m not even kidding, these are some lusty goats we’re talking about. But they don’t usually like admitting how horny they are because it might harm their public image. They put a LOT of work into maintaining that public persona -- they secretly want to inspire awe in every person they meet, they’re gluttons for glory but they hate people knowing that so, gotta act all cool and casual. Once they finally find fame and success, they’ll find non-verbal ways to brag about it, because all they really want is for people to be jealous of them for once.

Mars in Aquarius: Questions everything they read. Highly intelligent, incredibly quirky, but never comes across as “nerdy”. Pierces right through people’s fake bullshit. Knows a lot of big words but rarely uses them, because they despise any form of pretentiousness. Has firm beliefs backed up by extensive research, refuses to be pigeonholed into any one movement or ideology. May fall along any point of the political spectrum, and will be very outspoken and capable of strongly arguing the case for their independent views. Hates being labeled. Has trouble feeling attached to their body because they spend so much time in their own mind. Even when they get emotional, some part of them will be detached and objectively analyzing the situation to understand it more fully. They’re the same in relationships -- no matter how invested they become, some rational part of them will hold back and hesitate to care. When it comes to sex, they can be even kinkier than Mars in Scorpio. They want to try every possible position at least once, they love to experiment, they will never be satisfied if sex becomes the same routine every time. But in some ways they enjoy thinking about sex more than actually having it -- the act itself can be disappointing and dissatisfying for them, partly because they don’t know how to live in the physical moment instead of rationally dissecting the proceedings. They attempt to be open-minded toward everyone they meet, but they can also be coldly cruel and verbally vicious toward people who violate their personal code of ethics. They can be very uncompromising when it comes to their values, and if they ever view you as part of the “problem” in society, you’ll probably be dead to them.

Mars in Pisces: There’s always a touchy-feely atmosphere around these people. Socially conscious, likely to get involved in some form of activism, a cause they believe in. “Belief” is something they have in spades -- they’re drawn to mystical mumbo-jumbo and yoga routines. They can out-hippy the Mars in Libra people. Can easily become addicted to things. No matter how tough their other placements make them seem, they have a squishy teddy bear side that the people closest to them will see. Most of them are romantically and sexually submissive on some level, though they may try to hide it. Keeping things hidden is a talent for them, actually. It’s hard to get to know them on a deeper level because so much of their truest self is swimming beneath the surface. Passive aggression is their go-to tactic for expressing anger. Will bend over backwards to make their partner happy -- they love both making and receiving sweet gestures of affection. Most of them have a deep appreciation for art and aesthetics even if they aren’t artistic themselves.

[lookninjas]

This thread choked me up, I can’t lie.

Also, that’s a whole lot of screencaps!  Text under cut.

Tweet by @Blackamazon * Hey Internet!  ALL EYES ON ME . NOW. * There's no easy fix for this.  There is none. * Anyone who has an "answer" is at best a fool at worst a charlatan.  We are in states of panic and fear and distress.  And like I said in 2017.. no really I am utter amazingly fantastically proud of you. * Folks are doing and being things they could not imagine ten days ago let alone ten years ago. * People who are paid OBSCENE AMOUNTS of money are dithering and half stepping and so many of you have decided to be KIND. * You are paying for school, shutting down contracts, recognizing racism, and holding the line when people with half your issues and three times your money are more useless than a wooden nickel at a Canadian arcade. * It's not everything it's not perfect, but when people said run? You said NAW. when folks tried to circulate dead babies you told the press fuck that. * 99 year olds are marching to camps that held them and saying No No AGAIN. And nine year olds are staring world leaders dead in the face and saying you will not burn down the world I live in. * We may not win.  I might not have this optimism everyday. * But when you knew better ? So many do you have down and are doing better . For every nationalist dillweed there is a coerner boy who says "nah we don't do that to babies." * For every over paid pundit who thinks the ration matters more than the problem there is a grandma whose prolly still racist but she is going to bring pampers to the site everyday because WE DON'T DO THAT TO BABIES. * The line in the sand is US.  And for every over educated simplistic condescending nitwit whose waiting for a smoking gun. There is someone who is waiting on NOTHING but that check to clear so they can give. * To you I get to say : you are better than Mr. Rogers ever hopes for.  You have not waited, you did not sit passively and look for the helpers . YOU ARE and are becoming the helpers. * We may not win, we might actually fry, but not once for one moment did we let anybody think this was OKAY. * We saw each other, we saw what is happening and we did. What we could for as long as we could. And I don't know about anybody else but I SEE YOU. * It is exhausting, we are over/under drinking eating smoking.  We are tired and snappy and sometimes one bad tweet from the summer jam screen or fighting someone in the street.  But we are here and we are FIGHTING. * I promise you they didn't expect that.  They ain't seen nothing yet. * If we must be in these times, I for one in all its complexities flaws and fissures am honored to be in such company.  You are a miracle to me just as you are. * i am so grateful for you.  Not because you dunked or because you shamed but because you loved and you caed. * Take care of you, and if you can. Punch the Nazi. * You are awesome! And I'm so glad you're here!!! Good Great GO TEAM!!!

[rosabrachetto-promo]

Amaretto

-

{ Do not proceed if you haven’t read the disclaimer, please! }

-

Chapter 14

The day had finally arrived, the meeting with Yao Wang. And Feliciano was more anxious than ever. He couldn’t mess this up for his master; not one bit.

As he got out of the shower and began to get ready, Feliciano could not help but wonder if this was the path he was supposed to be on. Grandpa always told him stories about how beautiful America was. How there was never danger of war nor disease lurking outside. How America was the land of the free and the home of the brave. And most of all, how it was bursting with opportunity for anyone and everyone, even poor Sicilian farmers like themselves. Yet, here he was, locked away inside from supposed danger lurking outside in real world. He was neither free nor brave. And worst of all, he had nothing; not a single opportunity for the better life he was promised.

He then sat at the vanity, taking one last puff of opium and then started to think about Ludwig. He knew Ludwig loved him, and wanted nothing but the best. But, so did Master. Ludwig didn’t have much, but he would give whatever he could. Master had everything in the world, but couldn’t give him what he needed the most. Ludwig encouraged him; Master mocked him. Ludwig complimented him; Master put him down. With Ludwig, he felt love. With Master, he felt terror. And yet, Feliciano knew leaving Master would bring nothing but consequences.

“Amaretto, sweetheart.” he heard Gin call from the other side of the door. “It’s time to go.”

“C-coming.” He sprayed his wrists with the ylang ylang perfume, then got up and headed out the door, heart pounding as he made his way to the kitchen, where his master was waiting.

“There you are, love.” he crooned to his hooker, kissing him sweetly. “Let’s not keep Mr. Wang waiting, now.”

“Master, I was thinking-“ Amaretto began to say.

“Jesus Christ, Amaretto! How many times do I have tell you how dangerous thinking is for you-“

“But, Master, it’s about Wang-“

“That’s Mr. Wang to you, boy. And you had better address him as such.”

“I’m not going, Master!” Feliciano said firmly.

The room became quiet, as the pimp looked to him, the anger and confusion present in his eyes. “I beg your pardon!” he replied in shock.

“You heard me! I’m not going!”

And who the bloody hell told you you had a fucking choice?!” He yanked Feliciano closer to him. Just then, the Brit’s eyes widened, as a diabolical thought entered his mind. He gave a wicked grin and maniacal laugh. He grabbed the boy’s chin and pulled it up to face each other.

“This is about the kraut, isn’t it?” Gin crooned, but in a wicked tone. “How adorable! Trying to escape your master to go be with that low-life mechanic with nothing to his name?” He then leaned into his submissive’s ear. “Listen to me, you fucking brat!” he growled, his voice growing deeper and quieter. “He’s nothing but another lying scumbag in this world trying to take advantage of you. He will never love you and you shouldn’t fall for his tricks. Trying to encourage you to think, trying to get you to leave me, deceiving you into believing the world is safe and beautiful when it’s just dangerous and ugly. The sooner you accept that the better. Do you understand me?”

His heart raced throughout his body and his breathing was frantic. What he was saying could not be true. He knew Ludwig loved him. He felt it. He shook his head and yelled, “You’re wrong! Ludwig loves me! I know it!”

Feliciano was then shoved face first into the ground while his master began straddling him in order to keep him from escaping. He tried calling for help but was immediately silenced when he felt his master's hand covering his mouth.

“You’ve been so good up until now, boy,” the Brit cooed. “I’d hate to have to punish you right before this very, very important meeting. But you’re leaving me with very few options left. So, for the last fucking time, do you understand me?!”

Feliciano refused to answer him. He was not going to give up so easily this time. He was tired of crying over how his master treated him. He was done being pushed and kicked around and made to feel worthless. He had had enough.

When he realized the boy was not going to answer, Gin let go of him and stood back up, leaving him lying weak as he took out a gun from a kitchen drawer.

“You know, boy,” Gin began in a calm but menacing tone of voice. “I haven’t killed anyone in a long time. And I’ve been so good about suppressing such urges to do so. But, seeing my favorite whore disobey his master has left me unable to control those urges any further.” He began loading the gun with several bullets, ignoring Feliciano in the process. “I should kill you, but let’s face it, you’re too valuable to kill. You’re my best whore, Amaretto; it wouldn’t be good for business to kill such a valuable piece of ass like yourself.” He took the gun and approached the window, pulling back the curtains and opening it. “But, I can kill my clientele whenever they piss me off. And you know who’s really pissing me off right now? A big, muscular, low-life German mechanic.”

Feliciano let out a loud gasp of shock. Despite all his efforts, he eyes widened and started to leak as squeaking sobs escaped his vocal chords. Every organ in his body was either shutting down or spiraling out of control. His master would not really kill Ludwig over this, would he?

“Oh, got your attention now, have we?” the man teased as he laughed lowly and wickedly and walked toward his submissive slowly. “So that’s what it takes to get you back in line now, is it? This is what I have to do to get you to obey me?” He began to circle Feliciano in a predatory manner, his sharp gaze striking fear into the boy’s heart. “Poor little Amaretto will do anything to save his precious Ludwig from getting hurt.” Gin teased, the tone in his voice clearly suggesting that he was enjoying the sight of a scared and frightened Feliciano becoming more vulnerable and weak.

“Please, stop!” Feliciano cried loudly.

“Please, stop!” Gin mocked. “But I'm having so much fun with my favorite toy. I’m not ready to stop.”

“I beg of you, please, stop.” His voice grew softer and quieter as he started to quiver in fear.

“You beg of me? And I thought you were a big boy now with your brave and cocky attitude.” He crept his arms around Feliciano and squeezed him hard enough to make it impossible for the younger man to escape. “What’s the matter?” Gin crooned in a mocking, condescending tone. “Is the baby chinchilla afraid of the big bad anaconda coming to get him? Tell me, baby chinchilla, why should I spare Ludwig? Why should I let him live after he’s clearly corrupted you into becoming a bad boy for your master?”

“Because,” Feliciano whispered through his sobs. “he’s just like you, Master. You both want what you think is best for me. You both sacrifice so much to keep me loved and safe. He was just trying to be kind to me, just like you, Master. He only wanted to see me happy, just like you do, Master. He didn’t mean to corrupt me, he was just trying to do what he believed was right. He’s a good man, Master. He shouldn’t have to die because of me. I’ll do anything, but please, don’t hurt Ludwig! Please?!”

As they stood in silence, Feliciano buried his head into his Master’s chest and sobbed. He wanted nothing more than to be with Ludwig and make him proud, but how could he when he couldn’t even stand up to his master? Maybe, he really was a baby chinchilla destined to end up dead on his own. Maybe, he really did need his master all along to save him from the real world. Or maybe, he was just a coward who could never make Ludwig happy.

“You’re right, dear.” Gin cooed, returning to his calm and loving nature. “He shouldn’t have to die because of you. And you shouldn’t have to die either.” He loosened his grip on him, then gently lift the boy’s chin up to kiss him sweetly. “Are you going to be a good boy for Master now, pet?”

“Yes, Master. I’ll be good.” he answered. If only he had the same courage others had to stand up for themselves. He could never be so brave, just a helpless coward living his life in fear and longing. He took his master’s hand kissed it gently. “I’m sorry for my behavior, Master.”

“All is forgiven, love.” Gin kissed him on the forehead and lead him out the door. As much as he wanted to leave his master, he couldn't let Ludwig get killed over this.

Please, he begged to himself. Please, be strong for me Ludwig. Be strong for me, because I can never be strong for myself.

~~~~~~

Dark, hot, stuffy, scent of smoke and chow mein. That was how Feliciano would describe the opium den he and his master sat in. His changshan forced open as sweat began to run down his body. Men were coming in and out and all gawking eyes on the young prostitute as his master spoke with the drug lord, Yao Wang.

Anxious, he took another puff from his pipe, hoping to calm him down. As he exhaled the smoke, he sensed a couple men draw closer to him. He heart raced, unsure it was the drugs or the anxiety of strangers watching his every move. But, per his master’s orders, he continued sittingga still and looking pretty.

Gin continued talking with Yao, his words too big and complex to understand. Feliciano then wrapped his arm around Gin’s and squeezed it, then buried his face into the other man’s bicep. Surely, his master would never allow this many strangers staring at him, right?

He heard the Brit chuckle and caress his side. “So shy today, aren’t we?” he teased. He pushed the Italian off of him gently and sat him back up. “Go on, love, no one’s going to hurt you.”

Feliciano tried to laugh it off with a small chuckle, but still had an unsettling feeling inside him. Nonetheless, he still complied with his master’s orders and sat back up. His eyes wandered around, trying to find an easy escape from the den. If only he knew the way back to the apartments, then he could return to Ludwig.

Without warning, he felt a hand grab his chin and turn it in the opposite direction, likely from on of Yao’s men. Feliciano’s lips soon meet his, taking the prostitute by surprise. As the man continued, the prostitute faked a smile and allowed the stranger to continue.

Just, keep smiling, Feli. he thought to him. Keep pretending. Yeah, that will keep Master happy.

The stranger pressed his hand underneath the Italian’s changshan and caressed his torso.

So...small. So...weak.

The more he endured the make out, the smaller and smaller he felt, like a mouse surrounded by several wild predators.

Ludwig. Ludwig.

He knew it wouldn’t happen, but if Ludwig came in and rescued him, he’d be forever in the German’s debt. Unfortunately, he was trapped inside an opium den with a bunch of strange men and his master.

S-somebody, anybody, help! Please, help!

He then released a quiet squealing from his vocal cords, sounding just like a mouse would.

No, don’t Feli. Don’t cry now. Not in front of the clients, not in front of Master. You know how master feels about this. Why am I always so scared like this? Please, somebody, anybody.

He then heard the sound of angry Chinese yelling coming from the other end of the room. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said clearly, but it appeared to have come from Yao, and he was ordering the man off of Feliciano. Once the man left, the Italian sighed in relief, only to have Gin yank him aside and onto his lap.

”Jacket. Off.” he ordered in a rough whisper. “Now.”

The Brit returned to Yao. As they continued talking, Feliciano reluctantly began removing his jacket. He looked down at every mark on his body: every cut, every bruise, every scratch, every cigarette burn, even the scar on his gut that still haunted him to that day.

He could also feel his body slowing down. His breathing was slow and decreasing. The room was starting to spin as he began becoming lightheaded. He had no idea what was happening, but it couldn’t be good.

”Master...” he slurred softly. When Gin didn’t respond, Feliciano tried alerting him by reaching out and tugging his master’s shirt, only to find himself growing weak as he did this. “Master...” he slurred louder, hardly able to stay alert himself. “Master…”

“So needy today, aren’t you?” Gin teased through a low laugh. Before Feliciano could respond, his master took his chin and began kissing him. Soon, all he could hear was the sound of his slow breathing and his heart sluggishly beating. He felt his stomach getting sick as his vision started to blur. His master then moved his hand down and brushed his fingertips along Feliciano’s thigh. His arm squeezed him closer slowly crushing him; the anaconda suffocating the chinchilla.

This is it. he thought as he felt his body slowly start to shut down. This is how I’m doing to die. Goodbye Ludwig. I love you.

Then, everything went dark.

[musicmushi]

Vent incoming feel free to read if you want but pass by it if you dont thats cool too

This is to feel like free-writing I suppose. I have been going through a lot in my head and it feels good sometimes to just get my fingers flowing and to type stuff out. I have been having mental breakdowns off and on for at least a week but most likely more. I have fought the urge to cut myself, resisted the temptation to get rid of some certain people.

I know that the mindset I have is unhealthy but that doesn't stop me from having it. Actually, I think to try to repress it just makes the mindset worse. I’m trying my best to not ignore myself but that sort of leaves the question “who am I?” or maybe “What?”. I feel like I’m supposed to just know what I’m all about just by trying things and doing what my gut feels is right. Seems simple, right? Just focus on what feels right for you and whatever that is speaks to who you are.

Well, the short of it is it's not. Plain and simple trying to decipher your persona so to speak from just what feels right and good is a perfect slope into confusion territory because humans, by default, are multifaceted beings with complex thoughts and contradictory interests. No one fits into one singular pretty little mold. There’s gonna be cracks and holes and dents that warp the overall product making each person imperfect and out of the ordinary. The ‘molds’ are stereotypes and stereotypes by and large are not true for everyone everywhere! There’s just way too many humans to make that a possibility. I have been trying to fit into mold, after mold, after mold my entire life and I can’t fit in anywhere. As ridiculous as this may sound to those who ‘get it’ it frustrates me that I have failed at being a perfect little human even though I know very well that perfection does not exist. The idea of perfection itself is flawed and thus becomes paradoxical.

Sometimes I wish I could reboot myself into something that's more cohesive and understandable because the need to explain myself time after time after time again gets annoying and tiresome yet there it is. I feel as though I need to explain myself in such detail that my ideas and motives should not be questioned. I need to have an irrefutable reason for anything and everything I do; “it makes me happy” never cut it and it never will even when I’m with the company where that answer would suffice. Nothing can just “make me happy” I’m left trying to explain WHY it makes me happy because I want people to understand that though I can be theatrical in my emotions and reactions; I am not a joke to be told and passed around amongst friends. I think about what I do and why I do it so often that it has given me premature stress among other things.

I know what some may think at that. And yes, being stuck trying to explain why I enjoy things and what happiness even is, leaves me depressed as fuck. I’ve seen that video! Everyone has seen that video by Scotch and yeah I related to it and all the amazing points he made. But I can’t just stop giving a fuck because I can’t think of an irrefutable reason to do so. Everything needs a reason. Because once I do something that lacks reason I’m being dubbed ‘silly’ or ‘ridiculous’ ‘a crazed fangirl’ ‘obsessed’…I’m made into a joke. People think that I’m just someone not to be taken seriously and that makes me mad but I can't blame anyone but myself because I have a natural tendency to act silly and be funny and there’s nothing wrong with that but when there’s a time to be serious suddenly people are caught off guard when I step up and be serious.

It’s almost as ridiculous as the people being blown away at the singing talent of Susan Boyle because she didn’t look like a diva or whatever. You can’t look at someone’s physical attributes and mannerisms and suddenly know what they have hiding under the hood. I act obsessed with the person that I love because I’m excited to be with them, I have never once taken that relationship for granted and I think about our future together because the happiness that comes with being tied together cosmically with this person is nice to think about. My feelings for them is not a joke or a phase or a simple crush…I’m not some crazed obsessed yandere waiting with a knife under my arm behind the door. Call me whatever you want but don’t you dare even try to write this off as anything less than real and serious.

I plan for my future because I want to make sure I have back up plans for my back up plans. Lord knows I have had enough go wrong in my life in so many ways that I think its completely reasonable to be cautious and plan around dangers. I’m not being dramatically paranoid. I make jokes a lot of the time and I love to laugh. But I, myself, am not a joke.

I’m aggressive yet non-confrontational, stubborn but I can go with the flow, emotionally unstable but when the time is right I’m sensible and have the right advice to give, I have inherited my mother's saint-like patience with others but I myself get antsy and jumpy very easily. I have every reason to hate the world and to give up on love but the very idea of doing so makes me feel brokenhearted and weep.

I have to keep caring and I have to keep believing in love because without love the world becomes even more unforgiving and a life without that hope isn't worth living. If I lose the passion and investment in these ideas that I have then I lose my irrefutable reason to live. My belief in love gives me a rock solid reason to not kill myself and that is not to be joked about or tossed in the trash. Love is not trash. If I stop giving a fuck, I’m afraid that will result in something truly drastic. If that’s deserving of not being taken seriously then I have already lined myself up for the Fool’s Pillory. If that truly is the case then so be it. But one cannot fault me for wanting to be taken seriously as a thinking adult.

I am in the process of accepting myself as trans and the process is making me impatient as I feel no one is taking that seriously. I either get suspicious looks from friends and colleagues thinking that I’m throwing my identity away for the sake of another or I get a barrage of pastel attitudes and flower crown treatment which feels very condescending and hand-holding which in turn pisses me off. I get people telling me that “if you wanna be a man you don't wear makeup” or “I’m not going to help you look more masculine because you’re only doing this for that girl you never shut up about” Everywhere I turn there’s a road bump or wall blocking my path and its making me hate myself and the world for making this process so god damned confusing. Here I am approaching 25 with years of stacked up gender issues and now that I’m trying to deal with them head on I got people trying to white knight me and tell me how I should present myself so that I can be a proper trans. Like there’s some sorta gender identity manual out there and I’m just…doing it wrong and I need some well-meaning person to come up and hold my hand and guide me to the other side like I’m not cognizant enough to figure it out for myself. I’m not a pathetic ridiculous laugh worthy little retarded delicate daisy.

I have years of abuse and reality slapping me in the face harder than anyone else in my personal circle and yet these personal friends of mine that I have grown with are the worst in roadblocking me like not even my dearest friends can take me seriously because when I do act serious about it they get thrown off their groove and they don’t know how to talk to me about it so they don't. I got one friend that knew I had fallen in love with my special someone and not two minutes later joked that he had a chance to sweep her off her feet. No one takes me seriously no matter what I’ve been trying and that seriously pisses me off.

I’m pissed, confused, stressed, fighting the urge to cut myself, and it seems that I’m the only one sometimes that knows I’m not joking when I say these things. I think through my actions and I do my research. Everything I do has a reason. But no one wants to believe that because I’m supposed to be the pitiable stupid one that’s mocked and laughed at and just lies in waiting for my mythical white knight to come in, sword swaying, and whisk me away so that I can live happily ever after or whatever. When I need help; I ask. Plain and simple if I think I can’t handle something I reach out. I’ll fully admit I’m bad at it but I’m not so bad as to miss the opportunity entirely like I’m slow. I’m not slow and I’m not worth your pity…If you pity me then you can escort yourself out before your shining armor blinds others to the reality of autonomy. You know who you are.

[96percentdone]

DR1 character rankings

I got bored and kept seeing @halfpastmonsoon do these and decided fuck it I’ll do it myself. It’s my blog right like?

Anyway uh in case someone gets super irate about it these are just my opinions and you’re allowed to like characters I don’t like for whatever reasons you want? You’re also allowed to hate characters I like! But isn’t an invitation for you to fight me just because I have different opinions, yeah? Okay! Under the cut!

1. Kirigi//ri Kyou//ko: she’s my god damn wife what do you want from me. I’m really gay did you see her in DR3--OKAY NO FOR REAL. Kiri is so good holy shit she’s like morally complex because she’ll do anything for the truth, even throw you under the bus just to make sure she can still live to find it. She’ll get mad at you for keeping secrets and yet she’ll keep like 8000 from you and except you to roll with it. My point is Kiri has flaws, but more importantly, she has like an arc where she learns from them? Like with the secrets she realizes she was being unfair, and when she throws you under the bus it’s when it clicks just how she was gonna KILL Naegi just tomake sure she could keep operating as herself. She realizes her mistakes, and she comes clean on all her secrets and apologizes. She’s got a lot going on. And I love her so so so much.

2. Oo//gami Saku//ra: too good for this fucking sinful earth. okay. No, but seriously I think she’s amazing simply because of her arc. She betrays them all in a moment of weakness, because she fears for her dojo, and over the course of getting attached to them realizes she can’t throw them all under the bus like that either. So she resolves herself and finds the strength to fight Monokuma, and suffer alone as consequence to her actions. But even that’s not enough. It’s not enough to just accept you’ve sinned and take your punishment, you have to do something, and she does. Through her own strength and love for the classmates around her she kills herself just to end their fighting. It stopped being about her, and just...grijgoirjgoirjgowe okay I love her. 

3. As//ahi//na A//oi: throwback to when the consequences of trying to get everyone killed mattered even a little! I love her a whole lot! She’s super bubbly and excitable and tries quite a bit, but the thing I like the most is how she’s is pretty much exclusively run by her emotions. ch4 plays out the way it does because she gets so caught up in her guilt instead of thinking it through more she decides they all must die for their sins. It’s only when she’s forced to think about the ‘suicide note’ that she recieves she realizes she fucked it up, and then apologizes. Her apology is glossed over a little too fast if we’re being honest, but it’s there, and we see everyone reason their way into forgiving her. Listen I just like ch4 a lot and she’s a big reason as to why.  

4. Eno//shima Jun//ko: throwback to when DR villains were actually good and compelling. Girl makes a fucking entrance and she stands out because she literally can’t decide what she wants to be out of boredom. It becomes so clear just in how she treats herself that the only thing in this WORLD that matters to her is her own entertainment and that to her, entertainment means despair. Boredom is the one true despair, and it can only be satiated by seeing other people suffer at their worst. She embodies despair because suffering is the only thing that can satisfy her own personal despair. She wants everyone to suffer like she does, so she can get off on it. It’s paradoxical and mad, but it’s genuine. Even when she loses, she wins, because now she suffers from the despair of failing. She suffers because things don’t go her way, but things not going her way alleviates her boredom. She goes beyond human comprehension and yet her actions have very real and permanent consequences. And she’s a joy to watch. DR3 never happened to ruin her. Nope.  

5. Fu//kawa To//uko: Man I love Fuka//wa I really do she’s a lot of fun, and it’s just a shame her potential isn’t capitalized until DRAE, but I did enjoy seeing her. The serial killer twist is fun too! I’ll admit I largely like her because of what DRAE does for her, but I think her persecution complex is interesting to see in motion, and that for someone you’d expect to be smart given her talent she’s just kinda a fool. She doesn't actually know what she’s doing at all. I’m mad she doesn’t get her moment in ch6 and it goes to Syo instead I think it’s crap how DR1 ignores her as a character, but given how well she’s used later I think DR1 is basically just her backstory in a lot of regards so ye. 

5.5 Genoc//ider S//yo: lmao she gets ranked less than Fuk//awa only because I like F//ukawa slightly more but they’re pretty much tied otherwise. She’s funny. I’m a little annoyed that she’s the one with the big climactic dialogue in ch6 versus actual Fukawa but whatever man.

6. Fuj//isaki Chihi//ro: y’know I had like several paragraphs here as to why I ranked Fujisa//ki here and then I realized the discourse I’d reopen on the subject is not worth it because Fujis//aki Discourse is eternal and no matter what pronoun I use someone would fight me SO. We’re just not gonna explain why. You’re just gonna have to accept it. I’m not doing Fu//jisaki discourse. If you message me on the subject, I will ignore you. The end. 

7. Na//egi Mako//to: Egg is a super static character if we’re being honest. He makes no change and doesn’t develop, but I think it was actually the point. I pretty much exclusively prefer a character who develops, but egg does his job well because he was meant to be SYMBOLIC of hope. Hope is not something that changes, it simply IS, so having him start optimistic and trusting, and remain optimistic and trusting works because he embodies the concept he represents. It’s kinda boring that it feels like he’s a vehicle to view the plot, but he works, and he’s a little funny at times. Also, I’m gay for Ogata Megumi so there’s that.

8. Ishi//maru Kiyota//ka: Honestly I think Ishi is kinda boring, but I just really like that he got suuuuper invested in Oo//wada only to crash like. I think Kodaka doing that and realizing how bad people took Ishimaru’s later death made him start having actual development arcs based on someone else’s sacrifice which is good. So at the end of the day, I like Ish//imaru if only because of what he inspired. But he’s kind of a cute character, and his “not actually gay we promise” dynamic with Oow//ada was fun. 

9. Hag//akure Yas//uhiro: For comic relief he’s actually kinda funny although I will never never never forgive the man for “Kiri//giri-chi is a ghooooost!!!!” shit in ch5 listen no fuck off fuck you she’s not a ghost. But he’s useless, but it’s kinda funny how useless he is, and I like how his useless stupidity actually plays a role because he makes things even more complicated than they need to be in ch4 because he’s dumb. So there you go. 

10. Ik//usaba Muk//uro: She like has no real character as a result of like not actually existing as herself in the 2 minutes of time she gets before she dies so I don’t know how people stan her, but I think there’s something interesting about her pretending to be someone she’s not the whole time. You see more of that in school mode, but I wish there was more of it in the main story to hint at the reveal than her DEATH. I feel like she’s a lot more interesting in theory than in practice. 

11. Oo//wada Mon//do: I just don’t care about the man what do you want from me. He’s kinda funny though, and “his totally not gay we promise” bromance with Ishi//maru is nice. Also ch2 hurts sufficiently and provides interesting commentary on toxic masculinity. But honestly, I just didn’t really get all too invested in the guy. His design’s cool though.

12. Ma//izono Saya//ka: she’s just really boring guys she’s like not interesting at all, and I don’t appreciate the game forcing her on me just for a plot twist of ‘oooo she dies and was gonna frame you for murder!!!’ There’s like nothing To her, and she’s intentionally played like wife bait so the reveal hurts more but it doesn’t really work when you’re not taking the bait, huh? All that being said I actually kinda like that at the end of the day she ISN’T wife bait and she’s kinda conniving and manipulative, but Kodaka decided we have to preserve her as “ultimately good” with that “dying message means she really does care” thing he hammers in so she’s a little wasted. I’d like her more otherwise. 

13. Yama//da Hi//fumi: He’s creeeeeepppyyyyyy. I’ll give him credit for one thing though and that’s like his creepiness is like reserved towards an AI? Like he’s not like a certain sdr2 character who I won’t mention by name, but like it’s still. It’s not good. Also for comic relief, he’s not very funny. But I also just kinda feel bad for him because his existence is treated as a joke by everyone, even the writers, and that probably explains why he’s written like that, to begin with. 

14. Ce//lestia Ludenb//erg: She’s a bitch? She’s not even a fun bitch she’s just a bitch. I just don’t like her better than thou attitude before her reveal, and her motivations after her reveal in ch3 did nothing to endear me to her. I think the writing behind her though works, which is good. The plot twist is satisfying for that reason. She’s like Ouma jr in regards to the DR Liar archetype, which is great tbh, and she has payoff, I just don’t like her as a person so she’s super far down my list lmao.

15. Toga//mi Byak//uya: listen he’s a douchebag and gets no real character development at all. like in ch4 he decides he’s gonna stop playing the killing game how Monokuma wants, but he still is the same fucking condescending better than thou asshole he started as. His major character flaw ACCORDING TO THE NARRATIVE is that he’s a self-absorbed piece of shit who thinks he's right about everything all the time, and yet even when he gets WRECKED in ch4, he like...stays the same. Instead of thinking “maybe I’m wrong sometimes” the conclusion he reaches is “I’ll stop doing what Monokuma wants” which alright fine but like that’s not the arc we set up for you. So basically Togami from start to finish is just a douchebag with no actual redeeming qualities. I will say one thing. I like him MUCH better outside of DR1, where he seems to have actually developed a little, and he’s kinda funny. Also his backstory is fucked I’ll admit that. But dude I don’t like the man. 

16. Kuwa//ta L//eon: If you’re wondering why Leo//n’s down here at the bottom even if I just professed to hating Toga//mi with my entire being it’s because I very aggressively don’t care about him. He is a non-entity to me. You could erase him from my memory and nothing would change at all. Also he’s ugly.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 46

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 46 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————

Len follows the Time Masters.

It's not like he's found any other leads in this desolate place, and as long as he glides along purposefully, looking nobly distracted with serious questions about life, the universe, and everything, no one questions the presence of yet another robed figure.

Distraction is a pretty easy look to pull off.

Mick.

Fuck, Len knew this whole thing was a bad idea. He's known this was a bad idea from the beginning, this whole time travel bullshit, but coming here – Len knew this job was snake-bit cursed, and like a total idiot he went in on it anyway.

Getting swept up in ghosts and Time Masters and angels is no excuse for forgetting the fundamental principles of the job, and number one, above all else, is: if it feels like it's going bad, it almost certainly is, and that means it's time to jump ship.

Everyone always talks about how superstitious sailors are. In Len's opinion, they've got it no worse than thieves.

Mick.

Len has to remind the part of himself crying out for his partner that Mick's an adult – and more than that, a ghost, a powerful poltergeist, nearly a century old – and that he's perfectly capable of handling himself. If Mick left, and Len’s got to assume that he left voluntarily, it's probably because of that damn dream of his. And because of those damn time puppies.

Besides. Len can handle himself without ghosts, and Mick knows that. It's...unusual for Mick to ditch Len in the middle of a job, but it's not necessarily unheard of. Len's good at his job, with or without ghosts. With or without his partner.

The fact that he strongly prefers with is irrelevant.

Len’s so incredibly tempted to break his own rule on radio silence and call for Mick over the comms, but without evidence of any wrongdoing beyond Mick wandering off, he knows he can’t. It’s his own rule – he knows it, Mick knows it, Jax knows it.

A moment’s worry about a crew member, even a partner, doesn’t qualify as an emergency sufficient to break radio silence unless there’s an actual reason to believe something’s gone wrong.

Len hates his rule.

The group of Time Masters surrounding Rip split off from the Hunters, who start ushering the ghosts into what are clearly holding cells.

Len lingers for half a minute – he knows that the information he's looking for will be with the Time Masters, not here, and he can at least comfort himself with the fact that those are definitely holding cells and probably not whatever the hell they used to make people into Hunters, but he can't help the moment of worry for ghosts carrying themselves with the unfamiliar weight of solid flesh – and he hears one of the Hunters scoff and say, "Where'd they even pick you up? And why?" at Parvati.

That clinches a suspicion Len's been nursing as he's followed them all this way, watching the way the Hunters have been treating the ghosts – not like ghosts at all, but rather like people, like thieves, like no threat at all.

Parvati's eyes flash white – less a sign of power here than of sheer ghostly rage – but it's only a split second before it fades away again, drained out by the force of this place.

The Hunter doesn't notice.

Len's not surprised. If the Hunters are too mindless to properly identify the ghosts as ghosts, then obvious signs are clearly lost on them.

No, whatever they’ve managed to accomplish, the Time Masters are clearly still terrible mediums.

It's not necessarily a comfort to know that his plan would've worked if this place wasn't cursed or whatever the hell is going on with it, but it's good to know.

But in the end, there's nothing he can do about the ghosts' predicament for now. Len has to assume the ghosts will be fine – though he desperately wants to know where Svetlana is; hopefully she escaped? – and leave them where they are. Rescuing them now would blow his cover wide open, and it doesn't look like they'll suffer anything worse than cages for now.

The mission takes precedence.

So Len follows Rip, instead.

The Time Masters - one walking in the lead with Rip, flanked by three others - are clearly so confident that Rip won't resist them that they go so far as to dismiss the Hunters entirely.

That seems to surprise Rip.

"What, Rip?" the head Time Master – the same one who called the Matron about the alarm, who goes by the name of Druce, and Len thinks he might even be the one that tried to ambush Rip in the forest way back towards the beginning – asks, looking smug. "Did you think you are nothing more than a prisoner, my friend?"

He puts a friendly hand on Rip's arm.

"I- I mean - I broke the rules," Rip stammers. "As you pointed out when we last met."

"Ah, yes," Druce says, his voice still smug and condescending with the assumption of victory. "But before you did not know the truth. Once you see the truth, you will understand everything we have sought to do here, why we have done all the things we have done, made all the sacrifices we had to make." He smiles. "That is why I dismissed the Hunters. These are matters for Time Masters only."

Len wonders spitefully if they're taking Rip to the large antechamber he'd seen earlier, clearly designed for either show trials or ritualized murder. For all of Druce's pretty words about dismissing the Hunters, there are still three hooded Time Masters following them, and they're clearly there to keep an eye on Rip.

"You really are working with Savage," Rip whispers, something in Druce's manner making him believe it, really believe it at last. Perhaps it was Druce's slick, unashamed demeanor. "My family..."

"We warned you against unnecessary emotional involvements," Druce says. His voice is warm, friendly. He's charismatic and he thinks it'll get him everywhere. Len hates that type of guy. "It was for your own sake, Rip. We tried to spare you this pain."

"You caused me this pain!"

"Yes, we did. But it was in the service of a higher cause," Druce says.

"For what?" Rip demands. "For the timeline?! What, are you going to tell me that there's some devastating attack on humanity that only this course of action could prevent? What could it possibly be? Savage is a tyrant –"

"Rip, Rip, Rip," Druce says. "Please, be calm."

"If you had an argument as to why Savage's evil should've been permitted to flourish and take root throughout the world, you could have just told me," Rip says, no longer yelling, but his voice filled with hurt. "There was no reason to – to – to kill my family."

"You think too small, my friend," Druce says. "The timeline – yes, the timeline is sacred. But there are still higher causes."

Rip stares at Druce, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He clearly hadn't expected that.

"I will show you," Druce says.

He takes Rip – and Len, drifting close behind but not too close to be noticed – to a remote outpost of the station, down long, grey corridors that all look the same.

The actual place Druce is headed to is actually a building a little outside of the main complex, surrounded by some sort of pseudo park. If parks were soulless collections of bushes put in place to make people regret being alive, anyway.

Really, the fact that Len, a city boy to the bone, has started criticizing horticultural design says everything you need to know about these people...

Of course, all that open space makes it a little more difficult for Len to follow along.

A little.

Not much.

Besides, now that they're out in the park, Len can observe that the building isn't even actually really an outpost: it's actually connected to the rest of the complex by a long corridor leading straight through it from the other side, which means that Druce just chose to go the scenic route for some reason. Worst case scenario, Len can double back and go down that route. But Len is far from needing to fall back on the worst case scenario.

Druce also unhelpfully leaves the other Time Masters as guards at the door to the outpost, but ye old "throw a rock to distract them with a noise" gag – surprisingly useful even outside of movies – works like a charm and he can slip inside.

Of course, it's only once Len's inside the building that he gets the sickening twist of nausea building up in his stomach, the horrible feeling of wrongness, of horror, of suffering, of – he doesn't know what to call it, not really, but it feels the same as being filled up with the insane angel's rotting energy. Wrong, and sick, and Len hates it immediately.

"– is that?" Rip is asking, gagging.

"You become accustomed to it, in time," Druce says soothingly, like that's not the most horrible thing that could be said about the place. Sure, you can acclimate to horror – but why would you? Willingly, even?

They're not even all the way inside yet, either; it's a small entrance room. Druce's waiting for Rip to get over himself before they pass through the internal door at the other end.

Len does not want to go through that door.

He doesn't think he has a choice in the matter.

Those goddamn time puppies had better know what they're about, sending Mick on this horrible mission.

Mick, who is – somewhere.

Mick, who can handle himself, damnit.

"Feeling better?" Druce asks after a few minutes of Rip composing himself.

"No," Rip says bitterly, but it's obvious he's not as bad off as he was when they first came in. "What is this place? I never knew of it."

"It's our holiest of holies," Druce says, smiling and calm. Len imagines that genocidal war criminals smile the way Druce is smiling right now, utterly oblivious to the blasphemies against basic humanity spilling from their lips. "We call it the Oculus."

"The Oculus?" Rip echoes.

"Oh, yes," Druce says, and he opens the door. "Our friend Savage, though, he has a different name for it."

The second that door cracks open, Len is rooted to the spot. He can't run, he can't hide, he can't maintain his cover; the only thing saving him is that Druce and Rip aren't looking back.

"He calls it a Well of Souls," Druce says, and steps through into the screams.

A Well.

The angel had spoken of a well, a pit, a valley –

Come to think of it, Len's mother had mentioned a valley the few times she'd lost her temper enough to curse in front of him - Gehenom, she called it, the valley of lost spirits, the word that when it was converted to English was mistranslated as Hell.

Len's not so sure, anymore, that it's a mistranslation.

They're screaming.

Those of them that can, anyway.

Not all of them can, though, and that's the real horror of it.

Ghosts.

So many ghosts.

Len fancied himself capable of calling armies of ghosts – he was an idiot.

This is more than an army. Numbers uncounted, numbers uncountable, more than Len's worst nightmares as a child could have even conceived of.

Len can't even see them all. The ones at the edges – Len uses the term lightly – swirl around in furious madness, trying to escape, pulled in inexorably despite pulsing with power.

And at the center –

Infinity.

A shining white light at the core, the color of ghostly rage and pain, ghosts entrenched and centered as if frozen in ice, ghost upon ghost upon ghost until they've lost all definition, boiled down to their very essence and nothing more.

It’s an abomination.

There are more dead here than there are currently living in the world. Add to that alternative histories, timeline changes, history itself, and the number of dead is truly endless. A ghost should move on, Len has always held that truism close to his heart; no matter how much he likes one or wishes one would stay, what's best for them is to move on.

And he's always lived by that, too, for all of them except for Mick, who laughed in Len's face when he tentatively suggested it, who promised that they would pass on together and who wouldn't take no for an answer, who is not here –

Focus.

Focus, Len, you need to focus or they're going to see you.

Len grits his teeth and scans the area for a hiding spot. There aren't really any good ones, but ducking behind a slight curve in the wall seems to work well enough. Druce is staring at the center of the Well - a glowing light emerging out of a pit buried beneath the building, with some sort of platform on top of it - as if entranced, and Rip's head keeps swiveling between Druce and the Well as if he were a bobble-head doll.

Len can scarcely look at it. He can scarcely look away.

He mostly just wants to throw up.

The ghosts, normally attuned to Len's presence, haven't noticed him yet, which is one small piece of luck. Len hates having to count luck in the pain of others, but they're far too frenzied to pay attention, even to him.

Or perhaps it's that they know that they could bleed him dry and it still wouldn't be enough power for them to break free of this ghastly pit.

God, king of the world, who would do something like this?

And why?

"What is it?" Rip asks, breaking Druce's almost ecstatic contemplation of the horror that is the Well, but Druce is only put off for a moment – the briefest hint of a snarl, wiped away almost as soon as it's formed – and then he's turning to Rip, all smiles and smoothness and as if that small break in his façade had never happened.

But it had, and Len's lived in the slums too long not to know what a man forced away from his addiction looks like.

"We call it the Oculus," Druce tells Rip, charisma back in full force, the charming teacher once more. "It's a wellspring of time itself - a quirk of the timestream that captures spirits in the moment before their passing –"

More than a moment. Much, much more than a moment.

"– and gathers them here, where the power of their lost lives pools together into a powerful core. It offers unimaginable possibilities – to look into time, not as visitors in the time stream, but as true masters of it. From where we stand, we can change the very flow of time itself."

"Then – that's why," Rip says, his voice strained. "That's why I couldn't rescue my family. That's why we couldn't kill Savage! You were stopping us the whole time, from here! Using this!"

"That's correct," Druce says.

"But we got close," Rip says. "Closer than you’d like. The Hunters – the time in the 1950s –"

Again, that flash of a snarl, followed by composure.

"The Oculus is a delicate tool," Druce says smoothly. "We can influence the very circumstances of events, but individuals can sometimes disrupt even the most finely calibrated adjustments."

Len translates that as meaning that the Oculus is all well and good, but free will is still free will. Good to know.

Druce doesn't seem like the sort of person who appreciates the philosophical niceties of free will, though. No, anyone who would look at the tortured ghosts of the Well and think not of helping them but of using them, and not just using them, but using them to try to subjugate time itself for his own ends –

Well. Len has words for that sort of person, but none of them are fit for polite company.

Rip's mind seems have been working along different lines. "You say it works by – by capturing the power of spirits?" he asks.

"It does," Druce says.

Rip looks around. "They're screaming," he says, very faintly.

Len shudders. If Rip – who is generally oblivious to any ghosts but the two that haunt his mind – can see the ghosts of the Well, then they must be visible to anybody. Their pain on display for all.

"Hardly," Druce says dismissively. "That sound is merely the by-product of the Oculus' working. Here, let me show you a mere taste of its power."

Len has to swallow the instinctive cry of denial. Stay hidden, he reminds himself. This is why you're here. You need to fix this.

No matter what.

Fuck, this must be why the ghosts are visible here, in the Vanishing Point; they're close enough to be affected.

Maybe even to be drawn in.

Mick –!

Mick is still outside, Len reminds himself. Mick is still safe. Right now you need to stay hidden, and watch, and learn, and once they are gone, you can figure out a way to destroy this thing.

Len finds he talks to himself a lot more, without ghosts around. He's not sure he likes it.

Druce, meanwhile, has pulled a lever or two to move the platform above the center of the Well, what he calls the Oculus, around so that it extends out a bridge from that platform straight to their feet. On the platform is some sort of giant hulking machine, and the infinite brightness of the Well pours out from beneath the platform, and as far as Len can tell the only way on and off is that newly extended bridge, an extremely narrow bridge that Len can see is shaking with the power of ghostly hands trying to disrupt it.

Druce walks over it without paying the slightest bit of attention.

Rip looks more dubious.

"Rip, my old friend," Druce says, turning. "Come now. You never used to be this cowardly."

That hits Rip right where Druce aimed it, making Rip puff up in annoyance and march forward across the bridge.

Druce looks smugly pleased at his successful manipulation; Rip, when he realizes what just happened, looks angry at himself for falling for it.

Druce puts a hand on Rip's back. "Now, my friend," he says. "Look."

The machine in the center of the platform rumbles to life, cracking open to reveal a single broad beam of light, a foot or two wide, heading up to the ceiling. And in that light –

Images.

Faces, shapes; people moving; things happening.

"All this," Rip says, struggling to keep his voice level, "for an inferior version of television?"

Len can't help a small smirk. Go, Rip.

Druce looks put out for a moment, but quickly regains his equilibrium. "Hardly just that," he says. "We can look throughout history, any moment, any era –" He smirks. "– and change it."

He reaches out and touches the beam of light, where an image of a battle plays out before them.

One of the figures staggers, distracted mid-battle, and dies from a sword to the chest.

"Why did you do that?" Rip demands.

"An example of what we can do -"

"You killed him!"

"He wasn't important to the timeline anyway," Druce says dismissively. "Rip, can't you see what this means? We can preserve the timeline, adjust it –"

"You have Time Masters for that," Rip says. "And Hunters, too, when you need them."

"This is so much more than that," Druce says, his eagerness evident. He's not just an addict, he's on a mission to convert others to his cause. "This is Time, Rip; Time itself at our command. And once we are able to access the full power of the spirits, we will be able to move through it and shape it at will, creating the history we should have had, the history humanity should have had, a glorious history –"

"You're speaking of changing the timeline for your own interests!" Rip cries out. "That's contrary to everything you ever taught me – that the timeline is sacred – the only people who change it at will are pirates – you declared me a pirate, just for trying to save my family from their fate - for changing the timeline –"

"We're not talking about changing the timeline, Rip," Druce says calmly.

"No?" Rip says challengingly. "Then what are you talking about, Master Druce?"

"We're talking about rewriting it," Druce says, and smiles that same genial, pleasant, charismatic smile. "There won't have ever been a different timeline, when we're done with it."

Rip stares at him in horror.

After a few moments, he says, "But you can't yet, can you?"

Druce frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You've been controlling the timeline all along," Rip says. "Gathering up Time Masters and using us to keep history the way you prefer, but time wants to happen and you couldn't change everything. The method you controlled time through us was too inefficient. That's why you turned to this. But you can't just start using the Oculus to change everything the way you want it, either, because you don't know how. That's why you're working with Savage – you think he can do it."

"Yes," Druce says. "His knowledge, paired with ours –"

"He'll only betray you," Rip says bitterly. "Betray and manipulate, the way he has every other empire he's puppeted. Surely you must know that."

"We're hardly novices at this," Druce reminds Rip with a genial laugh. "We know very well what he does, or at least tries to do. Do not worry. Savage will be very firmly under our control. In fact, we've even agreed to let him rule the world for a period –"

"Oh, yes, in 2166," Rip says. "When my family was killed by him and his soldiers – following the intentional release of a plague that more than decimated the world's population!"

"Yes," Druce says. He sounds undisturbed by the prospect. "Speaking of which, why didn't you and your little crew go to the Kasnia era? We'd set up the signs and hints for you; your interference there would have been most beneficial – you wouldn't have been able to bring yourself to actually kill Per Degaton, of course, it's not in your personality to murder children. But your interference would have radicalized him much sooner, leading to an earlier takeover timeline for Savage."

Rip stares at his former mentor. "And at what cost? Millions dead? Kasnia's utopia replaced by Per Degaton's ruthless rule years earlier than it should have been? An earlier start to the conscriptions, the executions, the wholesale slaughter?"

"Savage needs to take over in that period," Druce says calmly. "The loss of 60% of the world's population to the plague, Per Degaton, and Savage is better than the total elimination of humanity at the hands of the Thanagarian invasion some years later. Under Savage's unified control, the world will be able to resist them."

"And it gets him the control he wants," Rip says, disgusted. "Which in turn gets you what you really want – his help. Did you even try to find another path? Or did you just throw in all your chips with him at once?"

"Rip, Rip, Rip," Druce says, shaking his head. "You're missing the bigger picture. Once Savage helps us crack the Oculus and turn it to our use, we won't need his assistance anymore. And once that happens, we can simply rewrite the timeline from an earlier period for the betterment of all humanity so that none of that pain and loss and death ever happened. Imagine it, Rip: no Dark Ages –"

"No Renaissance," Rip shoots back. "No spread of Arabic culture with all its magnificence. No freedom, no ingenuity, no adversity – damnit, Druce, can't you see the madness in what you're proposing? And tell me, how will you guarantee that this power you're suggesting you harness not fall into the hands of madmen and dictators, who don't want the betterment of all humanity but nothing more than their own power? What happens, Druce, when you die?"

"Savage has agreed to help us solve that problem as well," Druce says mildly.

It takes Rip a second to make the connection. "Immortality," he says flatly. "You want to share in his immortality – you do know that he's obligated to go and murder two innocent beings in each of their lifetimes in order to preserve himself, right?"

"A minimal cost," Druce says with a shrug. "And one that we can work on repairing once we have the time and leisure to do so. Rip, you're not seeing – "

"The bigger picture," Rip says. "As you were always telling me when I was your student. No, Druce. This time I think I'm seeing the bigger picture just fine."

Druce shakes his head sadly. "I had such hopes for you, Rip," he says ominously.

Rip crosses his arms, trying to look intimidating or angry and mostly coming off like he's trying to ward off the blow of yet another betrayal. "So what now?" he asks. "Old friend."

"The magnitude of what we're doing here is a lot to take in," Druce says calmly. "We'll see if you come to your senses. If not, it will be most regrettable to lose someone of your skills."

"Lose," Rip says bitterly. "You mean you'll kill me."

"Likely," Druce agrees, sounding regretful but not enough to actually stop. "Or you'll be sent to Declan for modification into a Hunter."

"Modification – good lord, you mean the Hunters are actually brainwashed? I'd always thought that was some ridiculous propaganda."

"We encourage that perception," Druce says agreeably. "Now, come along."

"You expect me to just – come along with you?" Rip exclaims. "When you've just told me you intend to have me killed or worse?"

"Yes, I do," Druce says. "Because if you don't, the individuals we found stowed away on the Waverider will be turned into Hunters as well."

"How do I know that's not the plan anyway?" Rip says challengingly.

"You don't," Druce says. "But I was your mentor, Rip. I know you. If there's a chance you can save them – and there is – you won't be able to resist taking it."

Rip hesitates, clearly torn.

“You can’t win, Rip,” Druce says. “You know that. What happens after this is your choice.”

“My choice,” Rip says bitterly. “My choice – just like it was the Matron’s choice, I assume?”

Druce nods as if Rip had confirmed something. “We knew you lot had to be involved in that,” he says.

“What did you do to her?” Rip demands. “And all for what? For being the mother you made her into? For trying to defend her children from – whatever it was you were hiding there?”

“A pillar,” Druce says. “The Oculus is unstable; it requires four pillars here, in the Vanishing Point, just to keep the power of the Oculus from overflowing, and several more pillars outside to anchor it in place. The Refuge was the most powerful of the pillars – the Matron’s actions in removing it are causing tremendous instability to the entire Vanishing Point. What mother takes action that puts her children’s life in danger?”

“She was trying to protect us,” Rip says stubbornly. His eyes are narrow and he’s angry, and they’re alone. He takes a step forward. “And you went after her –”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Druce says, watching him calmly. “Whatever it is you’re thinking – that you can kill or incapacitate me, that you can escape – you know it’s not possible. There are guards outside the door, and an army of Hunters just beyond them, ready to attack if there's a disturbance.”

Rip falters. He knows.

“Listen to me,” Druce says coaxingly. “I was your mentor and your friend, Rip; I was never your enemy. The least you can do is think about what I’m offering you here. And, if nothing else, I'm offering you time, Rip; time to think about your choices. Time is the most precious thing we have."

"So you've always told me," Rip says heavily, and Len knows he's given in, at least for now.

The two of them head out, Rip's head bowed low and his shoulders slumped. It's not easy having someone you look up to turn out bad, Len knows from experience, but assuming that Druce is telling the truth about giving Rip some time, that only works to their favor. It gives the rest of them a chance to rescue him.

The two Time Masters are halfway back to the door when Druce says, almost off-handedly, "And what did you do with the rest of your crew? You said you dropped them back off in their own time, but I know that was a lie."

"What makes you think it was?" Rip asks.

"We've checked," Druce says bluntly. "You are capable of depressive moments which would explain your actions in yielding up your mission and returning here for punishment, but the fact that they do not actually appear to be in the right time period speaks volumes."

"Why do you care?" Rip asks.

Druce doesn't respond.

"It's Kendra, isn't it," Rip says. It's not a question this time. "You want to turn her over to Savage."

"He's our ally," Druce says. "It's incumbent upon us to make sure he gets what he needs."

"And you expect me just to turn her over to you?" Rip exclaims. "If you think I would ever –"

"As I said, Rip, I know you," Druce interrupts smoothly. "If you decide to join with us, you will be reinstated to your former post, with all the attended honor and respect – and Miranda will, as well."

Rip stops, his mouth agape.

"She was forced to yield up her position as a Time Master because of your relationship," Druce says. "Our rules about attachment are very strict. But once we have the Oculus working at full capacity, well. Perhaps then we need not be so strict. Think of it, Rip: you will be a Time Master once more, but this time, you’ll have your wife and your son at your side, and the remainder of your little crew left hale and hearty – all but the one already doomed to die, who will reincarnate shortly thereafter anyway. Hardly a real loss in the long run, wouldn't you say?"

Rip's eyes are filled with longing.

"But as I said," Druce says. "You'll have time to think on it."

They go out, Rip following Druce in a daze.

Len watches them go with a grimace. That's tempting, for someone like Rip – all he ever wanted, and more that he never dared to let himself dream, no doubt.

He'll just have to hope that the budding sense of morality Rip’s been developing underneath all that childhood miseducation and indoctrination is strong enough to stand up to his desire to return home.

As for Len – he has other work to do.

He raises his hand to his comms. He hadn’t wanted to make the call while Rip and Druce were in the room, for fear they’d hear him; the comms really need a silent mode, maybe something that translates sign language – Len’s sure he can convince either Gideon or Cisco to make something that would work just on the basis of claiming that they're discriminatory against the deaf and non-verbal – but now that they’re gone, he can –

He can’t.

The goddamn thing’s broken. Len pulls it out of his ear to confirm, but even someone with Len’s entirely practical amount of technological knowledge can tell that the whole unit’s fried. Hell, some parts of it have fused together.

It must be some feedback from the Well.

No back-up.

Great.

It doesn’t change what Len has to do.

Guess the time puppies weren't wrong after all. This is worth all of that pain, all of that anger, all of that, to come here, to find this. To destroy this.

Len turns back to the Well.

It's such a horrifying thing to have as pretty a name as Oculus, and it, like Savage, cannot be permitted to remain intact now that Len is aware of its existence.

He waits until he's sure the Time Masters are gone and heads in, hoping that he's correct that there are no undetectable cameras watching over the room.

Walking closer to the Well is a horrible experience.

Len can barely bring himself to do it; it's like his first experience with the unquiet dead as a small child, the creeping choking terror, the feeling of being scooped apart inside, but so much worse.

"Help us," a ghost chokes out at him, using her last bit of strength to do so, disappearing into a blur of white.

"I'm trying," Len says through gritted teeth. "Oh, am I trying."

Crossing the bridge to get to the platform is, if anything, even worse.

Len stands in front of the machine the Time Masters have built, the machine called the Oculus, and tries to figure out how to destroy it.

He knows at the first touch that his half-formed ideas of blasting it with his cold gun and shattering it are unlikely to work: this machine is made of the same material as the Waverider, tough and almost invulnerable, and likely self-repairing to boot.

No, this will require another approach.

Exactly what that approach will be, Len's not so sure. Maybe it can be rigged into some sort of bomb, or set to self-destruct? But who would have the expertise in this sort of future tech to do that, much less do it secretly enough that the Time Masters wouldn't notice someone tinkering with their holiest of holies?

Maybe there's a way to do it already.

Len prods at the machine and it abruptly unfolds again, the bright beam of light shooting straight up to the ceiling once more; Len hadn't even noticed it closing up again the first time, he'd been so distracted.

There are no images this time; Len wonders why.

Then, of course, it hits him.

It's undoubtedly set to show him what he wants to see.

Mick?

The beam ripples and shows him Mick, walking through the grey corridors of the Vanishing Point unharmed, his face screwed in concentration as if he's looking for something, one time puppy on each side of him, tugging him onwards.

He's okay.

He’s okay.

Len lets out a breath of relief at that.

"I'm gonna get you for that one," he tells the image, which for obvious reasons doesn't respond. "I'll think of something real nasty. Or better yet, I'll get Lisa to think of something; she's the real specialist in nasty pranks – "

And then his voice trails away, because the image is changing again, a different image.

Lisa.

Lisa, in her favorite date clothes, sitting in a chair in STAR Labs, Cisco Ramon at another next to her, showing her something on the computer, a wide, adoring smile on his face as he natters on about something. Barry is standing behind them, scarlet suit on and cowl pushed back, rolling his eyes at them with a grin.

Len is hit by a sudden, overwhelming surge of homesickness.

"You have fun, kids," he tells them, wishing he could be there with them. “Bet whatever problem you’re facing ain’t half as bad as the one we’ve got here.”

Cisco is frowning, now, for some reason, and he's waving Lisa's questions off and trying to focus on something.

"Now, Cisco, that just ain't nice. You gotta let the girl talk if you want her to like you. And don't think I'm gonna let you dating my sister rest," Len tells Cisco's image. "I will come and bust your chops over it. Just you watch me."

And then Cisco looks up and stares straight at Len.

Len rears back a step.

Cisco's saying something. There's no audio in the Oculus, but Len can read lips and the words 'Snart' and 'hear him' are featuring heavily.

"Holy crap," Len says, realizing what it must be. "Your stupid vibe powers. You can hear me!"

Now Cisco's mouth is forming other words, chief among them 'Where' and 'When'.

"Not sure," Len says honestly. "The Time Bastards call this the Vanishing Point; they say it's outside of time –"

Barry waves his hands. He's mouthing the word 'Gideon'.

Right, they have the other Gideon, old Eobard's Gideon, down in their basement.

"Yeah, Gideon might know where it is," Len says. "Good thinking. It’s –"

But Cisco has leapt to his feet, eyes wide with alarm, and he's pointing at Len.

No, not at Len.

Behind Len.

Len spins around just fast enough to see the Time Master holding a pulse rifle, like the ones the Hunters used, over Len's head.

He's not fast enough to avoid it coming down on his head.

And then everything fades in darkness, accompanied only by the screams of the ghosts that surround them.

[junkobears]

Here Lies Dreaded V3 Discourse

So I have seemed to cause a huge kerfuffle in the hardcore Ouma conspiracy theorists standom, and a banal (if condescending, but seeing the response to it honestly justifies it more than anything now. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it”, you better believe I can take it and will now PROPERLY dish it out right back at you) comment about one of Tsumugi’s anime references has led to someone launching a hilariously personal attack at me for Daring To Disagree With A Theory That Was Posted On A Public Website. Someone who I wasn’t even initially responding too, at that. And has now blocked me before even allowing me to respond and clarify my original comments. Don’t want to deal with the consequences of being a repugnant, rude person I guess? Shock and surprise for Tumblr.

The link to the post is here, but I’ve taken the liberty to screenshot it just in case it gets deleted later, in hope that maybe there’ll be some reflection on this person’s part that this really is not an acceptable way to respond to people who have a dissenting opinion? Anyways, I will be responding to the personal attack post and that will be the last time I interact with this group, because clearly it’s not worth it to actually have a discussion about our respective ending theories. I ain’t got time beyond this for tedious insecure fucks these days.

Anyways, my response is under the cut to save my poor followers’ dashes. Sorry to drag drama onto my blog but I can’t really let this slide. I’m also tagging @jacks-plays-drv3 just because I assume the twin comes with the other with these two, and I want my response to have been seen.

Screenshot In This Link - This post is long enough without the image taking up more space, haha.

Let’s start with this mess, shall we? And I will go into painstaking detail.

Paragraph 1: So this already starts off with a whole lot of needless aggression and projection. So I’m not even going to attempt to be nice back. But: maybe I haven’t proven anything because I literally had not typed up a response to clarify my original comments @ Jacks yet before the rabid attack dog was unleashed? Like, there was literally no attempt from you to have a discussion that was a genuine offer from me, I was not out to get you actually. I also honestly just laughed at being called shallow, JUST LIKE THAT HORRIBLE CHARACTER TSUMUGI SHIROGANE right off the bat as well. That’s a compliment really, honey. Weirdly I don’t share the same opinions as you do. Tsumugi is my fave and unlike you I actually think about and HAVE analyzed/discussed her character in detail previously, which I would’ve been happy to share had you not immediately went into Blind Raging Idiot Mode. Guess we can’t have it all, huh?

As for needing proof that she makes the Flashback Lights... nevermind the CG that literally shows her making them during Chapter 6, but do you have proof that Monokuma is the person who makes the Lights instead of just placing them for the students? I doubt it, somehow. Cuz a lot of your theories don’t actually have any concrete proof. Quelle surprise. Probably why anyone not immediately on board with your headcanon gets you so goddamn angry, huh? Cuz it’s completely baseless and you know it at heart.

As for the Ouma comments, actually I have read the assorted creator comments regarding his character even if you like to believe I’m a slobbering moron who turned my brain off as soon as I finished V3, so yes I already know that his name was chosen to sound mastermind-like. Maybe this was to emphasize and make his fake mastermind reveal appear more legit on first read? JUST A THOUGHT, SWEETIE. You know the entire fucking point of Chapter 5? You’re so slavishly devoted to your theory that you actually are incapable of reading the basic fucking text from the actual game, but again. Not a surprise. Considering what I’ve read from your blog (really, who are you again? I only knew Jacks’ blog from before all this, so you taking such a personal offense at my comments is honestly hilarious but baffling at the same time. It ain’t all about you, babe.)

As for the lab door, here’s an simpler explanation (Occam’s Razor, look it up): The star sign constellation pattern was there as a hint for the player to connect Ouma’s messages from his dorm room to the vault in Amami’s lab once its opened and you can see the star signs in there. Or perhaps it was designed like that by TDR to make the students make that connection as well in the original script and think that Ouma was the mastermind cuz of the connection to Amami’s lab? Literally, there are a lot of possibilities, cuz it’s a NOTHING DETAIL THAT DOESN’T ACTUALLY MATTER IN THE BIG PICTURE. Considering Kodaka’s track record with writing these games I don’t actually believe it’s anything major, personally. He doesn’t really strike me as the type to hide this completely separate story underneath the actual story we got, and with such vague nothing “”””””””””””clues””””””””””””. You and Jacks do yourselves (well you already do cuz you love to jack yourselves off with how CLEVER AND BETTER you are than the rest of us plebs), sure, in believing otherwise (You have way too much faith in him as a writer. Or you’re desperately trying to pretend V3 wasn’t poorly written cuz you don’t like the Ch. 6 twist) but also realize that its nothing more than extrapolation on your part that it actually means anything beyond the.... SHALLOW (horror scream) connection given in-game.

And really, who the fuck cares if it doesn’t match the title of ‘Supreme Leader’? It’s already a ridiculous talent as it stands already. The entire point of his character is that everything about him, his motives and his talent is contradictory and weird. That’s why I like him, actually. He isn’t an abused martyr who never lies like you goons believe and he also isn’t the evil monstrous chessmaster some of the fandom thinks. It’s Complex Motives™ .

Anyways moving on. Pointing out an anime reference =/= DISREGARDING PEOPLE’S ANALYSIS. Pointing out that most of the plot leads up to and supports the fiction twist =/= uncritically agreeing with everything Tsumugi says. Actually, after examining the game’s story for myself I came to the conclusion that all the clues in it really only support her version of the story, really. There are a few things I think she lied about, but it is not CONCLUSIVELY proven she lied in my opinion and so I don’t really give a fucking toss until new canon comes out and reveals more of the V3 story. Oumatwin don’t real, gurl. If there was actually anything in-game beyond one obvious joke line in the NON-CANON!!!!!!! bonus mode supporting that he existed, maybe I’d respect your theory more. Even though you don’t deserve respect after your little tantrum. 

Paragraph 2: Jesus I already am investing way too much time into this response at people who don’t actually deserve it, oh well. But laughing hard at the attempt to try and act as if you weren’t being a snobby asshole with your comments. Again, HUGE AMOUNTS OF PROJECTION at me about things I literally have never done and said. I have never interacted with you or Jacks prior to my initial comment. No fucking clue why you brought up the SaiOuma shit, cuz I don’t even LIKE Saihara as a character and don’t like that fujobait ship in the slightest? But I guess it’s easier to assume that all your critics are the exact same fucking person with the same opinions, so you can feel more persecuted, huh? You literally did not even wait for me to respond or check my blog that would’ve easily disproven these dumb-as-fuck assumptions. And get off the fucking high horse (pun completely intended), you lot are not the only people in this fandom who are capable of critical thought. How completely self-obsessed can you be? 

For someone who claims to have a lot of critical thinking skills compared to this nasty fandom, you really are terrible at parsing other people’s words. You fucking know when I said “group of anime fans” that I was referring to Team Danganronpa, the organization literally mentioned in game as running the game. The group Tsumugi is part of. She literally has a company badge FFS. THEY ARE ANIME FANS. THEY ALL STARTED KILLING GAMES CUZ THEY ALL LOVE THIS SHITTY SERIES. I can’t believe this had to be explained. And the rest of this paragraph word salad is the most pedantic argument. It’s really not hard to believe an organization in this series would have access to all this tech. And yes, it’s a popular TV show in-universe, of course it’ll have funding. And the whole damn point of the ending is that the V3 world is consuming fiction the wrong way by having real-life killing games, missing the entire point of the DR series and fiction in general? What’s your actual point?

Paragraph 3: Again more assumptions, I wasn’t ‘crying’ about being called gullible. I was just pointing it out as part of your extremely unnecessary smug dismissal of my post. That you really haven’t disproved at all, btw. Honestly the childish response you both had to me just makes me laugh out of pity more than anything. And if I was really upset I wouldn’t have offered to have a discussion with you or even continued to reply after Jacks initial (vague) post about what I said. So don’t put words in my mouth. And yes my analysis was not completed in my initial comments. It’s Tumblr fucking replies, I can’t fit the entire fucking dissertation of Tsumugi opinions in there for you to jeer at in there. Again, I offered to share my opinions and got this as a response, so lol. You are your own worst enemy when it comes to trying to get people to take you and your theories seriously. 

Paragraph 4: Especially since you immediately jump to PULLING THINGS OUT OF YOUR ASS (seriously, fucking snorted at this part. I want this whole diatribe on my fucking gravestone. It’s by far the most hilariously petty thing ever said about me on this site.) instead of letting me explain my position. If you just want to be in the creepy cult Oumatwin echo chamber you should’ve just said and blocked me ASAP instead of word salading vague bullshit justifications for why actually people who disagree with you are just stupid crybabies who can never hope to understand your genius. Again, my initial comments didn’t whine about not being taken seriously at all, I was pointing out the hypocrisy/rudeness is all. And again, get off the high horse about critical thinking. I have thought about Tsumugi’s character and how she relates to the over-arching plot and how truthful it is, and the overall ‘mystery’ of V3 (spoiler: there is none. it was all solved by chapter 6). I have thought about this game. In fact I dedicate too much time to critical analysis of this series that doesn’t actually deserve it cuz lately I find Kodaka to be a hack writer. Your assumptions are flat-out wrong, dear. And AGAIN. I WOULD’VE. SHARED AND DISCUSSED IN MORE DETAIL HAD I BEEN GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY. But rude fucks gonna vomit shit out of their mouth cuz they have literally no self-control and have meltdowns at the slightest difference of opinion, I guess. 

Your extreme hatred for Tsumugi as a character truly shines through. Clearly no thought has been put into her from your end, even though you and Jacks rage about people not taking Ouma seriously as a character. Double standards as always with fujos. Nothing I’m not used too, she is incredibly unpopular in this fandom. And everyone is entitled to their own opinions. So I’m not even mad at that. I have never said otherwise. Even you and Jacks are valid in having your own theories and thoughts. The ending of V3 is designed entirely so everyone can analyze the game for themselves and draw their own conclusions about the story and themes. That’s the whole point. Even though I personally dislike that as a writing decision on Kodaka’s part because I would prefer the story to be conclusively ended and the epilogue is a giant turd that misses the entire point of Chapter 6 and enables shit (anal pun intended, dumbass) like this to start spreading as “Analysis”. But hey, to each their own.

However I will not be interacting with either of you again after this post though, even though I was willing to discuss beforehand, because you both have shown yourselves to be incredibly vile with the way you approach other people in this fandom, and especially those who don’t share your conspiracy theory. Despite the absolutely ironic comments I’ve seen from Oumanous in their later, also terrible posts about how you need to understand your opponent before engaging, which they literally failed entirely to do before engaging the firing squad at me and other commentators who responded. So much for the sanctity of discussion, huh? Enjoy your circlejerk. Everyone else who follows me in this fandom though? Please consider blocking these two if you are also a sane human being who is capable of polite discussion/disagreements. They are not worth your time otherwise. They were really not worth my time writing this post, but I felt I had to say something.

In conclusion: Out with the both of you.

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

💐

For whatever reason, the bouquet emoji made me think of weddings and florist!Cas. I added a twist and here we are! (also on ao3!)

Dean's best friend was supposed to be getting married in two months. The key phrase being supposed to because, according to Gabriel who had just called Dean ten minutes ago, the wedding was off.

As horrible as it sounded, Dean didn't think he had ever been so relieved. Which he knew made him a complete and utter jackass in addition to the worst friend in the world but it wasn't exactly his fault.

Cas' fiance — well, former fiance now — was an even bigger asshole than Dean. A smarmy Brit with a posh accent and a superiority complex the size of the UK, Arthur Ketch was a certified piece of shit.

He was some kind of higher up businessman for a London-based corporation called the Men of Letters. Apparently, his company had connections with Roman Enterprises and the Alpha Corporation in Chicago.

Together the three companies formed a mega-conglomerate that Cas ironically referred to as the Leviathan. Dean had thought the nickname was clever.

Ketch? Not so much. He took personal offense to the name.

Dean wasn't sure why. It wasn't like Ketch actually owned any part of the mega-corporation, he was just a guy in a suit with a plush corner office and a PhD in business.

Or so he said. Dean had always suspected that Ketch was actually just a pencil pusher. An accountant who played with numbers all day.

Dean had tried to get along with the guy for Cas' sake. He hadn't wanted to rain on Cas' parade and point out all of his new boyfriend's blatant flaws, sure that he would notice them himself soon enough.

But Ketch had made things insufferably difficult. He resisted any and all of Dean's attempts to spark some sort of rapport.

He thought American football was simultaneously barbaric and infantile, claiming rugby was superior in every way. He hated beer, especially American beer, sticking to Scotch or wine instead.

He thought American TV was all mindless drivel, especially melodramas like Dean's beloved Dr. Sexy. He even despised American food, turning up his nose at the fantastic blueberry pie Cas made in favor of ranting and raving about his aunt's spotted dick.

Dean had tried to grin and bear it. To just smile and nod whenever Ketch went off on another rant about his travel around the world or his most recent business meetings.

But it was extremely difficult considering how boring the guy was. Not to mention, condescending as all hell.

He subtly belittled Dean's profession any time they were in the room, straightening the lapels on his fancy overpriced suits while curling his lip at the sight of Dean's dirty jeans and band t-shirts. He even insulted Dean's car, calling it an overcompensating phallic symbol on wheels.

But Dean could forgive all that.

Could forgive the way Ketch sneered when he learned Dean was a high school dropout. Most people did, anyway. Ketch wasn't special in that regard.

Could forgive the way Ketch rarely deigned to even acknowledge him when Cas invited him to dinner. More often than not it was better than the alternative.

He could forgive nearly everything. Every subtle dig about his family or his line of work. Every eye roll whenever he showed up at Cas' for movie night.

But what he couldn't forgive was how Ketch treated Cas.

Couldn't forgive the way he constantly talked over Cas, cutting him off mid-sentence in order to correct him. The way he critiqued everything Cas did from the way he decorated his home to the way he dressed.

Couldn't forgive the way he always insisted that Cas get a better job than the one he had, despite the fact that he owned his own flower shop, that he was doing what he loved. The way he treated Cas more like an arm piece than a boyfriend or fiance.

Dean couldn't forgive any of that. Because Cas was his best friend and he would be damned if some British bastard treated him like shit.

And yes, Dean was man enough to admit that part of the reason why he hated Ketch so much was because he had been ass over ankles in love with Cas for the past eight years.

He had managed to ignore his feelings for the better part of a decade, tamping down on them so he wouldn't completely fuck up their friendship. He refused to lose Cas over something as stupid as his pathetic little brush.

So he had tried to be as supportive as possible when Cas had started dating Ketch. Had bitten his tongue and kept quiet about how much he despised the limey bastard.

He hadn't raised any objections when Cas announced his and Ketch's engagement. He had graciously agreed to be Cas' best man.

He had helped with all of the wedding planning, all of the minutiae from picking out the color scheme after staring at paint swatches for two hours to mailing out needlessly ornate invitations. He had spent days dealing with Cas' overly dramatic wedding planner, Crowley.

Hell, he had even helped Cas pick out the flavor of the wedding cake when Ketch couldn't make it to their appointment with the baker, giving only a bullshit excuse about work.

Thoughts of all the hours he had spent helping Cas put together a list of songs for the reception, sitting in the waiting room at the tailor while Cas got fitted for his tux, listening to Cas go on and on about how excited he was for the wedding flitted through Dean's mind as he climbed into the Impala.

When Gabriel had called him, Dean had been expecting an update on the situation with the caterer who kept trying to haggle. But Cas' older brother had instead relayed that Ketch had broken things off.

After recovering from the shock, sure that Gabriel was playing some sort of cruel joke, Dean had snapped to attention and raced out to his car. His mind was racing and he was still in shock, but he had the presence of mind to know that he had to get to Cas. Had to make sure he was alright.

The drive across town was blessedly short, mostly because Dean's lead foot had him going well over the speed limit. Fortunately, no cops pulled him over and he made it to Cas' cozy little house in record time.

He didn't bother knocking. He just let himself in with the spare key Cas had given him for emergencies.

Getting dumped by one's fiance two months before the wedding? Definitely counted as an emergency.

Everything seemed normal, every ridiculous throw pillow in place and the ever-present scent of flowers hanging in the air. The only thing that struck Dean as odd, that made him pause in the doorway, was the shattered vase in the middle of the living room.

There were flowers in various shades of red strewn around on the floor amongst the shards of broken glass. A crumpled up note sat discarded along with the livid blooms.

"Cas?" Dean called, kicking the door shut behind him before he took a few steps further into the room. When no response came, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called again, "Cas?!"

There was still no response but Cas' car was parked in the driveway, so Dean continued on. Bypassing the living room and kitchen, Dean made a beeline to Cas' bedroom.

He found Cas there, sitting on his bed with his face buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking as he sniffled, sounding so despondent and miserable it immediately broke Dean's heart.

"Cas...?" He said questioningly, tentative and quiet as he walked closer to the edge of Cas' bed. When Cas didn't say anything, Dean took a seat by his socked feet, reaching out a hand to lay on Cas' knee. "Cas? Buddy?"

"He dumped me, Dean," Cas announced through his tears, keeping his face hidden in his hands. His voice slightly muffled and thick with sorrow, he continued, "Arthur dumped me. With fucking flowers."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, shifting closer. Cas didn't answer at first, too choked up, prompting Dean to give his knee a reassuring squeeze.

"He sent me flowers..." Cas explained, hiccuping a bit. "He sent me flowers to break up with me."

His hands curled into fists as he dropped them to his sides. His face was streaked with tears, blue eyes puffy and red-rimmed.

But where Dean expected despondency and dejection, he found righteous anger. He felt almost an electric tension in the air as Cas absolutely growled, "He sent me flowers from my own fucking shop to break up with me! He sent Mick to deliver them!"

Ah, Mick. Ketch's cousin and one of Cas' only two employees at the flower shop. The one who had introduced the two. Ketch's would-be best man.

Poor guy probably had no idea he was delivering a break-up bouquet. Dean highly doubted Ketch would have volunteered the information to his well-intending cousin.

"Fucking asshole," Dean hissed under his breath as Cas' anger melted away, dripping away like wax from a candle, leaving only a puddle in its wake. He watched helplessly as Cas wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, his breath labored and shaky.

"What am I supposed to do?" Cas wondered aloud, not really directing the question at anyone in particular. "I have to cancel everything. The venue, the catering, the band, the tailor. I lost ten pounds for that stupid tux. Oh, god, what am I gonna tell my family? If Gabriel hasn't already told everyone."

"You're not gonna tell em anything, Cas," Dean announced, surprising both Cas and himself. He knew what he was doing was stupid and desperate but at that moment he didn't care. "The wedding's still on."

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Cas whined reaching for the box of tissues on his nightstand. Dabbing at his eyes, with the corner of a tissue, he announced, "Arthur made it very clear that he doesn't want to marry me. And after all this, I don't want to marry him, either."

"You're not going to," Dean informed him, hoping he sounded much more confident than he felt. At Cas' confused squint, accompanied by one of his trademark Castiel Novak head tilts, Dean mustered up all the courage he could and announced, "You're gonna marry me."

"Very funny, Dean," Cas said, rolling his eyes as he gave a weak attempt at a laugh. "But I'm not in the mood for one of your jokes."

With a frustrated grunt, Dean shoved his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. He dug around for a few seconds, his keys jingling, until he closed his fingers around the box.

The one he had bought two years ago. The one he had been carrying around ever since. The one holding the single most important piece of jewelry he had ever owned apart from the amulet Sam had given him for Christmas half a lifetime ago.

Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he thrust the box out at Cas. He kept his eyes down, cheeks burning with a bright blush, refusing to look at Cas' face.

He couldn't bear to see the rejection. The disgust. The pity.

This was better. If Cas was going to let him down gently, he didn't want to see the soft, sad forgiveness in those blue eyes.

He would rather keep staring at the bedspread. At the dark damask pattern of the comforter he had helped Cas pick out when they went shopping together after Cas moved into his house.

Cas had picked the blanket, deep blue with a navy pattern, because it reminded him of damask roses. Brilliant complexion, Cas had said while admiring the blanket in the store. They symbolize brilliant complexion. And love.

Dean's bittersweet reminiscing was cut short when he heard Cas suck in a sharp breath. Cas' fingers brushed his as he gingerly took the box from Dean's hand.

He let out another gasp when he opened the box. "Dean...? Is this...?"

"Meteorite," Dean confirmed. He kept his eyes lowered, fisting his hand in the denim of Cas' jeans. "I know how much you hate gold and silver 'cause they're not really rare and you'd rather have something more unique. And I know you hate that stupid ring Ketch got you because you hate chocolate diamonds."

He barely paused to take a breath before steamrolling on, "Look, I've known you for a long time and I've loved you for just as long. I-I bought this ring a while ago. I was gonna ask you out the day you introduced me to Ketch. And I know it's wrong and selfish and stupid, but I wanna marry you, Cas."

There was a small rustling sound, followed by an almost metallic clunk accompanied by Cas' soft laugh. It was only then that Dean chanced a look up to find the dark silver ring he had bought Cas on the man's ring finger, Ketch's gaudy diamond ring set aside on the nightstand.

He flicked his eyes up to Cas', his mouth slack with shock. "Do-Do you really...? You wanna...?"

"Yes, Dean. I'll marry you," Cas announced, scooting close enough to wrap his arms around Dean's shoulders. "On one condition."

"Anything," Dean breathed, settling his hands on Cas' waist as the dark haired man shifted closer, pressing their foreheads together. Cas could have asked for Dean's heart and he would have carved it out of his chest himself and presented it to Cas with his dying breath.

But all Cas asked was, "You have to help me mail out all the new invitations."

Then, after years and months and interminably long seconds of pining and perishing, Dean finally pressed his lips to his best friend's. His fiance's. His angel's. His Cas'.

[putris-et-mulier]

I love this.

Terminally Beautiful is a book I published a few years ago (Kevin Shamel wrote a great introduction for me and although you should check out his books I’d say that’s the best thing he’s ever written and huge shout out to Robin Cracknell who is an incredible artist whose work I've admired for years) and so “terminally beautiful” it’s one of my Google alerts. It’s one of the most annoying alerts because of the results it gives me, like this.

So why do I love this? These articles and other media like this are the exact reason I wrote that book. The sexism, the heteronormativity/homophobia, ableism, beauty myth, bigotry in general and how ignorance and good intentions strip people of humanity.

I mean, as a human being I hate that this still goes on but it’s pretty validating in a perverse way because at least my work is still relevant.

Before we begin, this isn’t an introductory course. If you don’t know what inspirational porn is then you need to Google it before reading further.

Censored by me.

Why that article is horrible:

The most annoying part is that I know to have any credibility in the following statements I have to out myself yet again as someone who is terminally ill because of a genetic mutation like this child. Because of poor funding and research they said I was only likely to live until I was 5. We now know that my variation lets a person live into their 30s but no one knew that at the time so this resonates with me.

A five-year-old child and a six-year-old child (the groom) are forced into a wedding, even if it’s a mock one

The children performed in the ceremony by pledging to be friends forever

Remember that this child is five years old, it doesn’t strike me odd that one of the things on her bucket list would be things like parties and even doing something special to affirm friendships but none of us are really under the impression that she discovered the term “bucket list” on her own or that these children weren’t coerced by heteronormative adults who think it’s adorable, especially because the best friend is a boy so of course it has to be romanticized/sexualized

It’s pandering. That disabled child can get “married” in situations like these because it’s cute but disabled children in these stories probably won’t live long enough to be denied the right to actually be married. No one seems to realize this but marriage equality is still not a thing, around the world and in particular in first world countries disabled people are given the choice between healthcare and the privilege to be married. It’s a literal death sentence, just because it’s a legal marriage does not make that marriage equality. And yes, America is among the worst. 

If this was a good idea, if these children legitimately wanted this extravagant mock ceremony to affirm their friendship how is it made any better by publicizing it? By making a spectacle of it?

Able–Savior complex™

The mother is doing this to “come to terms” with her child’s disability

The whole thing is about this child’s mother. “Her mother has been filling her world with magical experiences”

They literally say in the article that the “magic of the day” helped make up for a recent hospitalization for blood transfusions

Eileidh Paterson’s name was not given in the title and she’s referred to in the article as “Little Eileidh Paterson” which is condescending because this child has more knowledge and experience about life in general through their disability than anyone else involved, even at five years old

Despite everything, no information or link to charities that help terminally ill children or any applicable charity for this child’s mutation, Neuroblastoma which was sometimes misspelled in the article

Donate to St. Jude (charitynavigator.com gives them a ¾ and 100% in their transparency)

National Pediatric Cancer Foundation (4/4 and 100% transparency)

This article I'm criticizing was posted July 1, 2017. It’s only been one week since the ADAPT protests going on over BCRA (healthcare) and Romper has published nothing about it. This whole situation is disgusting to me. If you wanted to do a puff piece then how about on how Stephanie Woodworth gave her iconic zip ties to her adorable cats?

It would be easy, you can even avoid talking about disability as much as you did here. You don’t even have to post or mention the footage of police dragging people from their wheelchairs and zip tying them. It would just be acknowledging that this is happening and people like Stephanie Woodworth are risking their lives while you shield your eyes.

(Dawn Russell, pulled from her wheelchair and zip tied by Denver police while in custody)

At least be thankful, it’s groups like ADAPT that get these beautiful children futures and actual healthcare so you have more time to condescend to them until they hit puberty and then you can send them off to institutions.

Romper published 31 stories about Beyoncé and Jay-Z in less than 24 hours the day this article was posted. A celebrity having twins is absolutely applicable to their market, mothers, but is it 31 more times important than millions of lives?

It’s less than a month until the first anniversary of the Sagamihara Stabbings on the 26th it was a mass murder under the declaration of a eugenics manifesto dedicated to the eradication of disabled people

We still cannot honor the victims because all of their names were withheld to protect the families from the embarrassment of being related to one of us. Don’t even go to the trouble to putting out flowers or candles, even on public property, because that wasn’t allowed either.

Knife attacker… Accidentally only killing 19 out of the intended 150 demotes a serial killer to a knife attacker? And the reason he’s smiling in every bit of footage is because at least the ones he didn’t kill he still put in the hospital, he isn’t a total failure.

“Jesus Christ, it’s a blog about mothers”

Obviously disability is applicable to motherhood as mothers are disabled and/or have disabled children but besides that this is the news section which posted articles criticizing politics and engaging in the discourse of popular social topics.

“Give the author a break”

No. 

No one gets a break anymore until we have to stop breaking our backs to carry your dead weight. Jen McGuire has posted about disability, but how does she do it? What good is it?

“Maybe Romper didn’t want to publish that kind of article”

They do

but healthcare issues are never about disabled people, it’s about the NTAB people associated with them

Okay, benefit of the doubt. If she has a Twitter, has been tweeting consistently and recently, and hasn’t mentioned the ADAPT protests only then will I pass judgment.

… I’m passing judgment. 

Not even a like on any mention ADAPT protests but then again, she is Canadian which she does expressly apologize for…

If only ableism didn’t exist in Canada, gosh darn it.

Yesterday Kate Letterick wrote a great article for the CBC News about how disabled people haven’t been able to attend event celebrating Canada Day.

I’ll throw her a bone and give her link because I don’t think she can actually bear to type “disability”

Who the fuck cares if you’re from Canada? 

If you blog about politics, sociology, healthcare, bigotry, history, current news, anything, but you just happened to never write about disability you are the reason things like Bexit happen and people like Trump get into power. People like Justin Trudeau. It will always be applicable to your target audience because you know what type of people are disabled? All types of people. And you know who it affects? Everyone.

Romper quite regularly posts news about BCRA but they aren’t about us or for us, not pull a Kanye West but Romper doesn’t care about able-bodied mothers.

There is this contributor,

Depression… Okay, it’s a start. It can certainly be a disability.

…Oh, that’s it? Then this sucks. No offense (all offense) but she’s a depressed mother on a mommy blog (redundant) and tweets but also has not touched anything to do with ADAPT.

High functioning depression… Okay. I'm going to try to be open-minded but a lot of people who refer to themselves as high functioning do so to distance themselves from people who are "low functioning" because it's ableism wrapped in privilege. Going through her recent work it looks as if she fits the stereotype.

This isn’t an issue of Cripple Olympics, this is an issue of representation. You need more than token writers who don’t even represent or care about a community they identify with.

[mermaidsirennikita]

July 2017 Book Roundup

In July, I read eight books--most of which were unfortunately mediocre to poor.  However, there were a couple of standouts, and one of them was fantastic.  My favorite book of the month was Riley Sager’s Final Girls, a thinky thriller that deconstructs the concept of a final girl, while at the same time embracing the best parts of slasher movies.  If you love Scream and I Know What You Did Last Summer, you have to try this book.  

So--below is the good and the (unfortunately, moreso) bad or fair to middling.

Dividing Eden by Joelle Charbonneau.  2/5.  After the assassination of the king and crown prince, the kingdom of Eden is left in turmoil.  The crown would go to the king’s widow, but after she goes mad, that’s not an option anymore.  That means that twins Andreus and Carys are left to battle each other for the throne--or else give up their family’s rights to the kingdom and endanger their own lives.  Aaaand that’s pretty much it.  There are romances thrown in, but the book moves incredibly slow for its length.  The assassinations--events that we know occur because that’s the plot--take forever to actually happen, and for that matter once it does happen it’s really fucking nothing.  It’s super predictable, the villain can be spotted from a mile away, and that makes Carys and Andreus seem super stupid.  Also, Andreus is cursed or something and Carys has a magical drug addiction.  The other issue I have with the book is that so much is made of how close the twins are--and a brother-sister twin relationship is such a cool topic to write about--but the fact is that they aren’t close.  If they were, they wouldn’t be ready to stab each other in the back at a moment’s notice.  Not the smartest book.

The Shark Club by Ann Kidd Taylor.  3/5.  As a young girl, Maeve was bitten by a shark.  The event sparked a lifelong passion for the creatures, and at thirty she’s returning home to her grandmother’s hotel as a successful shark researcher.  Recently, she’s sparked the beginnings of a romance with fellow researcher Nicholas--but back home, she runs into former fiance and childhood love Daniel, now the chef at the hotel and the single father of a young girl.  Maeve’s feelings for Daniel return as she bonds with his daughter, the situation further complicated by an illegal shark finning operation nearby.  This book is well-written, and while it didn’t thrill me in any way, it was pleasant.  It’s very much a “finding yourself” story, and I think that a lot of people would like it--you could call it a thinking beach read.  At the same time, however, I found certain plot points to be rather predictable.  But I appreciated the focus on sharks, animals that I love, and the ongoing threat of finning.  

One True Loves by Taylor Jenkins Reid.  3/5.  Emma married her high school sweetheart, Jesse, with whom she was madly in love.  The day before their first wedding anniversary, he went missing, and was presumed dead.  Three and a half years later, Emma is engaged to her new love, Sam, when she receives the news that Jesse has been found alive.  Now--who does she really want to be with?  I gave this three stars because I read it over the course of a day and it was certainly engaging, and Reid writes romance in a really lovely way and many people have and will love this.  But this was no Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.  It actually kind of infuriated me.  It’s painfully obvious what Emma’s choice will be, the first half of the book breezes through each romance in a way that makes it difficult to get attached to either one, and the latter half is largely Emma dithering and treating each guy like shit.  The thing that irritated me most is that--well, look, I felt condescended to.  The old Emma loved to travel and see the world, and it’s implied that this was all a part of her youth and now she’s more mature and values the Real Things.  She’s Mature.  And I’m like, bitch you’re just kinda boring now.  There’s a scene where she’s basically like “I don’t like to fuck on kitchen counters anymore, I’m not in my twenties anymore I’m in my thirties”.  BITCH YOU ARE THIRTY-ONE HE HAS BEEN MISSING FOR 3.5 YEARS NOT TWENTY.  Like I respect her moving on and have no issue with that time frame, but Emma acted as if Jesse had been away for decades when he just hadn’t.  Sigh.

The Incarnations by Susan Barker.  4/5.  Beijing taxi driver Wang begins receiving mysterious letters from a stranger that claims to be connected to him through their past lives.  Detailing their different lives together, the stranger clearly also knows a lot about Wang’s current life, including his troubled marriage and his young daughter.  Desperate to find out who his “stalker” is, Wang becomes obsessed with the letters, and in the process confronts his own troubled past.  This is a dark fucking book, and it isn’t for the faint of heart because it honestly has a little bit of everything--to the point that I couldn’t give it a 5/5 because I did find some points a bit too disturbing.  Not in a gratuitous sense--it was the right choice for the book, just not always for me the reader.  But it is so well-written, and really original, and interesting in a way that so many reincarnation books aren’t.  It goes to some very interesting places, and was incredibly gripping.  For that matter, you get to see a number of different periods of Chinese history, which is always fun to read about.  Highly recommend if you’re looking for something really different.

Because You Love to Hate Me, edited by Ameriie.  3/5.  This anthology--featuring authors like Renee Ahdieh, Marissa Meyer, Susan Dennard, and more--focuses on villains.  Each story is actually a response from the author to a challenge given by a different writer; the challenger follows up the story with an essay, reacting to the story and discussing villainy.  Many of the stories are takes on classic villains--Moriarty from the Sherlock Holmes series, The Little Mermaid’s sea witch, the Erl-King/Queen--while a few others are completely original.  As with almost any anthology, this was a bit of a mixed bag.  A few of the stories were really excellent.  “Marigold” was the first thing I’d read from Samantha Shannon, and now I’d really like to see something else from her.  “Jack” was one of the few stories I found actively gruesome, and “Gwen and Art and Lance” was a pleasant, different surprise.  “Indigo and Shade” and “The Sea Witch” were also interesting.  However, a few of the stories weren’t for me just because of their style or content, and a few more seemed to fail at really being... well, about villains.  I felt like I was reading a bit too much about sympathetic villains, you know?  And the essays weren’t really for me--they felt like Tumblr posts.  But with that being said, it was enjoyable, and I think a lot of people would love it.

Final Girls by Riley Sager.  5/5.  At nineteen, Quincy Carpenter survived a massacre at Pine Cottage, during which all of her friends was killed.  As the only survivor, Quincy was immortalized by the press as one of the “Final Girls”, the other two being Lisa Milner and Samantha Boyd, who survived similar such massacres.  Ten years later, Quincy is shocked when Lisa commits suicide, and the mysterious Samantha shows up on her doorstep immediately after.  If you’re a fan of slasher movies, I highly recommend this book, which not only deconstructs the “final girl” archetype but tells a hell of a story.  It shifts between the present and what happened to Quincy on the night she survived, and both stories are equally compelling.  Quincy is a remarkably complex and flawed character, as is Sam--I was enthralled by both.  While I had an inkling about one of the twists, I certainly didn’t predict all of them.  It’s not only a great story, but an important one--while few of us experience traumas as horrible as Quincy’s (thankfully) the way she dealt with hers was very familiar to me, and the Sager does an excellent job of examining the difference between being fine on the surface and being fine in reality.  A must-read.

Every Last Lie by Mary Kubica.  2/5.  Clara, mother to a four-year-old daughter and a newborn boy, has her world shattered when her husband is killed in a car wreck.  What is written off as a tragic accident becomes more complicated when their daughter, Maisie--who was in the car with Nick when he died--insists that her father was being chased by a “bad man”.  Becoming obsessed with what happened to Nick, Clara begins to trace the last few months of her husband’s life--while, in alternating chapters, we see the truth unveiled from Nick’s perspective.  I gave this book two stars instead of one because I do think it portrays grief well--Clara is irrational to the point where she becomes unhinged and obsessive, and this does ring true to me, especially since she’s probably suffering from postpartum depression as well.  But the ending.  UGH.  THE FUCKING ENDING.  It ruined the book for me, as did the fact that we were clearly supposed to sympathize with Nick when he was a complete dirtbag.  Spoiler alert: Nick wasn’t cheating on Clara like you might initially think (he keeps going on and on about her pregnant body, and I was like wait are you into this or are you resentful of it idek) but he was keeping a million things from her.  An ex-girlfriend showing up in his life again, a kid that was possibly fathered by Nick before he met Clara, a malpractice suit, the fact that he’s apparently the worst dentist on Earth and deserved the malpractice suit...  God.  I should have known that I would hate Nick as soon as I realized he was a dentist.  Clara isn’t much better.  She idolizes Nick, jumps from one conclusion to the other over the course of a couple pages, and honestly doesn’t seem to have any kind of life outside her husband and kids.  Drop this, read Final Girls.

Close to Shore by Michael Capuzzo.  3/5.  In 1916, the Jersey Shore experienced a series of shark attacks that would really be the first attacks in American history to capture the public’s imagination.  They remain pretty distinct, as they occurred in a short period (from July 1 to July 12) across both the ocean and a nearby creek, and four people were killed and one injured by what seemed to be a single shark.  I read this in honor of Shark Week and because I’ve always been seriously fascinated by these attacks, ever since I was very young.  Capuzzo does a good job of describing the shark’s potential life and the attacks themselves.  But he also spent a lot of time fleshing out the lives of people who often weren’t even the attack victims themselves but their loved ones, which like.. fine, I’m sure that worked for a lot of people, but I’m here for the attacks.  I also feel like more time should have been spent on discussing theories regarding shark behaviors and what made these attacks so unique--and were they really unique at all?  Capuzzo seemed to be very set on the idea that this was a juvenile great white, that it was attacking for these reasons, etc.  And not all scientists, at least from what I’ve read, agree with him--even a discussion of outlying, unlikely theories would have been nice.  Capuzzo also didn’t seem to explain why he was so set on the great white theory, when a bull shark would be another likely candidate--some would say more likely than a great white, especially during the creek attacks.  With that being said, if you’re interested in the topic it’s a quick read and nicely informative.  To paraphrase Jon Snow, I like the shark bits.

[brujahinaskirt]

YOUNG MILLENNIALS. Listen, I gotta tell you all something about your student habits, because I’m sick of hearing older folks who’ve never set foot in a classroom with millennials dictate your behavior to me.

I’m a “middle child” millennial and a college instructor. Specifically, I teach writing – creative, persuasive, and analytical. Thanks to my subject, I’ve the good fortune of teaching diverse age groups. So let’s talk about you, wee millennials.

Boomers pretty regularly chime in to tell you that you’re the worst generation of students to ever punch and kick your way up to academia. I don’t have to recap this, right? That you have no attention span, that you’re inherently disrespectful, that you’re as-a-rule entitled, and that – in so many words – your brains have been somehow blunted by the media you consume, leaving you with heads full of unimaginative kibble.

This familiar? I fucking bet it is. People have been blasting you with this all your life, probably. But you know what I see in you the most? It’s not entitlement. It’s not inattention. It’s fear of failing.

I can see so many of you feel unsure of yourself in class. You’re used to being told that your ideas are arrogant and underformed, maybe. Maybe you were from the GiftedTM child echelons, pressured by expectations so intense you now equate difficult tasks with unworthiness or low intelligence. Look, whatever the reason: as a generation, and as an age group, so many of you have already gagged yourselves before you even step into my room, before you even hit twenty-one. You’re an uncomfortable kind of quiet. The restless, disconcerting quiet you get when you shake the shit out of a soda can – when you can squeeze your palm tight and actually feel the chemical reactions trapped behind the tin.

Some of you deflect that fear by avoiding interacting with me and trying to hide among your classmates. Some of you ignore the reading material and assignments, using underpreparation as an excuse not to try. But when you overcome that – when, with a little coaxing, you commit to poking out of your bubble of shame – I want you to know that you consistently amaze me. 

God, I wish you could see yourselves thinking things through together like I see you do every day. You’re bar none my brightest, most argumentative, most intellectually courageous students. Your minds crank and turn in these wild right angles. You all are like baby spiders, jumping between diverse topics connected by gossamer threads so novel and so new, sometimes I take longer to map them than you do. You are the ones who ask questions I can’t answer off the cuff. You’re willing to take risks, to go places, and to work through your emotions openly in a way my older students rarely do.

Do you know the raw, authentic, one-of-a-kind benefit that is to a classroom? In case you don’t, let me tell you as a teacher that in a classroom full of tuned-in young millennials, I know someone is going to walk out of that course with prejudices challenged and assumptions shaken in special ways I, as an instructor, cannot recreate by myself. You don’t make me ugh and whine to my colleagues. I love having you in class. When I have a room full of energized young millennials – those who have decided to refuse to feel ashamed of their youth – I never have dead air. I always have debates and passions and questions. That’s a professor’s dream.

Sure, I often have to chide a sprinkling of you for chronic redditing in class (because somebody doesn’t realize those bay windows behind you reflect screens), and yeah, you have what we’ll gently call a “creative wordcount inflation” problem. (Dude, look at what I do; I know the difference between double-space and triple-space action. C’mon.) But that’s a maturity and empathy thing, not a generational thing; most of you snap out of it and grow up fast once you realize I’m a human, too. The rest of those anti-millennial stereotypes are pure whipped bullshit.

You’ve been pitted against rigid expectations of a limited definition of greatness all while being heaped with extreme economic anxiety and condescending noise for so long. So my advice to the millennial in undergrad – or any school – is to try, bit-by-bit or in big leaps, to let that millennial stereotype the world thrusts upon you go.  Fuck anyone who goes out of their hoary-ass way to give you an inferiority complex about how the rest of the world sees you. The fact is, yes: you’ve grown up with a powerful tool at your fingertips – a collection of data and connectivity your elders didn’t have – and it’s shaped you into something thoughtful, dreamy, righteous, and intense. You are so full of new ideas and questions. The best thing you can do for yourselves is to open the fucking soda, babies, and give yourself a chance to think openly and beautifully. You may misstep here and there, you may make some messes, but whatever they may tell you -- you’re supposed to do that. That’s how you change and make change. You won’t regret it.

Yall frustrate the hell out of me sometimes, and sometimes I have trouble convincing you that you’re not the hapless, hopeless kids everyone has been so condescendingly saying you are. But you’re worth it. Even if you don’t think you are yet – you’re worth it to me.

P.S. IT’S FUCKING ALWAYS THE VERY MATURE & RESPECTFUL BOOMERS WHO CAN’T GET THE FUCK OFF THEIR PHONES