#and it's like. everyone deserves access. Know that i understand things worth doing take effort

[lala-blahblah]

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[wisteria-lodge]

lion primary + slightly burnt bird secondary

Hello ! I did the quiz twice with slightly different results and I wanted to have your opinion cause I'm having trouble figuring it out. I tried to keep it short, but it's 4 pages on my google sheet i'm sorry, if it's too long I'll cute some parts there's not problem ! 

Also, I hope it's the right "place" to send it, I wasn't sure. 

You're doing great, although all that apologizing his making me think we're going to run into some burning here.

PRIMARY 

Lion: “Lions are probably the most likely to forgive their enemies, if those enemies seem to repent and change.” → I always say that it’s how you end that matters, not who you were before. 

I mean, I would hope so. That's a human thing. The real question is what proof will you take that someone has really changed. That's where we start getting into primaries.

“For a Badger, it is not about sides or repentance; it is about the inherent worth of a human being. Badgers who value other people in that way can and often will help someone or forgive someone who they dislike, distrust, or disrespect.” → No way. Not everyone deserves respect or help. It’s better to be right than kind. And being kind to someone bad isn’t right. 

That's intense. And probably points to either a Lion (possibly a Badger defining people out of their community, it depends where the rest of this goes.) But I'm leaning Lion. This knee-jerk 'some people are just BAD' and 'it's WRONG to be kind to bad people,' is a Lion's felt morality. A Badger would be more likely to say something like 'lack of kindness CREATES bad people,' or that the kindness *itself* is moral, rather than the Lion classic 'it's better to be morally right than to keep the peace.'

Snake vs Lion: If Snakes will be loyal to their loved ones and they won’t leave them on any instance, but Lions will be willing to leave friends or family members behind if they disagree on some important values and principles, then I’m stuck between the two.

Family is very important to me. I’ve always been close to my parents, sister and brother. We share the same principles and we generally agree on the same things but there are still differences sometimes that bothers me (ordinary sexism for ex).  At one time, I was so pissed off that I didn’t want to see them during the holidays. But I feel like it’s my responsibility to make them understand my point of view and to educate them on certain subjects. I wouldn't do this much effort for people I barely know, but it’s my family and I don’t want to lose them. I think that if they were really intolerant and opposed to my principles, I would avoid them, but I would be really depressed about it. And I’ll never stop trying to change their minds. 

That's... a really really REALLY Lion primary answer.

I hate losing people. I’ve always wanted a friendship that would lasts forever. But I had this friend, she was “problematic”. But, bc she was my friend, I was avoiding some topics so that we could just chill. But she started to debate at parties, and me, hearing these things, I couldn't stay silent. And then she was like “you’re so annoying, we can’t say anything with you”. I tried to explain to her how I was feeling so she could understand me. But due to our disagreements and her refusal to listen to me, I ended our friendship.

Lion. Lions have a LOT of trouble nurturing friendships or close relationships with people whose stances don't line up with theirs. And it might be hard, but they ultimately feel good and kind of badass about giving those people reduced access to them.

It was a bit hard, but I won’t accept toxic relationships and intolerant people. 

Like, if you were a Snake, you would have just rolled your eyes when your friend started talking politics at parties, and changed the subject. It wouldn't have felt like it mattered all that much. I'm also considering Lion secondary to you, because going into hard-core debate at parties is a *choice,* and not one that everyone would make. Because like you say, it runs the risk of making you seem annoying, a buzzkill, holier-than-thou. But a Lion secondary is willing to take the hit, and they get a lot of their power that way.

“Ultimately, lions are about their principles, not people. No matter the means, if the end is what is needed, then it all works out.” → Principles are important because people are. When you fight for a cause, you fight for people. I think it’s more like Lions fight for people they don’t know personally, who can be different, because it’s right, whereas Snakes for instance can do that but it’s not their priority. As for the end justify the means, again, it depends on the situation. I wouldn’t agree with this every time. Also, I realized that if I knew everyone personally, I wouldn't fight for them, I would fight them.

Oh man, are either are really a Lion secondary, or just REALLY live in your primary.

(The rest of it is just people stuff)

I often wonder if people are worth it. (cf. wonder woman “they don’t deserve our help”). Like, I have the feeling that almost everyone is either sexist, racist, lgbtphobic, etc. when they’re not all of that at the same time. 

You know, I am going to pull up that scene from Wonder Woman. I want to talk about how it fits into this system.

DIANA: My mother was right. She said `the world of men don't deserve you.' That's why she left. They don't deserve our help.

STEVE: It's not about whether they deserve it or not. It's about what you believe. You think I don't get it? All I've seen out there? I wish I could tell you that there was one `bad guy' to blame. Maybe we're all to blame. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try to do better. (beat) And if you believe this war should stop, Diana, if you want to stop it, then help me stop it.

Diana is a hurting Lion primary. It seems pointless, it seems hopeless, she's lost that burning moral certainty she had in the beginning. She doesn't even know if she wants to end the war anymore. But Steve is as Badger as Badger can get. He says it's a trap to talk about who 'deserves' saving, because everyone contributes to the whole, and all you can do push that whole back, or further into the light.

But that doesn't make sense to Diana. She's not really part of the whole, after all (she's both a really loud Lion, and an Amazon.) The argument that *does* make sense to her is the one she expresses later on.

DIANA: It's not about deserve... It's about what you believe... and I believe in love --

If you're a Lion, you *have* to believe in something, you just do. And Diana doesn't believe in people. She doesn't have to. She believes that love makes things better, and so she will love the world.

I believe that reformism is a tool when you have nothing else to ameliorate people’s conditions of life, but that only a revolution can change the system. But revolutions are violent, deadly, and even though I support it, would I be brave enough to give up my privileges, my life, my dreams, to fight for what’s right? I hope so. 

 I’ve always thought of Lion as the “activist." And I try to fight for what’s right. One day when I was a kid, my dad told me about the workers in the UK who went on strike for ONE YEAR in 1984-1985. He said some of them were so poor they had to eat rats and I was so shocked and admirative of their bravery that I still remember it years later. I’m always wondering if I could be as brave as them, and honestly, I don’t think so. But I try to be.

Strikes work. And I dunno. Everyone does suck, at least a little, and we should all do what we can to make ourselves healthier, wiser, better educated versions of ourselves. But that's kind of the point of Wonder Woman, and why it has to be set during World War I. People are capable of insane evil. But they're also capable of intense good, and if you burn it all down, you burn down the good too.

I try with small things, like saying what I think, not letting an injustice be unpunished. For example, my mother’s boyfriend said sexist and racist stuff so I stood up. I also try to do this at parties. It’s not easy bc i’m often portrayed as a buzz killer, a feminazi or else. But I feel really bad when I don’t do it, I feel guilty.  

You feel morally in the wrong (because you're a really loud Lion.) I'd watch that retribution streak though. That's something I tend to see with Exploded Lions.

Lion vs Bird:  Concerning my beliefs and principles, I like to have an opinion about everything bc I don’t believe in neutrality. Like, it’s okay not to know what to think about something, but it has to be temporary. I inform myself a lot. I want to know the truth, I believe there is one. Of course, reality is complex. But that doesn’t mean that there are not fair and unfair situations. Sometimes, it can be both. And for certain topics, I knew something was wrong even before getting some information and arguments, just cause I felt it was wrong. 

We've definitely got a little Bird secondary going on here. Could be a model you love. Could just be your secondary.

“They can often feel extremely strongly about something… but have trouble breaking down their argument or explaining why (at least in the moment). You’re more likely to hear something like, “it’s wrong because it’s just wrong” from a Lion. They have internal voices which are very important to them, and matter a lot when they make decisions.” → THIS !!!! For example with death penalty, I felt it was wrong without knowing anything around this debate. I only read and did research after. Sometimes, I do some research on a topic because I don’t have an opinion on it, other times I do this but I already have an opinion and I'm searching for arguments to justify it. 

Lion primary. And from one Lion primary to another, beware any black-and-white worldview. It's a thought-killer. But yeah, sometimes you have to go though the process of deciding *why* you think something.

“A Bird can explain the structure of ‘why’ they believe what they believe (and will probably be thrilled you asked. More importantly, they will be happy to field any questions and have a discussion about it. A Lion might do this… but it would be an all-around more stressful conversation, and not a fun thing to do over brunch.” → Reading this, I thought about all the debates I had about feminism, rape culture, the use of racist or homophobic slurs and yes this is stressful, because people say horrible things.

Of course, you're fighting from a place or morality (not practicality or utility, which is always easier.) And, chances are when you're debating these things, you're fighting for your survival and of course that's stressful.

(it's just not a fair fight, when only one party is risking getting hurt)

It’s not that I doubt my arguments and analysis, just that people are not easily convinced, even with facts. 

My take on this is that very few people are convinced by facts, and almost never in-the-moment. Debates are not meant to change the mind of the person you're debating. They're meant to change the mind of any observers that might be on the fence, or to get into someone's mind like a splinter and just sort of - wait their chance.

So yeah, don't let racist jokes slide (I wouldn't) but also don't... feed the trolls. There are a lot of people who want to make bad-faith arguments just designed to get you angry. And you can't teach people who don't want to learn. Just do your thing, be visible, and when those people are ready - they know where to find you.

“When Lions change their minds it’s a much messier situation, and takes a lot longer.” → Some of my opinions have changed, evolved. It’s unpleasant to see that we were wrong, but not everyone can be right every time. The important thing to me is to realize your faults and act better. But yeah, sometimes, it hurts. 

It does. But it sounds like you already know that the most important thing is to remember that you might be working with flawed/incomplete data just the same as everyone else, and *always* might be wrong.

“There are also [Birds] who believe that truth is discoverable, and there is a universal, objective truth, and that they have found it. Maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s solid, and they’re sure that if they explain it sufficiently to someone else, that person would also see the truth of it. [Bird] Primaries also value internal consistency. Hypocrisy means that something is off, and wrong, and it irritates them.” →  Hypocrisy is one of the things I hate the most specifically because it’s pure lies, denial and bad faith. I always make sure that I’m always in the truth and on the right path, and that I don’t let myself get carried away by my ego or else. Not always easy. 

I know that 'hypocrisy' is often held up as THE thing that most annoys Birds, but all your language here is really Lion. 'Denial' 'Bad faith' - that's feeling something is right and deliberately going against it (a lion would *hate* that.) And really intense, exploded Lions tend to get swallowed up by their ego... while intense exploded Bird almost have no ego at all.

 SECONDARY

I think the first time I did the quiz I had bird secondary, but the second time I did it, I had this result : Burned Snake Secondary.

Okay, that's really interesting. I totally see the Bird, but I never would have guessed *snake.*

It said that:  “It doesn’t feel deceitful to a Snake to change to fit the needs of their environment: to be kind with this person, forceful with this one, erudite to the next. This adaptability can be applied to manipulation, influence, and power, but a Snake secondary can just as easily focus their efforts on maintaining friendships, making people happy, encouraging positive social change, or streamlining communication.” → I’d feel bad if I was being nice to someone I hate except if the point behind this fake nice attitude was to trick them. Because then, it would be justified and not just because I’m scared to say what I think of them.

This seems to tie back to your primary. It's not uncommon for Idealists (Lion and Bird) to be REALLY against lying - even a little bit, in any circumstance. It's very Kant. BUT, if your primary was okay with lying for some reason... then of course lying would be all right.

But "being nice to someone I hate [because] the point behind this fake nice attitude was to trick them" isn't a Snake sentiment, because that wouldn't feel fake to a Snake. It wouldn't feel deceitful, it wouldn't feel like lying, it would feel like just a communication style.

If anything, what you're describing here sounds *more* like a situation specific Actor Bird - a you have a Nice!You, in order to get things from people you hate.

As a teen, I wanted to be myself,

Human stuff. (But that kind of existential how-do-I-define-myself angst is especially common with Lion primary.)

but I also wished for people to see my worth. I was searching for others’ validation and it often led me to elaborate a bunch of strategies to get noticed and “admired” where I needed to be a bit hypocritical sometimes. But this whole era is hard to explain. 

Glory Hound Lion primary. (It's common, it's a classic.)

“A burned Snake secondary might want to be flexible, adaptable, and clever, but they feel like they are (or like people think they are) clumsy, unobservant, or blunt.” → I sometimes feel like I’m dumb in the way like I’m not particularly cunning but I wish to be. 

Look... everyone thinks Snake secondaries are cool...

SNAKE : “They naturally create the mask, the persona, that the situation requires, and shift out of it just as easily.” → I try to put on masks to appear on my best day, especially with people I just met. But it’s so hard to keep it, I usually forget how I was supposed to act and talk, and end up being my normal self. But I like the cunning part, I don’t know if i’m good at that but I would love to be. I have this recent example where I wanted to know something about a friend of mine, but it felt weird and rude to ask her directly so I bypassed the topic and she told me what I wanted to know. 

I think all this is just being garden-variety polite. (Which you talk about as basically as an Actor Bird persona, that you don't especially love.)

I also try to adapt to people in order to convince them. I know how they can react and I adapt my speech to them, because if I don’t, they’re gonna reject it directly. But I don’t think I’m snake bc I can’t restrain myself from being myself. For example, when I was like 12, I was in this awkward situation where my friends and I were hanging out, and one of my “friends” mocked me, while the others said nothing. It was a habit : this girl bullied me but we still hung out bc we had the same friends. It happened to me again a couple of years ago. So I was shutting my mouth bc I was afraid of losing all my friends if I stood up. But eventually one day, I was so angry that I told them how I felt. Both times, one month is all I could endure of their bullying. And both times, when I spoke, it just slipped out. I really had zero control. And even though I was afraid of the consequences, it felt good to say the truth and not let them walk over me. 

Hmmm. I mean, no one likes being bullied. And just blurting out stuff unwisely because you're angry, that's just a person thing. It didn't make you feel strong after all, it make you feel out of control. Which is why it doesn't seem to point to your secondary.

In general, you seem pretty comfortable with the single-player version of your Bird secondary. But you're in process of getting comfortable with the multi-player version. You... don't totally trust your ability to use it yet, but I'm not sure I would call it burned.

I also had a LION MODEL which says that: “Lion values honesty and integrity. If you model Lion secondary, you also value these things and like to live by them. You like to be honest, straightforward, and consistent-- but you wouldn't feel guilty for abandoning those values in the service of other, higher priorities. It would be nice if you could always say what you mean and stick with it-- but sometimes you have to be circumspect, restrained, or practical, and you don't feel bad about that.” And elsewhere I red about Lions secondary that : “Every other secondary will act or wear different personas, but to a Lion that feels immoral.” → I don’t think it’s immoral, but sometimes i’m tired of pretending. In fact, I like to put on a mask and play a part if it’s to manipulate people I don’t like, or if it’s just to obtain information that I can’t have just by asking. But I hate situations where I have to be polite and pretend that I like people I can’t stand. For example, I’ll have to have dinner with my mother’s boyfriend who said racist stuff and I’ll have to be polite and it’s going to make me feel bad/guilty. I try to be more honest. 

When you HAVE to do things, it make them a lot less fun. That's just being human. Authenticity is - a presentation that you have given your consent to, free and clear, in the knowledge that you could have just as easily said no. It's fun to play a part and be nice when it's you deciding to do that all on your own, to get something you want. But playing a part and being nice because you HAVE to, because you have no other choice... no one likes that.

 LIONS : “They charge into situations and have faith in their intuition” → I can feel in my gut that a situation is unfair

That's your primary talking.

but for general topics in everyday life, when I have a choice to make, I can’t decide. Choices are hard for me. I’m not an improviser, I plan everything. But sometimes, I wish I could let go of things. 

I'm really doubling down on Bird secondary for you. And feeling sort of stuck, incapable of making a practical decision - that's something I see with Bunt secondaries, *especially* with Burnt Bird secondaries.

“Lions solve problems by being committed (or stubborn.)” → I made myself a promise when I was a child, to never give up. I don’t even feel like I have a choice, I don’t like to give up on things or people, so I will always try. I only give up when I have no other choice.

That's your primary talking again. (You have a very loud primary)

BIRDS: When I was a kid, I wanted to be the smartest in the world like Einstein and thought that knowing everything by heart was enough 😂

Ooooh... young Bird. Such classic young Bird secondary.

Sometimes I’m scared not to have time to learn enough in my lifetime. And one of the reasons why I want to realize documentaries as my job, is to learn, and teach people. I want to give people information and try to make them understand things, and maybe change their minds, make them see the truth. 

I think you'd be a fantastic documentarian.

(Also? You've collected quotes about the different primaries and secondaries from at least three different sources, collected them here, and arranged your response around them. A very Bird secondary problem solving method.)

Since I was a child, it’s really hard for me to take decisions because first, I want everything lmao, and secondly, I'm always making sure I have all the information and I'm always waiting for the "perfect moment" so I just freeze in place.

A lot of Bird secondaries have this problem. And hate the idea that they're never going to know everything, or KNOW that something is the perfect moment. A Lion primary comes in handy here - sometimes you just have to kick your butt into doing *something*... because doing nothing is just as much as choice as everything else.

I love to-do lists. I love traveling and I make super detailed lists about the countries I want to visit and the things I wanna do and see in order not to forget anything. Because I don’t wanna miss a thing. I’m always afraid of wasting my time and life. I’m not against improvisation sometimes, but not when it could waste the only chance I have to do/see something that really matters to me. I know I want control over everything, and I’m a bit of a perfectionist too, often leading me disappointed. 

Bird. And watch that perfectionist streak. You'll never do anything if you only accept immediate perfection.

Badger : “Rather than an integrity of performance (as with Lion Secondaries, who must be themselves or wither), there is an integrity of method with Badger. Things must be earned. Interactions and achievements must be fair.”→  I do want to earn my success. But when it comes to decisions that have an impact on people, I wouldn’t mind using manipulation and lies. If, for example, the only way to legalize abortion at some point in one’s country was to threatened anti-abortion voters to make them change their votes, I would do it, because first I don’t mind if they got scared and most of all, because the stakes are too high.

Kind of an interesting way to end, okay. And let's unpack this.

First off, it's definitely not a Badger answer. A Badger would say that a victory built on an unstable foundation, like a foundation of fear, of propaganda, of misinformation, is never going to be a *lasting* victory. But Badgers generally take longer to get where they're going, and sometimes you *do* need something to happen *now* or someone's going to die, which is pretty much the only place threats of violence have. I mean, fear is just a bad motivator. It's that whole consensual behavior thing. If you only do something because you're afraid of what will happen to you if you don't, then you just get resentful and better at hiding.

You also like these hypothetical power fantasies. "If the only way to legalize abortion was to blackmail/exhort/threaten the friends and family of the people behind an anti-abortion bill, would you do it?" It's a fun philosophical question in a trolley problem kind of way, but practically - that's never going to be the case because the world isn't that simple. I get that you're young, I get that you feel powerless, I get that the idea of scaring these people that say things that scare you feels good. But I get protective of young firebrand Lion primaries, because we *do* need you, and I *don't* want you to burn yourself out. OR hit that "Everyone not with me is an enemy" mindset, which just narrows down choices and possibilities.

Stay strong. Find some good friends. Don't let your mom's boyfriend give you a hard time. You're going to be okay.

[kpopxx]

Spy Games [Chapter 1] : More Than It Seems

Characters: Twice Momo, Male Reader

4579 words

Authors Note: This is literally the first fiction writing I have done since I was a little kid writing stories about a town full of hamburgers. I was inspired to try my hand at writing by the plethora of amazing kpop smut writers out there right now, but by @lockefanfic​, @nsfwtwicecatcher​, @nsfwflint​, and @ggidolsmuts​ in particular. If there are any similarities between my writing and theirs, please forgive me as I’ve spent more hours than I’d care to admit “researching” their work. 

One thing that amazes me is how the hell everyone cranks out thousands of words with such frequency, as this post isn’t even 5k and it took forever to write. I can’t begin to explain how much respect I have for all the authors out there who can write so much and maintain such high levels of quality.

As a new writer, I welcome any and all feedback! Feel free to drop me a line if you have any critiques, or if you just want to chat!

***

“Coming up on the target now.” 

“Roger that, remember the office is on the top floor. Let us know when you’re inside. And remember, no elevators...” teases your handler, Choa.

“Thanks for the reminder,” you reply sarcastically.

You survey the skyscraper against the night sky--it would be impressive if it weren’t one of a hundred just like it downtown Seoul--and wonder what you had done to deserve getting the short end of the stick. Of course, you knew there was a reason to avoid the elevators: they sat directly in front of the building’s concierge and the cameras in the lobby, while the stairwell lay in a remote part of the first floor. The logic behind your impending hike didn’t make the reality any less abhorrent.

“Meanwhile, Seolhyun gets to infiltrate an organization in the Caymans. Just my fucking luck.” you grumble to yourself.

“Oh, stop whining, you big baby,” says Choa, reminding you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

You sneak past the lobby and towards the back of the floor you find the entrance to the stairwell in a poorly lit area.

“Beginning my climb.” you report, shaking out your legs as you prepare to go up.

“Sir, I-I’m getting some interference over comms,” chimes in the timid voice of the girl you knew to be your newest team member, Yoo Jeongyeon. “It could just be local chatter, but I want to make sure it’s not someone trying to listen in.”

“Probably nothing to worry about, but we’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about.” Choa assures you. 

As you climb up the stairs, you wonder why anyone would want to listen in on this particular mission. This was a run-of-the-mill operation to investigate money laundering at an accounting firm. You’d infiltrated foreign governments, broken into and bugged the offices of billionaire CEOs, and tailed enemy agents. You could understand people wanting to hear those comms, but this? Either someone wanted something to listen to as a sleep aid, or this mission was more interesting than it looked.

A tip had come in through one of the new girls at the Intel Desk reporting that there was some fishy activity related to organized crime going on at the accounting firm. This was routine and you’d gone on dozens of similar recon missions before: break in, find suspicious intel, get out. But if someone wanted so badly to hear what was going on, the new girl may have stumbled onto something worthy of a promotion. Hayoung, you think her name was. Her chestnut, shoulder-length hair along with her well-endowed physique reminded you of a young mother, but her mature beauty belied her young age. You had caught yourself more than a few times fantasizing about her in your off hours…

You stop mid-way in the stairwell, scolding yourself for losing focus. Too often over the course of the last year you found yourself fantasizing about the women in your life. Sure, before the incident with Eunha you had sexual thoughts about your coworkers--you were surrounded by beautiful women, after all. But recently you noticed that your life was increasingly preoccupied with sex: both in your thoughts and the real-life exploits you carried out. 

Much longer than a few minutes later, you reach the 63rd floor out of breath and sweating, wishing more than ever that it was you and not Seolhyun lounging on the beach. You take a moment to compose yourself before peeking out into the office floor to see if the coast is clear.

“We may have a problem, boss. Jeongyeon looked into the comms disturbance and someone much more sophisticated than the average joe is definitely trying to tap in,” Choa says. “Jeongyeon’s kicking their ass right now blocking their access, but there’s only so much she can do alone. Eventually we’re going to lose control of this channel.”

“Dammit. I knew something was off with this op,” you grumble. “If they want to listen in to whatever I find, it must be important. We’ll go dark. Recon says this should be a quick in and out anyways. I’ll tag you once I’m out.”

“Be careful. Signal us if anything goes wrong. Just don’t do anything stupid.” replies Choa. 

“What do you think they pay me all this money for?” you tease, wanting to put her nerves at ease. “See you on the other side. Over and out.”

You could hear the concern in her voice. Even though keeping you safe was part of her job, you knew she cared about you. You also knew as well as she did that anything could go wrong even in the five minutes it would take you to break in, especially when it appeared that someone knew exactly what you were doing.

You switch off your comms link and head out the door and into the office.

It looked exactly as you expected--rows and rows of non-descript cubicles, with a princely office lined with glass walls occupying the far corner. Jeongyeon had retrieved the floor plan by hacking into the building’s security database earlier in the week, and you knew after her effort tonight in detecting and fending off the comms interference that Choa would want you to acknowledge the work the new girl had been putting in. She certainly was more skilled than the five previous team members you’d fired after Eunha, but you found it difficult to bring yourself to praise her. The Ops Officer position she occupied was a sore point for you, after all.

You deftly pick the lock on the corner office door and immediately sit down in front of the terminal on the desk, logging in with the security bypass Jeongyeon drew up. 

Again your thoughts drift to Eunha. Eunha was your longtime Ops Officer--highly skilled, you trusted her more than anyone. It also helped that she was your fiance. It made you sad to think about her; about what could have been, what should have been. Over the past year, you were constantly reminded of her absence by the utter incompetence of her replacements. You suppose it was nice that at the very least, Jeongyeon didn’t give you many opportunities to bemoan her performance in the same way--to remind you of Eunha.

You shake your head, compelling yourself to rise out of your funk and get on with the mission.

As you scroll through files, you stop on one with a familiar signature. Reading its contents, your eyes open wider--suddenly you understand why someone would be interested to listen in to your communications. You quickly save the file to your flash drive and stand up to leave, only to be startled by a figure in the doorway.

“Care to tell me what’s on that?” comes a familiar voice from the darkness that you knew to be Hirai Momo’s. Momo was an agent for a foreign espionage agency--you had as friendly a rivalry as you could have when working for different governments. 

“What was the point of trying to hack our comms if you were just going to show up and ask me that?”

“I had no intention of coming until you decided to ghost your girlfriends,” teases Momo. “Besides, I like showing you how much better I am at sneaking around.”

Momo flicks on the light and she comes into focus. The Japanese government made a good decision when they hired her, you think. She was built for the job of a seductive spy. Her perfectly toned legs had a lovely sheen all the way up to her short skirt, while her cleavage suggested that her tits were ready to burst out of her tight, patterned blouse. Where most of your attention was drawn, however, was her lustrous blue hair, which fell to her shoulders.

“I may actually need your help with this, once you see what’s on it,” you say, nodding your head at the flash drive.

“Oh, so you’re willing to give it to me? I thought I was going to have to fuck you for it,” she says sarcastically. You knew behind the humor was more than a nugget of truth, though. Sex had been the primary vehicle for information trading with Momo over the years. You decide to test your reading of the situation.

“Just because I need your help doesn’t mean I’m giving it for free…”

Momo brings her thumb to her mouth and bites gently as she ponders your not-so-subtle proposition. She takes her turn to look you up and down, making you feel more than a little self conscious in her gaze of judgment. After so many years in the dangerous world of espionage, there were only a handful women who could make you feel so small. Then again, Momo was no regular girl. 

Once she’s satisfied she has properly appraised your worth, Momo lets go of her thumb and straightens her blouse.

“Fine,” she says matter-of-factly, “let’s get to it,” unbuttoning her blouse as she walks towards you.

You are surprised by the lack of fight she put up, but you thought it best to keep that to yourself. Her tone reminds you of a business meeting--that is, if you hadn’t seen her pull her top off as she approached you. She sits in your lap on the chair, wrapping her arms around your neck as you meet her lips for a kiss. Momo’s mouth was familiar to you, introduced to you many times throughout your career. It seemed like every time you ran across her you had sex. One thing you adored about your relationship with her was that it was absolutely without strings attached. You fucked for work, but just because it was part of the job didn’t mean you both didn’t enjoy it. 

Momo, however, was loath to admit the pleasure she got out of her liaisons with you. Call it pride, call it being professional, whatever--Momo refused to act like sex with you was anything other than work, no different than working in a spreadsheet.

You feel her reach down to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them as she sinks to her knees in front of you. You smirk--her eagerness to please you betrayed her air of ambivalence.

Momo wastes no time getting down to business. You are certain the Japanese trained her very well in tender foreplay, but it seems she doesn’t care much for subtlety at the moment. Instead, she utilizes a more direct method to extract your pleasure--one that must have required its own fair share of training--as she spits on your cock before immediately forcing it as deeply in her mouth as she can take it. One, two, three bobs is all it takes for her to reach the base of your cock, her nose buried in your pelvis.

“Fuuuck me, that’s good,” you groan as you hold her head in place for several seconds, and Momo replies in turn with a cough that spits a healthy serving of saliva on to your cock. You release your grip on the back of her head to give her a chance to breathe, but she surprises you when she simply continues to work her mouth on your increasingly saliva-drenched cock, swirling her tongue around your base. Most of the other women you had slept with in recent months would be gasping for air by now, but Momo’s demeanor was cool, calm, and collected. Almost as if she was reading your mind, Momo paused her slurping and pulled her mouth off your shaft--but not forgetting to continue stroking it with achingly deft corkscrew motions.

“What’s the matter? Girls in your department not able to take care of your cock like a real woman?” Momo clicks her tongue and grins. “I’ve told you for years, you’d never be treated so poorly if you came to work for a professional outfit like ours.”

“Shut up and suck my cock.”

Momo shrugs, and gets back to the task at hand. Slobbering even more as she takes you into your mouth again, you pause to thank your lucky stars that you had a job that paid you in part to fuck women like Momo. You gaze upon her face, which has become just as messy as your cock. Momo’s sloppy blowjob has not only left liberal amounts of spit on your cock, but on her face as well--with strands of her blue hair plastered to her cheeks. Even though you thought it impossible, you feel your cock get harder at the sight of Momo’s messy face.

For several minutes, Momo continues inhaling your cock as you find yourself nearing the point of no return, you yank Momo’s head off your throbbing cock in order to prolong your session. A bit too forcefully, it seems, as Momo falls over onto her side.

“What the fuck!” yelps Momo as she picks herself back up, glaring at you. “I suck your cock and you thank me by throwing me on the ground?

“I didn’t mean to, I’m just not ready to cum yet. We both know you would’ve ignored me if I had asked you to stop.”

“I guess you’re right about that,” Momo replies sheepishly. You knew from previous run-ins with her that she loved nothing more than swallowing cum. Even though you had just denied her that favor, you were already thinking about how to make it up to her in a few minutes.

“How about I repay your kindness? Get up on the table and let me eat you.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. I’ll get up on the table, but you’re going to fuck me.”

“Someone’s eager to see what’s in this thumb drive,” you tease, inadvertently reminding yourself that this was a transactional liaison. You suspected that Momo’s interest in you extended beyond her desire for the information at hand, and part of you yearned to take her outside of the confines of work. You’re skeptical such a day would ever come, however, given how ambitious Momo was. 

You knew her story--she applied for a job in the Japanese spy agency several years ago, making it all the way through the process before being cut at the very end. She ended up receiving an offer shortly after one of the other finalists died in a ‘training accident’, but Momo lived with a chip on her shoulder ever since. She lived and worked with a pathological drive to prove the agency wrong in their original decision to cut her. Already the youngest lead operative in her country’s history, she had an eye on the directorship and seemed destined for it. So, you supposed, it was nice to be able to fuck her before she became famous.

Momo hops on up on the desk, hiking up her skirt to reveal a delicious-looking blue thong that matches her hair. She looks behind towards you with lust heavy in her eyes as she pulls her thong to the side, revealing her glistening pussy--already dripping, you noted.

“I don’t have all night.”

More than happy to oblige, you line your painfully throbbing cock up with her pussy and you can feel the warmth radiating from it. You take a second to appreciate Momo’s incredible physique as your hands graze downward from her upper back, to her hips, and finally to her ass. As you rub it, you cannot help but appreciate how sublimely taut it is. 

“Jeeze, you act like this is the first time you’ve seen a woman naked,” Momo jabs, interrupting your reverie.

You are starting to get annoyed with Momo’s demeanor. It was nothing new, really--she always carried an air of superiority--but it nonetheless grates on your nerves to see her be so dismissive. You are mature enough to understand that at least a part of this aggravation had to do with the fact that you knew Momo slept with plenty of men for work. Not so mature, however, to be able to stifle the primal urge deep inside of you that wanted Momo to see you as the best of all her lovers. More than ever, it seemed that sexual vanity mattered a great deal to your self-confidence.

With a renewed sense of purpose and your cock in hand, you enter Momo slowly with a long stroke until you fill her to the hilt. In unison with your initial insertion, Momo lets out a whine that crescendos as you bottom out.

As you begin to thrust in and out Momo settles in and widens her stance ever so little, which has the added benefit of allowing you to go even deeper into her warm, wet pussy. Momo was not a girl of surprises. Her face was gorgeous, capable of angelic beauty and fiery lust. Her body reflected the many hours she spent in the gym with ample breasts, insanely tight abs, and a toned ass to match. Her pussy feels exactly as sublime as her beautiful face and incredible body suggested. The perfect combination for a woman who used her body to seduce and take advantage of brainless men. You decide to push out your mind the realization that at this very moment, you are in fact one of those men.

You wanted to make sure Momo felt each and every drive into her hot flesh. Momo continued to moan quietly, each breath punctuated with a new thrust and the sound of your skin meeting hers.

“Looks like someone’s gotten real quiet all of a sudden,” you say, noticing her haughty attitude had subsided as pleasure took you both over.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Momo says, looking back at you with rekindled determination in her eyes, “you’re no better than half the guys I’ve been with. I’m here for the file, not for whatever you call this.” She cooly turns her head to face front again, leaving you seething.

Your twinge of annoyance was now a bubbling boil.

You slow down before withdrawing your cock from her warmth--Momo lets out the faintest whine of disappointment, betraying her dissatisfied front.

Just as Momo turns her head again to complain, you quickly slam your cock deep inside her. Momo yelps, and you notice her eyes bulge as you move your hips in a circular motion with your cock filled to the hilt, scraping deep inside her pussy. After several seconds of this you grab a makeshift ponytail out of her hair and yank backwards, causing her to gasp and arch her back instinctively. As much as she bothered you with her air of indifference, you had to admit that the image in front of you was the stuff of dreams.

Taking advantage of the highly erotic sight before you and the increased leverage offered by your grasp of her hair, you began to truly fuck her with quick and powerful strokes.

“Take it, Momo,” you grunted, beads of sweat beginning to form on your forehead.

Momo said nothing, emitting only breathless gasps from her open mouth. You noticed that their intensity was gradually increasing, so you increased the speed of your shaft penetrating her young, sinful body. You knew she was enjoying this, but you wouldn’t be satisfied until you broke her facade. You wanted her to lose herself to you.

You speed up even more, and the volume of your skin slapping together increases as her pussy drips wetter and wetter, mixing with your leaking precum. You are slamming your cock into her now, and Momo has to grab on to the table to steady herself. Slowly but surely her pretense was crumbling.

“You want it, don’t you Momo? You want more?”

“Fuck yeah,” Momo gasps hoarsely, struggling to speak with her hair being pulled, “Give it to me...o-oh...fuck, give it to me!”

Satisfied that she had succumbed to her pleasure, you relax your grip on her hair slightly and lean over to growl in her ear.

“I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna make sure you remember this, make sure every time you’re with another man you wish it was me.”

Momo acknowledges your promise with a deep groan, giving you great pleasure as you resumed fucking her gorgeous body.

Your eyes drift downward to her glorious ass, now shining with sweat and jiggling violently with each crash of your cock inside her. Inspired by the sight, you release her hair and put one hand on her hip and begin striking her ass with your other. Momo shrieks in surprise, but quickly looks back at you with lidded eyes while biting her lip to tell you she wanted more.

Again you oblige, and it was quickly becoming clear that lust and pleasure were staging a coup of Momo’s senses. She’s making lots of noise, but nothing intelligible. Nothing but guttural moans interspersed with high-pitched squeals. You continue spanking her ass, alternating cheeks--noticing a deep pink beginning to form on both. She’d most likely be dealing with soreness for several days after this, you think.

“You wanna cum, Momo? Cum for me, I know you want to.”

“Mmmmm...Ah, ah, AH! Unggghh,” comes Momo’s response.

“Come on Momo, fucking cum baby...cum all over this cock,” you shout, sincerely hoping there was no one working in an adjacent floor to hear.

“FUUUUCK!” Momo screams eloquently, suddenly dropping her head as her body begins convulsing. You knew what to expect having slept with her before, but you are nonetheless surprised to see how completely overtaken her body was by pleasure. Her upper body jerks spastically as her legs tremble with your cock plunged deep inside her pussy, all the while letting out a high-pitched whine that turns into a soft whimper. Just a few minutes before she was defiant and happy to throw insults at you...now she was a mewling, writhing mess incapable of speaking. The dark, primal part of you is satisfied by her tacit recognition of your talent.

After a short while, Momo begins to compose herself and lifts her upper body from the table. You take it as a sign to slowly resume taking your cock in and out of her. You decide to give her now glowing pink ass a rest and caress her back, tracing long lines with your nails.

“Mmmmm, that feels good,” Momo says, her eyes still closed, “you fuck me so good.”

You slowly begin ramping up the pace, rolling your hips with each stroke. You want to make sure your cock pleases every inch of Momo’s pussy, and make sure it craves you when she’s alone at night. 

After several minutes of this tender, softer version of lovemaking, Momo comes back to her senses. She arches her back again and turns her head to gaze in your eyes as you continue to take her. She begins to move her ass back and forth on your cock in unison with your own strokes.

“Oh my god, you feel so good in my fucking pussy! Every...fucking...stroke!” Momo gasps, the final words punctuated by the force of her majestic ass crashing against your cock.

“You’re a bad girl, Momo,” you tease, “you like being taken and shown who’s boss, don’t you? You like me grabbing your hair and slapping your ass?”

“Yes!” she gasps, “Yes I love it! Mmmmm...I want you to fuck me until you cum. Fuck me until you cum!”

There was no command in the world easier to follow.

Satisfied that you had fulfilled your vain, immature desire to see her acknowledge your skill as a lover, you now focus yourself on extracting pleasure from the young woman beneath you. You settle into a pace with rough strokes, fiercely pounding her over and over. Your pleasure rises with each thrust, aided not only by the mindblowing caress of her pussy, but by the incredible sight of Momo on all fours before you moaning with each strike of your cock inside her.

“Fuck Momo...I don’t think I have much longer, I’m gonna fucking cum so hard!”

“Yes,” comes the response from Momo, “Yes, yes! Fucking cum baby, I want your cum so bad!”

A few more thrusts and you can feel the point of no return coming. For a brief moment you contemplate cumming inside Momo, to truly claim her. You quickly reconsider, wanting to give her what she truly wanted--to swallow your load.

And so, you quickly withdraw your cock from Momo’s now sopping wet pussy and she instinctively turns around and drops to her knees on the floor. Stroking your cock with great fervor, her mouth wide open begging for what was to come.

“Please give me your cum, please, please! I want it...I need it! Cum for me!”

Your head tilts backward as a long groan escapes your lips. Your cum explodes from your shaft, shooting long, thick ropes of semen into her mouth and onto her cheeks and nose. Over and over, your cum splashes on her beautiful face until you finally reach the end of your orgasm, panting and exhausted. Momo’s face is a pornographic picture of lust, her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she swallows the mass of cum you deposited in her mouth.

“I fucking love your cum,” Momo says as she wipes the remaining cum off her face with her finger and promptly brings it to her tongue before swallowing it down as well.

“I’m glad we were both able to get what we wanted,” you say, struggling to catch your breath.

“Speaking of getting what I wanted…” Momo says, nodding her head to the part of the floor where the USB drive now sits, evidently thrown from the table during the session that had just taken place.

“Right,” you say, suddenly remembering you’re here for work, “make a copy and let’s get out of here.”

“Great,” says Momo, still on the floor with a satisfied smile of content on her face, “Hey, I meant what I said about having you join our team. As much shit as I give you, we could really use someone with your talent.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m better off staying put. Don’t think the Korean government would let me live if I tried defecting.”

“Probably true,” says Momo as she begins picking up her clothes, “Never hurts to ask, though.”

***

A few minutes later, you and Momo had both gotten dressed and copied the file onto a drive for her. Momo disappeared into an adjoining hallway and you set off to traverse the stairwell again. As you prepare yourself for the descent, you also steel yourself for the repercussions of giving the intel to a foreign spy agency. With the information you saw in the file, you knew the Japanese would have to be looped in sooner or later. If it was going to happen eventually, you thought it made the most sense to entrust that intel to the agent on the other side you knew would make sure things got done correctly. As logical as it seemed to you, however, you knew it wouldn’t be taken well back at the office.

You click on your comms link, now knowing there’s nothing to fear. 

“Hey Choa, I’m on my way back to the rendezvous.”

“Oh thank god! That took forever, I was about to call for a tac team!” Choa sighs with audible relief, “I take it you got everything you needed?”

“Got more than I needed, actually,” you say, nervous about Choa’s reaction to what you say next, “Listen, there’s one small thing you should know...”

“You did WHAT?!”

[mellometal]

WHAT'S GOING ON? THIS IS PART TWO OF ME RIPPING APART DHAR MANN'S VIDEOS ABOUT FATPHOBIA! Whoo-hoo!

Before I get started, here's an obligatory trigger warning: This post will be talking about fatphobia, bullying, homelessness, mentioned ED, fat shaming, shaming a person FOR EATING, and the abused thanking his abuser AS AN ADULT for tormenting him as a young, impressionable teenage boy.

If any of that is triggering, upsetting, or makes you uncomfortable in any way, you don't have to read this post. Please consume media that sparks joy for you.

This time, there won't be a response from me about this video, like I usually do with all my Dhar Mann posts. If you want to see my response, refer to my first post about fatphobia (the one about the plus-size woman being fat shamed). It does tie in with this post, as my thoughts on this video are the exact same here. Yes, even though this is about a (at the time) plus-size black teenage boy being targeted. Search for the "dhar mann talk" tag and it's one of the most recent posts. I don't believe anyone should be shamed for their weight. Your weight doesn't hold any significance to your worth as a person. Don't let anything or anyone tell you otherwise.

With all of that out of the way, let's get to the video!

To sum up the video, it starts out with a plus-size black teenage boy (Kurt or "Big Boy", as he's called almost throughout the entire video) who's on a basketball court at school with his friend (Mike), a few other teenage boys, and Mike's uncle (Frank) is their coach. Mike is the captain on one team, Frank is the captain on the other team. They're picking teammates, and everyone is on a team except for Kurt and another boy. Frank says to his nephew to not pick Kurt (he called him "Big Boy" instead) because "he'd never win with him". LIKE THEY WERE PLAYING FOR THE NBA. CALM YOUR DICK. HOLY FUCKING HELL. THEY'RE KIDS.

Mike, not listening to his uncle (good for him), picks Kurt anyway. Kurt is happy and thanks his friend for picking him. Mike gives Kurt a shirt that looks at least a couple sizes too small for him and would be pretty uncomfortable to wear. This isn't Mike's fault, obviously. Kurt politely asks if they had a bigger shirt. Obviously not an unreasonable request. They're playing a sport that requires lots of movement (honestly, pretty much any sport would apply here, except for maybe golf or cricket) so it's understandable to want to at least be comfortable and have room to move around. Frank mocks A LITERAL TEENAGER with the whole "You think you're shopping at Big&Tall?" line and then says that's the only size they had (why couldn't they supply inclusive sizes in the first place, or at least ASK Kurt what his size was IN ADVANCE?), which....umm, I'm actually GLAD plus-size clothing for men (Big&Tall, in this case) is more readily available and accessible now. I'm happy plus-size clothing in GENERAL is like that now.

Mike comforts Kurt and says the shirt might fit. The shirt does KIND OF fit Kurt, but it's obvious he's uncomfortable. Look at this screenshot here:

Frank laughs at Kurt, says he looks like Barney The Dinosaur, and the other kids laugh along with their coach. This is NOT setting a good example for children, Frank. You're a fucking teacher. You're a COACH. You're supposed to be teaching these kids about sports and shit. You're supposed to be setting a good example for these kids about teamwork and sportsmanship. WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO A TEENAGE BOY, WHO IS MOST LIKELY ONE OF YOUR STUDENTS, IS TEACHING NONE OF THOSE THINGS. You're teaching these kids that bullying their peers for things they can't help having is okay. Do better. (I'd say that he's an adult and should act like one, but I'm an adult and I barely act like one a lot of the time, so that'd make me a hypocrite.)

While I may be fortunate to have had a physical education teacher who never bashed on me or shamed me for my weight and she would cheer me on for whatever amount of effort I made the first and only year I had actual P.E., I know that many other kids who are plus-size most likely has/had horrible P.E. teachers or coaches like Frank.

To anyone who has/had a teacher or coach like Frank, I'm so sorry, kiddos. You don't deserve to be bullied by your own teachers. I wish I could give all of you a hug, but I can give y'all virtual hugs instead! *virtual hugs* /p

So they play a game of basketball, and Kurt is struggling to fully play because the shirt he was given was probably cutting off some circulation, especially in his arms (again, do I need to reiterate that this was NOT Mike's fault and is FRANK'S fault for his ignorance and negligence). Frank mocks his nephew Mike by saying that he told him not to pick Kurt. Why? Because according to him, Kurt will never make anything of himself in life due to him being fat. (AGAIN, THIS IS NOT TRUE.)

Then it cuts to Kurt sitting with Mike, who's working on his car and Kurt's working on his own thing. Mike says he believes one day he'll own a nice, brand new Cadillac. Kurt is very supportive and cheers his friend on. He says that he believes he'll be one of the biggest radio show hosts and has a title for it called "Big Boy's Neighborhood". Both of them are hyping each other up. Love to see men supporting men. Mike pulls out his Walkman (they were HUGE back in the 80s and 90s because you could listen to the radio from anywhere, I have a Sony Walkman mp3 player, but it's a newer model), and Kurt says that he's always wanted one but couldn't afford it. (I'll go into why in a second.)

Frank comes over to reprimand Mike, who has done NOTHING WRONG, for talking to Kurt. Instead of working, which Mike WAS actually doing. He tries to tell his uncle this, but he wasn't having it. Frank then reprimands Kurt, who also has done NOTHING WRONG, for just sitting and apparently "distracting Mike" (he wasn't). He asks if there's any work he was supposed to do. Kurt FINALLY stands up to Frank in a polite, mature manner. He says that just because he wasn't working with his hands, it didn't mean he wasn't working. Frank ridicules Kurt some more, Mike tells his uncle to leave his friend alone, and Kurt stands up to Frank AGAIN, still being polite and mature. UNLIKE THE ACTUAL ADULT ACTING LIKE A CLICHÉ MIDDLE SCHOOL BULLY WHO PROBABLY PEAKED IN HIGH SCHOOL. How fucking ironic.

What does Frank do in response to Kurt standing up to him? INSULTS THE KID SOME MORE. He tells Kurt that he must have "pig fat for brains" (which is not only insulting to Kurt, but also insulting to pigs, because pigs are intelligent animals), takes his small bag of Doritos, and says that he "doesn't need to be eating anything." He eats Kurt's Doritos IN FRONT OF HIM, tells Mike to quit letting his friend make him lazy (he wasn't doing that at all), and to get back to work.

THAT line made me livid. I've actually thought that I didn't deserve to eat anything because I'm plus-size as a teenager, and into my adulthood at a few points in my life. NEVER say that someone doesn't need to be eating anything. (Obviously except for poisonous things, inedible objects, and things that could and will kill them.) You could cause them to develop an ED, or trigger an ED if they already have one. THAT'S NOT A GOOD THING. EDs are no joke. Whether it be starving, purging, or binge eating, none of them are fun to have and/or to deal with. Even if they DON'T develop an ED, their relationship with food will be all sorts of fucky-wucky. Some even for the rest of their lives. Unless you get proper treatment, of course.

When Frank leaves, Kurt is obviously upset. Rightfully so. How he's feeling is justified. Mike comforts him and says to not let Frank get to him. Mike offers to take Kurt home, but then realizes that his friend and his mom got evicted and are homeless. (This is why Kurt couldn't afford to buy a Walkman.) Kurt, still distraught, says that he'll just walk. Mike invites him over for dinner and that he'd drop him off after, which Kurt agrees to.

They're at Mike's house, having dinner, and Mike's parents are talking to Kurt. They're being supportive. Frank walks in to have his sister's cooking. He sees that Kurt's there. Mike's parents introduce Frank to Kurt, tells him Kurt's gonna be on the radio one day, Frank laughs and says Kurt's not gonna be anything. Kurt brushes it off. He says that his mom says that he can achieve whatever he wants (which is true, to a reasonable extent), Frank cuts him off and says his mom was lying to him, and that his mom knows he's gonna be a big loser.

Mike's dad tells Frank to leave Kurt alone. Mike's mom also says the same thing. Frank asks Kurt if his mom doesn't feed him at home, and what he was doing "eating up all their food" (he wasn't; he just had a singular plate). Mike and his mom tell Frank to stop. His mom explains that they invited Kurt over for dinner, and she tells her brother to sit down and eat. Frank then asks Kurt again if his mom doesn't feed him at home. Mike tells Frank that Kurt and his mom don't have a home because they just got evicted, which is a shock to the parents. Instead of having sympathy for a teenage boy who was on the streets with his mom, HE MOCKS HIM. WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT? Especially to a teenage boy who didn't do anything whatsoever to deserve being evicted from his home and be out on the streets with his mom. I've dealt with being evicted. I've dealt with homelessness. Out of no fault of my own. It's not funny, cool, glamorous, or anything like that. It's terrifying. I'm still traumatized by that experience and it happened four years ago. Sometimes I have nightmares about that kind of thing. The very possibility of becoming homeless and going through that again scares the shit out of me. The thought of it is so triggering for me that I will resort to reverting back to things I used to do when I was a kid. It also doesn't help that I will NEVER be able to afford an apartment on my own where I live now and will probably have to rely on at least two or three roommates and/or family to get by. Thanks a lot, Boomers.

I would never wish what I went through on anyone. Anyways, back to the whole summary of the video.

Kurt gets up and leaves the table. Mike tries to go after his friend to make sure he was okay, but Frank stops his nephew. ONLY WHEN KURT LEAVES DOES FRANK ALL NONCHALANTLY SAY THAT HE'S STARVING AND THAT THEY SHOULD ALL EAT. Despite Frank making Kurt as well as his (Frank's) own family upset.

Kurt walks to where his mom is. His mom notices that he's upset. Kurt tells his mom that it's because of Frank. His mom comforts him and gives him the advice that she gave him before. Kurt is still obviously too upset to take anything she's telling him, bringing up that they're homeless and broke, and his mom is desperate to help comfort her son. She gives him his birthday present early, which happens to be a Walkman. Kurt is shocked. He thought they didn't have that kind of money. His mom says not to worry about that. She pokes some lighthearted fun at her son, he thanks her, and he asks her a question. He asks if she believes he'll be successful or if she's saying that to make him feel better. She asks if he believes he'll be successful (yep), and he tells her that when he succeeds, he'll buy them a house so they don't have to be homeless anymore or worry about getting evicted.

Fast forward to adulthood, Kurt becomes a bouncer, meets someone who works at a radio station, and he goes there. Just to have people laughing at him. He's distraught again and leaves the station, thinking that he made a bad decision. Frank happens to come by, see that Kurt was upset, and asks what's wrong. Kurt tells him what happened, and Frank mocks him AGAIN with the same shit he told him when he was a TEENAGE BOY, now as a YOUNG ADULT. He walks off, laughing.

Nice going! /s Kicking Kurt while he's down JUST LIKE OLD TIMES, RIGHT? FUCK YOU.

Kurt then decides that he's gonna lose weight and be the best radio show host. (Toxic much? Why would you try to preach that your weight = your worth as a person? If you're losing weight for yourself, great! I'm happy for you! If you don't want to lose weight, you don't give a fuck about what people say, and you're happy in your own skin, that's awesome too! Do it for yourself, not for anyone's approval. Try to love yourself and accept yourself in any form you're in. Don't fall for the bullshit that you have to be a certain size or look a certain way for you to love and accept yourself. The weight may be gone, but the rest of your issues will still be there. I have to clarify that I meant this in GENERAL, not necessarily for extremities on either side of the spectrum of weight...because there are things you MUST follow.)

Kurt gets back to the station, ignores all the people being assholes, he's doing his thing, and he's climbing up.

Fast forward to when Kurt is middle-aged. He has his own radio show, and he's one of the biggest names in the radio industry. After he finishes up his show, he goes outside to see a couple of young fans. A young black girl with her brother, a plus-size boy. They say how much they love his show, they got his merch, and the boy tells Kurt that he wants to be just like him. The boy doubts himself though because of people abusing him JUST LIKE what Kurt went through. Kurt empathizes with the boy and tells him a little bit about his own experience. Following them is Frank as an old man. They're his grandkids.

Frank recognizes Kurt, and actually apologizes to him for the torment he put him through as a teenager. WHAT A SHOCK. /srs

Kurt takes it with grace, but says that he should be thanking Frank for all the torment. Why? Because it "motivated him". The girl says that she loves that. (Okay, since she's a kid and there's still time for her to change her mind about certain things, I'm not going to be as harsh here. I don't bash on the kids unless they're doing or saying extremely fucked up things willingly. She didn't say this with bad intentions. I understand you're coming from a good place, and I appreciate that, but please hear me out. This wasn't at all like dealing with edgy thirteen year olds on the internet. This man you look up to was abused by your grandfather in his youth. Your brother is experiencing that same torment your idol went through...at a younger age too, it seems like. The kid looks no older than middle school age [ten or eleven at the YOUNGEST to maybe thirteen or fourteen at the OLDEST]. That's a huge problem. Kurt may have "toughed it out", but that might not be the case for your brother. Please don't excuse that kind of behavior.)

Dude...what the actual fuck? I can understand not being bothered by the hate, but this grown ass man literally VERBALLY AND EMOTIONALLY ABUSED YOU AS A YOUNG, IMPRESSIONABLE TEENAGE BOY, CONTINUING INTO ADULTHOOD, and you're THANKING Frank for all of that? Why should you thank your abuser for what he put you through? He didn't contribute ANYTHING to your success. So I guess abuse is a GREAT contribution to people's success now, right? /s It doesn't contribute to anything, in my opinion. Yes, what doesn't kill you can make you stronger, but can we normalize people becoming weaker to a point due to traumatic events? Because they exist. Demonizing survivors who have become weaker to some degree or just flat-out ignoring them isn't helping. You did the thing you wanted to do, Kurt. Frank didn't help you. The person who really helped you was YOU and your mom.

MOVING ON.

The boy asks Kurt if he thinks he'll ever be able to make it as a radio show host. Kurt asks if HE believes that. The boy says he does. Kurt gives him some advice and gives the boy his Walkman. The boy's ecstatic, they leave, and Kurt goes to meet up with his mom.

Keeping to his promise, Kurt bought his mom a house so she'd never be homeless again and never have to worry about being evicted. (HOW LONG WAS SHE HOMELESS FOR? OH MY GOD. THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO KNOW. I hope you at least let her stay with you or something. They never went into that, unfortunately.) She's very grateful. The video ends there.

My personal thoughts on the video: Another piss poor video....but worse! Because it was a COLLAB. And based on a true story. Good going with taking this man's story of being abused by a grown adult to exploit for your personal gain, Dhar Mann! WOW. LOVE THAT! Totally a good look. /s

What I took from this video is that if you're plus-size, according to Dhar Mann, you'll apparently NEVER be successful, let alone be taken seriously...which is an absolute lie. There are many plus-size people who are very successful. Another thing I took from the video is that apparently according to Dhar Mann, being verbally and emotionally abused as a teenager by a grown adult all the way into adulthood is "motivation" for you to work harder to reach your goals. (Nice going, Dhar Mann. Justifying grown adults abusing children. Who would've thought? /s)

Oh, and it's like MANDATORY to thank your abusers for tormenting you when you become successful! (Obviously this is an exaggeration. This is me using Dhar Mann's logic against him.) You want to thank them for making you stronger? Fine. You want to spit in their face and say, "Fuck you." to them? Also fine. You want to just never acknowledge them ever again? Totally fine. Whatever you want to do, that's fine by me, but can you not imply that "thanking" your abusers is mandatory in some way?

If you made it this far, thank you! I hope you're having a good morning/day/afternoon/evening/night. Stay safe, y'all. Love you. /p

[sleepymccoy]

Hello! I wanted to ask you this bc I really admire your work and blog, and I get the sense that you're a person who can tackle nuance well (and I believe this topic deserves it). I've tried wording this as best as I could, and I'm sorry that it's very long.

I've started getting the impression that some parts of the Good Omens fanbase have been sort of contained, if that makes sense. I feel like small creators have a hard time getting attention to their work anymore. As if people are only looking at the same handful of established creators nowadays (and that those creators are only looking at one another). And by extension, content really only gets attention if it's liked/shared by certain people. And then on top of that, it really constricts a lot of topics in fic and art that get appreciated.

I know that the hype for Good Omens has died down in the past year and that explains a major dip in interest, but I still feel there's an imbalance. I see genuinely good work overlooked time and time again, and I worry that my own work has been looked over bc it simply hasn't been deemed a fan favorite. For a while it looked like there was an effort to boost smaller creators, but it's seems like it phased out pretty quickly. I will be honest, it's been a little discouraging. It feels like the Good Omens fanbase is a club a lot of us have been almost excluded from.

I wanted to know if I'm just imagining this whole scenario or if it's a thing others have noticed? If others have noticed, what can we do to spread some love?

I'm sorry if this came off the wrong way or like I'm scolding people. Or like I'm whinging like a needy child not getting enough attention. I'm curious and was wondering if it was worth asking someone else about. Thank you for reading! And thank you for responding if you do!

Hey! Thanks for all the compliments lol, that’s lovely of ya

I doubt i’ll be as succinct as you managed.

Overall, I agree. I don’t think you’re imagining things at all and I’ve certainly also noticed a decline in interest in my stuff since the start

This is a total theory, but I’m gonna put it forward cos it makes sense to me. When Good Omens started up everyone followed a load of people to get at the content and were reblogging and engaging all over the place. Spiderwebs of followers were formed. I think there are blogs who end up being more influential than others, it depends on what youre looking for in the fandom who that is for you, but there are always big sort of blogs that just reblog content to share it. I think they’re the things that change.

Cos what happens is interest wanes. Fans move on and go somewhere else. If you’re following and relying on a blog to show you lots of new art and they’re just not doing it any more, then you’re sort of left just seeing the popular stuff that gets cyclically reblogged.

For example, i was following, with notifications on, a blog that reblogged every bit of poc good omens fan art they came across. total mixed bag of quality, but it was fantastic and picked up blogs that were completely unknown to me. The person running it got tired and moved on, so i don’t have access to that any more. It’s a lost thread in my little spiderweb of access that cuts me off from so much and it’s a real loss

Alternatively, and this is the trap i fall into, you follow creators. Like what you said! So, when I see a post i like very much i go straight to OP and (after checking they’re not a terf or aphobic) i follow. This means i get new content from the source rather than relying on someone elses taste to have a chance of seeing it myself. However, it also means i’m not following many blogs that focus on reblogging a range of content, so i miss newcomers. I’m not ignoring newcomers, i simply don’t see them

Both approaches to who you follow come with the curse of as the fandom gets older, you don’t have a clear way to find new content or creators. There’s an early bird gets the worm element to it all

There’s also tumblr weird bad habit of not reblogging things. People who run personal blogs rather than themed blogs will like something and consider their work done, but that does nothing to help new art or new artists, cos it’s not permeated yet. That kills new content and content creators pretty thoroughly

So yeah, i think there’s a lot going on there, but you’re certainly not making it up and a lack of engagement on your posts isnt an indication that people don’t like it, it just means people haven’t seen it or have fallen for their habit of not reblogging things they really ought to share.

In terms of fixing this? That’s a toughie.

I don’t have a fix, but i agree the lethargy is tiresome. It’s a constant effort to get something to take off, i have to reblog stuff four or five times before it starts moving beyond my immediate sphere of influence. But it makes sense, there are less fans and the fans there are aren’t out looking for new people to follow.

but i don’t like ending on a negative, so i’ll talk about some options or ideas! even though i don’t have the kind of influence someone would need to be heard

In my perfect world (and i repeat this is my day dream, i do not pretend it is well thought out or fair for all) i would remove the like function; either reblog it or you don’t get to keep an access. I would see more blogs that reblog content to a theme. I would see blogs that search out new creators. I would see newsletters that name new creator blogs that have engaged recently. I would see blogs that make it a challenge to themselves to reblog art and fic that has less than 100 notes. I would see more low stress fan events, more prompt lists and less organised zines.

But that’s all a lot of work for individual people to take on (except the likes vs reblogs thing, but that a real personal dislike of mine). I’ve tried to take part, I run @goodomensevents which is a blog where i reblog any general community event on tumblr that doesn’t cost money to take part in. But i don’t really think it has much impact, cos i thought of it too late in the game and no one wants to follow new good omens blogs anymore.

which i understand. i’m happy with my dash, i don’t feel like it’s lacking. I love who i follow. my mutuals talk to me and aren’t cunts. And i have no idea how to find new creators even though i may want to.

But hey, if anyone’s running a blog like what i’ve described, please send me a link! Maybe i’ll make a rec list on good omens events lol, see what happens. I’ll definitely follow you

[theonceoverthinker]

Friday the Flirteenth (1/?)

Summary: Qrow likes to avoid others on Friday the Thirteenth. He claims he’s doing it for everyone else’s sake, and that they’re better off if he spends the day alone in his room. Clover’s not having any of his self-loathing bullshit -- not today, and not ever, if he has anything to say about it.

AO3

A/N: You ever come up with an AMAZING pun and then find a way to write a fic around that? Well, that’s happened here! I’ve wanted to release this for SO long, and finally, I can...at least release part 1! Yeah, illnesses have made this a hard fic to finish, but fortunately, I have enough here to release a respectable first chapter to what will hopefully be a respectable MC! I hope you enjoy it! Tagging @fair-game-week!

BIG thanks to my beta, @skybird13. Sky, you’re the best, and I hope you understand that. Coordinating with you with my works makes me feel so confident in them. I want you to know more than anything how much I value your help and support, not just in this fic, but in everything, and I hope we’re friends for a long time to come!!!!

()()()()()()()()

Chapter One: Fourteen Hours, and A Whole Lot of Peanuts

Qrow Branwen liked peanuts. 

They were cheap, could be found just about anywhere in Remnant, had a pleasantly salty taste, and served as the perfect snack on days where he had no intention of stepping so much as a toe outside of his room.

So, in anticipation for Friday the Thirteenth, Qrow bought a LOT of peanuts.

When one had a semblance like his, a day dedicated to the very concept of bad luck was one that couldn’t be dismissed without some burden on their conscience. In fact, Friday the Thirteenth more than most any other day put extra responsibilities upon Qrow’s shoulders -- a responsibility to not cause any more trouble than necessary, a responsibility to stay away from anyone who he might accidentally harm, and a responsibility to keep the other two responsibilities secret from all who might try to intervene on his behalf.

And, just as he usually did, Qrow accepted those responsibilities and kept himself at a distance from all.

Fourteen hours. He just had to stay in his room alone for fourteen hours. 

He’d lasted a lot longer on his own many times before.

It wasn’t that big of a problem, at least not in previous years. Thanks to a lifetime’s worth of practice, Qrow knew the most secluded spots in all of Remnant to hide in on occasions like this, and the fastest routes to get to them from pretty much anywhere. And with no one but enemies on his trail, there was little risk that the day provided to anyone, or at least, anyone who didn’t deserve it.

But things weren’t so simple this year.

This year, he had his nieces and a gaggle of kids as traveling companions.

This year, he resided in an Atlesian military base, one that restricted access to any type of real seclusion further than the privacy of his own room.

This year, he despised the man he had formerly dedicated his life to.

This year, things were complicated, and his semblance always loved running amok when things were complicated.

But, as he reminded himself, some of those complications ended up turning into triumphs.

Sure, it was the first year without the hope Ozpin provided. But it was also the first year where  Qrow had a different kind of hope to keep him going. It was a kind of hope that made itself tangible through his nieces’ determination, his own efforts to fight off the allure of alcohol, and as of late, an encouraging smile and a flirty wink from a kind man with a semblance that seemingly counteracted his own…

Clover…

Clover...

Well, in a life of complications, Clover stood out as one of the biggest he’d ever faced. His very presence complicated everything in Qrow’s headspace all over again.

Still, that wasn’t a bad thing.

At least, Qrow was pretty sure it wasn’t.

Clover...Clover was really something else…

If someone were to ask Qrow to describe Clover after their disastrous first meeting, he’d have more than a couple of choice words for them -- cocky, pedantic, narcissistic. But things changed once they started working together, and as he learned more about Clover, while all of those descriptors were still true, the words themselves took on an entirely new shape for Qrow. What was cockiness just days before was now self assuredness, what was pedantic was revealed to really be caution on behalf of those he worked with and for, and what was narcissistic was actually a confidence that he created for himself, a confidence based in real pride in who he was and how that pride amounted to far more than just his semblance.

Additionally, a new word came to mind, too -- warm. It was a genuine warmth that flowed through each and every one of Clover’s words, and accompanying that warmth was a trust in those fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of them. It was hard not to return that trust in kind with some of his own, and for the first time in a while, Qrow felt no need to resist doing just that. 

It surprised Qrow sometimes just how much he had already divulged to Clover. Part of the reason for that came out of a desire to put his best foot forward for their assigned partnership. Part of it was a warning in the interest of Clover’s safety. But some things couldn’t be explained away so easily, and could only be attributed to a real sense of trust.

Frankly, it was nice having something like that again with someone. 

And it wasn’t even just Clover’s personality that painted the portrait that was Clover Ebi. Looking at Clover was like looking at a cloudless sky on a spring day. He was bright, bold -- brilliant, even. His smile was caked in charm -- true charm -- and his brow was shaped with a resolve to keep promises Qrow knew he probably could, promises he likely made to himself, Ironwood, and his country. 

Maybe there was even a promise to Qrow somewhere in that mix. 

No -- there was no maybe. He was sure there was.

But there was a coolness in Clover’s being too, both in his demeanor and his personality. There was an untold story in his eyes, one uncared for by his teammates, and only allowed to exist through fleeting expressions here and there during moments where he let his guard fall down. And that same jaw that held his charm like a jug held water held tension there too, as if there was an entire book’s worth of things he wanted to say, but for whatever reason didn’t. It was enough to make anyone who saw those things pretty curious about what hidden depths might be underneath that veil of job-dictated professionalism.

Qrow spent far more time thinking about all that he had left to uncover about Clover than he would ever admit.

After all, there was a lot to ask about what went on in that man’s mind, especially when it led him to befriend him, of all people.

But that wink Clover gave him on their first mission together made Qrow wonder if befriending him was all Clover wanted to do.

And regardless of how he felt in return, Qrow had to wonder whether or not he should try to stop him before Clover jumped further down the rabbit hole that was his life.

Qrow was bad news.

Then again, just about everything having to do with Clover was good news, and perhaps the exact thing that rabbit hole of his could use in its life was a lucky rabbit’s foot to help fill it up.

Wow...that was sappy.

Even on his worst days, Clover seemed able to bring out a little bit of sappiness in him. Go figure.

But, whatever fate had in store for him and Clover could wait to be further unearthed until tomorrow. Hell, he might even have time to muse on what that might be today, because for the next fourteen hours, it would be just himself, his room, and an overabundance of peanuts fighting against the slowly whiling hours of time.

Jeez...greater good or not, even Qrow could admit just how sad that was...

Maybe his abandonment of his morning coffee would at least grant him a nap and make the day go by faster…

He’d certainly prefer it that way.

Before he could even attempt to take advantage of his coffee’s absence, two knocks hit his door.

Perhaps it was foolish to think no one would bother him today -- after all, in Atlas, there was always something going on -- but he had a day off of Huntsmen duties while most everyone else he knew didn’t. He’d hoped against hope that meant that he’d be left in peace for the day.

Apparently, it didn’t.

Just his luck…

“Hello?” Qrow called out, reluctantly standing up.

“Qrow?”

Immediately, he recognized the voice, the voice that had burned itself into his memory within a matter of weeks and now had a summer cottage nestled somewhere between his brain and heart.

And there he was, letting that sappiness invade his thoughts again…

Of course the one person responsible for inspiring it was the one visiting him on the absolute worst day to do so.

Qrow approached and opened the door.

Just as he suspected, it was Clover who stood on the other side, as chipper as ever. After willing himself to hold back a grimace at the unexpectedness of his or anyone’s visit, Qrow noticed two cups of coffee in his hands. 

“You missed your morning cup,” Clover stated, offering one of the ones in his hand to Qrow. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Despite himself and everything the day represented for him, Qrow let down his guard ever so slightly at the awkward way Clover explained himself. He wasn’t thrilled about someone showing up on his doorstep, but that’s not to say it wasn’t nice to see a friendly face at all, especially in the face of the rest of his sure-to-be lonely day.

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the cup with a light smile he allowed to surface.

“So,” Clover said, elongating the vowel for a few seconds as he expectantly stared at Qrow.

“So?” Qrow repeated, matching Clover’s delivery and adding in a bit of confusion. 

“IS everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Qrow said, shrugging.

Clover quirked his brow. He didn’t look convinced, and unwilling to give Qrow so much as the chance to rectify that. 

“It’s not, though, is it?”

Qrow fought the urge to bit his cheek, but paid the cost of that with a tremor in his voice.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You not coming down for coffee is strange on its own,” Clover elaborated, “but you haven’t even left your room and it’s nearly ten. Usually, even on your lazy days, you’re out and about by half past eight, at the latest.”

“So I slept in a bit,” Qrow defended, shrugging in what he hoped would be a casual enough manner. “What’s the big deal?”

“It wouldn’t be a big deal at all if it wasn’t Friday the Thirteenth.”

Qrow blinked, flustered even more so than when Clover had started pressing him. Clover merely looked at him expectantly. 

How did he-?

Sure, Clover had a calendar, but why would he-?

Damnit, Clover...

“It’s a day for bad luck,” Qrow explained, his mood dark out of instinct more than malice. “Given my semblance --”

“It’s a day for superstitions,” Clover insisted.

“You seem to like yours just fine.” Qrow made a circle with his finger that encompassed the various lucky charms on Clover’s outfit.

Clover smiled as if he saw the rebuttal coming from a mile away.

“These are just here to make the uniform pop,” he said, laughter bubbling underneath him, as if Qrow had just walked into a trap. “And judging by how you clearly seemed to take notice of them, it looks like they’ve done their jobs quite nicely.” 

Just as he finished speaking, Clover winked right at Qrow, something that was very quickly becoming a habit of his when they were around each other. Fria must’ve imbued that wink with some of her magic or something because it always felt just a bit overpowering.

Qrow made a noise that would’ve sounded more at home in his bird form than the form that actually delivered it.

“Okay, but even still,” Qrow said, quickly pushing to make Clover forget about that sound, “you know what kind of things are out there in this world. Magic exists, fairy tale maidens and Grimm are running amok -- who's to say something like Friday the Thirteenth isn’t real, too? What reason do I have to trust that my semblance won’t go haywire on a day devoted to it?”

“If you stay in your room,” Clover countered, just as quickly as Qrow had with him, “you’re making things worse for yourself. Come on,” he said, his tone brightening alongside a fresh, new smile. “We can go get an early lunch. There’s a fantastic sushi restaurant just on the outskirts of the academy that you’ll love. Their rolls put the ‘ah’ in ‘tuna.’”

Now it was Qrow’s turn to quirk his brow. “And if I leave my room, I’ll risk making things worse for everyone else. I’m not leaving. Maybe we can go to that restaurant tomorrow.”

Qrow expected Clover to keep pushing back with yet another comment, but instead, he just took a patient, deep breath.

He then shrugged.

“And I was so excited to take you there, too,” Clover lamented. “But, oh well. Have it your way, then.”

Without giving Qrow so much as a second to respond, Clover gently pushed him to the side, walked inside his room, and sat down on one of the chairs across from his bed. Qrow was stuck somewhere between being utterly stunned by the action, and not at all. After all, this was pretty standard Clover Ebi behavior in that it was utterly unpredictable.

That’s not to say it was necessarily welcome -- or that Qrow would admit it even if it was.

And this morning, he was feeling particularly stubborn in his quest for solitude.

“That wasn’t an invitation to join me,” Qrow snipped.

Clover simply lounged back into the plush chair, easing his knees as his legs spread forward. “Well, if you won’t come out with me, then I’ll simply have to come in with you.” He then pulled something out of his pocket, something that instantly brought another grimace to Qrow’s face, all the while smiling. 

“Up for some cards?”

Qrow groaned.

He knew it when he woke up, and he was even more sure of it now: This was gonna be a long, long fourteen hours.

[raguna-blade]

So thinking bout persona, which as far as this blog is concerned is basically all I do, and I got to thinking.

So the Metaverse/Mementos, Shadow Time/Tartarus and The World in the Tv/Midnight Channel are all basically the same thing right? Not PRECISELY the same thing, but the overlap is immense and real. I'd be willing to bet that the various spinoff games Including Q and such would also count towards this in that they're kinda worlds in the sea of the Unconscious (and with at least Two Users of the Universe Arcana sleeping to keep the world secure right now, who knows what weird funky things are going on there.)

But they're generally the same thing, and part of the rules that are generally established have to deal with perception and one and all seem to exist as a rule in weird liminal spaces.

Forgive for innaccuracies it's been a while for P3 and P4, but with that out of the way.

Tartarus is a transformation of a school, and has strict limitations on how long it is active (not unlike a school really) and not only that is made up of discretely aesthetic but also very uniform locations. The Persona Users only have their one Extra Hour to make their way through (or at least in story that should be the case) and reach their final destination.

Tartarus is, without question, one of the most confusing nosense places because of course it extends up and up and up some 300 floors (apparently) which is weird, but what's perhaps weirder, at least in context of the Persona 3-5 Series of games is that there isn't really an effect upon the users precisely. Oh to be sure it effects people, it changes them into coffins which, considering the Tower's Purpose and all makes sense. The place is all about death and that great change, and the way that persona are summoned via Evoker I suppose would explain their not being coffins. There's an awareness of death there I suppose, and so an additional awareness of this special time given.

Ok. Cool.

The Midnight Channel though, it's a world more or less made up of the endless distorting fog, which alters shape to take the form of those who fall into it's greatest fears and concerns writ large and obnoxious, seemingly in an effort to have them confront themselves. At least, in theory, once the fog lifts, but formed in such a way that almost seems tailor made to have people freak the absolute hell out.

And of course, the place it exists/accessed is a television, turned off at midnight which, frankly is a pretty strange space if you're expecting anything to show up on it, or rather expecting NOTHING to show up on it right?

Everything blown up the way that it is, it makes sense that the world is endlessly foggy, not as stable as it initially appears, and all that, but as to the persona users themselves, they're...more or less just as they are. They're granted glasses by Teddie that allow them to see better, but they are otherwise not fundamentally changed.

Which...Leads us to Mementos. A Place that is explained as not only a direct connect to the sea of the unconscious, a rather different statement from the other major locales even if they too are a direct connection, but it also...changes the persona users.

The liminal space (and this is, I think admittedly, somewhat of a stretch) is more or less just any old random place, but you, distinctly, not a part of it. Well, that's the metaverse as a whole, but Mementos itself is a train station, which tracks as far as I understand the subject. It's a place of coming going, and just an endless sea of people who you really are just kind of one of.

But...Why does it change them so much? It's explained that the form that the phantom thieves take is their form of rebellion against the world. Very literally, the manifestation of their Rebellion (Of which Their Transformed Selves are paired with their Persona's with whom they made a contract).

Alright, that tracks, it's consistent to an extent, but this raises the question of why don't we see that in the other shadow worlds? Part of that, I've said before, is Because I think the Phantom Thieves are more or less playing at their Shadows as opposed to the other Persona Teams. The Shadows that We see in Persona 4 seem to be in line with what we're seeing in the Phantom Thieves, in that they are the version of their relevant person pushed to their extremes and distorted, pushed into a state of otherness for one reason or another.

Not all of them get fancy duds of course, and certainly that's at least as much because of the circumstances of their Shadow's formation (with them being dropped into the situation fully conscious as opposed to just kinda dropped int), as well as the nature and degree of their alienation. I expect that for those who didn't quite get the full transformation, they didn't quite feel that degree of alienation that you see in everyone else that develops a Full Dramatic Shadow.

Or perhaps another way to say it is, their personal view of themselves had yet to become distorted in any major way just yet.

Now the Investigation team get's to reintegrate into the world so their degree of isolation never get's to develop but it's worth pointing out that in the case of the Thieves that...doesn't actually happen.

Without fail, they're still outcasts one and all, if now outcasts that now cling together in friendship love and understanding of their circumstances.

But...

I don't know how to phrase this, but I suppose by the line of logic that I'm following here, the Phantom Thieves never quite Cohere as a group.

Like I recall hearing some folks talking about how the games seem to kinda abandon some of the character's personal plot points in rapid succession to focus on different issues, especially seen in their social links. Like the one that immediately pops to mind is Anne and Shiho and the hot nonsense that happens to them early on. Her social link instead of dealing with that at all beyond briefly touching on it as a thing that did happen, focuses instead on her modeling career, and a degree of taking that more seriously.

Which I agree is kinda bullshit. I'd love to know more about how Haru is dealing with the fallout of her dad beyond the lightish touch it gets, or more about Yusuke's relationship with his shitty dad, or more about Makoto's relationship with her sister and her parents and the like.

See, these things aren't NOT touched on, by no means. Haru's entire social link DOES deal with the fallout of her dad's death...In relation to the Company that she now holds a massive share of and not precisely related to her personally.

But they aren't really a thing that the Thieves, as a group, actually touch on. It's not a thing that get's directly dealt with constantly in the storyline as opposed to what goes down in Sees which is damnably intimate despite their initial desires. They do after all live together, and their job has just thoroughly run in and kicked them in the teeth on every front.

Hell, despite how uh...well badly(?) but definitely at least clumsily and obnoxiously (I am assuming, for a moment it's supposed to be awkward and kinda just...not great, for effect. It probably wasn't, but it's what we got, and at the very least I think it deserves an examination in that light.) The Issues that plague the Investigation squad one and all come up constantly. Kanji's issues with masculinity/homosexuality, Naoto's problems with gender/gender roles, Yukiko's princess status, Teddies Emptiness and attempts to fill that void, etc etc. It get's played with, rather directly, it get's shouted from the mountain tops, and for all that people very definitely fuck up and say some shit (Yosuke) this stuff comes up, and frequently I think.

But not with the Phantom Thieves. They're in fact, extremely guarded with each other, despite being on the same side and all that jazz.

Which leads me to Maruki, and the True End antics.

Cause see, Maruki also get's a Rebellion outift. It's not thief themed, no, it's more a kind of messiah. Or rather, A torch bearer. Whatever his means, his objective is and always was to lead people to being happier and better versions of themselves, although It's plainly obvious that he loses sight of doing that well with the method he chooses given how it's a thing that applies the same cure to every single person when that obviously wouldn't be a good idea.

Sumire says it herself, If not for him there's a good chance that she wouldn't have lasted long enough to make friends as is. And I don't think she's wrong considering how....well absolutely fucking done she was. That was not a healthy mental state that she was in BEFORE her sister died, and it wasn't much better after.

More importantly though, is what happens during that Third Semester. With the Third Persona's that everyone gained, every single one, WITHOUT FAIL, addresses the major concerns, the major events that they've all been staunchly ignoring and refusing to talk about. Ryuji's track desires, Haru's dad pain, Morgana's still burning desire to be human, all of it.

And he fixes it, and he makes, at least for a little bit, better. And in doing so, he absolutely changes the course of their lives, let's them see the way things COULD be, actually sit down and acknowledge one more part of themselves that they want to achieve, and in doing so unmasks, without fail, literally every single one of their persona's.

Well, I say unmask, but they also obviously have face coverings still going on or a degree of inorganic/ambiguous heads and faces, but the degree of difference is stark I think between that and their second persona's or their first.

Also, at least, if you actually bother to max out the social links, and just let someone actually IN, such as it is.

But back to Maruki, it's actually rather interesting that his Metaverse Outfit arguably makes him the HARDEST to identify of everyone. Yeah it's a big golden outfit with an obnoxiously huge helmet and cloak but...

The Helmet is far more interesting to look at than the person wearing it, and even looking at his face it's only really recognizable as him if you can get a clean side view. The Outfits is bright and Golden, but is otherwise unidentfiable if someone else were to be wearing it. The Cloak further makes it harder to see anything between being huge, fluttery, and covering basically anything of note body wise (and potentially facially since it again just flutters all over) In addition to his staff/torch it's...

If we're going through the Shadow Cosplay as looking at the person in questions distorted view of themselves, It's interesting that Maruki's distortion basically does everything in it's power to make him a non entity. Which, I suppose makes sense given his ultimately goal.

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 27

Extreme Weather + Power Outage

Whumptober Masterlist | 27/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Post-Pacifist Best Ending × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Exhaustion x Sleep Deprivation  x Power Outage

The RK units are specifically designed with powerful battery cores enabling them to function for longer periods between recharging. If expenditure is kept at a minimum, they can remain online for up to a fortnight without recharging, though given their line of duty they tend to rest for short bursts in order to supplement their cores. 

That is not the case for them currently, not when Detroit’s caught up in a storm that’s knocked out several power grids and they’re at a crime scene with a felled tree crushing an ambulance.

“Power’s completely out for this grid!” Hank raises his voice to try and be heard over the crashing rain. 

“This patient will die without proper medical care!” The medroid shouts in reply and Ronan assesses their dwindling options. Three dead, five injured- one in critical condition. Ambulance damaged, power grid down and no way to power the medvan and keep the injured android alive. Unlike humans, an android runs on electrical impulses of an inorganic nature and cannot be kept alive with medications. 

“We have two manual cars here.” Connor says slowly, and he looks to Ronan who already knows what they must do. “Transfer the patient to Detective Reed’s car-”

“What?!” 

“We will force a power surge into the victim and give their core a jumpstart to ensure it can remain active long enough for you to get them to Jericho.” Ronan continues with a nod. “Connor and I are RK units, we can do this safely and still retain enough power to last us until we reach Central Station.”

“Power’s still online there.” Connor reassures. “We can use the charging bays. This way the patient can survive until they receive medical help at Jericho. The others have sustained only superficial injuries which are low priority and can wait until power returns and a secondary medvan can be dispatched.”

Hank looks them over, and Ronan knows their father isn’t too keen on the idea but the idea is sound; the idea is the only option they have if they want their key witness to survive. 

“We’ll be alright, dad.” Connor says, softer this time as he squeezes his arm. “Just incredibly sleepy, actually.”

“Please do it now.” The medroid grips his wrist. “We’re losing the last of the van’s power rapidly and without a strong electric current he’ll die.”

Ronan tips his head slightly, and Connor follows him to the medvan. The android is in poor shape, multiple gunshot wounds littering his torso. A long thick cable snakes from his power core to the medvan’s life support, and the medroid hurries to detach the heavy black box from the side. 

“I’ll power the core, you power the generator.” Ronan instructs, and Connor nods in understanding. They have to undress partly to grant the medroid access to their chestplate, and connect them to both the android and the generator. 

“Ready?” They prompt, and the two brothers nod. The effect is almost immediate, the drain a sudden, strong pull that leaves them feeling fatigued. 

* 

WARNING

>LOW POWER

>>Power core: 8%

RECHARGE IMMEDIATELY

* 

Ronan blinks away the notification, reaching out to steady Connor as his brother sways on his feet. 

“No complex processes until you’re both at least at 25%.” The medroid instructs sternly. “Consume extra thirium, and run a full diagnostic cycle once you’re at full power.” 

“Understood.” Ronan nods, and even that seems like a gargantuan effort. 

* 

“That thing better not bleed all over my backseat.” Gavin grumbles as he hands over the keys and they load up the injured android in his car.

“That person is our key witness, so their well-being is worth more than your car’s upholstery.” Ronan snaps. “Thirium will evaporate without leaving a stain on this type of synthetic textile. I cannot say the same for your blood.” 

Hank snorts back a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder as Gavin sputters indignantly. “Alright into the car everyone, I’ll drive us back to Central.” 

“We will return your car once it is safe to do so, Detective Reed.” The medroid vows. “We will take every care to sanitise the interior.”

“Then it will be much cleaner than it’s ever been under his care.” Ronan drawls, unable to stop himself. Hank guffaws, hand on his belly.

“Oh shit you’re cranky, I love it.” He snorts back a laugh and makes a shooing gesture. “Alright everyone in- boys at the back, Reed at the front before Ronan can kill you.”

*~* 

Central Station looms ahead, lit only by the recessed ground lights embedded in the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Ah shit.” Hank curses as he pulls up to park. 

“Grid’s out here too.” Gavin groans. “And the storm’s picking up.” 

“We won’t be able to recharge here.” Connor huffs, leaning heavily on Ronan. 

“I mean, Eli’s supervillain lair runs on its own solar grid.” Gavin shrugs. “Could just keep going. Barbie bot won’t mind sharing, I’m sure.”

“Road conditions are not ideal. There is a large margin for human error.” Connor points out, and Ronan notes the way Hank’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles blanche. “Rain radar shows an exponential increase in volume of rainfall over the next five hours, and winds set to rise.”

“Well,” Gavin falters with a frown, “the self-driving taxis should be fine, right?”

“I’m not risking them either way.” Hank declares gruffly. “Safer if we stay inside the precinct and just wait it out.”

“They can’t charge in there!” Gavin protests and Hank shouts in return.

“It doesn’t matter! At least they’ll stay alive!” There’s a beat where no one says anything, and the only sound is the thunderous crash of rain atop the car and Ronan knows Hank is both correct, and speaking from trauma.

“We will stay inside.” Ronan says calmly to break the tension. “There is ample food and water for the both of you, and thirium for the both of us. It is warm and dry, and weathertight.”

“At this hour there shouldn’t be too many staff left anyway.” Connor adds. “And the both of you keep spare clothes in your lockers.”

“Alright alright let’s go.” Gavin groans, bracing himself for the inevitable drenching. Though it’s only a short distance from the parking lot to the entrance, it’s enough for their clothes to become thoroughly soaked. They reach the doors and the doors stay shut. Of course. No power. The lone ST300 at reception spots them and gestures to her left, pointing at the side door. They trudge over and Hank pushes at the handle. Some things are best kept low tech, it seems. 

“Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson, Detectives Reed and Andersons.” Stephanie greets, smile apologetic. “Though I surmise there’s little to make it ‘good’.”

“How long’s the power been out here for?” Hank sighs tiredly, slicking his hair out of his eyes.

“Twelve minutes ago.” She informs them, and Connor whines in disappointment, lips pressed tightly together and curled downward. 

“Who’s still here?” Gavin strips off his jacket, cursing colourfully at the state of his clothes. 

“Officers Chen and Lewis, and assistive units Polly, Justin and Gareth.”

“Thanks Steph.” Hank nods in gratitude before leading them all through the gates. They head immediately to their lockers after giving the others a wave. 

* 

“This is less than ideal.” Connor sighs morosely, coordination clumsy as he strips out of his wet clothing. 

“Power level?” Ronan prompts, hand hovering in case Connor sways again.

“7.1%. Yours?”

“7.9%.” He pulls a clean, dry sweater over his head before taking a moment to steady himself. Removing wet slacks proves a challenge in his addled state, but he manages it eventually and tugs on a pair of jeans. Connor leans heavily on his now closed locker, the petulant pout still there on his lips. 

“I feel awful.”

“They put us through worse.” Ronan reminds him lightly. “Part of our testing phase was to complete an objective with 5% power.”

“They wiped my testing phase.” A brief look of concern crosses his face. “You remember yours?”

“Every single moment.” His brother saddens at the revelation, and he reaches over to squeeze his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Ronan reminds him, and Connor nods.

“I know. I’m still sorry, though.” He seeks his hand, and Ronan clasps it securely with his own. 

“You boys alright?” Hank wanders over, dressed in DPD sweats. 

“Tired.” Connor blinks slowly at him, and Hank huffs a laugh, reaching over to tousle his damp hair. 

“Yeah you sure look it. C’mon, we’ll go mope at our desks.”

* 

Officer Tina Chen sits herself on the edge of Gavin’s desk, expression pitying.

“Stuck here til the storm blows over, huh?”

“Fuck I want to pass out on my bed so bad, I’m fucking exhausted.” Gavin groans, slumping in his chair. “Why’re you guys still here?”

“We sent them back to log the evidence and compile the findings.” Ronan reminds him, rolling his eyes in irritation. “Or can you not remember what transpired sixty-five minutes ago?”

“Why bother? That’s what you’re here for, right? Walking computer.” Gavin gestures vaguely in his direction and Ronan decides acting on his irritation will expand battery power the human does not deserve. “God, the coffee machine’s off too isn’t it? I’d kill for one right now.”

“There’s still some left in the pot but it’s lukewarm if you don’t mind that.” Robert pipes up from his desk across the room. “Enough for both you and the Lieutenant.”

“Hey tinc-”

“Finish that sentence and I will pour the coffee for my father and the rest goes down the sink.” Ronan hisses and Hank slaps the table with a laugh. 

“Fuckin’ hell Ronan, I am lovin’ this.” He gets to his feet. “Don’t worry I’ll get the coffees. Just promise you won’t kill Reed while I’m gone.”

“I’ll refrain until you return so you may witness it yourself.” Ronan vows and Hank guffaws loudly as he heads to the breakroom. Gavin shoots him a withering glare, which he ignores entirely in favour of assessing his brother. Connor has his arms folded on his desk, head resting on his forearms. His LED winks a soft red, dimming them glowing periodically like a slow warning he is on low power. 

“You doin’ okay, Connor?” Tina asks worriedly.

“They got used like car batteries to jumpstart the key witness.” Gavin stifles a yawn. “Came back here to recharge since it was closer than Jericho or home but…” He trails off with a shrug and Tina looks at Connor sympathetically. She turns her gaze to him.

“Bad time to ask a favour huh?” Her smile is sheepish. “Rob and I found some sort of substance residue on one of the trafficked biocomponents we were logging into evidence. We’d hoped one of you boys could analyse it for us, but it’ll just have to wait.”

“No.” Ronan sighs. “Give it to me. I’ll do it. The sooner this case is put behind us the better- if this can provide solid evidence linking the trafficking to the suspect then it will be worth it.”

She disappears briefly to fetch the biocomponent from the evidence room, and Hank returns in the meantime, placing a cup of coffee on Gavin’s desk before returning to his. 

“Hey kiddo, you’re not lookin’ too good.” His tone is soft with parental concern as he leans over to smooth Connor’s hair back.

“I don’t like this.” Connor declares with a frown. “It’s irritating and I can’t access the network properly and Jericho is running on a closed circuit at the moment to minimise stress on their generators.” A pause, brows creasing. “And Sumo is home all alone.”

“S’alright, I managed to text Lucy and she went over to make sure he was let out and gave him his dinner.” Hank chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll just wait it out and head home and you boys can charge in your beds. Power’s still on over there.”

“For now.” Gavin adds, shrugging when Hank shoots him a glare. “It’s the apocalypse out there versus Detroit’s shitty overworked, aging power stations.”

“Ronan?” Tina reappears at his side holding out the bagged biocomponent; a thirium pump regulator. She is correct, there is a smudge of some sort of congealed substance on the tip of the component where it would usually click into the main arterial port in an android. 

“Power level?” Connor asks, voice muffled in his arms.

“7.4%.”

“Sass is wearing you out.” Gavin sneers. “I think you need a nap.” Ignoring him, Ronan carefully opens the bag and retrieves the biocomponent. It’s a midline model, used in domestics produced within the last two years. Bringing the port end to his mouth, he presses the tip of his tongue to the congealed substance.

* 

Analysing…

Thirium 310 serial #342 541 238

Hydrocarbon solvent: xylene 

Xylene solution: industrial grade xylene, medical grade thirium toluene

* 

Searching database…

Thirium toluene; medical manufacturers within 5km of Detroit city

>R.G. Medical 

/Generating warrant for latest purchase of >gallon quantity medical grade thirium toluene

//Request failed; insufficient power

* 

WARNING 

Power level: 4.2%

* 

“-nan? Ronan?” He startles back into himself, identifying Hank leaning over him and gently shaking his shoulders. “Shit kid you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Apologies.” He frowns, blinking up at his father. “What happened?”

“You licked the thing and then just blue-screened.” Gavin makes a face. “Mood ring went bright red and then you just slumped in your chair.”

“The substance is a hybrid solvent.” He replaces the biocomponent back into the bag. “It is comprised of xylene and a medical grade thirium toluene. There is only one manufacturer, R.G. Medical, within a five kilometre radius of the warehouse. I tried generating a warrant to obtain a record of their recent sales larger than a gallon but I do not have enough power.”

“System’s down anyway.” Hank shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it. We know now, and we’ll just get it done when the power’s back.”

“Supervillain lair is still the best bet.” Gavin crosses his arms over his chest. “Recharge and access whatever you need to. He has his own internet line too.”

“The storm’s worsening, we already told you the weather-” Connor begins, but Gavin rolls his eyes.

“Better than being here, at least there’s beds and coffee over there and whatever you lot need.” He downs the dregs remaining in his cup. “We can take a self-driving taxi so there’s no ‘human error’.”

“No one’s leaving here until that storm blows over and the roads aren’t an oil slick!” Hank growls and Gavin groans.

“Oh my god give it a rest old man, we’re safer in one of those than with you or me driving!”

“An automated delivery truck was what crashed into Hank’s car in 2035, what part of ‘no one is leaving here’ do you not understand?” Ronan roars, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling the man off his chair. “You are being asked to do very little, Detective Reed, so surely you can manage staying put?” He shoves Gavin away and his senses blurs with white noise.

* 

CRITICAL POWER FAILURE

>Entering emergency stasis

* 

“Dad-!” Connor’s voice is laced with panic and Hank’s worried face is the last thing he sees before he shuts down.

*~*

Model: RK900

Serial#: 313 248 317 - 87

Bios 7.4 Revision 0483

Loading OS...SAFE MODE

System initiation...

Checking biocomponents...

OK

Initializing biosensors...

OK

Initializing A.I. engine...

OK

Memory status…

OK

Power core: 25%

All systems: SAFE MODE ACTIVATED

READY

* 

When he wakes he recognises the neon blue downlights of the UV charging bay. What was  once installed along the back wall where auxiliary units stood in line awaiting orders, after the revolution one of the storage rooms adjacent to Evidence was converted into a proper breakroom for androids with charging bays modeled to look like reclining chairs with UV downlights installed in the ceiling. 

He also recognises the weight of another android at his side, and he doesn’t have to look to know it’s Connor. There’s a lighter weight atop them both- a soft blanket tucked up to their chins. Though not an android, Hank is in another charging bay fast asleep, mouth open and snoring lightly. 

His HUD tells him it has been four hours since entering emergency stasis but only eighty-nine minutes since the power came back online with Central Precinct bumped to High Priority. Connor stirs at his side, blinking awake briefly and meeting his gaze sleepily; his older brother is seemingly reassured all is well before he closes his eyes and wriggles closer. Charging bays are not made for more than one android to occupy but he’s not about to protest. Not when Connor is a warm, reassuring presence at his side, hand resting on his chest as if to anchor himself to him. 

There is still a case to close. Later, though. He will tend to it later. 

Ronan goes back to sleep. 

[thegeminisage]

the south is like another country

i have an entire essay on how the current radicalism and steep political divide in this country can be traced directly back to the civil war - rural white southerners here playing the part pre-ww2 germany, the part of a resentful, conquered nation assimilated into the nation that conquered them, because if you think about it the south/the confederacy WAS its own nation for a time, that lost a very bloody war, and paid very steeply for it (not that slavers didn’t deserve every bit of misery the “carpetbaggers” threw at them), and the bitterness from that loss/the lost capital from having their slaves freed has been handed down through the generations, to people who now live in abject poverty while their livelihoods are destroyed by late stage capitalism, and their schools are so broke a lot of people here don’t even know how to read, and their towns are eaten alive with meth, and they’re still looked down upon by most of the country for being racist uneducated backwater hicks (to be clear, we should always look down on racism and racists, but it’s not making them any less bitter/ripe for being drawn into the cult of tr*mp’s america and f*cism).

but anyway this post isn’t about that! this post is about how when i go up north and i say “y’all it really is like i’m living in a different country” NOBODY BELIEVES ME. we speak the same language, we’re all americans, right? PFFFFFT. this amazon van thing just drives it home (pun intended). here’s a list of differences from the deep south* to the rest of the country*:

*the deep south here meaning the RURAL deep south. sorry to everyone who lives in cities/the suburbs and/or in border states like maryland and virginia. i’ve been to maryland and virginia and they are technically southern and some of this applies to them but it is not quite as extreme as it is here. the rest of the country includes the other states i’ve been to (california, washington state, new york, etc), which are in mostly every area except the midwest. i cannot personally vouch for the midwest. sorry, midwesterners! rural midwest probably has a lot of things in common with the deep south because rural life is different and also how easily people move around this country, but whatever

this is a long-ass post get ready

difference #1: DRIVING. driving & pedestrians are entirely different un rural areas vs urban areas. for starters, southern towns often do not even have sidewalks. this is because of 1. budget and 2. racism.

budget: rural towns are very spread out, and it costs major $$$ to put sidewalks in. it’s just not worth the trouble, financially, to put a sidewalk where only 12 people are ever going to use it, AND spend the money to maintain it. never gonna happen. racism: initially, suburbs especially in the south were seen as safe havens where people could get away from the stress of living in “urban” (re: integrated) areas. that the neighborhoods were only accessible by car and NOT by people who were too poor (black) to afford automobiles were just an added bonus. 

as such, the first time i left the southeast, i was SHOCKED to see people walking and biking WITH (or indifferent to) the flow of traffic. down here we are taught that if you are walking along the road (or biking, because bikers get lumped in with pedestrians down here), it is very very very crucial that you walk against the flow of traffic, because you cannot expect drivers to see you and not mow you down. the onus is on YOU to get out of THEIR way. additionally, walking in knee-high grass along the side of the road sucks, and because there aren’t many people here, the roads are usually totally empty. so oftentimes pedestrians just straight up walk ON the road. and if you do that you absolutely have to be able to see a car coming from a long way away, because rural drivers on completely empty roads tend to take them at extremely high speeds just for fun. the people who live diagonally across from me have had to replace their mailbox four times because folks take that blind curve at 90mph. i had a cat get hit by a car on that road. (they all live indoors now.) i even witnessed a car accident happen there when i was just outside minding my own business. ever see a tire fly 12 feet into the air and come down into someone’s windshield? that’s what happens when you hit power line pole driving like that.

the first time i ever encountered one of those pedestrian crossing buttons was in california in the early 2010s. i had literally never seen one before because we simply don’t have them here. they’re not very self-explanatory if you have been jaywalking your whole entire life because all you’re taught to do is look both ways and make sure the street is empty before you cross. northern/urban roadways are made so that pedestrians and drivers can both get to where they’re going. in rural/southern areas pedestrians might as well not bother.

interestingly, while not an entirely southern problem, there’s a loose correlation between rural areas and more problems with drunk drivers.

on the driving side, driving in a city is batshit insane. it’s both faster and slower. there is NO space and you’re expected to go whenever you have so much as an inch to worm your way in. there’s more traffic, and the traffic totally dictates your speed. in the south you can change lanes if you want to drive faster or slower and weave around traffic or let it weave around you, but in a city there’s no other lane to change to and if you don’t drive at the speed of the people ahead of and behind you you will die. you turn fast, you brake fast, etc. whenever i come back from driving in a city the people who ride with me think i’m insane. you don’t PULL ONTO A ROAD if you can SEE ANOTHER CAR THERE, what the fuck? meanwhile i’m like “lol that is six miles of space i have plenty of time” and give everyone in my vicinity heart palpitations until i readjust. 

tailgating in a rural area is something only assholes do (done by people on a two-lane road to encourage the person in front of them to go faster because the only other lane is for oncoming traffic), and if someone gets within one car length of me on a two-lane road i can very passively aggressively slow my vehicle to a crawl until they back the fuck off. in a city you’re lucky if you have a twelve inches between your bumper and the next car’s hood ornament.

difference #2: LANGUAGE. this is a small one, but the southern dialect combined with the lack of literacy means i am learning certain things late in life. phrases i have heard verbally with my ears but had never seen written out include: “chest of drawers” which i thought was “chester drawers” - “seven year itch” which i thought was “seven year each” - “albeit” which i thought was “i’ll be it.” i’ve made a deliberate effort to unlearn mine own accent/dialect but i run into weird shit all the time. remotes are mashers, shopping carts are buggies, you put stuff up instead of putting it away, i fix you a drink instead of pouring you one, we shoot the game instead of play it. my mom LITERALLY can’t understand me if i speak too quickly - she has to remind me all the time to slow down and put on my southern.

difference #3: TECHNOLOGY. issue of whether or not you personally have the creepy amazon vans aside, the rural south is behind the rest of the country on technology. things in cities are AUTOMATED. things like the little button you press to cross the street, tickets you take at parking garages, even the parking meters you find in cities, that’s just the beginning of it. one time i came across a little computer touch screen in a MCDONALDS where you put your order in. you didn’t even go up to the counter. you just put your order on the screen and swiped your card and then they got it ready for you and you never had to speak to a human person. self-checkouts, gas pumps where you can swipe your card and not go in and pay at first...the south got those YEARS behind everybody else. in the mid-2010s i went to DC and visited a target for maybe the 5th time ever and i was BAFFLED by the self-checkout. i had no idea how to use it! it was like less than ten years ago and i was IN MY TWENTIES and i had never seen one before! when we send a package we have to talk to a human person. when we order food we usually have to talk to a human person. apps for places like dominos and subway have not been in use here for very long. my county just got doordash LAST YEAR. 

because i am 31, and because the south is so technologically behind, i am actually old enough to remember how when you used to go to a gas station an attendant would not only pump your gas but wash your windshield for you while you just SAT IN THE CAR. that seems like something from the 50s but it actually was a thing here in my childhood IN the 90s. i wish i was making this up.

difference #4: INFRASTRUCTURE. this sort of goes hand-in-hand w/ the last point because so much of our infrastructure is made of technology, and it’s also more of a rural/urban thing than a south/north thing. but just for fun here’s a non-exhaustive list of things i don’t have in my town:

starbucks* - the first time i went to a starbucks i was in my 20s

a public pool - we used to, but now the only pool here requires a YMCA membership. the only baseball diamond in this county is also at the Y.

walmart

in fact, ANYWHERE to buy clothes that is not a goodwill or other secondhand store. i cannot buy clothing unless i order it online or LEAVE MY TOWN. almost all of the clothing i own is from walmart because it’s one of the only places in my entire county where you can actually PURCHASE clothing.

grocery store chains? pffft. my town has two entire stores and both are small southern chains. i didn’t go into a publix for the first time until two years ago when i went to florida. i’ve NEVER entered a whole foods.

food delivery? yeah, no. like i said, we got doordash last year, but before that the only place you could get delivery from was a pizza chain. we only have two pizza places in my town that deliver, and one is a local place, not attached to any chain, so i can’t spend my loyalty points there. (it’s very expensive there too.) last year it was CLOSED for six months because the manager got caught dealing meth. every last one of the delivery drivers was trafficking it for him. they all got fired and had to restart from the ground up. for that short time, it was not possible to get any food delivered to your house whatsoever.

a hospital/ambulance services - if someone is sick, we have to take them to the hospital in laurens, the town next door (about 15-20 minutes by car). the town i live in lucky - we have our own police and fire departments. (acab but you know what i mean.) joanna is a smaller town next to mine that isn’t a real town - it’s been demoted to a census designated area because only 2000 people live there. if they have an emergency, they have to use OUR fire and police departments, and LAURENS’s ambulance/hospital system

after-school places kids can go to keep from getting into trouble. we have the Y, if you have money (no one here has money), and we have churches, but mostly schools can’t afford to run too many extracurriculars. there’s nothing to do here but church and meth.

food banks: zero. we have food DRIVES sometimes where people will come from further away and bring free food, but if you’re hungry, there’s nowhere you can go for help - you have to wait for help to come to you.

libraries: we don’t have our own library. we have a branch of the county library that’s physically located in our town. but we share books with the rest of the entire county, so everything is always checked out or at the other branch. 

*we technically have a starbucks that’s in the local college campus, but only college students are allowed to be there. they’ll still serve people without a college ID because no one gives a fuck, but you can’t linger and loiter and hang out like you do in a normal starbucks. we also have one in the barnes and noble in greenville, which is about an hour away by car, but again, it’s a mini starbucks that serves a limited menu and none of that weird Starbucks Culture™

here’s a few things i don’t have in my ENTIRE COUNTY:

movie theaters - technically. we have a Historial™ one-screen theater in laurens that shows one movie for two weeks a month after it hits regular theaters and then switches to another, and if you miss it, too bad. this is a VERY recent addition - it wasn’t restores until i was in my 20s as a kid and a teenager i had to ride in a car an hour or more to go to the movies.

target. only commies and yankees have target. down here we do walmart.

malls

arcades

skate parks/skating rinks

bowling

museums

zoos/aquariums

campgrounds

fairs. our county fairground got razed a decade ago because there just werent enough people showing up to justify the expense. so no more fairs. you have to have people to fund things and down here there just aren’t enough people anywhere.

you get the idea. we don’t have entertainment. like i said, nothing to do but church and meth.

CLASSES FOR STUFF: knitting classes, dancing classes, driving classes? nope. gymnastics, karate dojos, golf, knitting groups, books clubs, cooking classes? [GAMESHOW BUZZER]. you can’t even hire a clown for a birthday party out here. we do have a shooting range. ONE. in the entire county. and a race track. and a rather infamous former kkk memorabilia store. they made a movie about that (serious tw for this trailer - they’ve got white hoods, burning crosses, pepper spray, the whole nine), which, yes, takes place in laurens, aka right next door to me. i used to walk by that place all the time when i was playing pokemon go. haven’t seen the movie but the shooting locations in the trailer make laurens look a lot bigger and prettier than it really is in real life - especially the racetrack, which, in the trailer, is actually PAVED. (this is inaccurate to real life.)

EDUCATION: lots of people can’t read. we have two schools for illiterate adults, one religious college, and one branch of one of the state colleges that has a skeleton staff and a fuck ton of computers (you basically just go there to distance learn/e-learn - if you want to take real classes from this college, you have to drive at least an hour.)

support groups/group therapy: almost none. we have al-anon and weight watchers, but that’s about it. there’s only half a dozen therapists in my entire county, and none that operate from my town. mental healthcare down here is bullshit.

on food: we don’t have many sit-down restaurants, where servers bring you your menu and your food. if you don’t count waffle houses, my town has 4. my county has 9. in and out, 5 guys, applebees, ruby tuesday, red lobster, olive garden, panda epxress? forget it. those places were and still are rare treats. i’ve only been to an olive garden twice. red lobster once. whenever i leave my county i BEG for chinese because there’s only two chinese restaurants in our entire county and one of them is crazy expensive and the other one sucks. 

we also don’t have the more important stores you need to like, live. if we need to exchange our router at a charter store? yeah, we don’t have one. need to visit the sprint store to get your phone repaired? nuh-uh, we don’t have any phone stores either. my family recently switched to at&t because it was the only company that had a physical location in our county. before that, we had to drive an hour for even the smallest repair.

on a grimer note: we don’t have homeless shelters! homeless in laurens county? too bad for you. we do have homeless PEOPLE. they just have nowhere to go except the churches

hospitals? only kind of. like i said, our county has one, but it’s not equipped to take seriously sick people. when my mom had a heart attack she had to be driven straight to greenwood, which is 45 minutes away if you’re not in an ambulance. they obviously made it faster than that, but still. that was scary. it took them a long time to get here. i had a distant relative of mine die before the ambulance made it because they were SO far out in the sticks, even further than me.

we also don’t have any specialty stores. sporting goods, gamestops, shoe stores, florists, craft stores, bookstores, best buys...forget it. if you can’t buy it at walmart, you just can’t buy it. the exceptions: my TOWN has one jewelry store, two hardware stores, and two auto repair stores. my COUNTY has three clothing stores, none of which are in my town, one place that sells used TVs, and one movie rental place. thrilling, right? i can rent a movie if i drive out of town. (i know streaming killed the rental business, but we also only had two places when i was a kid, if you counted the rental section in the grocery store.)

so, yeah. i know the term “shithole” is really loaded these days, but rural areas are just plain less developed, and often in seriously poor repair because nobody fucking uses them. there USED to be more stuff here - my mom was on a bowling league, and as a kid i had a birthday party at a skating rink - but late stage capitalism and drugs destroyed it all. people ran out of money to do things like skate and bowl and so those places closed. the south is full of empty store fronts and deserted strip malls slowly being eaten by kudzu. my brother got out of this town and whenever he winds up back here (not often) he remarks on how completely and utterly dead everything feels. “my friends who live in greenwood now think they’re all rural,” he said once. “they complain constantly about how remote it is. but they have no idea. they wouldn’t make it five minutes out here.” greenwood has its own movie theater, mall, starbucks, homeless shelter, food bank, and hospital.

so, yeah! if you were wondering what rural white southerners are so fucking mad about, that’s part of it. propaganda and xenophobia and racism has their anger directed ENTIRELY at the wrong people, but it’s hard to argue that the anger itself isn’t just a little bit justified.

difference #5: CULTURE. specifically culture around food, and the culture around the civil war. i could write an entire other essay about the culture of the church being everything because the church IS the only semblance of infrastructure we have and this is why the south is so homophobic, but we’ll skip that for now.

food: this is a quickie, because i sort of touched on it already, but there are like, almost NO vegetarian options here. there’s very limited choices of cuisine. it’s ALL waffle house and soul food. we have a lot of mexican places because we’re physically close to the mexican border, but aside from that, forget finding like indian or thai or japanese or anything like that. no sushi. forget finding a menu that has meals that are halal or kosher. there’s just. no culture here. no variety. you know? like i said, our entire county doesn’t even hit double-digits for proper sit-down restaurants.

civil war: i’m not going to go into the big stuff since i sort of covered it at the top and also this post is getting way too long, but to other white rural southerners there is legitimate baggage around the fact that my mom married a yankee and that i am half-yankee. and he’s not even a real yankee! he was born up north but raised in southern florida. (florida is weird. the further south you go geographically, the less southern you are culturally.) yet: my family makes jokes that are sometimes not jokes about this. when i drop this information in casual conversation people get that look on their faces like: ah, that explains it. it being that i am not religious and don’t laugh at racist jokes and maybe i am queer?? (strangers tend to be unsure about this last part, even when i’m wearing rainbows.) it’s because i’m half-yank! that explains everything! the xenophobia is SO strong here that white people are even xenophobic at OTHER WHITE PEOPLE. 

so in conclusion when i say the north is like another country, it’s because the people who raised me think of it like another country. and culturally! it is buck wild! the differences that there are! when i leave this town i feel like i step into fucking star trek! if you are not from the rural south, and you have never been to the rural south, please do not come here! i’ve been to a few different places now and this is definitely my least favorite one. 

[ambivalent-auguries]

So, encouraged by @tximidity here’s more about Steve’s politics. I know politics is an emotionally charged subject, but it’s part of his character and I really like his platform. 

First, the four pillars of his platform are: foster care system reform, LGBTQ+ issues and support, mental health support for impoverished communities and racial and economical disparity. 

On a political spectrum, he is very much a social democrat. He believes in people having a good quality of life no matter where they come from, he believes in people being paid what they’re worth for the work they do, he believes in no person feeling the system is working against them instead of for them. He also likes to take an intersectional approach to all these issues, understanding that things cannot be fixed or investigated in a void.

Obviously, he has to worry about things like funding, infrastructure, things running well etc. But the below are the things he cares about a lot. 

Foster care system reform: 

Needless to say, his experiences with social services and the foster care system have shaped his political platform. He believes there is a lot of work to be done there, more funding, more education around the needs of children who find themselves in the system. Since equality is something he believes in vehemently, he can’t stand the idea of any kid feeling like their dreams are too big for their background. He also believes social care workers need more support and training to be able to support the kids they are looking after. He also often times speaks on the abuse aspect of the foster care system and how the environment is not conductive to a healthy development. 

In the year he’s been in House of Representatives, he already started reaching out to social care services to better understand the challenges the system is facing. Most of it comes down to funding, overworked social services workers, poor vetting system for foster families. He is actively trying to bring these issues to the table and make changes. 

LGBTQ+ issues and support: 

As a proud gay man in politics, Steve knows better than anyone how discrimination can feel. His opposition even used his sexuality as a weapon during his campaign. While he thinks progress has been made, Steve thinks there is still work to be done and wants to make the changes necessary where being anything but straight and cis is nothing scandalous but rather a fact of life. He also thinks the trans community in particular is deserving of more support and awareness. He tries to be an ally to all and understand also how intersectionality plays a role in it all. 

He has run multiple awareness campaigns on LGBTQ+ issues on his online platforms and is always showing support and highlighting charities. He has also made it a point on his agenda for ensuring no LGBTQ+ person is refused treatment by a medical facility, since he understands that can be a devastating prospect for a lot of people. He is actively working towards improving healthcare and awareness within the medical field of trans specific issues. 

Mental health support for impoverished communities: 

His mother suffered Bipolar Personality Disorder and what happened to her shaped him as an adult. While he believes access to mental health care is important for everyone, he especially focuses on its availability in impoverished or low income areas in his district. Sometimes that might be impossible to access, despite those communities facing issues more. Financial difficulties often lead to and are also a symptom of mental health issues and because mental health care is usually not included in insurance (another issue he’s looking at), accessing any type of help can feel like an impossible thing. 

He is currently working with charities to provide help and support to whoever may need it. He also regularly runs mental health awareness campaigns on his online platforms. He is also currently working on an outreach initiative where his constituents can get in touch with a professional after they have gone through an assessment to determine what is the best course of action. A lot of his efforts around making the funding go further are going towards this initiative, because he believes a better quality of mental health support will help a lot of his other endeavours. 

Racial and economic disparity: 

He has grown up in a predominantly latinx and black neighbourhood and understands that usually economic and racial disparity come hand in hand, unfortunately. His own experiences especially with the police have made him realise bigotry is very real and alive and at times he felt that nobody cared about him because he came from a low income environment. While he knows he can’t make changes that will resonate at system level in terms of economic disparity, his personal beliefs are that no person should be forced to work on a wage that is not sustainable. 

He is actively working on police reform, believing a lot more awareness and training needs to be developed within the force and funding needs to be focused on those efforts instead of arming police officers. He is a big believer in raising awareness and has spoken on a number of occasions on his beliefs in relation to race and economic status. His efforts are also, once again, focused towards the quality of healthcare afforded to people from a non-white background or a low income background. He has spoken quite vocally on a number of occasions around the taxing system and uh... Simply put, some corporations have been dragged in some of his social media posts. He puts his voice behind any piece of legislation that addresses these issues and is continuously trying to listen to his constituents on this. 

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [896]

Bribery is forbidden within the Qun, as is favoritism and use of influence for non-official purposes. But Bull is very good at what he does, and he has always been known for being able to think around obstacles and rules. It’s why he’s been tasked with what he does.

He’s too good at thinking like the enemy, thinking like a Vashoth.

At some point someone must wonder why that is. Someone must get the doubt into their minds as to why he’s so good at getting his way into other systems, unseen, and somehow entirely wanted.

So it is not hard at all for him to get himself access to her holding cell. It isn’t hard for him to get the assigned guards and observers to let him pass and if not leave, then avert their gazes and look towards other charges.

From the reports he’s managed to glimpse at she hasn’t been put under overly strict watch. She hasn’t done much acting up, either. For the most part she goes along — if not with sincerity, then with a mechanical resignation — with what she is instructed to do.

He knocks on her door first before opening it. He enters but leaves the door partially open behind himself and stands there right in front of the doorway, still visible to everyone else outside.

Bull knows the second she realizes that this is not part of the normal routine in the way her entire body tenses, coils. And then he sees the heavy discontent, the bitter resignation because there’s nowhere for that energy, that fight, to go.

Ellana turns and she sees him and Bull had expected so many things. He expected her to snarl. To yell. To scream. To hurl something at him, maybe throw herself fists first.

“Get the fuck out of my sight,” she says. “I’m already here, what else do you want?”

“I figured that you should get at least one shot at me and get it out of you,” Bull replies. “It’s the least of what you deserve.”

“How magnanimous.” Ellana’s hands are fists as she glares at him. “Does the Qun let all of their new inductees get a shot at their — “ she fumbles for a word.

“No,” Bull says when it becomes clear that she can’t find a word for him in relation to her. That’s alright.

Bull hasn’t found one yet either. He doesn’t think he ever will.

Ellana breathes, moving on her bed to plant her feet on the floor, fists pressed together as she leans over them, brow furrowed. She breathes and he can see her trying to put words together in her head, throwing entire phrases out that she deems unsuitable for this moment, breaking paragraphs apart and arranging their sentences, altering their diction and syntax like she’s working on a puzzle or composing a score.

She glances up at him, and all of it stops, all of that machinery in her mind, all of her processes.

“So this is the real you, is it?” Her eyes slide over him, taking him in but not quite.

Bull isn’t sure on how to answer her and — well. It doesn’t really matter how he answers. This is a question for Ellana more than it is for him.

Ellana stands, facing him as she picks apart his appearance.

“This is the real you,” she says. “This is the Qun-you.” She pauses, face doing something painful and uncontrollable as blood flushes her cheeks. “Gods I am a fool. This is you. All of the — “ she cuts off, eyes closing and he can see her struggling, fighting to keep her voice from cracking, to keep some semblance of composure. Ellana tips her head back towards the ceiling.

He remembers this, too. The way she stands and forces herself to relax, to speak.

“None of it was real,” she says to herself. He is an audience for this monologue. “Talk about getting a dog once we moved into an apartment that allowed pets. All those times you held me, kissed me, smiled at me. The flowers on opening night. The days when we’d order food in and watch movie marathons or just sit and read together.” Her voice warbles for a moment. “Your hand in mine in those idle moments.”

He watches her blink furiously on the verge of tears and in his mind he runs a hand over his own chest and feels for cracks, finding none.

“Your hand,” she starts again, “Your hands brushing my hair from my face when I was asleep and you kissing my forehead before you left for work.” She barks out a sudden, sharp laugh. “When you did that were you just going — coming here? To report on me? Report on us? Did you tell them? I — I don’t even know what to call you now.” She jerks her chin towards him, towards the door. “When you left every day, is this what you were when no one was around to see you? Were you like them? Silent and sitting awaiting new purpose, new orders? Like — like a mannequin? Are you only ever anything when there’s someone you need to act for?”

Ellana’s voice chokes. Bull wants to answer her — yes.

I am stone. I am stone and I am only ever flesh when the Qun requires me to be.

“Are you a statue only capable of life when observed? You should have been the actor, not me.” She swipes her hand over her eyes. “You know I still don’t understand it. I really don’t. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I was brought here. There’s no point in it, other than to hurt me, that I can think of. There’s no benefit the Qun could ever have from taking me, taking the theater company. We were barely managing to stay afloat. Our plays were all mediocre at best and it was really only a way to bring kids into he arts. We only ever did Qun sanctioned plays and some of the comedic stuff that our junior writers came up with. We weren’t dangerous.”

“That is not for you to decide,” Bull says softly. “And it isn’t why you all were brought in.”

“And now he speaks.”

“Ellana Lavellan, you weren’t brought in for sedition or acting against the Qun. If that were true you would not be in this facility and I wouldn’t be allowed to talk to you,” Bull says. “You’re here because the Qun sees talent in you and wants it for their purposes. You’re here to be trained. And I was sent to observe and evaluate if you were worth it at all.”

“And clearly I was.”

No, Bull thinks, you weren’t. But he doesn’t say that. Ellana doesn’t need to know that he’d written no less than three reports back to the Qun stressing how much Ellana and the rest of the theater group were not worth recruiting. She doesn’t need to know how careful he was with his wording, to balance between making sure they weren’t seen as a threat but also weren’t seen as potential — potential anything. He had drafts and drafts of reports and he was sleepless on the nights when he had sent his final versions in, unsure and afraid. And those nights he’d close his eyes and he’d see her.

And after the Qun had taken Ellana and her friends — his friends, too — he had written four more reports, requests, asking for release, for reason, for — for anything. All unanswered.

Bull doesn’t tell Ellana that. Because there’s no point.

Ellana’s here. Despite Bull’s best efforts otherwise. And —

If it would give her despair a target, he would let the blame fall onto his shoulders. Let his name be the one she curses for the rest of her life.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Daniel Michaelson: Waterlogged

(For @whumptober2019 day 27, I chose to use the Alternate prompt Waterlogged! Poor Danny. References @bleeding-demon-teeth‘s OC Lyken again, because Bram is just a super big fan. TW: for implied/referenced noncon, some torture/abuse)

Water pours in a rush from the deep gray sky and it feels more like midnight than mid-afternoon. The clouds fight each other, rolling and tumbling in shades of deep dark greenish-gray he’s never seen before, but he tries not to look up any longer - the water just gets in his eyes, then.

At least there’s no lightning, no thunder to terrify him. Only rain - endless, eternal pouring rain.

It’s been raining since this morning, and Daniel has been out here in it since he’d overturned a bowl of food on Abraham’s head after Abraham had slid his hand up underneath his shirt when he was serving breakfast.

He’d felt, for just a second, a snarling furious strength in him, the return of the man he used to be - the person - and it had all happened in a flash of time he couldn’t take back.

He wants so badly to take it back.

Go fuck yourself, you piece of shit, don’t fucking touch me, Daniel had snapped, dumping the food on him, jerking himself away. For just that one second he hadn’t given a damn about the rules, about being good, about any of it. For just a second he’d remembered that he had been a senior in college once, just a few months from graduating - he had a younger brother - he had a family - he had people who cared, who would miss him.

For just a second, all Abraham’s hard fucking work to train him had fallen away and Danny was a human again, knew he was a human, knew he deserved better than this.

Then Abraham’s hand had snapped out to grab him by the wrist and Danny had realized he’d fucked up, just a few seconds too late.

Now that’s very bad indeed, Abraham had said with eggs still in his hair, heedless of the mess, Nate sitting across the table staring wide-eyed at the both of them, fork still halfway to his mouth.

Just fucking kill me, you dick, Daniel said, half-pleading the words, already trying to back away until Abraham stepped on the chain that hooked his ankle to the ring in the wall and Danny stumbled and fell backwards onto the floor. I don’t want to live like this, just fucking kill me already!

Dead would be too easy, puppy, Abraham had snarled at him. I can think of so much worse for you.

B-B-Bram, no, h-h-he’s just h-having a b-bad day, it’s n-normal, he’s going to h-h-have bad d-d-days, remember when I-

Shut the fuck up, baby. The puppy’s been bad. He needs to be fixed.

N-no! Just, l-look, just l-l-l-let me t-talk to him, B-Bram, please!

I fucking hate you!

So angry, little Red. You know damn well that puppies don’t get to be angry. Puppies want to be good. They love their owners. I’m going to make sure you want to be good.

Bram, please, please d-d-don’t, please don’t d-do this, don’t-

I just want to be me again! You can’t force someone to love you! I don’t want to be good and I don’t want to fucking love you!

The last time anyone gave a shit what you wanted was the moment you pointed a gun at my face, Red. You need to remember what the fuck you are. And I can force you to feel anything I want.

He’d tried to fight back, but he didn’t eat enough, and he was so tired, and hungry, and hurting all the time. It wasn’t long before Danny was sitting in the wet mud with a brand spanking new black eye, hands tied hard behind his back, rope wrapped around them all the way to his elbows until he ached with the effort of keeping them held out straight, that steady, pulsing pain in his rib - and the metal grid cutting hard into his face, forcing him to be quiet, to remember his place.

He hadn’t meant to be bad, to get angry - he tried to be good most days, he really did - but sometimes the parts of him that used to exist found their way out.

They exploded in a riot of yelling and anger, and it always ended with a punishment. It was never worth fighting, but somehow he couldn’t seem to stop.

He had made a mistake, this morning - and now there is this.

The rain has long since soaked his hair, pressing the normally wavy red flat against his scalp, hanging in his eyes, darkening it to something closer to auburn. Droplets of water run down the side of his face, briefly magnifying the freckles that stand out as he grows paler and paler.

The raindrops blend with the blood that wells up around the jagged line of metal cutting hard into his jaw, his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose. They mix with the tears that run from his eyes, unnoticed, just more water behind the grid. The trails of pink run to the corner of his mouth, to slip the slightest taste of salt and copper onto the tip of the tongue trapped behind his teeth. Some of it slides down the sides of his neck, becomes another bit of wet in his shirt, or drips right onto the ground.

Water finds a way to free itself of the cage of his skin, but Daniel is trapped in it.

The leather pulls tight against the sides of his face, wraps snugly around the back of his head. He can’t move his jaw even a fraction of an inch, and it hurts, it hurts and it’s bleeding, but he can’t even scream - only whine, low in his throat, with no way to escape the prison of his mouth.

All he can manage is a keening sound swallowed up by the rain.

He can’t seem to find the someone else that lives inside of him, the body that takes over when this thing is on his face. Every other time, he can go away in his head, but today Daniel feels trapped in reality, in what’s really been done to him, and he can’t seem to find his escape.

He wants to escape - he wants to be someone else - he wants to go away in his head, to let the body take over, to let the body feel the ache and the pain and the mud, but he can’t.

It’s probably because of the headphones, because of the smug fucking voice he can’t get away from, loud enough to drown out the rain that has turned his fingers into wrinkled prunes, rubbed his arms and wrists raw with the rope around them until he’s pretty sure they’re bleeding, too.

The headphones are wrapped in plastic to protect them, settled carefully onto his head, the fuzzy speakers pressed against his ears. The noise won’t let him slide away, won’t let him give himself over to somebody else.

He could handle the rain - and the pain - and he could go away from the muzzle, because there’s someone else who lives in his body that comes out to take the muzzle and deal with that for him.

But he can’t fight the voice.

It’s not Abraham’s voice - no, it’s the other voice, the man Abraham listens to on his phone, the man who talks about dog training - only he’s not talking about real dogs, people like Abraham are the people he’s talking to.

Daniel’s head droops, hunching forward, the padlock that keeps the leather straps securely buckled gently tapping against the nape of his neck.

I understand that some of you are struggling with disobedience - too much energy used in all the wrong ways. The man is smug, so goddamn sure of himself, of what he’s doing, of the evil that Abraham and others like him.

There’s a horror there Daniel doesn’t want to access, in the reality that there are others in the world like this - he pushes that back, back into his mind, even further than the anger he’s no longer allowed to feel, the anger that drained out of him with the rain.

His voice is a little hypnotic, nothing like Abraham’s spellbinding singsong - but it catches your thoughts and holds them, and Danny can’t stop listening no matter how hard he tries. Obviously the most efficient method is simply to contact me for one-on-one counseling sessions - my rates are very fair, and I have been known to personally oversee the most troublesome cases myself.

But if you’re dead set on individually working this out on your own, who am I to stop you? The man’s voice in his ear has a thread of unkind laughter to it, and there’s a sound in the background somewhere of the audio - a thunk and something like a cut-off curse, then some other laughter, three or four other people. Shut the fuck up, assholes, I’m recording. In any case, if you really must do this yourself, I’ll tell you - the secret to really succeeding at this is to ensure that you engender a real, true desire to be good, to do good, to behave according to your expectations.

Without that desire, all you’ll see is bad behavior. Maybe it’ll be covered up for a while, you’ll think you’re seeing progress - but all you’re seeing is a lie. Without the desire, the real nerve-deep need to be good, you will never achieve true or total success.

I never settle for a half-trained mutt, and I mean never. There’s no dog out there who can’t be taught to want to be good with the right reinforcement.

As I said, my one-on-one rates are fair and I do offer online video conferencing for clients in locations as far away as Europe and Asia for a small added fee. If you’re unable to make appointments in person, I’d be happy to speak with you via Skype. You can find my rates, well - more laughter, from the man and from everyone else. There’s the sound of a thwak in the background, a sound Daniel knows too well, feeling his own back muscles jerk in sympathy. You have to know who to ask to find my rates, but if you’ve found this, you probably already know who to ask, right?

So ask them.

Now, in today’s episode I want to start off by reading a letter I recently received from a very satisfied customer - and later we’ll talk about, well.. Let’s call him a friend of mine, who is the perfect example of someone dealing with occasional backsliding because he’s not using my methods, just slapdash creating his own like an asshole.

You know who you are, E.

The voice numbs him. It wears away at him. The knowledge that there are other people in the world like this - and that they have in-jokes and friends and whole lives - is terrifying, and Daniel can’t seem to maintain any other real feeling but fear out here, soaked to the bone and starting to shake with the cold still nipping the air.

The terror slowly dulls and blends in until all he has left is a confused mixture of regret and loathing and confusion as to why he ever tried to fight back at all.

He’s been out here for four hours or so, he thinks - he’s listened to four of these things and he’s pretty sure they’re about an hour long. So that’s something, that’s something he can hold onto, but still the voice sinks into his head, twines around Abraham’s, leaves him feeling hollow and empty and inhuman.

Just a puppy.

His arms throb from being forced so hard behind his back for so long. He’s cold and wet and caked in mud all along the backs of his thighs, his legs, coating his feet. Mud cakes the outdoor chain hooking him to the ground. All he wants is for Abraham to take the muzzle off, let him back inside, let him dry off and get warm by the fire.

But he can’t go inside unless he’s ready to be good, unless he wants to be good, just like the hateful fucking voice in his ears won’t stop saying. He can’t go inside unless Abraham believes he wants to be good.

And he can’t call for help. He can’t ask. He can’t do anything but listen, and listen, and listen, and wish that he’d never done such a stupid fucking thing in the first place as try to pretend he’s a person when he knows, deep down, that Daniel Michaelson is gone.

My name is Red.

I am the puppy.

No one wants me but Abraham now… and Nate.

His jaw aches, the top of his nose is a riot of pain as the wire cuts further and further into it. His rib hurts, his eye throbs, his arms hurt, he’s so tired - so fucking tired - of everything hurting so much.

When he’s good, only a couple of things ever hurt at a time. When he’s good, sometimes he goes whole days without a new wound. He could have fixed all of this by just not being bad this morning.

He could just be good, and none of it has to happen, right? That’s what the voice keeps saying.

He’s locked inside of himself, staring dully down at a single blade of grass, trying not to hear the voice of the man in his ears, in his head, the man that Abraham laughs along with and says, now here’s someone else in the world who understands.

He can’t get up - can’t even move his hands.

He can’t escape the rain.

He can’t take off the headphones, can’t get away from the voice that tells him, in so many different ways, that Abraham can unmake him - probably already has.

The voice - the man, the King - laughs at people like Daniel and tells them they can be changed, undone, remade into less than they were, into the puppies that aren’t allowed to be angry.

He’s not allowed to be angry - that was a rule, a rule he had broken, and he’s sure he’s been punished enough. He could prove it, if Abraham would only come back out and let him show it, let him show that he was tired of being in trouble, and that he could be good.

He wishes, so deeply within himself, that he had never done what he did this morning. He wishes he had just served breakfast like he did every day, let Abraham touch him, ignored the coiled twisting hate inside himself, pushed it down until it went away entirely. He wishes he had only tried harder.

When he tries really hard, he can usually be good.

If he’d just been good, he wouldn’t be sitting out here feeling a sort of pressure building in his lungs, an urge to cough against the rain that probably doesn’t bode well for him. He gets sick so much, now - and when he’s sick, he gets punished for being weak.

But when he gets fevers, he sees his brother, and so maybe getting sick isn’t so bad, not if he sees Ryan again.

He must have closed his eyes at some point, maybe even dozed off with the voice still in his ears - because suddenly there are warm hands on his face.

He jumps, jerking back and away, instinctively trying to apologize for flinching - never pull away from Abraham - but all he does is try to force his jaw against the cage and he whines sharply at the pain.

The headphones are slipped off of his ears and the voice - the voice is gone. Danny’s so grateful to Abraham, gratitude that cuts him as sharply as any knife. Thank you for taking the voice away. Thank you for this. Thank you so much.

Be grateful for every gift you are given.

Letting him stop hearing the voice is a gift.

“Sssshhhh, it’s m-m-me,” Nate says softly, and Daniel opens his eyes in surprise, looking up to see Nate crouching in front of him in a raincoat and boots, letting his black hair get soaked but the rest of him stays dry. The mossy green eyes are focused right on him, and there is no mockery there, none of Abraham’s laughing superiority, no sense that he is looking at a disobedient puppy.

Nate sees a man.

“It’s j-j-just me,” Nate says, voice gentle and deep, and the feel of his fingers against the metal grid is so welcome Danny nearly starts to cry.

He whines again - trying to plead, to beg to take the muzzle off his face to let him say how sorry he is, how good he can be.

Nate smiles, a little sadly. “H-hey, Danny,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss Daniel’s forehead.

His lips feel so warm against the bone-deep cold settling under Daniel’s skin. He doesn’t even think to shake his head at the name that isn’t his any longer. He just makes a noise in his throat, something he hopes can say thank you and I might love you and kiss me again and save me.

“B-B-Bram sent m-me out. Y-you can come back i-in now. He says it’s b-been long en… enough. I… I c-c-c-convinced him.” Nate’s eyes slide away from his when he says the last bit, and part of Danny wonders what he’s agreed to do for Abraham to earn Danny the right to come in out of the rain.

Nate has the little key that unlocks the padlock at the back of his head. He undoes the buckle, slips the metal grid off of his face, and Danny doesn’t even wince at the tear of torn skin. All he can feel is joy at the freedom, opening and closing his mouth just to move his jaw even though it aches, just because he can.

“Thank you for taking the muzzle off,” Danny mumbles, “and for taking the headphones off my head.” As the ropes unwind from his arms, he slowly lowers them back to his sides, shoulders screaming in protest after so long locked in place, looking down with relief as he realizes they weren’t bleeding at all, just ringed in deep red grooves that will bruise and then fade. “Thank you for taking th’… the ropes off.”

Nate doesn’t say anything - he knows the rules as well as Danny does - but there’s a look on his face Danny can’t quite read. It’s not pity - it’s something like grief.

Like Daniel is already gone, and Nate is going to miss him.

Once the metal cuff welded to his ankle is unlocked from the chain in the yard, Danny gets slowly to his feet, Nate’s good hand on his elbow to help him up. They make their way back across the yard, Nate in his raincoat and boots, Danny barefoot and soaked so deeply he has begun to wonder if he’ll ever, ever feel dry again.

He stumbles back in the door, water dripping down his face still, new wounds carved over old scars, the red lines made by the muzzle still weeping thin trails of blood. Standing on the welcome mat (step inside our happy home, it declares in cheerful rainbow letters and Danny kind of wishes he could tear it apart with his bare hands), he looks from under wet hunks of red hair at Abraham sitting at the kitchen table.

The inside of the cabin is warm, and dry, and Daniel wants to be warm and dry, too. He’ll say anything. He’ll do anything.

He is exactly what the man in the recordings says he is.

“So?” Abraham asks. The fireplace is crackling in the living room, and Danny wants nothing more in life than to sit in front of it, dry off, feel something other than this saturated wet awful. “Have you rethought this morning’s misadventure?”

“Y-yes,” Daniel manages, keeping his shoulders hunched. “I was, um, was wrong.”

Nate slides the raincoat off and hangs it on the hook by the door, sets the wrapped-up headphones and little mp3 player on the countertop, dumps the muzzle beside it with an audible breath of disgust.

Nate hates the muzzle. He only ever calls it ‘the thing’.

Danny turns carefully away from it, trying not to look at the blood still winking red at the ends of all the tiny sharp pieces that jam into his skin when it’s on. He hadn’t been able to go away. He hadn’t been able to be someone else. He’d been Danny in a muzzle - he’d been Red, the puppy, getting punished for thinking he was real.

He feels a sob caught somewhere in his throat, and he manages to choke it back, but only barely.

I’m not real. The man is right. We’re not really real people at all.

“Oh, little Red,” Abraham says with patronizing affection. “Did we have fun out in the rain?”

Danny shakes his head, mutely, and he doesn’t flinch when Abraham laughs, the high-pitched barking sound that rattles his bones inside his skin, shatters apart any sense of himself he had.

Everything is so much easier when he doesn’t fight. Why does he keep trying to fight?

When Nate turns back around, Daniel shuffles a little closer to him, until he can feel the solidity of Nate’s presence beside him, the only person who doesn’t want to hurt him. The only mercy Abraham has is Nate Vandrum, the only affection Danny gets that isn’t tainted and horrible and hurting.

Does he maybe love Nate, or is he just desperate for a feeling other than pain?

After a second, he feels Nate shift a little bit, too. There’s the slightest hint of warmth as Nate’s bad hand - the hand Abraham bashed and broke and never even tried to help heal right - settles at the small of his back, over his shirt.

“What did you learn, then, from your time out there?” Abraham’s smile is a snake’s grin, and his eyes are cold. Danny leans slowly, subtly back into Nate’s touch, trying to use it to give himself some form of strength even as his knees want to give and buckle him to the floor.

If I have to be a dog, I wish I could be his, not yours.

He can hear himself dripping audibly onto the tile. He can feel the water - and some of it is blood and some of it is tears but he doesn’t know which is what any longer. “I l-learned that I d-d-don’t want to be in trouble anymore. I’m s-s-sorry, Abraham. I won’t do it again, I promise. I won’t.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear. Tell me who you are.”

“My name is Red,” Daniel Michaelson says, meeting Abraham’s eyes, and in that moment he is, he really is. He keeps forgetting - and Abraham keeps reminding him.

Daniel Michaelson slides away, the anger and hate and insistent refrain of I used to be a person fading under the weight of Abraham’s voice, his stare, and the echoing voice of the man in the headphones, the pressure of knowledge that Abraham isn’t the only person who knows that there are people like Daniel in the world, people who only exist to be hurt.

Daniel Michaelson is gone, and Red takes over.

“Your name is Red and…?”

“My name is Red and I belong to you, and I, and I want to be good for you s-so I don’t have to be in trouble again. I do. I want to be so good, Abraham.”

Abraham’s eyes move up and down, taking in the red hair plastered to his forehead, the angry wounds on his face, water trickling slowly down his neck. 

Abraham looks over the T-shirt pressed in folds against the lines of his body, showing the torso made skinnier by never enough food, the pajama pants that are slick against his legs, the raw skin underneath the iron cuff that never leaves him, the toes pressing into the bristles of the welcome mat.

Danny shivers under the attention, hugging himself, wishing he didn’t know what Abraham was thinking, wishing it wasn’t written all too clearly on his face, in the gleam of a sudden dark interest in his eyes.

Nate’s hand against his back is the only anchor he has.

“Good boy.” Abraham gestures towards the living room. “Strip. Then you can sit by the fire and dry off, Nate will bring you a towel.”

“Strip? Right… right here?” Daniel feels his face flush deep red, the sting as blood rushes to the newly reopened muzzle wounds. Even as he wants to hesitate, his hands are moving to the hem of his T-shirt, twisting until the fabric wrings out and a sudden patter of droplets hits the floor. “Right now?”

“Right now. Your body doesn’t belong to you, Red. It belongs to me. I feel like I’ve proven that a couple hundred times over by now in every possible way.“

Daniel feels his face flush and keeps his eyes on the floor, skin crawling with the touch of phantom hands, with the knowledge that his body has been broken and bent for someone else.

“B-Bram,” Nate says softly. “C-C-Come on, hasn’t he been p-punished en-enough?”

“You’re the one who begged me to bring him back in. This is what you wanted, right, Nate? Don’t tell me you don’t like seeing him take his clothes off just as much as I do. I know you, sweet thing.” Those eyes slide back to Danny, and all the rain in the world cannot wash the grime off his skin. “Red. Take your fucking clothes off or I’ll do it and then we’ll see if we can’t make those cuts on your hands any deeper.”

Danny meets Nate’s eyes, for just a second, and then pulls his shirt off over his head, peeling the soaked cloth off his skin, dropping the puddle of fabric into the sink.

"Love to see those ribs, sweet thing,” Abraham breathes, and Danny has to close his eyes against furious tears.  Then he slides his pajama pants off, keeping his eyes down, his face bright scarlet with the humiliation of it, tossing those in the sink, too.

“Could cut myself on those hips.”

I wish you fucking would, and bleed out, you piece of shit.

No. Be good. Be Red.

When he’s done, he curls into himself, as if there is any modesty left for someone who hasn’t been a person in nearly three years.

He stands naked, dripping onto the floor, rubbing absently at the itching, bleeding circle cut into his face, waiting.

He waits patiently, shivering.

He is good.

Abraham lets the silence draws out, stretching what is left of Danny between revulsion and a desperate need to do whatever it takes to get next to the fire. Finally, in a low voice thick with joy, Abraham says, “Go on. Nate, grab a towel and go with him. No clothes, Red. I want to see my good boy tonight.”

Nate nods, taking Danny by the arm pulling him through the open doorway into the living room. Danny pauses at first, waiting to have his metal cuff hooked to the living room chain, but Nate keeps him walking until they’re right next to the blissful crackling heat of the fire.

“W-wait,” Daniel says, still speaking in a half-pained whisper, trying not to open his mouth enough to hurt his jaw. “My, my chain, you have to chain me up-”

Nate’s own jaw is a hard line, something flinty and cold in his face. “I a-a-asked him to l-let you g-g-get closer. You d-don’t have t-t-to wear it yet.”

“What did you give him?” Daniel isn’t sure he even wants to hear the answer, to know what part of himself Nate still has left to barter.

“D-doesn’t m-m-matter. Sit down.”

Daniel sits next to the fireplace, folding his knees up to his chest, feeling the burst of warmth, dry and welcome and so wonderful on his soaking skin.

Nate towels his hair, and Danny closes his eyes at the unfamiliar form of affection, tilting his head back to make it easier.

Just a puppy, but I wish I were his.

Finally, Nate pulls back. “Y-you can s-s-sit here until y-you’re dry. He said.”

“Will you, um…” Daniel speaks shyly, feeling like a middle schooler asking his first girl to a dance. Or boy, in his case. “Will you stay? Sit with me?”

Nate glances over his shoulder. Abraham is still at the kitchen table, and Daniel can hear the start of a new one of the man’s awful episodes playing on his phone.

Then Nate turns back and drops to sit beside Danny, leaning slowly against him until the fabric of his T-shirt sleeve brushes Danny’s bare arm.

“I c-c-can’t keep w-watching him hah-… hurt you.” Nate’s voice is heavy with the grief Danny had seen in him earlier. “I can’t k-k-keep being cuh-complicit in this.”

“It’s okay,” Daniel says, taking the towel to cover himself over his hips, to find even one small hint of personal privacy. Even if only for a moment. “If I just learn to be good, he won’t anymore. I just have to be good. I can try harder, Nate. I can learn to be good, if I, if I just try harder. I have to want to be good.”

Nate sighs, sliding an arm around Daniel’s shoulders, pressing a furtive, hidden kiss against his hair.

“You w-were already g-g-good. I’ll s-s-save you,” Nate whispers into his ear. “S-somehow, Danny.”

My name is Red, Daniel thinks automatically, but he stays quiet and pushes himself a little more into Nate’s side, tucks his head into the crook of the older man’s neck.

Nate doesn’t say anything about the damp hair. He only holds Danny a little tighter and begins to hum, low in his throat, a song Danny doesn’t know but feels somehow immensely reassured by.

The only other sound is the crackling of the fire and Abraham’s occasional laughter from the kitchen.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Seia getting McCrane in the mood.

"McCrane."

McCrane looked up from his table, up at Seina. She had bags in her hands, and he sighed in relief. Finally, a break. It was late in the night, and McCrane had offered to take most of the paperwork for the night. Everyone else had their lives to live anyway. Gunmax and Deckerd had a date, Shadowmaru was taking Duke out for a night on the town, Power joe was updating his burger blog (apparently an all night endeavor), Drillboy was on Yuuta guard duty that night, and Dumpson was out with Ayako. McCrane wanted everyone to enjoy themselves, so he offered to take care of the paperwork needed for today. It was the work of seven, done by one. Seina offered to keep him company, and it made his core swell, knowing he had her support. 

"Ah, Seina. Thank you. I appreciate you going all the way across town to get us a little pick me up. You've done too much tonight."

"Oh it's not a problem, McCrane. You deserve a break as much as the next person does. Now take your break."

"Gladly. Thank you."

He waited for her to open the paper bag. She got a burger that was highly raved about in Power Joe's blog (everyone followed him in support. It was way better than his show reviews, but McCrane was proud of him nonetheless), while McCrane got gis absolute favorite food; an extra large helping of extra spicy Ramen. The broth made from this place was nothing short of sublime. It took all day to simmer to perfection, and wasn't overly spicy. Good spicy food tastes spicy, but wasn't overwhelming to the palate. The broth was a dark brown in color, combined with just pinches of Shichimi, Karashi, and a pinch of wasabi. He brought the container close to his nose, and smelled. Perfection. He picked up his chopsticks (in case you're wondering, yes they made this in quite the large size, just for McCrane. And yes she carried it up here with little to no effort, she strong) and pulled up some noodles, slurping along. It sunk into his tanks, releasing heat to the rest of his system. Bliss. He lightly bumped his container against her wrapped burger, smiling. There was nothing in the air besides the sounds of blissful eating, and it was comfortable. McCrane could honestly go all night just sitting there in nothingness, enjoying her company.

"McCrane?"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to say I admire you. For all the work you're doing."

"It's nothing, really. Everyone has lives to live, I'm merely happy I could help. I apologize that we couldn't go out on a date like you suggested earlier."

"Oh no, this counts as a date. Me, you, some food. It's better here anyway, not so stuffy as some restaurant."

McCrane smiled, leaning down to peck at the top of her head.

"Thank you. I really was worried you were disappointed."

Seina didn't say anything in response, choosing to chew on her burger and looking away. He knew that look. Seina wasn't a meek woman by any means, but she did halt her words whenever she worried it would upset him. One of those optional words.

"Seina. You can tell me if you are really are disappointed. You wanted something, didn't you?"

"Well...yes. But it's something you have to fall into the mood for."

"Fall in the mood for? I fell for you, does that count?"

Seina looked up at him, only to chuckle into her free hand. McCrane wasn't stupid by any means, but he was certainly ignorant towards certain things. Like her hints. It wasn't too bad, afterall, she was more than happy to explain what she meant. She set her food down, and motioned him to do the same. He took a quick slurp of his broth, before obeying, setting his container down. She lifted her hands up, and held onto his cheeks. He always loved doing this. She looked so happy, so at peace. Life was chaos, but moments of peace, like this, made it all worth it.

"I wasn't hoping for TOO much, I was just...expecting us to have a nice night out, you know, take me back home to bed.."

McCrane raised a brow. He was reading her face, trying to come to his own conclusion of what she meant.

"Are you...saying you'd like to go home? I can take you home if you'd like."

"No, I just."

She inhaled, and decided to try again. She kissed at his chin, making him freeze. He was always left breathless by those lips.

"McCrane...I want you to touch me."

"Not...how we're doing right now. Right?"

"Exactly. Do you understand?"

"I...think I do. If you could...further explain, however."

They both grinned at each other. McCrane wasn't known for his humor, but this bot always had the tendency to make her laugh. She pressed her lips against his, and watched him just sink into it. Her lips were always soft and smooth. But most importantly, they were firm, just as she was. And he loved her. He moved his lips away from hers, only to wander down lower. He buried his face into her chest, pressing his lips against her shirt. Due to his size, she had to toss her head back to give him more access. And he adored that. Adored having her just sink into his palm and accept his kisses. Adored watching those sharp eyes grow soft. He felt hands on his head, and stopped. He was wondering if he did something wrong, when she started unbuttoning her shirt. She didn't take it all the way off, but rather, left it unbuttoned.

"S-sorry. Please, continue."

"Gladly."

He kissed her forehead, before doing as she requested, burying his face in her chest, kissing and lightly licking between her breasts. McCrane wasn't as much into chests as Dumpson was, but they did feel nice. They were soft, smooth, and she was only growing weaker and weaker, squirming and moaning. McCrane used his free hand to carefully let a finger wander between her legs. She was already damp. Poor woman. Worked so hard, and loved so much. She deserved letting go, and she deserved having someone to help her. His glossa graced one of her breasts, gliding over one of her nipples. She was about to beg for more, when they both froze in place.

"YO! McCrane!!! Getting BUSY!"

McCrane pulled away, seeing Gunmax in the hallway, with a rather tipsy looking Deckerd.

"G-Gunmax! You're back early!"

"Yeah, gotta make out with this drunk loser. Hey Seina, you never told me you did poorly in school. Because damn I see only D's"

Seina covered her chest, rather frazzled. Gunmax snorted.

"Ah I'm just poking fun. I'll leave you guys alone, try not to be too messy. Or do. Just clean up after. Peace, lovelies!"

Gunmax carried the other back to the room, and McCrane sighed.

"I-Im sorry. I understand if you'd like to cut it quits-"

She pulled him into her chest, and huffed.

"No. Get to work, soldier."

McCrane couldn't help but let off steam. Greed was a hideous emotion...but damn did she make it look good.

[radiqueer]

I read Natalie’s endnotes to the aesthetic and this is disturbing the fuck out of me so here are some. rambly thoughts I guess. people are welcome to add to this if they like

first she goes “this video is primarily about trans women” and like. caveat that I am not a trans woman, I’m nonbinary & afab so that’s not an experience I have access to in any way. so keep that in mind I guess

I wanted to show a wider audience the way trans people talk about gender amongst ourselves

look...I’m not an expert on trans people or anything but I watched the aesthetic and I can tell you that that’s not how trans people talk about gender. at least, I’ve never known them to. I’ve never participated in a conversation about gender that works that way. 

....no wait. I have. I’ve seen truscum talk about gender, and the way Justine talks pretty much mirrors the way truscum talk. 

I wanted to work through some of my private doubts about common explanations of what it means to be trans

I can’t argue with that.

I also wanted to reconcile the existence of a devoted Tabby fandom with my having created the character as a caricature of leftist ineffectiveness

I mean. how do I say this. I’ve been thinking about the difference between revolutionaries and incrementalists, and it’s clear to me that they need each other. but throughout the video, the way Justine treats Tabby mirrors the way incrementalists treat revolutionaries; as laughable, disposable, pitiable. like they’re caricatures of themselves. 

I had to google what veracity means. 

Some non-binary people disliked this video because they felt that the dialogue excluded or invalidated them. Whereas most of the feedback I got from binary trans people is positive. Which, fair enough—this is a video about binary trans women.

look...I try not to be like “binary privilege” and stuff because when it comes to trans people that concept becomes increasingly incoherent but how else do I talk about how it feels to be a nonbinary person watching that video, listening to people harp on and on about passing, when I myself will never pass? not just because I’m brown even though that plays into it - white people remain the standard of nonbinary presentation and aesthetics - I won’t ever pass. people are never going to look at me and think “oh, nonbinary” because that identity is not articulated in mainstream society at all. and I have to live in mainstream society, right, even as a marginalized person I still exist in the same spaces as other people. 

it feels like this is basically going “articulation of a binary trans identity has to exclude and invalidate nonbinary people” which is how you get truscum. it’s literally. the same thought process. 

I feel like I'm being grossly misunderstood by NBs when they characterize the desire to pass, Justine's point of view, as "respectability politics."

nonbinary people are not characterizing Justine’s (or Natalie’s) desire to pass as respectability politics. they’re characterizing Justine’s efforts to police Tabby’s presentation, and by association the presentation of all trans people who “fail to pass” (scare quotes because Tabby passes just fcking fine) as respectability politics. you can’t misrepresent our position and then accuse us of misrepresenting you. holy shit. 

My wearing long hair, makeup, changing my voice, generally softening my confrontation with the world is nothing like e.g. a black man wearing a suit and speaking in "white voice." I'm not doing "woman voice" to please cis people. I'm doing it because I want to be a woman.

oh god this is a mess. this is such a goddamn mess. starting with that simile I guess but omg Natalie. who the fuck decides what “woman voice” is? why is that song-and-dance necessary to be trans and to be a woman? like if you want to do it for yourself then that’s fine, but trans people remain trans even when denied the ability to perform their real gender. a trans man who is forced by circumstance to wear dresses and heels and makeup when he desperately does not want to is still a trans man. equating your transness with your desire to pass is just, straight up truscum shit. this is why people are calling you a transmed. 

Cis women understand this deeply. They know that they aren't oppressed as women because they psychologically identify as women. They know that misogyny is foisted upon them regardless of their psychology, so long as society views them as women. Trans men escape misogyny to some degree—generally to the degree that society views and accepts them as men. And trans women are in the sad situation of having to claw our way into a social position where we begin to experience misogyny.

dskjhvdkjfhkfdgdslg this is another mess. 

trans women do not have to “claw their way into a social position where they begin to experience misogyny” they already experience misogyny by virtue of being women. a woman who looks like a man is still experiencing the world as a woman. she’s still being affected by the things which affect women. 

trans men are harder to parse because trans men who fail to pass experience misogyny and the associated violence in addition to violence for refusing to conform to their assigned gender. but they’re experiencing all of these things through denial of their real identity. and that colours their experiences to a great degree. additionally, the social aspect of trans manhood is very, very conditional because manhood, even for cis men, is very conditional and highly gatekept. it’s very hard for trans men to access these structures and weaponise them against others outside of like...a tiny bubble saturated with queerness. to simplify, they’re men without privilege. 

It's not psychological identity that makes this happen. It's the interpersonal recognition that comes about as a result of habitually living/performing the identity. Let's be good leftist materialists here.

I don’t know what kind of materialism it is to reject the realness of the mind, of our emotions and experiences, of our internality. I don’t know much about materialism, but if it leads to takes like this I’m not sure I want to. the internet and what happens on it is real. the mind (or brain, or whatever the goopy shit in your head that lets you be a person is, whatever you wanna call it) and the thoughts and emotions it experiences are real. I feel so stupid arguing this. I feel like I’m trying to teach someone that 2+2=4 but I have to start by convincing them that numbers are real. it’s degrading. 

Before I transitioned I identified as genderqueer for a while. I presented basically as what used to be called a male transvestite. People were sometimes shitty about that, but my coming out with the NB identity was greeted mainly by, "sure, whatever bro, wear whatever you want." I found that as an AMAB NB, I was for most intents and purposes—socially, structurally, materially—still a man.

I don’t want to explain someone’s experiences to them but that’s them dismissing the reality of your nonbinary identity. and because you were and are a massively privileged person in every other way. 

surely an account that begins and ends with "I'm not a man because I don't identify as one" is pretty weak.

[uncharitability cw] I mean. sure. lets all set out to prove why we deserve to exist. that’s a good use of the trans community’s time, because we don’t do that enough in our private lives. lets make it the only story we tell. brilliant plan. and then everyone clapped. 

okay and then she goes on for a bit about the relationship between Tabby and Justine, which is fine. they’re good characters. if they were 100% fictional I would write fic for them. thanks for the extra content, I guess. 

The most hurtful things Justine says are my confessions. I have no security in "feeling like a woman." I feel like I'm desperately trying to be a woman though confronted by endless obstacles. It's a shadow that hangs over me every moment of every day. But these are just some feelings I have. I don't have opinions.

I don’t like telling people that they need to cope in private but if you’re coping then the content that you create to cope with your feelings and insecurities needs to be separate from your activism. conflating the two is a really bad idea and I have about 4 years worth of fandom drama on tumblr dot hell to show for it. bad things happen when people look at someone working through their emotions and trauma and go “oh yes, are these your politics?” and worse things happen when you do that to yourself and then you end up being invited to ted talks and fuck a whole bunch of people over. 

I keep trying not to talk about contrapoints because it serves no purpose and leads nowhere - she’s not going to change. but on some level talking about it helps me and maybe someone wants to hear me talk about it I fucking Guess.

this is okay to reblog, and written entirely in response to those tweets. if you’ve got additional responses to those tweets or want to talk about something I said, feel free. but if you’re going to come here and defend contrapoints, then save it. I’ll block you at best. there are times when I can have a rational, nuanced conversation about this but I won’t ever on this post because that’s not what this post is for. 

[lunarbranded]

🍵+ gatekeeping

Send 🍵for the mun’s salt! || Meme

gate·keep·ing: noun - the activity of controlling, and usually limiting, general access to something.Tumblr definition: when someone takes it upon themselves to decide who has access to something .

Boy, you know. I’ve been mulling over how I was gonna work with this ask and how to do this post for a while. Actually had the words a few times that I wanted to use but I waited and thought on it. As it turns out, there’s a lot I want to touch upon with my salt in this post. Most of it is general toxic behavior from the RPC community itself and some of fandom but, for the most part, it’s Tumblr bullshit to the extreme.

If you don’t want to see strong af opinions, please keep scrolling. The salt will be under the cut and I understand that most of what I’ll be saying in this post will not be popular opinions.

Gatekeeping Is A Form of Bullying

Ever heard some dudebro go ‘I bet she hasn’t even read the comics’ about a girl wearing a Marvel shirt? What about someone going ‘If you don’t read the books, you’re not a real fan’ when someone’s in line at the theater? Yeah, those are examples of gatekeeping. A couple of the most common ones actually. 

As for Tumblr RPC gatekeeping, it’s a bit more like this: 

Omg, you can’t write that because it doesn’t fit into what I believe is the only lore that ever exists

wtf why are you claiming that character is gay/trans/bi/ect? they’re not or it would be mentioned in canon

how dare you want representation for your gender identity/race/ect., that’s not okay because it doesn’t adhere to CANON

you can’t ship that because it’s morally wrong and i don’t like it (which sounds a lot like old church people bitching about anything at all really)

if you don’t have the right aesthetic then i won’t follow/interact with you at all

These are just a few examples but most of them are pretty common. And, you know, that’s sad as fuck, to be honest. So many people I’ve met on this side claim to have been bullied but they’re usually the same people who turn around and do this shit to others. It’s unreal to me that they don’t recognize their own behavior. What’s worse is that it can’t be pointed out or people want to use whatever buzzword they can to tell you to fuck off.

If you try to help correct someone, suddenly you’re every -phobic on the planet and you conveniently managed to set their grandmother on fire. The dramatic overreactions of some people have a price and they don’t realize that the emotional response is sometimes not the correct one.

Just because someone is doing something you don’t like doesn’t mean that it deserves a negative action on your part. 

‘That person upset me so I’m gonna post a callout/vague post about them!’ Why do you guys think that literally fucking everything needs a reaction? It doesn’t. You don’t have to react to everything that happens. Sometimes things warrant a simple ‘oh that’s fucked up’ and then you move on with your fucking day. 

Say you have thirty water bottles. Someone steals one and drinks out of it or whatever but you still have twenty-nine water bottles - why the fuck are you going to be angry all day about that one water bottle? What’s the point when you have twenty-nine other water bottles and you can forget about or throw away the one that was ruined/taken? 

You see, that reaction is how you guys act about any one instance that goes wrong on Tumblr except you’re pissed off for a week and you want to ruin someone’s fucking life over a post/thread that you don’t like. Or, in extreme cases, you open blogs to run your mouth at these people. It takes more effort to act like a dick toward someone than it does to just keep fucking scrolling and it’s astounding how ready people are here to wallow in negativity/toxicity.

Puritan Ship/Roleplay Policing

So I mentioned it before, but there’s this super popular idea on Tumblr that if you don’t abide by a certain unspoken ship/roleplay guideline, people will tear you apart over it. But guess what, guys, it’s fucking bullshit. 

Since when were people not allowed to make their own opinions on what they did or didn’t ship?

When did it start that people were considered trash for shipping something?

Who the hell made half of you the owners of the RPC so you think you can control what everyone does on their blogs? 

You see, this is the same attitude that I see all the time in churches. Oh they’ll tell you to your face that you’re welcome to do as you like and come looking however you want but the second you actually fucking do it, you’re ignored and treated like a social pariah. All this because people love to go around spreading rumors and talking shit about one another all over a fucking hobby. 

It’s actually kind of insane when you think about it. Like, you’re arguing over what two people are doing when they’re throwing internet Barbies at one another and you’re stomping across the playground to scream at them because you don’t like what they’re doing when it has nothing to fucking do with you. Remember what we called that in elementary and high school? Oh yeah, there’s a word for it: BULLYING. And now, it’s evolved into gatekeeping.

This attitude is literally as bad as someone going ‘you can’t sit with us’ just because you don’t like what they’re doing on their blog. 

Now, I called this section ‘puritan’ for a reason - “practicing or affecting strict religious or moral behavior.” Does that sound familiar? Because it should. Tumblr wants to call everything wrong and, from what I’ve seen, the hivemind doesn’t want people making their own opinions. Oh and don’t forget, if you don’t already know something then tough fucking luck because it’s ‘not our job to teach you.’ Thanks for the reminder, Susan, but we all know that you’re going to resort to calling people toxic abusers just because they weren’t given the chance to learn something like you were. Because that’s a fucking great way to help people to understand things from your point of view.

Look. What I’m saying is that trying to force everyone into your moral alignment isn’t okay. Some people will write murder and abusive relationships and not romanticize them just fine. The same goes for incest, rape, dysphoria, and a great number of other things. Believe it or not, some RPers actually take the time to look this shit up so they can make sure that they’re doing it fucking right and avoiding romanticization. You know, what you people want them to do but yell at them when you see it trigger tagged without bothering to take a look at the entire thread in question. Goes right back to that knee jerk reaction people like to rely on - not everything is the end of the world.

Callout/Cancelled Culture

This one’s going to be fun.

So we all know that people love their callouts but we also know that people just fucking love cancelling people. Guess what though - you cannot cancel a fucking human being because they’re not a television show. Shocker right? I know.

Now, I’ll admit that there’s some callout worthy topics but there’s some callouts that are so goddamn stupid that I just can’t take either party seriously. Now Tumblr loves dividing people, especially in the RPC. Don’t fucking tell me that cliques aren’t a thing in the RPC because ‘RPing in your bubbble’ is the same as having a clique. It’s the same concept hidden behind another name, don’t try to tell me otherwise. 

And yes, sometimes people want to run around and start ‘clique wars’ like it’s fucking high school all over again. Sorry, but no one has time for that shit. Do your replies and keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong, Barbara. But, of course, people have trouble with this concept and get into fights. It’s natural that no two people are going to agree on the same goddamn thing. It would be ridiculous to expect this, especially on this website, but just because you disagree with someone doesn’t mean that they’re cancelled. 

What you think is problematic and what someone else thinks is problematic are likely two different things. And sure, you’ll have people who agree with you and you’ll want them on your side but that doesn’t help because now you’ve created that divide. So things fester and get worse because you want to use your mental illness as an excuse (a popular choice from what I’ve seen) as to why you can’t communicate with someone. Next thing you know, there’s a huge callout against someone and that person didn’t expect it at all.

Knee jerk reactions. Fight gets worse. Divide gets bigger. Toxicity festers. 

Well now, there’s this new thing in the RPC where you can get a PSD template and fake fucking screenshots. Sure, it’s for musings and character profiles for things like Tinder, Facebook, ect. Just fun little things for you to throw your characters into and stuff like that. But there’s always that 1% who decide to use it so they can make it look like someone’s said something when they haven’t. So, when that person tries to defend themselves with a full-screen shot of their own (whole desktop or mobile version), things get worse until there’s a giant blowout. 

Once the dust settles you get this nice little ‘if you follow x, y, z then you can just block me bye’ behavior popping up. Well, that’s just childish. Unless something happened that was almost a ‘they found out where i live and they’re sending me glass filled cookies in the mail’ situation, then I have no reason to bother with that shit in your rules page. No one is obligated to tell you who they associate with just because you had a disagreement with them. However, if that person chooses to take your side, that’s up to them. 

I’m sure damn near everyone has had a similar situation to this happen to them on Tumblr before and, if it hasn’t, were you the one making the call out? If you were, was it worth it? Did it make you feel better? Sure, it might have in the moment but if you’re having that much of an issue actually communicating with others then you should take a step back and work on yourself before you involve other people. It’s like that one saying I keep seeing running around ‘if bad things always happen to you, you should make sure that you’re not the one causing it.’ 

Now, that’s not to say that I’m trying to gaslight anyone, but 9 times out of 10, I’ve looked back and realized that my own knee jerk reactions have caused a lot of turmoil that I could have avoided had I stopped and thought on it. I’ll admit that because guess fucking what, humans aren’t perfect. 

That’s the biggest issue on Tumblr. Half of you expect people to come on here and be perfect from the get go but humans make fucking mistakes and we learn from them. Do we not? How many of you can say that you were perfectly rational and amazing 15 year olds? Absolutely no one because teenagers have a lot of stress and expectations thrown on them while they’re going through a rough growth phase at that time. Things are unpredictable for them and they have school, teachers, friends, and parents throwing all of this shit onto them and then they come on here and have full-grown fucking adults slamming all this shit into their faces. It’s fucking ridiculous. And that’s another goddamn topic holy shit. The way some adults on here act is absolutely barbaric.

Sharing IP Addresses Out of Revenge/Anger

Oh this is something I’ve hated since I found out that Statcounter was a thing. Yes, I run it on my own blog but you’ll never see me sharing IP addresses on the dash. I’ll just quietly IP block you and go about my day, idgaf.

So there’s this huge trend and I’ve seen this on my own dash before (it was fucking disgusting, the response was atrocious on that person’s behalf, and I’ve since hardblocked) and it’s something I’ll hardblock over in a heartbeat. 

Now, for those who don’t know, Statcounter has a little piece of code that you can put into your blog theme and it’ll track the IP addresses of people who visit your blog. For me, I use it because I’ve had two stalkers in the past and yes, I keep screenshots of their visits for my own records. Fuck them. First one started the trigger for me and the second one recently exacerbated it. Anyway, if the person doesn’t have something on their browser to block it, Statcounter will pick up on their visit, what links they look at, how long they’ve been looking, their ISP, general location (never their precise home location, just the ISP’s area), browser info, and screen resolution. I’m sure there’s more but that’s all I recall for now. 

Having it so you can protect yourself from stalkers is one thing but having it and using it to throw someone’s IP out there is another. When I say that people weaponize Statcounter, I’m not joking. People will go on there after getting what they believe is anon hate and see who the move recent /ask visitor was and start blasting their IP all over the place.

For one thing - people can send asks via the dash. They don’t have to click onto your page at all so, there’s a HUGE risk of throwing out an innocent person’s IP address. 

Say someone does this - mistakenly throws out an innocent person’s IP after receiving anon hate. That person is likely going to have a panic attack. Not only have you shared their state and general location but you’ve blamed them for something they didn’t do. Throwing that IP out there, to any fucking extent can create a witch hunt for anyone who has Statcounter to try to figure out who the owner of that IP is. 

This is related to gatekeeping because you’re essentially blacklisting anyone who lives in that state/general area from the RPC all because you saw they were in the /ask page. How fucked up is that? It ties right back to the knee jerk response and it shows that people given even a modicum of power abuse it at the first chance. This isn’t even addressing how vicious some people answer anons.

Sure, posting an IP address on it’s own isn’t illegal but when you tack a name onto it, then it is because you’re essentially creating a threat toward that person.

Point of this section - don’t fucking share people’s goddamn IP addresses on the dash, it just makes you a douchebag. I lose all respect for anyone doing this when I find them - fuck you for doing that.

Activism Forced into Roleplay

I used to be in the Marvel RPC. Key here: used to be. Part of the issue that lead to me leaving was how much people slammed IRL issues into RP. Yes, I’m well aware that Marvel comics has a long and deep history of taking on IRL issues and the comics themselves are quite political.

However my issue comes when this is happening outside of the Marvel community.

I’ve seen people trying to force IRL events down people’s throats. ‘You shouldn’t be happy - x, y, and z are happening right now and don’t you dare tell me to be quiet about it!’ Good way to get yourself blocked. People RP as a hobby and, for some, as a form of escape. Immersing into a character to find out what makes them tick is a form of method acting, so it could be said that we’re method writing out characters to an extent. So shoving IRL issues at some RPers can cause them to lose muse or abandon blogs entirely. 

Of course, in the same breath, I’ve seen people told that they can’t RP something because they’ve never experienced it, people think they’re romanticizing it, or some other bullshit Tumblr reason. Look, I’ve experienced rape, self harm, suicidal thoughts, CSA (incestuous and non-incestuous), as well as mental and physical abuse. Don’t you dare assume that I cannot write about these experiences in an accurate way and don’t you fucking dare tell me that I can’t write it because I’ll tell you first off where you can shove your bullshit. The fact that people have to disclose that they’ve been through these things so people will stay off their ass on Tumblr RPs is fucking ridiculous too. 

You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot write on my blog when I trigger tag the living shit out of everything to make sure that I’m protecting as many people as I can from seeing it. Do not try this shit with me. Censoring someone because it doesn’t adhere to your moral code is just as bad as banning books, televisions shows, and/or movies. 

Censoring something doesn’t solve the problem and boy fucking howdy does Tumblr have an issue with that. Censorship is another form of gatekeeping, by the way! You might not like it but people don’t go to jail for writing about incest or rape, just fucking saying. Oh but there have been crime authors sent to prison, I was suspended from school for writing about murder, but nothing about rape and incest. 

Sure, it may raise some eyebrows and people have to actually use gasp! postblock, tumblr savior, and any other method of tag blocking so they don’t see it but uh… that’s called being responsible for your content consumption.

Tumblr Is Not The Real World

Alright. So I’m gonna close this with a good reminder that I think some people on Tumblr could use. 

Tumblr is not the end-all be-all of the world.

Yes, you can make some good friends here and that’s fine but when you stay on here too long, the toxicity can start to change how you view the world around you. No, not every man that walks by you is going to rape you. No, not every woman that you see is going to be okay with you treating her the way you do female ocs and canons on here (actually, I’ve met some women who were proud they could make a full-grown man cry with the right look so). 

You have to think about how Tumblr makes you view others as well. All this ‘you messed up once so you’re cancelled’ behavior is a social media phenomenon that doesn’t carry on into real life. It just doesn’t. Sure, you can block someone you know IRL but that doesn’t stop them from talking to you if they were a Facebook friend you went to school with. If they still live nearby you, they’ll either talk to you or about you. What are you going to do? Take the Tumblr route and fucking scream at them like an incoherent banshee? No, you’ll suck it the fuck up and you’ll act like a decent person, don’t fucking lie.

You need to understand that Tumblr is it’s own entity, it’s own little sphere on the internet and, by no means, is it appropriate to carry on in your daily life the way some of you do on here. And if you do, please take a moment to stop and look at yourself. 

Self improvement starts when you want to improve but gatekeeping, bullying, and acting like a total barbarian to people you don’t know isn’t okay. This goes for the ones you do know too. I’m not saying that triggers aren’t important in the real world but you need to understand that forcing the social climate to change will only make people dislike you. When they don’t want to change, they’re not going to and some will refuse to change to spite you. 

Forcing anything won’t help. 

Gatekeeping won’t help. 

Censorship has never helped.

People don’t respond to being told what to do, feel, or think. Personally, I’d tell someone to fuck off if they tried doing it to me. So why do you think you can do it to others? Ever heard of ‘treat others how you want to be treated?’ Just be fucking decent and stop acting like other people are your goddamn doormat, jfc.

[writcraft]

2018 Fandom Reflections

I’m going to do a year in review list of fics and answer tags on some of the memes floating around, but I’m waiting until January when a few anon fics in fests are revealed as I’d really like to include those in my ramblings. This is more a personal take on some reflections I’ve had on fandom - and my place and activity within it - over the course of this year.

On a personal level, real life work and fandom as a hobby have intersected this year for me like never before, and the combination of taking on multiple commitments to academic publishing, grappling with the demands of my thesis and moderating and participating in multiple fests has been a lot. I’ve had something of a rollercoaster year, but I’m ending 2018 feeling creatively inspired, happy, and energised for another active fandom year. Thank you to everyone who has been part of it and those friends new and old that have been instrumental to shaping my year and pulling me out of the funk I was in at the beginning of the year.

Some key lessons I’ve personally learned in 2018 below the cut to save your dash from my GIANT WALL OF TEXT.

All At Sea: I think of my relationship to fan spaces sometimes as a bit like being out at sea. It’s easy to get caught up in the current and drift along, but the tide is always turning and there are unexpected storms which make staying afloat more challenging at times. Sometimes it can be exhausting when you feel as though you’re swimming against a strong current and making no progress, but on other occasions you find a spot where you can swim, choose your own direction, do handstands in the water and it’s exhilarating. This year I learned it’s okay to get out of the sea sometimes, to push your toes in the sand, feel the sun on your face, and just enjoy watching the waves. Have a cocktail with friends at the beach bar, chill the fuck out, basically. From starting the year feeling in something of a fandom funk, I’ve got to a place at the end of this year where I feel very positive about fandom and grateful to share a space with so many brilliant, talented, supportive people. 

Burnout and Information Overwhelm: This year, the burnout has been real and I’ve worked out that the platforms I’m operating on contribute a lot to that feeling of mental exhaustion. Using my mobile for fandom activity, having more time than ever at my personal laptop instead of an office computer which restricted me from accessing fan platforms and ramping up my use of Tumblr, Twitter, WhatsApp and Discord for fandom activity created a kind of information overwhelm that comes with high speed interactions and heightened the sense of needing to be present, or to offer opinions as part of fast-paced interactions requiring quick thinking, and sometimes knee-jerk responses. With this came the suspicion and bitter taste caused by anonymous messages cropping up in the inboxes of me and my friends, and it felt at times as though I was constantly logged on and in a state of hypersensitivity. I’ve learned that stepping back from things and learning to balance time spent online with time spent offline is an important part of self-care and it’s okay to be absent for a while. If conversations are draining, leave them. If you see opinions you don’t like, ignore them or try to understand them. They are just opinions - and I mean opinions on characters, canon, fandom and so on as opposed to political opinions that actively seek to harm people. Everyone has different perspectives on things. There really is room for everyone. Regarding anonymous messages, if the only way someone wants to interact with you is via crappy anonymous messages, I’ve learned they are not worth your time, effort or mental energy. Interacting only brings more attention to them. Delete, block, move on. Fuck ‘em. If you want to talk to me, do it off anon. If I’ve upset you with my actions, tell me. Let’s have a proper, adult conversation. 

Look for the Rainbow: Fandom spaces are communities which form around peoples passions. They are places of brilliant creativity but the things we love have a tendency to give rise to extreme emotional responses. I’ve veered from extreme highs to extreme lows and this year I have learned the importance of finding a balance that works. I think a relentlessly positive, non-critical approach can be just as stifling as a culture of intense negativity and constant division, but having said that when I’m having my storm cloudy moments I’m trying to focus on the rainbow. Wallowing in bad feeling tends to nurture and cultivate that sense of dissatisfaction until it becomes suffocating. There’s a tremendous amount of good in fandom space. Good people, good ideas, tireless effort, incredible organisation, passion, creativity and vibrancy. There’s a huge amount to feel positively about and whilst I would never advocate for a laissez faire, entirely non-critical approach, I also think everyone has their own capacity for critical thinking and the way those thoughts can permeate and shape our whole experience of fandom and - by extension - influence our creative abilities. I’ve learned to focus more on the things I get out of fandom that make me happy, to retain a critical eye on things as I always will given the nature of my research, but not to allow the critical to obscure the many positive things about fandom. 

Evaluating Self-Worth: I’ve really tried in the latter part of this year not to measure myself or my worth by external metrics of success. The kudos, the hits, the number of followers, the amount of positive interaction over anonymous messages, the posts I’m tagged in, the hype, the rec lists I’m on or not on, and so on. Comparing yourself to other people can lead to resentment and frustration or to an inflated sense of self-importance. It says a little something about how I started the year that I thought I want to grow my tumblr and write a really successful fic, and thought I would know if I had accomplished that by feedback and response. I’m actually quite embarrassed to admit that because I think it makes me look like a dick, and I’m super pleased with the support my fics get in any event, but I wanted to share it because I think it’s important in terms of this lesson I’ve learned this year. I went from a place of being very focused on external measures of success to ending this year realising that my most successful stories have been the ones I’m proudest of and they are not the ones with the most hits or kudos. Those are the stories that I enjoyed creating the most, and the ones that left me feeling incredibly positive and proud at the end of this year, looking forward to the next year in fandom and planning projects that I already know won’t be the most popular, but they are the ones I’m creatively excited about and inspired by, so those are the ones I should be focusing on. Despite its resistance to corporate structures, there’s something very capitalist about the way we can sometimes be lured into evaluating self-worth in fandom, and those structures are embedded within fandom itself. They won’t go away, but focusing on them doesn’t half make me unhappy. 

Support Other Creators: It’s easy to let negative feelings overwhelm the way we interact with one another in fandom. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned this year is that you get back what you put in. Through supporting other creators you build friendships formed around shared creative passions and interests. You feel pride in your friends accomplishments. You improve your own work by reading widely, cheerleading, editing, beta reading, alpha reading, brit picking. Writing can be a lonely endeavour but it doesn’t have to be that way when you’re part of a community that uplifts others. 

Treat People With Kindness: Not everybody has the same levels of confidence or the same energy for rigorous debate. We all have days where we feel like we could crack into pieces, where we feel lonely, invisible, anxious, excluded, unhappy or fragile. It’s easy to be brave behind a computer screen, but ultimately people on the other end are going through stuff in the same way we all are. I’m making a concerted effort in 2019 to engage patiently and respectfully with opinions I disagree with and to be open to anyone who wants to chat or talk through things. I want to work on building new friendships (yeah, I’m going to slide into your DMs, like hiiiii :D) and maintaining old ones, ensuring I give back the same energy and support I get from friends so they know how appreciated they are. I started this year thinking Tumblr required a level of saltiness and a dgaf attitude that’s never been me, honestly. The lesson I’ve learned this year is to resist going along with the pile and to stop and think before engaging. For some people that might seem like an annoying attempt to sit on the fence and please everyone which is never going to happen, but to be honest I think it’s all about finding what works for you in that regard. I’m here for the hot takes and the salt at times, but tbh it’s pretty much just not me. Even when I’ve responded heatedly to an anonymous message that thoroughly deserved it, it’s felt performative and weird and I’m just not going to do that anymore. 

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you ever want to chat fandom thoughts then I’m always open to that and hope everyone has a very happy 2019!