#and they will in fact actively turn against us if we dare to be mean nasty trans people about it.

[vulpinesaint]

the hogwarts legacy conversation really highlights something that i think usually stays hidden under the polite facade of liberalism. in the past days, weeks, months, it has become increasingly more apparent that there are SHOCKINGLY few trans allies in spaces which pride themselves on inclusivity and acceptance. as liberal people whose allyship so far has been limited to offering pronouns in their bio and maybe putting an infographic on their insta story once in a while are pressed to make choices to actively support trans people, it becomes increasingly clear that what they offered was never allyship at all. it becomes increasingly clear that their 'allyship' was contingent on all trans people being nice and unobtrusive and separate from other issues. people are dropping their illusions of supporting trans people shockingly quickly when confronted with the choice to actively harm people or not play a video game. as pat loller described it, they are presented with a trolley problem with trans people on one side and jk rowling/the (already paid) game devs on the other. one side will not be damaged. the train will take them on to their next destination, in fact, with very little fanfare. the train will crush the trans people. you have to actively pull the lever to crush the trans people. so-called allies are actively pulling the lever and then getting upset when trans people get upset about being DIRECTLY HARMED. how dare we speak up about the issues we face. how dare we be upset about the direct disregard and harm that people who claimed to support us are now foisting upon us. how dare we be messy about that. we are being actively legislated out of existence, and people who said they were our allies are abandoning us in droves for their much larger problem of... not being able to play a game. it's honestly fucking comedic. your allyship means nothing if it comes with conditions. your allyship means nothing if you are not willing to take action for the sake of your allies. your allyship means nothing if you are not willing to LITERALLY SIT STILL AND NOT DO A SINGLE ACTION for the sake of your allies. the trans community asks people NOT TO PLAY THE GAME. and people look us in the eyes and tell us that a few hours of antisemitic gameplay is worth more than our lives. fine. whatever. we see how it is. glad that they're finally being honest, at least. if you play hogwarts legacy or engage with harry potter i hope you die.

[spatialwave]

𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

"𝐋-𝐈-𝐕-𝐈-𝐍'."

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader word count: 5.1k summary: you made your choice. what will come of the consequences? surely, only good things, right? all you know is one thing you learned from a wise man: you just gotta keep livin'. l-i-v-i-n'. warnings/tags: MDNI. angst, hurt/comfort, underage drinking and drug use, jealousy, love triangle, name-calling, physical fighting/abuse, emetophobia/mention of v*miting. notes: this is long over due! i've been so happy seeing people still liking the series and i hope this ending does it justice. i'm already missing them, and thinking of ways i could do a little spin-off. suggestions are welcome, hehe.

<- chapter four.

Fucking at the Moon Tower was an activity you could cross off your bucket list, a feat that was surprisingly easy to pull off for an area of land running rampant with drunken teens. It seemed as though luck was dealing your cards for the evening and things had all started to move forward smoothly.

The ordeal with Angus was a bittersweet feeling, of course. Being drunk didn’t mean that you completely lost all touch of your morals.

It just meant that the guilt wouldn’t bother you until it was all over, and you were laying in bed hungover, wondering why you couldn’t have mustered the strength to end things off with Benny before you settled on infidelity. Hell, even now you were the other woman, Angus’s promise of ending things with Elise didn’t make this any better.

The only fighting argument you had against your wrongdoings was the fact that neither you nor Benny had made things… ‘official’, but you sure acted like it. That had to account for something, and you knew very well that if he found out, he wouldn’t be happy.

Forcing the rising guilt back down into the pit of your stomach, you focused on the way the grass felt against the exposed skin on your back. Lifting a hand up to toy with your hair that was rather messy now and let your eyes focus up on the stars in the sky, which were mostly hidden by the light of the moon tower that lifted above the treeline. The sound of gentle breathing next to you kept you calm, shuffling in the grass while you saw Angus turning on his side out of your peripheral vision.

“So,” his voice was deep in his throat as he shifted up on his elbow, able to get a better angle of you, “are we going to do that again sometime?”

You had to fight the smile growing on your lips, twitching at the corners and daring to make you smile like a dork. Leave it to Angus Tully to be the one to keep you from getting lost in your head, and instead, in the here and now.

“No,” you were quick to react, lips spreading into that grin you’d been avoiding, “definitely a one time thing.”

“Ouch, you really are feisty,” he groaned, lifting a hand to his heart and clutching at his chest, his button-up no longer doing its job of keeping him covered, “you have a cold, cold heart.”

A laugh bubbled up from your throat, earning a returning smile from the curly-haired boy, “I don’t have a cold heart. I’ll have you know that I am actually a really good person.”

“Good people don’t have to say they’re good people,” Angus tilted his head, an absent hand reaching forward to tuck some hairs behind your ear.

“Looks like you’ve seen right through me,” you whisper, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

The act itself makes a fierce warmth grow on your cheeks, so warm it reaches the tips of your ears and over your chest. There’s nothing more you can say at this moment, only able to react to his touch and slightly nuzzle your cheek against his hand like a needy pet. 

You stared into those big, brown eyes of his and wondered how you got so lucky to meet a boy like him – even if it meant leaving your home. He was truly the only good thing about this town.

Maybe this was the start of something new. Something you both deserved.

Your lips opened to speak, but the sound of someone rushing near you both had startled you up and looking around. A younger boy, likely a freshman, darted past you both and towards a large bush, the sounds coming from him making your nose crinkle as he emptied his stomach. 

“Christ,” Angus grumbled, pulling away from you instead pulling you up to your feet, “who’s letting these kids drink their fucking brains out.”

Quickly, you both vacated the area until you were halfway between the puking boy and the party that had continued to go well into the night. Neither of you had noticed that your hands were held tight together until Angus had stepped ahead, and your feet remained planted in the taller grass. 

“We can’t tell anyone about what we just did,” the words fell from your lips quickly, eyes settled ahead on the crowds of people that you could see in the distance. All illuminated by headlights and the moon tower.

Benny was there somewhere. So was Elise.

Just like the boy hidden somewhere behind you both, you felt sick to your stomach as the regret coursed back through your veins without Angus able to fix it all for you with his touch. 

“Why would I tell anyone?” He retorted, dropping your hand and turning to face you, blocking your sight so you were forced to look up at him, “I’m not looking for problems… you’re not going to say anything are you?”

“...No.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

“God, Angus, what do you want me to say? You just cheated on your girlfriend,” you grumbled, the effects of alcohol and weed wearing thin, making this night feel a lot more real than you wanted it to.

This was supposed to be a night where you hoped you didn’t remember much of it, so drunk and high that you could completely let loose and kick off your last summer before senior year. You were more complicated than that, though, you came with nuances and emotions that you didn’t really understand just yet. You had so many wants and needs, and so many fears.

“I told you I was going to break up with her. You’re acting like I’m the only one who fucked up here, you know,” Angus’s voice was sharper, like it was at the moon tower when he chastised your relationship with Benny, “this was mutual.”

“That’s not what I meant–”

“Do you think me sleeping with you tonight was just for fun? Like I’m going to leave you in the dust and forget about what happened tomorrow morning?” He took a step forward as you took a step back, “I meant what I said. I really like you. Don’t make me overthink this.”

“It’s just,” you started, arms crossing over your chest, “fuck, we really should’ve waited, Angus. I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

A heavy sigh came from him, and you could tell he was fed up, but holding back.

“Yeah,” he eventually breathed, “you’re right, I get it. We… uh, really fucked up.”

You could see his mannerisms change, the sheepish look in his eyes when that very guilt you felt extended into him. But you were young and you were certain this wouldn’t be your last fuck up in your life. You’d get through it – eventually.

“I like you too,” you murmured, fingers twisting into the fabric of your halter top, “I guess we just gotta deal with everything if we want this to work.”

Angus nodded, a tiny smile on his lips that made you feel all sorts of funny, your cheeks warm and belly fluttering with waves of butterflies swirling in a vortex. It was making you feel sick all over again, but for good reasons this time.

“You should come with me in the morning,” he said, kicking a foot into the tall grass, “I’m going with Wooderson to buy Aerosmith tickets… It'll be a good time.”

You were complicated. Wanting to say no because you needed time to cut things off with Benny, and because your mother would freak out when your bed was still empty by morning, but instead you nodded your head without any hesitation.

You were just a teen girl, there were no rules on how you acted or felt.

“Yeah, okay,” you smiled, “maybe.”

“Maybe?” The boy matched your wicked grin, taking a few steps back from you and closer to the party, “I’ll see you later, then.”

You watched in awe as Angus spun on his heels and sauntered back to the party, leaving you in a state of uncertainty. There was much to think about, but his request reminded you of something important.

Life was short.

So, why the hell were you standing in the middle of the wooded forest listening to the sound of some poor boy getting sick when you could be back with your friends getting shitfaced and forgetting about everything that happened.

You pulled your feet forward and carried yourself back to the party, everyone now officially drunk or stoned out of their minds, your friends nowhere to be seen. The beer keg was your first stop, drinking one full cup in quick succession and pouring yourself another. 

The cool liquid poured down your throat and numbed your mind instantly, fingers tightening around the red solo cup as your empty stomach greeted the alcohol. You closed your eyes and guzzled down the remainder of the second beer, knowing that any more would likely put you in the same predicament after your argument with Angus.

Fingers crinkled the cup, and you tossed it to the ground, perking up and looking at your surroundings. There were an abundance of drunk teens, your eyes watching two girls take a tumble to the ground together and a boy sitting in the backseat of a convertible coughing his lungs out because of a particularly intense bong rip.

“Where the fuck is Kaye?” You sighed under your breath, eyes scanning the area and excusing yourself when two boys asked you to move away from the keg. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you begin walking away in hopes to scout around the party for a familiar face.

Just as your eyes nestled on your friend, who was sitting on the back of Tony’s car, you felt someone shove themselves against you roughly – with intention.

“Buzz off,” you groaned, catching your footing before nearly crashing into the ground. 

Perking up, your eyes darted over to the other and saw none other than Darla standing there with eyes narrowed and cheeks flush with anger. A few paces behind was Elise, looking just as angry.

“You slut,” Darla hissed, taking taunting steps toward you and her voice loud enough to grab the attention of the two boys taking beer from the keg, “you must like stealing boys, huh? Stealing Benny from me, then trying so hard to get Angus’s attention and acting like you’re nothing but a saint,” her face twisted with fury as she spoke, “stupid bitch.”

You gasped loudly as Darla flung beer at you, the lukewarm liquid splashing against your chest and soaking your halter top. 

“I had no idea you and Benny were a thing!” You blurted quickly, always wondering why these things had to happen after you finished downing multiple beers, “and nothing’s happening with Angus… he’s just a friend.”

Both of your hands had lifted in defense, breath shaky as you watched Darla and Elise’s combined anger unfold in front of you. You were hoping that tonight would treat you with more grace than it could have, but karma was doing its work.

Darla’s lips curved into a sickening grin as she threw the red cup at you, as if pouring the beer wasn’t enough. “You think we’re stupid? Like we haven’t seen you flirting with him for the past few weeks? God…” she shook her head, an airy laugh of disbelief coming from her, “and you try to tell me that you had no idea Benny and I were a thing? I get that you’re new here, but you’d have to be really dumb to not know what’s going on around you.”

“Okay,” you said, trying to level with the girl that looked like she could pounce any moment, “maybe I didn’t do my research with others before spending time with Benny, but in my defense he didn’t tell me anything. I just… I figured he was single. You should be getting mad at him!”

“God, stop acting like you’re the victim here!” She laughed against and balled her fists together, and you knew then and there that there was nothing you could do to share your side of things. She was far too angry, and much too drunk, “You’re such a stuck up bitch, like every dumb prissy girl from the West Coast.”

Your eyes flickered over to Elise, who seemed to have some semblance of sobriety at the moment, but doing nothing to make this situation any better for you. When you settled your gaze back on the girl in front of you, you saw the anger boiling beneath the surface. She was starting to talk angry nonsense which you had no bite over.

You either needed to make one quick response to shut her down, or get the hell out of there.

“Darla–”

Before you could plead anymore in a last-ditch attempt to bury the hatchet and keep it from escalating, a flimsy hand met with your nose and pain shot through your head. Darla sucker-punched you, making a fool out of you. As you grabbed at your face, wincing loudly in pain and feeling blood drip down your nose, you heard the other girl yelping from the pain radiating in her hand. “What the fuck?” You roared, eyes wide and anger flowing through you. Not once had anyone ever disrespected you like this, and even though you wanted to lay down in a ball and cry the pain away, there was a rush of adrenaline keeping you afloat.

“Aw, look, she’s angry,” Darla laughed in your face, taking a step back, but you lunged. She wasn’t getting the satisfaction.

The two of you tumbled to the ground and hands began to tug at clothes and hair, shouts and yelps garnering the attention of anyone close. “Holy shit,” you heard Elise’s voice just barely because soon all you could hear were people yelling and cheering you on. Well, both of you. Two girls drunkenly fighting? It made for great party entertainment.

“You stupid bitch!” Darla squealed as you yanked on her hair, tugging her back to the ground after she tried standing up.

“You punched me first, asshole!” You yelled, unable to land any good hits on her and resorting to some lowly slaps and kicks. Finally, you managed to get on top of her, holding her down with her weight as you straddled her and she was doing her best to push you off, “Fuck you,” you spat at her, fist tightened as you punched.

But it never landed.

“Hey, break it up!” Kaye’s voice was loud, quieting down everyone who had been bystanders, watching and cheering. 

“Let me at her!” You growled, kicking your legs out as you were pulled back, watching as Elise and Shavonne pulled Darla away. Then, you saw Kaye to your left and realized it wasn’t her pulling you away from the fight; you glance over your shoulder and see Angus staring down at you, dragging you far from the scrap.

“Fuck you!” Darla snapped at you, stumbling on her feet and smoothing down her clothing that had gone askew from your wild hands that savagely attacked her, “You’re dead to us, Tully! Dead. Have that worn-in skank!”

“Easy now,” Shavonne’s voice could be heard.

“Are you okay?” Angus’s voice was loud in your ear and you could smell the beer on his lips he forced you to look his way, “Fuck. You’re going to be bruised tomorrow.”

“C’mon, let’s get her out of here,” Kaye jumped in, helping him pull you away.

Your eyes flickered around, seeing the crowd fizzling out and how Elise looked at you and Angus with a clenched jaw. She extended a middle finger out, and for some reason it sent a wave of relief through your body – was it over now? Would her and Darla finally give up on tormenting you? 

Angus and Kaye got you situated onto the back of his car, sitting atop the trunk, your legs dangling as the boy tended to your bloody nose and busted lip. The pain was rising now that the adrenaline was leaving your body, leaving you squirming under his touch as he used his sleeve to wipe the dried blood that coated your upper lip. Not only that, but your soaked halter top was making you terribly uncomfortable.

“I’m fine–”

“Not fine,” Angus cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” you reiterated, looking rather sheepish, “she started it.”

“Yeah, I saw,” he smirked, tucking some of your hair behind your hair, “you gotta’ get better at fighting. That was bad.”

“Easier said than done. Are you going to teach me?” 

“Sure.”

The silence between you both is welcomed, and you hadn’t realized that Kaye left. Kegs were emptied dry, which meant everyone had begun to leave and go home or move onto an after party. You two stayed situated in your spot, though, unmoving as the cars around you filled with teens and roared into the night.

“I broke up with her,” Angus admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “I would have rather waited until tomorrow, but that’s not fair to either of you.”

You click your tongue knowingly, rolling your eyes playfully, “So, you’re the reason Darla came and unleashed her anger out on me, huh?”

“No, that’s because she bottles shit down until she’s hammered and she finally had the balls to confront you about it,” he smiled at you, lifting both hands to cup your cheeks, “you took it like a badass, though. I think you look hot.”

“Yeah, I feel so hot–”

You’re cut off by Angus’s lips pressing to yours, a gentle kiss that’s careful of your wounds. You wince in pain, pulling back and lifting a hand to the side of your lip that’s tender and a bit swollen.

“Shit, sorry,” he exhaled, pulling back from you.

“It’s okay,” you laughed, arms wrapping around his neck and instead pulling him into a tight hug, “thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, hands on your back and brushing his fingers along the exposed skin from your revealing halter top.

“For dealing with me,” you murmured, burying your face into his curly hair that clung around his ears, “I’ve been a mess tonight. Honest to god, I’m usually not this insane.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the sound vibrating against your neck as he pressed a few soft kisses to your skin, “hm, it’s okay. I can deal with crazy.”

Both you and Angus found yourself unable to leave each other’s arms for a short while, as if making up for lost time between the two of you. Not even an hour later, and after a good makeout session in the back of his car and changing into one of his oversized band shirts, you found yourself in the middle of the football field, laying between Angus’s legs and your head pressed against his exposed stomach from the shirt that you’d unbuttoned earlier.

To your left was Jason and Shavonne, having made up for the night, and beside them was Slater, who was digging into a baggy of weed and rolling up a few fatties for the group to share.

Wooderson stood tall in front of everyone, reading from the pact that Angus still hadn’t signed.

“Not to indulge in any alcohol, drugs, sex after 12, or any other illegal activity,” he stepped toward everyone, who had started laughing. Angus groaned, sitting upright and reaching out for the paper with a grouchy look on his face, “found that in your glove compartment, man.”

“You know you’re the third person who’s given me this today? God,” he groaned, rolling it up and tucking it into his jean pocket.

“What’re you going to do?” You asked, looking up at him and bringing the cigarette to your lips that you two had been sharing.

“I don’t know,” Angus complained, wiping his face with his hands and looking between everyone, “I’ll probably just end up signing, I just don’t want to give in too easy, y’know?”

“Man,” Wooderson looked at him through half-lidded eyes, taking a hit of his joint and exhaling a large cloud of smoke, “that’s the same bullshit they tried to pull in my day. If it ain’t that piece of paper, some other choice they’re going to try and make for you. You gotta do what Angus Tully wants to do, man.”

You looked up at the curly-haired boy, admiring his features that illuminated from the large flood lights on the football field. You noticed the way he listened earnestly to Wooderson, who wasn’t known for great advice, but so far this was sound.

As he watched the older guy, his hand played absently with your hair, leaving you far-too relaxed and tired for someone who was planning on heading out to get tickets once the sun was fully risen above the horizon. There wasn’t much longer before it would be up.

“And let me tell you this. The older you do get, the more rules they’re gonna try to get you to follow. You just gotta keep livin’ man. L-I-V-I-N’.” He beamed, earning a few giggles from everyone around as he collapsed onto the ground next to Slater.

“If you’re gonna sign that paper, man, you should throw a little grass right in the middle, man. Roll it up, and sign the joint, man. That’s gonna tell ‘em something.” Slater spoke, eyes practically shut as his reddened eyes looked around at everyone sharing laughs at his words.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, Slate?” You piped up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, man. The size you could get out of that paper would keep me high all day, man.”

“So what?” Jason broke into the conversation, head in Shavonne’s lap and eyes closed, “you gotta think about it. We’ve had a lot of really good times here, Tully.”

You sink a bit lower, able to tilt your head back and get a proper look at the boy you’d fallen in love with so deeply, smiling, “He’s not wrong. I mean, you’re, like, king of the school, you know? You get away with whatever you want, anyway.”

Angus let out a heavy exhale through his nostrils, leaning his head back as he slipped out from beneath you and rose to his feet. You pushed yourself up, eyes trailing him as you smoked the last of the cigarette and held the filter between your fingers.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life, remind me to kill myself,” he grunted, car keys in one hand and ready to toss away that slip back into his glove compartment so he could forget about it.

Jason sighed, “Look, Tully, all I’m sayin’ is that I wanna look back and say, that I did it the best I could while I was stuck in this place, had as much fun as I could when I was stuck in this place,” he continued and you watched Angus, seeing how he paused in his steps and listened, back turned from everyone, “played as hard I could when I was stuck in this place, dogged as many chicks as I could when I was stuck in this place.”

Everyone laughed again, Shavonne mostly groaning as she shoved at Jason, “Yeah, right, Mr. Premature Ejaculation.”

As the couple to your left playfully fought each other, and Slater and Wooderson laughed at them, your eyes settled on Angus. He returned your gaze, staring at you with a small smile. A hand lifted and motioned for you to go to him, and you obediently listened, rising to your feet and sauntering his way.

“Do what you need to do, Tully,” you said to him, in a perfect buzzed state from the cigarette and joint you’d smoked. You lifted your hands, palms pressing against his chest and his hands wrapping around you loosely, “Don’t let anyone make that decision for you.”

Angus smiled down at you, needing to hear that. After a day of being told what to do by everyone, it was nice to know that you would have his back.

“Thanks,” he murmured, lowering his head to press a kiss to your lips. It was gentle, exactly what you needed. His hands lifted up to caress the sides of your neck, licking over your bottom lip and eager to make it heavier than it needed to be in front of your friends – you were already walking around with two visibly hickies on your neck from your rendezvous in the car before coming to the football field.

Just as you pulled from him, noses bumping together, bright, shining headlights startled everyone.

“Oh, shit, are those the cops?” Shavonne perked up.

“Hey, all of you! Get over here!” One of the cops called as he exited the car and slammed the door, waving you down, “Now!”

The group all listened, rather slowly of course. It wasn’t illegal to be on the football field, but it was illegal to be smoking weed. Slater sneakily tucked the bag into his pants, sulking behind everyone else who made their way to the fence.

It was embarrassing, the cops making you all line up like a bunch of criminals. Your back pressed against the chain link fence, wanting nothing more than to be at home in the comfort of your bed, preferably with Angus by your side. But no, the cops recognized Jason and Angus immediately and called the coach – and no one was to leave, even as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

“Tully. Smith.” The coach grumbled from his spot in the driver’s seat, having pulled up in his Jeep and staring you all down like he actually had some semblance of authority. It was laughable, especially to Angus, “Get your scrawny butts over here!”

“Morning, Coach,” Jason smiled, hands in his pockets as Angus lagged behind.

You and Shavonne, on the other hand, stood back and shared quiet laughs at the situation. It’s not like you could help it, when your body was minutes away from crashing into the deepest sleep of your life, it was hard not to find every little thing at least kind of hilarious.

“What’s going on?” He berated the two football players like an angry father.

“False alarm, Coach.” Angus said nonchalantly and you could tell that he was over the conversation already. All he wanted was to get to the city to buy Aerosmith tickets.

“Come here, Tully.” The coach beckoned and you couldn’t quite hear over the conversation, but the angry look on Angus’s face told everything you needed to know about  what was happening.

“How can you talk that way, huh?” Angus’s voice was loud as he took a step back from the vehicle, looking over his shoulder and at you for a brief moment before turning back around, “You don’t know any of them, what do you know about bad fucking influences? You think I’m some perfect angel?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m willing to wipe the slate clean if you straighten up, stop hanging out with these hoodlums and sign the goddamn commitment.”

“Hoodlums?” You and Slater said together, both looking at Angus and the coach with half-lidded, red eyes.

Angus rubbed a hand over his mouth, letting out a breathy chuckle, “You know what coach,” he started, looking back at you again, a smile on his lips, “I gotta get going. Me and my loser friends, and girlfriend… Well, we’re gonna go get Aerosmith tickets. Can’t be fucking late. Top priority of the summer.”

It was a subtle mention, but the title of ‘girlfriend’ made your stomach swirl in all sorts of ways and you could see Shavonne’s devilish smirk in your peripheral vision.

Angus began making his way back over to you, but then he spun on his feet, looking back to Jason and coach, “Oh, coach,” he said, digging into his pocket and retracing his steps back to the Jeep, “I forgot,” he cleared his throat, crumpling the paper, “I might play ball, but I will never sign that.”

The taller boy tossed the paper right into his vehicle, jaw clenching and staring daggers at him before turning back around and heading your way, huffing as he let his anger dissipate and the coach sped away.

“Shit, man, that’s livin’!” Wooderson grinned, giving Angus’s hand a smack, “Now come on, I’m getting my third wind. Let’s get on the road.”

“You comin’ man?” Slater spoke up, looking at Angus, then to you, “You’re definitely coming.”

“Oh, I am?” You snorted, shoving Slater playfully as you walked next to Angus, your hand slipping into his almost perfectly, “What about you guys?” You shot a look over to Shavonne and Jason, the latter looking like he’s going to collapse any minute.

“No, I’m tired,” he mumbled, hardly able to open both eyes as Angus tossed his keys to Shavonne. The blond looked at Angus, smacking his lips a few times, “So, that’s that, huh?

Angus shrugged his shoulders, looking at his friend and giving him a couple pats on the shoulder, “I’ll see you later, man,” he told him, nodding and watching as Shavonne began dragging him over to Angus’s car.

You and Slater settled into the backseat of Wooderson’s car, passing a joint back and forth as wind rushed through the open windows and left your hair blowing wildly around. Angus would look back at you every so often, checking on you and shooting that charismatic smile of his as music blared loudly through the radio – Slow Ride by Foghat.

You know, things may not have gone the way you wanted them to go, but hell, it was better than a shitty night stuck at home. Your lip was busted, nose still throbbing, and you didn’t really have an answer to what was going on with you and Benny and it wracked you with guilt.

But you’re only seventeen, you’re meant to make fucking mistakes, lots of them – to learn from them. That’s the fun of life because if you hadn’t fucked up as much as you did, you wouldn’t have been with your favourite people, riding off to the city with the smell of weed and summer break tickling your nose.

Angus’s eyes met your own once again, those stupid, big brown eyes. You passed the joint over, grinning like a fool as he winked at you. 

There was nothing but the morning sun rising in the sky, great music and even better friends – and you knew summer was going to be full of everything you needed.

[sapphic-agent]

Is Mitsuki Bakugou Abusive?

I mean, you all already know my answer. I've spoken about this before. But some Bakugou stans feel the need to turn everyone who doesn't worship the ground Bakugou walks on into the devil, so let's talk about it.

(Yes, I just got into an argument with one of said stans. Yes, I'm salty about it)

The conclusions people draw from this scene are so interesting. Bakugou stans are of course always up in arms about it. But as we know, they have zero media literacy. So let's examine the facts:

1. Mitsuki is smiling the first time she "hits" Bakugou. Her demeanor is playful if anything, and it's clear her intention is not to hurt him. She isn't even angry at or scolding him.

2. Bakugou's immediate response is anger. He isn't afraid or in pain. He's not afraid to stand up to her. Now, I don't mean to generalize abuse victims, but I'm assuming a child who's "beaten regularly" (this particular stan's exact words, despite there being zero evidence for it) usually wouldn't boldly threaten to kill their abusive parent. In his mind, she isn't a legitimate threat to his safety, or else he wouldn't feel so comfortable speaking to her like that.

3. It's only when Bakugou literally threatens her with violence that Mitsuki gets harsh with him. And understandably so. My mother has never hurt me in my life and I wouldn't dare speak to her that way no matter how angry I was. There is a little more force put into this snack, but even then it's not meant to actually hurt him. It's also interesting that none of his stans feel it necessary to criticize Bakugou's threat and immediately harp on her response to it.

4. He continues arguing with her after the hit. So the smack didn't seem to deter him at all. Almost like he's completely unfazed by the thought of her hitting him again.

5. Aizawa and All Might don't speak up about it at all. If Aizawa is really such a protective teacher, you think he'd let so-called abuse go on in front of his face?

6. Masaru isn't afraid to speak up against her. People assume that he rolls over and lets Mitsuki abuse Bakugou, but clearly he doesn't if he's fine intervening when he feels either one of them is out of line. He's calm, but he clearly isn't as passive as the fandom makes him out to be.

7. Mitsuki actually shows concern for him and wants him to improve. She's actively supporting him and believing in him. It's so funny how this part of this scene is completely overlooked. Almost like Bakugou stans cherry pick whichever aspects of her fit their narrative.

Now, am I saying that there's zero chance a parent like Mitsuki is abusive? No, of course not. But Bakugou is fictional. What we're being shown is meant to be the entire picture. Anything past what we've been given is purely fanon. Mitsuki "regularly abusing and beating" Bakugou isn't canon and cannot be used to defend his character

[rius-cave]

I just saw you mention Adam having PTSD from the exterminations and honestly it's so valid. He did enjoy doing them, he did have fun, yes, but I firmly believe he started it because of his unprocessed trauma that he wasn't even aware of. I mean, I see the way he's masking himself (literally and figuratively) as a way of protecting himself from people. Back when he was "born" he was literally rejected and betrayed by the very people he supposedly loved and who were supposed to love him, then he was practically abandoned and thrown out of Eden by the same people who mentally harmed him in the first place. This guy is badly damaged and no one can convince me otherwise. And he was damaged from the start so he couldn't possibly realize that something was very not okay because these were the very first people he knew. And we all know pushing down our feelings and ignoring them comes with concequences. In his case, the frustration manifested in violence, on top of that violence against his own descendants who chose the wrong path, who had tainted humanity with their acts. He also probably connects them with Lilith and Lucifer who caused it in the first place, bringing evil to the earth. I also love to consider the extermination as a form of personal revenge on Adam's side, since he isn't able to carry out a direct revenge it serves as one for him.

But he knows it's wrong. He knows either way that what he's doing is bad and cruel, and even if he actively avoids admitting that to himself, he subconsciously knows.

Then he gets to Hell. He most likely only used to visit Hell during exterminations, which means his brain most likely strongly connects the place with that. Hence, being in Hell is a constant reminder for him. On top of that, he actually sees what life is like in Hell. That all those "bad bad sinners who can't change and tainted humanity" aren't all bad actually. And perhaps he doesn't care about them, but I don't think he could just ignore that. He has to live among them, he sees the way they live and he's forced to realize that they're still human souls and not pure evil and rotten. It will add to the guilt which he probably also doesn't admit that he feels, because he didn't do anything wrong, right..? Everything was reasonable... But then why does it feel so bad?

Okay this turned our very very long but it just hit me and I could still go on about it lol, I'll spare you from that

First of all, thank you anon for putting into words this thing that I'm not smart enough to do myself.

I really wouldn't dare to say that "canon" Adam is this deep and has oh such big trauma and is only misunderstood by everyone and bla bla, because if I'm honest, the way he's written in the show doesn't lead me to believe that Vivzie really cares about fleshing him out to be a super complex character. And hey, fair enough, I'm taking him from her anyway lol.

But if if we stopped for a second to think about it, Adam definitely has the potential to be a much deeper and complex character that would be able to touch upon themes like this. I desperately need to know when did everything go wrong, was it really Eden? Was it during his time on Earth? Was it after he died???

I honestly think it's kind of a mix of all of them, but the biggest shift was after he died. He was the first human soul in Heaven, hey, it's not so bad in here!! Maybe his suffering on Earth was worth it after all if he was able to spend the rest of Eternity in a place like this! Now he just needs to wait for his family to get there as well so it can all be complete!

Except they don't, not all of them in fact. A couple of his sons, maybe or maybe not his wife, but it's definitely not ALL of them, where is everybody!? He's pretty sure his grandchildren would start aging by now too, where did everybody go!?

Of course, that asshole has them. It wasn't enough for him to steal his first wife and lie to them so they'd get kicked out of Eden, he also took a bunch of his children, his grandchildren, his great grandchildren and so on and so on.

Look at everything they do on Earth, it's disgusting, and it's all that fucker's fault. None of this would've happened if it wasn't for him, if it wasn't for the other sinners who kept repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

And he starts the exterminations after centuries of wallowing in that hatred. But of course, they're only the result of years of watching how everyone just eventually leaves him. And he doesn't realize when that violence starts becoming just a way to cope with his intense hurt.

I feel like I went a little off track there, forgive me I am a little scatterbrained right now. But in any case, I absolutely concur with you!

[swift-creates]

category: Gen

fandom: Batfamily x One Piece

characters and relationships: Damian Wayne al Ghul x Roronoa Zakiko (OC) - romantic

warnings: mind control, restraints, electrocution, swearing, accidentally hurting a loved one, the Joker

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 18: Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

Day 20 Alt 6: shock collar

Day 30 Alt 8: kidnapping

Zakiko and Damian are captured by the Joker, and he seems to be intent on bending them to his wishes.

notes: a bit of my Damiko collab fic with the lovely @ablatheringblatherskite, to whom Zakiko belongs. Zaki’s POV - Aster | Damian’s POV - Me

SORRY IF DAMIAN IS OOC I HAVEN’T WRITTEN HIM MUCH BEFORE

Damian groaned and blinked open his eyes. His head was pounding, though from a knockout blow or knockout gas he couldn’t quite remember. The very fact he couldn’t was worrisome. 

There was another groan to his side. Zakiko clenched her jaw in pain. Her head felt like it was ramming against the inside of her skull and she didn’t like it. What the hell…?

“Well, good morning, little ones. Have I got an exciting day planned for you,” a dreadfully familiar voice cackled, and Damian twisted in his restraints to see the Joker’s malicious grin directed towards him and Zakiko. 

Zakiko opened her eyes to see the clown leering at them, and she blinked several more times in slight confusion and annoyance. “A clown? Really?”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Damian told her under his breath, glaring at the villain. “He’s wreaked havoc on my family before.”

“Hmmph, is that so?” Zakiko narrowed her eyes at the clown, her wrists jerking against the restraints. She looked down at herself to see that she and Damian were trapped in strange chairs, their wrists restrained by metal clamps on the armrests. She jerked against them again, swearing as the metal dug into her skin. 

Damian narrowed his eyes at the Joker. “Just tell us what you intend and get it over with, clown.”

“Yeah,” Zakiko spat. She writhed a bit more against the clamps, straining against them and ignoring the way it dug into her wrists. “Or how about you let go of us instead?” 

She wasn’t going to waste time on this clown and immediately tried to use her Marionette-ism on him, willing his body to transform like countless people have before at the hands of her abilities. But nothing happened. Her eyes widened in confusion and horror and she tried again, but when nothing happened, she spun her head around to look at Damian in panic. “Damian—my powers. They aren’t working.”

“What?!” he hissed. “What do you mean, they aren’t working?? You’re not the kind to get some kind of maintenance error.”

“I know!” she hissed back, trying to activate her abilities again. But none of them were working. “And these aren’t made of Sea Stone…” She turned to glare at the Joker with wide, angry eyes. “What did you do!?”

He laughed at her, walking in a figure eight around his two captives. “No powers in Gotham! It wouldn’t be fair to those of us without, now, would it?” He waggled a finger at her reprimandingly.

She growled and tried to bite his finger, but he pulled it away and booped her on the nose before dancing out of reach.

“I come bearing gifts!” He reached into a box and took out two black collars, fastening one around Damian’s neck despite his struggles, then going over to Zakiko. “Now, now, no more of that, kiddo. Uncle Joker just wants to give you nice stuff!” 

“No, don’t you dare touch me! Leave him alone! You little—” The collar clicked around her neck, and he patted her on the head. 

“There we go. You two look so pretty in your matching trinkets. It must be twu wuv.” He cackled again, unlocking their restraints. 

The first thing Damian did was lunge for the neck. 

His fingers were almost brushing Joker’s skin when pain erupted across his body and he dropped to the ground, screaming. 

“Hey!” Zakiko tried to lunge at him as well, aiming a kick to the chest, only for her to collapse to the ground screaming and spasming as well.

Damian clawed his way towards her as the lightning faded, breathing hard. “Stay… away… from my girlfriend.”

The Joker gasped comically. “How chivalrous. But chivalry is dead. And if you don’t sit back down like good little blades, you know what else will be.” He danced around, waving the collars’ remote at them. 

Zakiko’s screams stopped as her spasming ceased. Her muscles, her skin, her bones—everything hurt. She looked towards Damian, scanning his body worriedly. “Are—are you okay?” 

“I’m… fine. He won’t be.” Damian glared up at the Joker, pushing himself to stand and return to his chair. 

Staggering to her feet, Zakiko glared at the Joker murderously. “What do you want with us, shithead?”

“Simply put, I want you two to break.” His eyes glinted sinisterly. “I’ve had my fun with two other Robins. This one will be a fun challenge.”

Damian scoffed. “Unlikely. My brothers’ training, while adequate, is nowhere close to mine.”

“And I’m not so easily broken either.” She smirked at him as she sat back down too, crossing her arms. “I’m a Roronoa. It’s gonna take a bit more than a few little zaps to make me crack.” Damian matched her smirk. Joker was going to get much more than he bargained for with Zakiko. 

“So maybe it'll be in your best interest to free us both before we both kill you horribly,” she finished with a grin.

“And slowly,” Damian added. “Very, very slowly.” The clown had brought enough dishonour to his family, and punishment was long overdue. 

The Joker smiled indulgently. “How sweet. Look at you two. United in murder. Awwww.”

Zakiko simply lifted her hand and made a very rude gesture. Damian had to resist the urge to let his own smile show on his face.

The Joker paced towards Zakiko, twirling the remote in his palm. “Don’t you wanna know what those pretty collars are for? Aside from decoration and those little zaps.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m guessing not fashion?”

“Clever girl. You see, I’m going to make you two my cute little puppets.” He grinned. “You simply won’t be able to escape each other, and both of you have such wonderful maiming ability!”

“Puppets?” Zakiko glanced at Damian, as if asking for help translating what he means. He shrugged back, but couldn’t help a cold feeling of dread at the words. Whatever Joker meant, it couldn’t be just dangling them from strings and waving them around.

She glanced at Joker again, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry, bud. The whole puppet schtick is already my thing, so…” She shrugged exaggeratedly with a mockingly apologetic expression.

His sinister smile deepened. “After today, it will be in more ways than one.” 

“Good luck with that.” Damian gave him a withering look. Puppeteering, turned against Zakiko? Unlikely.

She just crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “What he said.”

“Why don’t we test that out?” Joker held up the remote. “Birdie, slap your girlfriend.”

Damian scowled, ready with a scathing retort, then everything went white. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of Zakiko, a red mark visible on her cheek. 

What the fuck did I just do? He recoiled, a sick feeling roiling in his stomach. 

She was clutching her cheek, head turned to the side and eyes wide with confusion. “What the hell??” she cried, looking at him in alarm. 

“I- That wasn’t me. That wasn’t me!” But his hand was only just coming to rest, and he stumbled away from her. No. He isn’t like that anymore. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t. He didn’t. He did. 

The guilt and panic in his eyes was clear, and Zakiko felt her anger grow. She rounded on the Joker, eyes dark. “What did you do to him!?” Damian would never hurt her. He’d never lay a hand on her like that. Right?? No, of course he wouldn’t, the clown was trying to get into their heads. 

The Joker grinned wickedly. “I’m just showing him what he can do, sweetie. Didn’t birdie find that fun at all?” Damian swallowed and shook his head frantically. Zakiko clenched her fists.

“Leave him alone.”

“Hmmm.” He made a show of thinking about it. “No. Birdie, choke her.” 

Then Damian was on his feet, pinning her to the wall, one hand wrapped around her throat. 

Zakiko’s eyes widened in horror and panic, and she gasped for air that wasn’t there. She scrabbled at his hand desperately. “AGH—!”

Her feet kicked uselessly against him. He was stronger than her. She couldn’t deny that. They’d sparred enough, and more often than not she’d end up with her face flat against the mat. And without her powers, he had the clear upper hand. She clawed at his hands desperately, choking and gasping, and her eyes beginning to water. “DAMI—!” But he wouldn’t relent, his grip like iron around her neck. 

“Okay, that’s enough for now.” At the command, he let go of her. 

Damian blinked and Zakiko was bent over, gasping for breath. “Zi?” His voice had an uncharacteristic waver to it, and he backed away, his hands starting to shake too.

Her vision was slightly blurry as she clutched her neck, coughing and wheezing. She looked up at him wordlessly, trying to catch her breath as she blinked away the tears that had formed. She had never seen him so… afraid before, and it scared her.

Nononono- His back hit the opposite wall, and he stared at her. Joker can make me do anything. He can- He can make me kill her. The realisation felt like bile rising in the back of his throat. 

Zakiko quickly hurried after him, reaching for his hands. “No, Dami. It's not you. He's—he’s controlling you somehow! Don't let him get in your head!”

He pulled away quickly — too quickly. “Stop. Just- stay away. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

She stopped, eyes wide. No, no. She glared murderously at the Joker. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Then she grabbed Damian's hands forcefully, looking at him almost angrily. “Don't you dare pull away.” 

“Zi-” He stiffened. But she wouldn’t let go, and he found himself pulling her closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

She tightened her grip, almost glaring at him. “Damn it, Dami. Apology not accepted, you idiot.” 

“But-” He looked up at her with watery eyes.

“No,” she growled. “You're mine, okay? Whether you like it or not, you little shit.” She smirks a bit, though her voice wavers just slightly. “If you're gonna be anyone's puppet, you're gonna be mine. Not his.”

Hers. He liked that idea. Damian took a shaky breath. “It is… acceptable. But- how do you explain what I just did?”

“What else?” she turned to glare at the Joker as she said this, hands tightening around Damian’s protectively. 

“Yes, yes. I must take full credit for that wonderful display. Why not do it again?” Joker grinned. 

“Wait, no-” But it was too late. Everything went black again. 

[ca-suffit]

The fact that nalyra tagged racism as a tw, swept any semblance of race related discussions under the rug, positioned themselves as a victim, and targeted other blogs as bullies for discussing race in any capacity, is VILE. I don't know if they are a person of color or white but it's what I've experienced personally in my life as a person of color MANY TIMES, as well as in fandom spaces. I am SHOCKED. The blatant disgust they have shown consistently in this fandom while hurling slurs, "subset" "loumanders" "bullies" is basic 101 racism and hate. I'm beginning to think most of this fandom are the same, and I wish viewers like nalyra wouldn't watch a show centered on race and then have the audacity and privilege to partake in active antiblack rhetoric with callout post for the fandom to blindly adhere to, and sell antiblack propoganda day by day.

What kind of fandom are we? Nalyra's actions remind me of the trial; anyone who tries to bring up topics of race are louis and claudia, nalyra and virginiaisforvampires and the side of the fandom that agrees with them are the advocat and the audience. It's the same situation, a stoning at us for daring to speak about complicated issues that nalyra deems beneath her. This fandom is a scary place. I'm thankful for your blog though, and for being courageous enough to keep it running.

(context post)

I'm beginning to think most of this fandom are the same

It is. I've seen this fandom since before the show and it was the same things. There's a lot bigger, better fandom now tho.....but not one that can exist in the tags still. The fact that this account is anon and most ppl who interact with it are also anon are proof of that. I put stuff in the tags to exist right alongside all this shit and keep ppl aware and let conversations be seen that would otherwise not be seen, but it's going up against a lot. It's not going to overturn fandom racism by any means, but it's at least providing a space where ppl can know they're not fucking crazy.

I have started to block some anons so that's been part of it but ppl have also gotten tired of trying to fight me after so many months. I came in prepared and knowing what they do and my inbox now has become more about letting ppl rly say things instead of threatening me. that's something I didn't think would happen bcuz....nobody's ever done this here before? but I'm happy it's been turning out this way. I wish this fandom were safe for ppl to interact with without being anon but...it's something for now. I'm glad ppl find some kind of comfort and voice in it.

[swan2swan]

You are every bit as bad as the Comicsgaters who hate Moon Girl (and the rest of Marvel's stuff) because of """forced diversity.""" If you hate nearly all Jews, hate the symbols and, yes, colors associated with our community for millennia, that is not caused by Israel, it is caused by your moral defectiveness and bigotry.

Well, this is an interesting comment to wake up to.

Tell me something:

How often do you see the Prussian Cross in media?

We're not even jumping into the heavy-hitters right now. We're sticking with the particular variant of the Prussian Cross. Black cross. White outline.

Outside of historical stuff and bikers...how often do you see this?

If the answer is "Barely anywhere at all, especially in Children's Media", you'd be correct. Because after the early 1900s, it kind of took on a MAJOR negative meaning.

Obviously, there's plenty of other cross variations to use, so this wasn't exactly a DEATH KNELL for Christian Imagery. Just because people don't want to be associated with the Kaiser's Germany or their biggest crowd that was super-popular in Europe during the 30s and 40s doesn't mean they can't use a DIFFERENT design of cross. But obviously, using that particular brand became something of a cultural taboo

And, again...this isn't even the heavy-hitters.

But now consider: if a bunch of constituents go to John Fetterman's house to protest his support for Israel's genocide, and his only response is to wave a huge Israeli flag...blue and white with the Star of David...what is the message he's sending there? What is the association going to become?

Now, begin to multiply that. Not by hundreds of times directly, but by little moments. People with the Israeli flag on Twitter, putting up arguments about how all Palestinians are terrorists, and how DARE you not sympathize with Israel after the events of October 7th!

Actually, here, you know what? Let's just DEMONSTRATE.

...oh, I was looking for less-silly examples, but sometimes, you get the PERFECT ONE that is making EXACTLY your point:

Here it is. Right here. I dunno how serious the OP is, but yeah, people are actively turning the Star of David into an "I Stand With Israel" symbol, while Israel is committing ALL OF THE CRIMES, and digging a hole deeper and deeper. The longer this goes, the worse it gets, the more entangled they become...do you see why I'm upset now? Do you understand yet?

Especially because...you know who's really having a great time with this? The antisemites. They get to watch a military force do a genocide against those brown Arabs all the way over in a desert while everyone gets MAD, and all they have to do is keep encouraging the fight! Make that Star of David an EVIL symbol! In a few years, guess what you get to do? You get to start SHAMING people for wearing the Star! Heck, you can do that right now! But you don't have to, because plenty of other people are doing that for you.

So we return to my original point:

The fact that while watching a children's cartoon, for s *split second*, I saw something that I immediately associated as a red flag, because it was on my computer screen. And where do I generally see blue and white stars on my computer screen these days? News stories. Propaganda. The guys in your mentions who jump in to accuse you of antisemitism because you say something like "Genocide is bad".

Let's leave with this:

[sakurasfallingstar]

ShiSaku Week: Day 7

Shisui is an idiot.

The biggest idiot I ever met.

Ever since Danzo had raged war against my shishō with root, nothing had been the same. My once peaceful home became a battle field. Children were constantly being left orphaned left and right from families crossfire, and parents would often be loosing their own children as well.

Bodies and kunai were often scattered left and right. Most of us had to stoop low and steal supplies from fallen comrades and enemies. We just had to survive.

My team are stationed I'm the front lines along with the majority of Konoha 11. We used to be 12, but we lost Neji a while back.

Turns out he'd do anything to ensure Hinata's survival.

Anyways, with so many people with kekkei genkai dying, Danzo would have his ninjas prioritize on steeling them. Be it from their their DNA to their eyes. The Uchiha's where especially targeted.

There was one time, Shisui held a dying 12 year old clan member in his arms. You could tell that the kid, was in pain from not just the fatal spinal wound, but from the fact that their eye sockets were empty. Shisui did his best to comfort and get information from the preteen.

'Who did this to you," he asked, gently.

" Danzo. Ambush. My team... dead," the child said.

That would be the last thing they ever said.

Shisui was never the same after that. He's always had a soft spot for kids, alway trying to lead fights away from civilian shelters or districts. When he worked with genius he'd often have them doing something away from the battle, like evacuation.

Now that a family member, who still had so much in life to experience, died in his arms: I could see that he activated his Mangekyō Sharingan.

I tried to reach out to him calm him down before he did something that would endanger not just himself but those who care for him. He ran off before I could do anything.

Now I'm here, running through the trees as fast as I could. I may not be the best sensor, but I am moderately good enough. It helps that I've worked closely with him, that I've grown familiar with his chakra.

It was easy to pinpoint at this point.

But by the time I had reached his location, his left eye had been bleeding, and was shut. Meanwhile, across the battle field was Danzo. Let's just say what lies under his bandages is no longer a secret.

Just as Danzo ran to deliver the finishing blow, likely wanting to get his hands on Shisui's right eye, I shunshined toward him. With my arms wrapping around his shoulders, I once more flicking away as far as I could. Once we were safe, I began the healing process of his eye.

"You do know what you just did was stupid, right," I informed him.

He said nothing in reply. I get he's probably feeling like shit right now, but he need to understand what his actions caused. What his actions cause me to feel in that time span.

"Shisui-,"

"I get it Sakura! I messed. I shouldn't have gone alone, but you don't get it. That was a family member, and tou saw what Danzo did with those eyes," he yelled, and honestly as much a I am sympathizing him, I am also slightly infuriated.

How dare he assume I don't know what it was like to loose someone I cared for deeply. Especially, since he knows what happened to my mother in the beginning of the war. Know how many patients I couldn't same after getting close to the.

My silence must of been enough for him to realize what he implied. I finished up healing the eye tissue, and covered it up as quickly as I could. I did not want to explode and say something that could ruin what ever our relationship is called.

"Sakura, I- I'm sorry I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I just," he said tailing off at the end, my was already to him at this point.

"Please, say something Sakura."

"You can be such a hero, you know that. You not only put yourself in danger, but you disregarded how it'd affect those around you.

How'd it affect me.

You could have died. You could have broken your promise you made me after my mom died. Do you know what that would have done to me," I informed him, finally turning back to look at him.

To hell with the fact that my eyes are tearing up. He needed to see what he caused me to feel.

Suddenly his arms where around me, in a tight hug. Wrapping my arms around his wait,I buried my face in the the crook of his neck.

"I am so sorry, Sakura. I promised I'd never leave you, and your right. I did almost break it, but it was thanks to you that I'm here. That danzo does not have my other eye,' he said, as he pulled away.

Hie gave me a smile, and placed two fingers against my forehead.

Maybe. Maybe I could not be angry with him right now. Perhaps, I should be happy that I can still hold him in my arms.

No matter how stupid he is, or how big of a jerk he is; he'll also be my stupid jerk that I love.

Plus, he'll be the one filling in Tsunade shishō on today's events. Not me.

@shisakuweek

[silver-horse]

Wee,people are already making comparisons between Anders & Gale...which will probably lead to a butt load of Anders want from haters. Love that for us.🙄

Never been more glad for the block button as it's gonna be gettin' a workout as people are already saying "please don't let him be another Anders". Petty as it sounds, if he ends up worse then I might feel a little vindictive satisfaction if it's well executed.

I find the comparisons so funny because Gale and Anders are actually not at all similar characters. Other than magic + cats + bisexual. That's it. They are very surface level traits that could apply to many people from a fantasy setting. They are completely different in every other aspect, their background, their situation, their goals and so on.

Because of this, from what I've noticed, Anders fans don't overlap with Gale fans. (at least if we mean fan as "this is no.1 or no.2 fave from this game) So lots of Gale fans are certainly making the comparison in a derogatory way. "please don't be like Anders" because they hate Anders.

Anyway... Gale IS worse. He has been from the start. (I say this as someone who enjoys his story and character and I think he is only becoming more interesting.) But recently some Gale fans had surprising reactions... so many Gale romancers say larian is "changing the character". Mates, what game have you been playing? Gale has been a mysterious and dark character from the start. He makes a deal with the devil during early access etc. Insert this meme. lol

Anders is fighting for human rights. It's fine to dislike him, you don't like his methods or the ending or his romance path or his personality. Regardless, he is an extremely selfless character, a healer and also part of an oppressed group. He got really screwed up by life. He had little choice in everything that happened to him before. He was born into a bad situation. That is a fact, even if you think he is a cunt or made terrible decisions when he finally had a choice.

Gale is a wizard prodigy who mingled with the highest elite in a world where his magic is only a positive. His goals have been self-serving (regardless of which backstory we believe). His own choices led to his own bad situation. However he is now, in the present, a nice guy who wants to atone and wants to help people. I suspect that because of this, Gale will always be viewed in a better light and this is why his fans are surprised by the bad things he might have done. You know the rule "show! don't tell!" people's impressions are always more affected by what's happening on screen. Rather than whatever they tell you and what the story alludes to in banter or camp convos.

Also I suspect that in BG3 we will get multiple endings for each companion. And not just "side with him or against him". I think whatever the nicer ending is, that will determine how Gale is viewed. Because it could turn out shit for any of the characters. It's the same in Dragon Age, nobody judges characters based on events that only happen when their approval is low or we actively pushed them towards that ending.

Plus BG3 is a much less political story compared to Dragon Age. I think (hopefully) the drama and arguments shouldn't get that bad. Or at least the drama will be around the usual stupid 10 year olds arguing "how dare you ship them with x when I ship them with y?" That is already happening...

So lol... the extreme hate against Anders is not going anywhere. They probably won't have some sort of realisation that they also like a complicated wizard.

[twinkuraba]

Thinking about the 'friends' I had in primary school; who complimented how lucky I was to have "early beauty" because I started puberty before a majority of our year.

Who peer pressured me using the fact we were 'friends' and 'everyone here is girls so it's okay and not a big deal' to strip for them so they could see the changes, despite me being clearly uncomfortable with the idea and actively saying I didn't want to.

Who, as soon as it became clear that I had no interest in performing the femininity expected of me, had no interest in womanhood or sisterhood and was in fact uncomfortable with it, immediately turned that against me and used it as a base to try and dare me to do feminine things to make me uncomfortable and embarrass myself for their amusement.

And when that didn't work, the 'sisterhood' left me behind to flounder on my own for as long as I refused to appropriately 'appreciate' my "womanliness".

(Now I don't think they were being consciously or even deliberately malicious, it's just societal that any 'woman' who steps out of bounds must be pushed back into place through whatever means)

[harleiquina]

WTF?! AKA girl that studied Advertising doesn't understand how this happened.

Sooooo, Neil Gaiman, huh?

Disclosure: I started this in the following 2 weeks after the news broke (maybe earlier than that, I don't remember) but, hey, my job sucks and more often than not my brain was just too dead to even try and get back to this. And then even more claims appeared and Vera Wylde (AKA Council of Geeks) made 2 videos that pretty much alligned with my mindset (fun fact: now there are 3 videos now), still I had a few points that I wanted to address... and life got inbetween yet again... and now I'm done, I need to finish this otherwise it'll sit on my drafts for ever.

Fandom's still ablaze, people asking for more info are inmediately labeled as "SA supporters" other alleged claims surfaced and I wonder why none of the companies associated with the author are saying a thing about it... not even him has stepped foward to say anything and that is super odd.

In case you didn't know I've studied Advertising but decided against following a career in it because 1) my classmates work-ethic (or lack of) traumatized me, 2) I never really liked it (I just wanted to live off my Creativity), 3) because after spending 3 years learning every little thing that can make a person tick to buy something I can see certain patterns everywhere and 4) it is far too easy to make anyone believe anything and the idea of doing it and screwing people's lives as a job does not fit my own moral criteria.

That being said, don't you dare to think that this post is taking any kind of side or that I'm trying to push my career because I already gave you those 4 points of why I am not activately working on this field. All of this will be a head-first delve into how those 3 years in College shaped my way of thinking (basically a "no feelings, just bussiness") and trying to have a somewhat broader picture.

I just have a perspective that most of the fandom doesn't have and I wanted to share it.

Just in case, I am not looking foward to whatever conversations could occur from now on and most likely won't interact with any of them if I sense any kind of bad blood.

Full disclousure: even though I am a casual enjoyer of Neil Gaiman's stories I have zero idea of how he is or was back in the day. Everything I say is based off on my observations both in-fandom and from what I can see from my country (Argentina) that is located at World's End quite literally... we don't get much gossip here unless is something BIG.

First off, lets clear some air:

1. Writing about horrible things doesn't mean that someone a bad person. I mean....

(Disclaimer: even if I do find the meme funny... I have 0 knowledge of anime or how this two artists interact with life and their fans).

But in all seriousness... how many crime shows exist/existed and will keep on existing? How many gory horror movies? How many books, comics, operas, musicals and so on that portray horrible crimes? Do all of those authors have a secret life as criminals? I don't think so.

Yes, having an affinity to the subject might give you a better know-how but is not mandatory... writers investigate a lot as well.

Art is meant to be an exploration and more often than not artists will take universal fears and turn them into something good and innocent or take something pure and turn it into a bloody nightmare... is supposed to show another perspective without any predjudice and allow us play with the weirdest and commonly frowned upon things in a safe and contained space.

If you are not an artist, you can still use the art as a conduit for this... but please don't turn into an Inquisitor, you're no better than us I swear.

2. If a person is anti-censorship... is against ANY kind of censorship. You can't pick and choose what should be "good" or "bad" because that is also a form of censorship. Are there disgusting things out there? Yes. Do any of us have the right moral compass to condemn and/or ban something just because? No. (And even if I'm not very well versed in manga I can tell the difference between a work of fiction that has been drawn and actual p*rn that could've been produced by harming someone. Those things are not on the same level. Sick? Yes, but still unreal just like a lot of the NSFW drawings that I've seen in here).

3. The Zionism: many people came after Gaiman accusing him of supporting Israel because of some letter that was signed right after the Hamas' attack. Siding with the civilian victims is always the first reaction even if as a jewish he is supposed to know better the reality of things, this is not mandatory because maybe he doesn't engage in religion or geopolitics that much. Later he did posted on Twitter (according to some) a few links to assist people in Palestine, I know he did shared one or two Instagram stories with this as well and of course, lately posted about a friend that got jailed for protesting against Israel. However many still support the "he is a Zionist" because he -as many others- said that the solution would be for both countries to live at peace. So... it was an easy neutral response trying not to cater to either side whether if it conveys his real sentiment or if he did it to secure his position among his followers or because he didn't wanted to upset someone he might know/work for that thinks different or didn't wanted to get into a polemic bigger than himself is up for debate.

OK Lets put the little grey cells to work

Many claims that started to populate Reddit (mostly) seem to go all the way back to the 90s where stuff like this wasn't talked about mostly because he was just another DC writer and social media + cellphones with camera didn't existed.

I do wonder how did he presented himself back then.

Even if Sandman was a huge success, both comics and mixing them up with greek mythology makes it very niche (niche is an official Advertising word, I swear). So even if DC properties like Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman and others were very well known and bought... I don't know how many of those readers jumped into Gaiman's Sandman and stick to it (I've even seen people in Tumblr complaining of "Gaiman's atrocity called Sandman") let alone how many thought of him as a genius.

Apparently he did had people showing up in signature events (were conventions a thing back then? I live in the other side of the world and have no idea) and apparently almost like a rock-star he had groupies following him. I am a rocker at heart, we all know about groupies but I really didn't needed to know that the literary kind existed as well, thank you very much.

There are two things I'd like to address here.

First of all that, given the nature of the movement, these girls were throwing themselves at him. It is still wrong to take advantage of it, but as we know men are needy AF so it only takes for one woman to be kind to them and they'll see how to get her to bed. Manly nature 🙄 That being said, considering that these were basically one-night-stands I don't think that he would've gone too far with any of them. Still...

The second point is... WHAT THE HELL WAS DC DOING? Probably many of you think "well, probably they are all perverts" and yeah, you have a point... but still you need to save face. You can't have one of your key writers (?) picking up girls in official events that you organized and take them to bed. Even with its ups and downs on the industry, DC had (and has) a prestige to keep. If we are thinking about late 1989 and early 90s they were riding the crest with Burton's Batman you can't have a scandal like this about to burst! It was just a matter of time till someone picked up on it and did something about it (think of a girl's family, group of friends, partner, what-have-you).

And even if Sandman was too niche it was still making good money for them... the possible movie rights were probably always in talks back then... and you'll risk that just because "men will be men"? WHAT KIND OF BUSSINESS DO YOU CONDUCT? Even if it is the 90's... you don't want to be associated with a sleaze bag. Not to mention that even with all of this he wasn't perceived as a "winner" among men as well... you know the type "oh, look how viril and manly he is... all the girls want him" kinda thing. So just why?

Did the publishers see it coming?

As I said the Reddit claims seem to be from the 90s (or at least from The Time With No Virtual Fingerprints) I've got yet to read anyone saying that he did a pass on them on a recent Comic-Con or book signing. (N: I started to write this before the third and fourth & fifth women came foward. However, the point sort of still stands)

This could be because 1) technology made it almost impossible to keep a secret or 2) because the publishers decided to open the umbrella before it started to rain.

If his reputation was well known it wouldn't surprise me that other companies might've put a clause in their contracts about his behaviour. Even we, working-class ants, have Codes of Conduct and Ethics in our mundane jobs... so OF COURSE this also exist in celebrities' contracts as well.

A publisher would never want to be involved into a scandal let alone a possible sex scandal with an author that doesn't just write "dark fantasies" but children's stories as well. You can't market a sexopath as a"kind and gentle uncle-like figure" that will read stories to your kids. I mean, with the right Ad team you can totally pull it off but it is A LOT EASIER if he just behaves.

Still you can't control a person's actions outside the professional enviroment AKA their personal life, and even if you must have a Ad team in case of any possible disturbance... they will focus more on the Company's Image than the person's.

In this case, Gaiman should have a personal Publicist. And for what I've seen I do think that he has a team but not necesarily a Publicist ready to tackle on a scandal, just a regular one that "gets him out there" and probably throws some ideas for posts and secures the Ads for any convention or media related project.

When you work with a public person you must work as Communitty Manager as well but the real trick is finding the right balance between your posts and your clients'.

The CM's posts will be very basic info for appearences in different events/media or new releases. What people really wants is a sneak-peak on a person's life and unless you are someone that is with them 24/7, it depends on this person's to do those posts (more often than not those who took those candid videos or photos are either friends/family or a super personal and close assitants). We do know that Gaiman has at least one assitant (plus representation for USA and UK, maybe someone else) how ever I have my doubts about him having a Publicist for his persona. Why would I say that?

Neil Gaiman has no socials

The joke has being going on for ages, regardless of how it was born it tells us that it is him who manages his own socials (at least the most "intimate" posts because with the whole Twitter/X/Xitter fiasco he did established that in that network he'll "be present" either by automated posts that depend on other socials or because someone who works for him will post tour dates on his behalf). The easiest one to pin point is Tumblr... nobody cares about Tumblr.

In light of all that has happened one of the most recent asks came to my mind: Someone once asked him if he was in a kink party some years back. Many rushed into explaining the Rules of Kink to the asker, some nicer than others but what stood out for me was... why answering this? Even with a "not really my thing, I left without participating" it was a lot easier to just leave it unanswered. He has stated that even if he had thousands of asks he'll pick a few of the newest ones and answer only if he thought they deserved to be answered. So why shooting yourself on the foot? Especially under the assumption that someone could say a thing or two about it. Like, fair enough whatever happens in there remains there... but if you are in it and you leave the door open with a half-assed answer... people will talk.

No Publicist in the world would've let that fly (not even in a niche site like Tumblr)... our job is to avoid this kind of loose threads that might be spun into something completely out of our control and opposite to the narrative we are aiming to.

Again...

Was he panicking about someone that saw him many years back in this gathering? Did he thought it gave him "cool points"? Did he thought that it was better to address it than letting the rumor running (and eventually die)? Was he half asleep and thought that he dreamt having answered and then forgot?

Why putting your neck on the noose?

Men 🤦🏻‍♀️

This little slip made me realize that he doesn't have a propper Publicist so the chances of them prepping some letter or statement about the situation are very slim. I'll talk about this later.

The Podcast

I can't really move foward without giving some space to Ground Zero.

But as I was writing this, Council of Geeks, (hosted by Vera Wylde, someone I've been following since long before their comming out and more often than not found to be very like-minded) a channel that I was hoping to tackle this, made a very well thought out video that I highly recommend. There are a few things for which I have my own hypotesis and if I remember, I'll write down in here.

Back to the first podcast I must admit that I did not listen to it because I have no time or will to do it (burnout from work is great!) and I am a better reader than a listener (my mind usually drifts off when I listen to anything even if I'm interested in it -doesn't happen with in person conversations, luckily probably because there is a face attached to the voice-). I did read several posts about it and the Rolling Stone article some cite as well. Aside from some personal observations, the core information remains the same reason why I trust that I can actually talk about it.

I will not discredit the testimonies since I have no reason to do so but I can talk about other stuff like how media dehumanizes terrible things and about some things that do cause some noise to me (noise in Advertising is when something disturbs the message and doesn't make it clear).

I know that all of you are moved by both stories regardless of how they were presented but the True Crime genre is sensacionalist AF and it thrives because people is morbid, and that's a fact.

When I had cable mom watched a few True Crime shows every now and then and I've always found them distasteful. The quick editing with effects, dramatic narration like "When Margaret woke up that morning, she could've never imagined that all her nightmares would come true" *cue to dramatic music* is very f#cked up. These are real cases, with real people involved, with people suffering for their loved ones... but for the networks is just entertainement, hours and hours to fill in their schedule + ad revenue. How many cases were actually solved after being on TV/a podcast? How many more people started to plead for justice after it was aired? These kind of shows are empty and milk on someone's suffering for a few bucks, it is never about justice, is never about exposing something/someone. Is all about money.

And for what I can see... this podcast is no different than others. Even the title "Master: The Neil Gaiman Allegations" is some Fifty shades of Grey sh!t that sounds attractive but considering the content it is in very poor taste to say the least.

When people (and I include myself) ask for a more serious take on the subject is because of this... we need information that is not meant to be consumed while eating popcorn and soda with a few breaks to clutch pearls and then move on with our lives.

If this was the only media outlet that opened the doors to both women they should've done better. It is a serious matter... a special report, lets say a 2 hr youtube video captioned "The True face of Gaiman" or "Gaiman's dark side" (or being 100% honest and title it "Gaiman's victims speak") would've erased any kind of doubt among ocassional listeners but no... they named it "Master" because it conveys BSDM, sex and trivializes the story to make it sound like erotica, not a real story. This wasn't an accident or a bad idea caused by inexperience... the name was chosen on purpose. They needed to get people's attention and get them on this "dark" and "taboo" world where this kind of practices (BSDM) is frowned upon. They wanted to predispose you to start this on the wrong foot.

But the stories are real! Don't try to silence the victims!

I'm not denying this, I'm just saying that Tortoise Media's Podcast doesn't care about the victims as much as you all seem to think.

They saw that Gaiman was involved so they picked up the story because they wanted clout, other media outlets (so far) passed on it because is a he said/she said case that is very hard to prove, reason why the police itself alledgedly decided not to move foward with it either. Does it suck? Yes. Does it mean that Tortoise is brave for bringing it up? No, they could've been... had they not give up to the need of making a freakshow out of it to get people's attention.

And like that Advertising trained me to be a Devil's Advocate.

The easiest way for me to show you how any Publicist out there would get things going to save his reputation is by using the tools that could (or eventually will) be used. So let us begin.

Missing context: Aside from the whole issue with the power dinamics (that we'll talk about it later) we don't really know how any of their first meetings really went. We know that it was the first day of work for the nanny... but was it really the first time they've met? If she was around Palmer, most likely they've seen each other before, maybe they've talked and hit it off... we don't know. Same with the first fan, they were writing each other for a year, we don't know what they ever talked about or how their relationship evolved. And this is aplicable in all cases. We were told the story from the first moment he became physical, not the real first contact. What does it matter? He's still a perv! Yeah, until context can tell you that he isn't... I've seen so many takes that all the sudden turned him into a scary monster lurking in the dark, preying on young little innocent girls... and never before he was ever addressed like that even by people that probably knew about his reputation or just plainly hated him for whatever reason. This is all made up by the narrative shown in the podcast (I mean the editing and narration) and the masses' imagination.

He stops when rejected: Three claims say that he stopped at the moment the woman/girl said no: the fan at the bus (even with his "I can get whatever I want" or whatever he said he did let her go when easily could've forced himself on her), the publisher that got kissed (or almost kissed) and the first fan coming foward that rejected his suggestion of a threesome... that one, yes is the same one with the UTI. I wouldn't be surprised if he convinced her that he would be careful or something like that just to get her on bed. It is very shitty and selfish of him... there is no justification there. Whether this stems from self-preservation (not wanting to be known as a r*pist) or because he does care about consent or maybe because he wasn't *that* horny those times and could let it go... the truth is that he did stopped when asked to.

Mental health. The whole "she's unstable, her memory isn't the best" kind of comment came out of his lawyer (the one that the podcast keeps on mentioning as "Gaiman's side" and probably they knew from the begining what lawyer it was but delivered his name a lot later to shock audiences once more that he has the same lawyer that many other men in the same position hired. As if a lawyer's reputation couldn't grant him a good starting point to get new clients whether they are innocent or not) so it is a case of a lawyer being a lawyer. But yes, people tend to remember things differently, ask any family memeber or friend about something that caused a major shock on you and you'll see that they might not even rememeber it at all, and if they do, probably they'll say that you overreacted or something like that. It sucks, but it happens. There is a possibility that what was perceived as an innocent flirting by Gaiman is also something more sinister by any of those women. Maybe the years changed the light of the events and something that they considerated "ok" back then is a "well... actually" now. People change. One thing I did wanted to bring up was the su!cide comment. It is poorly placed in the conversation (or in the part of the conversation we were allowed to see, again: lots of missing context) and does sound heavily manipulative... until you realize that he has spoken about his su!cidal past any time he got asked in Tumblr, interviews or other... and if he's willing to speak about it with a bunch of strangers online, he has spoken about it with people close to him and if she was going through it he most definetly brought up his experiences to talk to her. Still, we don't really know, maybe is a 50/50 situation. His Autism: I'm not a psycologyst, can't confirm or deny if he has it or not, but as a human (and a Publicist) I can say that is the lamest and worst excuse he could've possible thrown. Is just as bad as anyone excuses their behaviour based on their zodiac sign. Maybe he does struggle to notice tones of voice or intentions behind interactions but acting on those fake cues is a lot more related to being a man than autistic. Man think that if a woman is nice to him is because she loves him, man take the first chance to make a move just because she smiled at him. Let's not mix things up.

The Power Imbalance + Age Gap Let's address the Age Gap first because there isn't much to it either way. I was the kind of girl that would be repulsed at age gaps but eventually I realized that, as long as they are consenting adults and there are real feelings behind it... I don't care. I do feel nauseated when a 20 year old dates or marries a 80 year old "sugar daddy" because I can't conceive in my head the idea of a person wilingly turning themselves into a blow-up doll for a mummy only because the later is richer than God. It is disgusting and I do not endorse it. Any other case... ok, whatever, live and let live. The Power Imbalance is another story. You can't date someone you work with or work for. Every single company has this rule not just to avoid dramas but also to avoid any misbehaviour in the premises. But what about when is not for a private company, like in this case? It is still a no, because the "if you don't make me happy I'll kick you out" ghost shows up creating a hostile enviroment for at least one of you... what kind of relationship can arise from it? (to be fair, some people maybe gets turned on by it, what do I know? I'm aroace). My suspicious mind... I see a pattern in Gaiman's behaviour aside from the one everyone made up in their minds (him preying on any girl close to him, even though two are around his age): The "cool" writer: from his break-out to somewhere into 2010 or so. His "groupie prime" if you will when he could get any girl that was interested in him (students, fans) because possibly considered himself some sort of idol and/or rockstar. This is between his 26 and 50 years old, that check's out, is when men usually think themselves to be the center of the world and the sole desire of any women. The "I need to fly low": in the last 20 years or so, when he already stablished a respectful reputation among peers and fans so he needs to stop sleeping around and be more selective and secretive about his partners because it only takes one tweet, one photo or one video to destroy everything he is. Enter NDAs. I dare to say that being with women from his inner circle (AKA people that either worked for him or some way or another depended on him) was another "brilliant idea" he had to try and keep his image and reputation out of harms way. Still one question remains... what kind of people could he date? Just those on his same circle/league? You could argue that Palmer was some-where there but I don't think that she has as many fans as him and she's nowhere as well known. Maybe other popular author (if any of them fancies him)? An actress? another singer? a politician? Options are quite narrow so he would go to the "commoners" and then, by mere chance, he'll be the all-powerful bestselling author dating a poor woman and some will see a power imbalanced relationship and to others yet another Cinderella story.

Just as The Tortoise Media took the stories, edited them and packed them for your shock and horror... it can be just as easily spun into something else. Anyone could get any of this points I've made and turn him into a misunderstood man looking for a love that would be into BSDM as he is and, unfortunally for him, some of his lovers realized too late that they didn't liked it so now he's seen as an ogre when he did nothing wrong.

Mulder said it first ...

What could possibly happen

Am I reaching the end of this essay today (November 29th, 2024)? Are those angels singing? Please, tell them that I'm Agnostic, but I appreaciate the gesture. (Laurita on December 25th says: Oh! what a lie!)

At this point in time, Gaiman shows no proof of life, and most likely won't for another couple of months (maybe even for another year). His silence is not necessarily an admission of guilt. If he comes foward and gives his side of the story, he'll be the rich-white-author throwing crap at all these women and calling them liars, so he'll be a villain. If he admits that he has a problem (sex-addict or something like that) some people might be a little more simpathetic others will call him a liar and he'll still be a villain. There is no good outcome so, what's the difference? Is better just to remain silent.

We already know that Good Omens has been shortened to a special episode, Sandman was shot and will be released sometime in 2025 (most likely won't have another season not just because of Gaiman but because it was a struggle to secure the 2nd season for starters. The only way we could have a S3 is if the S2 is AMAZING and blows up all the numbers). The Anansi Boys... remains to be seen, supposedly it was shot, edited and is ready to be released so it is a matter of whether Amazon will pull a Warner Bros Vs Batgirl (just scrap the whole thing) or if they will pressure Gaiman to step foward and speak... but I don't think so because they didn't do it for Good Omens which, for what I can see, is a far more beloved franchise that needed to secure its fanbase so S3 wouldn't be a failure.

He did said a few times that he was writing a book, so maybe that's why it was a lot easier to stay away from social media... the thing is... will it be published?

I dare to believe that he is back in social media, doesn't interact but is watching, Hell, maybe he even has a fake account to test the waters! There was a rumour of him hiring a PR team to have bots and alter Google search and bury the accusations... I'd say it is a possibility but I had a client that bought bots and those are not as effective as you may think. They help boost views and such but they easily fade away. Maybe he did felt like throwing money to the garbage, who knows? Maybe it wasn't Gaiman himself but any of his "bosses" (publishers, networks) because it does feel more like a corporate move than a personal one.

The most sensible thing would be to go to Justice, present evidence and then let not just the Court but the Public make a decision (that could or not be aligned). The main issue with it is that many will see it as Gaiman trying to bring down a group of women instead of showing his side of the story, what will keep on adding ink to the stain. Is tricky but is the only way to have a sense of what could've possibly happened (because, of course, the only ones that know 100% what really happened are the parties involved and even that is not a reliable source given that everyone has their own version of the story based in their own feelings, predjudices and emotional baggage altogether).

My personal take

If you are still reading and haven't burst out of anger and left a thousand "k!ll yourself" or "typical mysoginist" or "defendor of SA" comments and/or reblogs, you are probably wondering "ok, I can see your point but what do you believe?"

I'm not surprised... nor heart broken.

Granted I was never a huge fan, just in the last couple of years I started to enjoy the adaptations of his stories more... but still, he doesn't have a huge impact in me. No author or creator has ever had it and I love plenty of artists.

There's something on the way I was raised, I believe, that turned out in me never putting people on pedestals. They are all human and there will always be something that will let you down on them. Most of the musicians and/or actors I love had drug issues, got into fights (some very stupid ones, others not so much), groupies everywhere, off comments that maybe should've never been made, opinions I do not share... I still follow them because sometimes they mature and realize their mistakes and do make a stand about it. And if they don't I can go "yeah, cool thing... but still this other thing still sucks" because I was taught that you can criticize something/someone you like, it is not a sin to do so.

I know that a lot of you think that absolutely all the stories he came up with were deacoys to have free access to girls... but... really? Whether you like his writing or not, he is capable of coming up with good premises mixing up diferent cultural myths and original ideas. The books are well plotted and thought out (nothing is 100% perfect, but that's how things are). Had you tell me that his books are obvious cash-grabs than can be written in less than a month with the premise "Plot? what Plot? this is just smut" I would've believed you. Any of us that loves writing (either original stories or fanfic) know how hard it is to create something half-way decent. Yes, some care about their audience and even go like "ho ho ho they will love that" but others just write because it is fun. Others do a mix of both. Looking at Gaiman's works, I hardly think that his main goal was to attract "goth girls" as someone said. What was the point of writing kids' books then? Get goth moms in the mix too or not losing his female fans just because they have kids now? Also many straight men like his writting too... is it collateral damage?

To me he is just a writer that in the worst case scenario has a dark side (note: not the BSDM part but the way he treats some women). As many others before him and as many others will in the future.

I hope that he does come foward and start to talk about it. But it has to be an honest interview, or better yet a press conference. Not something that anyone could've scripted and rehearse over and over again. People needs to see him either squirm, turn red, be uncomfortable to decide if he is being honest or not.

If it is all true, he has to be responsible for his actions. Undergo a program or something, show signals that he is sorry and is (honestly) trying to improve. Then and only then he can aspire to go back to where things were before all of this.

Even if he's done cameos everywhere, he's not an actor and nobody can fake for so long. I believe that the causes he supported did meant something for him. Many celebrities don't ever take a stand for anything and still have their fans and the money keeps on pouring in... nobody was forcing him into doing any of those campaigns and he had nothing to earn that he didn't already had (his fans would love him a little bit more, but they were already loving him anyway).

Rowling vs Gaiman (This is the end, I swear)

A lot of so called "feminists" are spewing their conspiracy theory of how everyone was dog-pilling Rowling "for just stating the thruth" while many are trying to save Gaiman "even if he's a r@pist".

Presumption of innocence first comes to mind, not to mention that many people saw Gaiman as like-minded, down to earth, good writer. Rowling was thought of as such until she didn't stopped and even doubled down on her irrational hate, amplified voices, donated money and fully supported (and still supports) a train of thought that is causing more damage than good. She could've just been an ideology-blinded author going "trans women aren't women" and called the day... she would've been just another author with a dark side that distresseses some people. But no, she is pretty much the face of a movement that puts people's safety and lives in danger.

The damage an entire movement can do to other group of people has no comparison to what damage a single man can cause in private.

I'm not saying that Gaiman's victims aren't worth a dime... I'm saying that if you care about people for real it doesn't matter if is one, twenty, a thousand or even a million, you have to care for all of them too... and yes, if you are of the religious type you must love and protect even to those that are not like you or share your views.

There's a witch hunt in this site (or at least there was one last time I checked) where if you had in your profile either the rainbow flag, or said that you were trans, your pronuns or anything that would identify you as LGBTQ+ and you were trying to make sense of everything that was going on, trying to figure out how to move foward and even trying to see a larger picture... a screenshot was taken and then posted elsewhere saying "look how the perverts protect themselves" and this blogs were 99.9% of the times RADFEMS.

In "the real world" the one that is away from Tumblr and any social media: Gaiman lost. Big time. It's done, there's nothing left to do.

Rowling is still being published and her properties are still being adapted and comercialized, the park's still thriving and all the merchandise they sell as well. There is no signal of cancelling going on outside of this site. And WB didn't let her go as quickly as they did with Johnny Depp, or Ezra Miller or Neil Gaiman now.

She still has her life, she goes to events, she gives interviews, she still can write and sell a book quite well.

She's not "suffering misogynistic attacks" from a rabid group of "wokes". She's perfectly fine in her castle enjoying her money as she has stated before.

Most likely Gaiman can also live the rest of his days off the money he's got so far. He could disappear forever to a small island in the middle of nowhere and that would be it, aside from the alledged damage he's caused (and he'd be careful not to be caught again, if he has a working brain) his power ends there.

Hers continues.

She is more of an active threat than he is.

[jodilinbio]

What I hated most about Valleyhead was its overly structured and hectic routine and the fact that you had no space or privacy. It was worse than camp! They ran us ragged from 7:00 AM till 10:00 PM with school, group discussions, and outdoor activities. I didn’t mind going on walks, but the sports were a total bore. I only liked gymnastics and skating, and believe me, they didn’t have that at Valleyhead! We did do a little cross-country skiing, though, and this was kind of fun.

Everything was very controlled and formal. We couldn’t just go into the dining room, eat our meals, and then get up and go when we were done. Instead, we had to wait outside the dining room—often for up to fifteen minutes at a time—before we could sit down. Then we’d have to wait for a while for the food to be served. Then, after eating, we’d have to sit there some more for what felt like an eternity before we could be excused.

Besides Donna, her sister Margaret and a staffer named Barbara were definitely the worst when it came to meanness and playing favorites.

During my time at Valleyhead, I went from bone-thin to rather overweight due to the meds they were giving me. These drugs also caused me to stop having periods for a few years. Donovan would often fat-shame me (even though I was barely 20 pounds overweight), saying I had “enough fat to keep me warm throughout the winters.” Of course, if I’d dared to remind her that she wasn’t exactly a supermodel herself, I’d have gotten written up for it. Before I gained the weight, it was Mosca who did the picking on me.

Donna wasn’t a problem for me until April of 1983 when I jumped out the window of the room I was in at the time down in “the wing,” as it was called. At that point, I had just one other roommate but she wasn’t in the room at the time.

I had been on restriction, though I can only guess why—maybe for mouthing off to someone or for having something I wasn’t supposed to have.

There was a deaf girl named Brenda who snitched on me after my mother smuggled in all kinds of goodies for me one day (my mother was always generous when it came to material things). I think it was mostly money this time around—something like $10. That was a lot in those days. On weekends, if you weren’t on restriction, you could walk up to the local convenience store for candy and cigarettes. I was walking back with Brenda one day, and she noticed I had a lot of stuff. She promised not to tell, but soon after, Donna raided my room and confiscated my precious goodies.

This might have been why I was on restriction at the time. I was only on it once or twice. But this time, I wasn’t just on restriction—I was also on suicide watch. When you’re on suicide watch, you’re not supposed to be allowed to go anywhere alone. I guess Debbie, my therapist, let it slip her mind because she let me walk back to my room alone one day after our session. Given that it was the staff against the students, I doubt she was reprimanded in any way for this oversight.

I walked back to my room in a sort of trance after leaving Debbie and another one of our deep and dark discussions. Once there, I walked up to the window and looked down below. Students were passing by on their way to lunch. A sense of panic suddenly overwhelmed me. I felt so trapped and alone, so utterly depressed and helpless. I sat down and began to listen to music, but it didn’t soothe my nerves. I turned the music off, knowing I was about to do something stupid, though it felt as if I were powerless to stop myself. It didn’t matter, though—there was no one to cry out to for help who would care and not punish me for reaching out. I was just another face in a sea of unwanted outcasts.

I hopped up onto the dresser in front of the window, threw the window open, and yanked the screen out. The girls were now inside the dining room as I sat crouched on the windowsill at the empty ground below. All I saw was an overhang about six feet below me and the dirt ground with a little bit of gravel about ten feet below that.

I tumbled forward, bounced off the overhang, and hit the ground with a tremendous thud. Although the fall lasted only seconds, it felt like I was in the air for minutes. I had just enough time to realize that what was done was done—there was no turning back. It was too late. Maybe I’d be dead, maybe paralyzed, or maybe I’d just break a leg. I wasn’t really thinking about the possible consequences—I just wanted out!

When I hit the ground, it felt like I had slammed into it at 80 MPH. The wind was knocked out of me for several seconds, and I was unable to breathe. I knew right away that my upper right arm was broken. One look at the thing, coupled with the pain, told me that much. I had landed on my side, causing my arm to buckle under the weight of my body. My beaded necklace fell off and landed a few feet in front of me. One of my brown loafers fell off, too.

Reflexively, I screamed as soon as I could breathe again. Up above, the pale yellow curtain hung outside the window, slowly blowing in the breeze.

Donovan came running around the corner, then quickly backtracked into the building to fetch the nurse when she saw me. She must’ve been incredibly shocked to see me lying there because, a few months earlier, she had caught me about to jump out of a different window.

“If you really wanted to go, you’d have gone,” she had told me.

Well, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go from that other window, which was a straight drop to the ground. It was probably bouncing off the overhang that saved me from worse injury by breaking my fall and slowing it down a bit. This was room number thirteen, by the way, that I jumped out of.

When the nurse came running out, she ordered me to stay still and asked me what my name was, who the president was, and things like that. When the paramedics arrived, they strapped me to a board in a way that prevented me from moving my head. My broken arm was draped over my stomach, which I had to hold with my other hand to keep it from sliding off.

As soon as I got to the hospital, X-rays were taken. I had broken my humerus right in half.

I was put in a room with one other person, but I don’t remember how many days I stayed there—only a few, I think.

The day after I was admitted, they operated on my arm by scrunching the bones back together using a fluoroscope. Then they put a cast on and secured it to my body so I couldn’t move it from the shoulder, and believe me, I couldn’t move it if I wanted to! All I could move were my wrist, hand, and fingers.

My parents came to visit me, but they only made me feel worse. My father was okay, actually. The problem was my mother, as usual, saying things meant to be sarcastic like, “Do it again. Maybe next time you’ll succeed.”

Definitely not the right thing to say! I didn’t expect a pat on the back for what I’d done, but that was a rather cold and insensitive comment. I tried to explain to her that I didn’t do it to kill myself or with any set outcome in mind.

“No, you just wanted attention,” she accused.

“Pretty risky way to get attention, don’t you think?” I asked her, especially since the jagged ends of the broken bones could’ve easily punctured my aorta.

The truth was that I did it because I suddenly felt overwhelmed with feelings of being trapped with nothing but a bunch of control freaks who couldn’t care less about me. I panicked, not thinking about the consequences. I simply did what I did. Period.

But no one was willing to hear what they didn’t want to hear or believe. It wasn’t just stupidity I was dealing with from my mother and most of Valleyhead’s staff—it was sheer ignorance and stubbornness. Most of the staff and students handled the situation very poorly. Some of them smothered me when I returned while others turned against me as if it was somehow personal or I’d harmed others. They wouldn’t even let any of the other students visit me in the hospital during a time when my need for support was so great because I had “done it to myself.” Instead of helping to build up my will to live, they only tore it down further, making me rather sorry I didn’t succeed. But I wasn’t about to take my mother’s lovely advice and try again, risking an even worse outcome.

So there I was, returning to Valleyhead more depressed than I could ever imagine, shunned by those who were supposed to care about me and placed under very strict and supervised restriction. I couldn’t even sleep upstairs in my room or be alone for a second. I had to sleep downstairs and be accompanied by a staff member wherever I went. Donna took it upon herself to extend my restriction because of a lighter she found on me—one my mom had slipped in with my belongings at the hospital, unbeknownst to me. It felt like a kick when I was already down.

It hurt me deeply that my mother would even think of sending me back to a place that made me feel so miserable after what I’d done.

I could only bathe my lower body. My hair had to be washed in the sink, and of course, someone had to do it for me.

I was required to do my schoolwork with my left hand.

I could tell when the bones in my arm had fused together because I could then wiggle my arm by the shoulder inside the cast. The first time the doctor changed the cast, it was still broken. He rested my elbow on my knee, and after I commented that I couldn’t move it, he wiggled the bones, showing me that it was still broken.

The second time, he was surprised that it was finally healing. He had thought he might have to go inside and pin the bones together. When the cast came off some two or three months later, my arm was weak but quickly grew stronger. At first, I couldn’t even raise my hand to eye level.

Once my arm healed, I realized I had no choice but to be their little puppet and do what they wanted if I was to make my time there more bearable and leave with some sanity left. Besides, I was nearing adulthood and thought I would have the freedom to do what I wanted with my life once out of there.

I worked my way up to the highest level, and during my last summer there, I had a vocational training job with about a dozen other students at a local High School, earning about $55 a week. That money was kept in our accounts and not given to us directly. It was only given for buying things like clothes, and I’m sure the owners pocketed whatever was left over. The courses included computers, horticulture, landscaping, and similar subjects. Except for the computer classes, it was pretty boring.

Before the vocational training program, I was set up to teach a small sign language class in the main house of the school.

During my last summer, around the time I worked at the high school, I was moved from the main house to the small house next to it. I liked it better there because there were fewer people. On my side of the house, there were only a few rooms. I could smoke anytime I wanted and often had a room to myself.

Besides the three rooms, there was a kitchen and a deck in back.

I’m not sure if it was before or after I left the main house, but a young woman named Mary who I later learned was a lesbian started working there. She was with another woman who worked there and became the first person I developed a major crush on.

With Debbie married and gone, Lisa, another lesbian (there seemed to be several there), became my new therapist.

Lisa and the math teacher, Michelle, were the only two people in the whole place who seemed to care about me. Mary was nice during the time I was there, but I was led on by her afterward. I’ll get to that part later.

Lisa cried a bit when I left. After I left, I traveled by bus to visit Michelle a few times. She took in Denise after graduation, and I later learned that she would have taken me in as well had I needed a place to go. Michelle quit to work at another school not long after I left because she was fed up with the way the kids at Valleyhead were treated.

I also visited Denise after she moved into a rooming house and tried to persuade her to come to Springfield with me and be my roommate, but she wasn’t interested.

Although I graduated in June, I didn’t leave Valleyhead until August. I’m not sure why this was—perhaps because of the vocational training program that summer.

I regret how I handled my so-called graduation award. After performing a song I wrote with my guitar for accompaniment, I received a music book as a graduation present from the owners. While that was sweet, the “best behavior improvement” award felt degrading. I almost regretted not tearing it up right there at the podium.

I felt completely cheated by my graduation experience. Like most kids, I had envisioned a traditional ceremony with a cap and gown, but I didn’t get to have that. Not attending a real prom wasn’t a loss to me, though. We were occasionally taken to all-boys schools for dances, which were boring as hell. It seemed like such a waste of time, especially since, even if I had wanted a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have been able to get very far with anyone.

Towards the end of my time at Valleyhead, my mother dealt me yet another nasty blow by suddenly informing me that I wasn’t welcome back in her house. This was when I first started to really show signs of having a sixth sense.

One night, as I lay in bed, I was overwhelmed with a sudden feeling that I wouldn’t be going home in August as planned. Unable to sleep, I went downstairs and found Mary trying to get the troublemakers to bed. Once she did, I expressed my concerns to her.

“It’s the first I’ve heard about it,” she told me. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It’s kind of like having a plane ticket in your hand but not being able to get on the plane just yet. It’s just normal anxieties you have, that’s all.”

But it wasn’t, as it turned out. My mother simply didn’t want me back. So, I was resigned to living at Valleyhead for an indefinite period because I didn’t yet know that Michelle would have taken me in. However, just before my graduation, during a visit home, my mother woke me up at 2:00 in the morning to tell me she had had a change of heart and I was free to come home.

How kind of her, right? And I didn’t even receive a single apology for all the stress and depression she put me through before deciding I was worthy of returning to her house. Instead, I was handed a list of dos and don’ts.

A few years later, my mother admitted that sending me to Brattleboro was a mistake, but she never acknowledged that Valleyhead was an even bigger mistake. I honestly don’t think they were aware that I was brought to Northampton State Hospital and were likely horrified when they learned of it.

So, home I went, though things would be different this time around.

Two years later, a student set Valleyhead on fire. The students, who were housed in a church until the school could be rebuilt, were no longer accepted if they had previously played with fire or attempted suicide.

In the early 2000s, the FBI shut down Valleyhead for good.

[kksingh11]

Can Russia save the world from N Disaster?

Pentagon is encouraging all out acts against Moscow to teach the latter a lesson, as to how dare it stopped its Eastern movement, which includes Ukraine, Moldova, Georgia, and many other ex-USSR nations. The aim is strategic defeat of Russian Federation (RF) and here the RF is fighting US imperialism, its military wing NATO (Yes, NATO is subservient to Pentagon), EU and other allies, which are 50!

Incidentally, RF possess maximum Nuclear War Heads of ex-USSR and is sufficient to annihilate US, EU, NATO and other allies. It is not that the RF will remain intact after the N war starts, but will be equally destroyed. No one wins this war.

The terrorist acts by the Ukraine regime inside RF, US plus NATO military activities close to RF borders & inside Ukraine are increasing. The supply of middle to long range weapons to AFU (Armed Forces of Ukraine) is increasing. They include artilleries, UAVs (Unmanned Aerial Vehicles) or drones, fighter aircraft and ships (soon will be supplies in bulk), AD systems, Electronic measures and counter measures (ECMs), real time information (Through satellites of US and allies), guidance, etc. In fact, the war against Russia is not being fought by Ukraine but by Pentagon, which has learnt to minimize its own casualties in many past wars, where it was directly involved, latest being Afghanistan. Ukraine is no more a sovereign country or state.

By the way, US had "invested" 3 Trillions of USD in Ukraine in 2014 to destabilize an elected government (Known as Maidan or Color revolution) and install its own puppet government. Since then, almost 8 years, it used Ukrainian land to establish chemical, biological and virus laboratories, uranium enrichment factories and many other such industries which gave it high returns on its initial investments. The rich land for wheat and other agricultural and industrial products were no longer for Ukraine but the "suppliers" of weapons to one of the most corrupt regime, in Kiev, in the world.

The border with Russia, along East, NE and SE were converted into highly fortified war zones, and supply of weapons knew no bounds. Who were paying for this? The working people of Ukraine, which turned into either poor wage slaves, paupers, neo-Nazis and a big percentage of women turned towards prostitutes not only in Ukraine but were supplied globally.

Escalation of war is on. One need not forecast. Nuclear was is still not inevitable, but we are inching towards its, after more than a year of devastating war. The hunger for more and more world market, profit, plunder and hegemony is leading globe to not merely to climate emergency, human disaster (in form of mass hunger and disease and refugees) but to nuclear holocaust. Russia, itself a capitalist country, must think hard & take proactive action, including the worst, to save its own as well as globe's disaster! The final safety of the world is only socialism, replacement of private property (means of production and subsistence) with social wealth.

Do read this article: "Russia reacts to German stance on Putin arrest warrant"; https://www.rt.com/russia/573232-russia-germany-putin-arrest-warrant/ to have an insight into the hypocrisy of the capitalist imperialist world.

This above act is an illegal and highly provocative one by ICC (International Criminal Court) of which neither Russia not China, India, US are members and not liable to even respond to its notice. If you wonder that how ICC dared to issue such a warrant, which does not even have any means or wherewithal to ensure its implementation, be sure you are a child as far as geopolitics or imperialism is concerned! Need to learn more, as such political knowledge is essential in your own country.

[pridepages]

Why We Tell the Story: Last Call

I just finished Last Call: A True Story of Love, Lust, and Murder in Queer New York by Elon Green. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

There’s something about a true crime story that raises a sickening fascination in us. Ever since divisive queer icon Truman Capote turned a home invasion into a lurid carnival with his ‘non-fiction novel’ In Cold Blood, thirsty audiences have shaped a controversial genre. When I say ‘true crime,’ you probably have some knee-jerk expectations: sympathetic victims, a lurid (likely gory) act, a high-stakes manhunt fraught with tension, twists, and turns, and at the heart is a criminal who is somehow both larger than life and chillingly unremarkable.

That last element is particularly volatile. As film after book after special is released about these mediocre (usually white) men whose greatest...yikes, dare I say ‘achievement’ (?) in life is stealing other people’s, I’m inclined to agree with the increased outcry from the victims’ families: ENOUGH! Why should a killer’s name be made immortal when the whole point should be to honor, comfort, and bring justice to the victims?

From this standpoint, it may be seen as vindication that the so-called Last Call Killer has faded from memory. Most people are unaware that, in the early 1990s, a serial killer targeting queer men picked up and killed at least four men in New York City, most from the upscale gay piano bars known as The Townhouse and The Five Oaks. The case did end up being solved a decade later. The perpetrator has been convicted and will assuredly die in prison. All this was laid to rest over a decade ago. So why should it be disturbed now?

Enter journalist Elon Green: “I found the story in the October 1994 issue of The Advocate. The case had been cold for a year and the story was asking, Why hasn’t it been solved? And my question was, What is this case, and why haven’t I heard about it? And that’s what sent me down the path--wanting to know more about the victims.”

So began a journey that led Green to craft a narrative around a time and place rather than an atrocity. As Green delved deeper into the events surrounding the case, he “wondered if, in fact, this was my story to tell. Could I do right by the queer community and its history? That’s not for me to say. What I tried to do in this book was let my sources tell me the story.”

Readers coming in expecting a lurid deep-dive into the mind and journey of a killer will leave underwhelmed and disappointed. This is not that story. Last Call is a story about a people, a place, and a period. The people: queer men, their families and friends, law enforcement, activists, and bar regulars. The place: the queer subculture spaces in New York and the surrounding areas. The time: the late ‘70s to early ‘90s, in the height of the AIDS crisis. This portrait is designed to capture not what but WHY. 

So why don’t people know the Last Call Killer among other infamous monikers? Here’s some of Green’s suggestions as to why:

1. To be gay was to be criminal. ‘Morality’ laws meant it was ok to prosecute consensual homosexual activity. Entrapment (cops posing to solicit gay sex) was common. Any subsequent arrest or conviction was an outing, worse--it could end a future (ask anyone whose been convicted of a crime what it means for your future prospects).

2. The AIDS epidemic increased both hate crimes against gay people and a mistrust of law enforcement. Naturally, panic increases backlash on the scapegoats. But what needs to be understood is that at the time it was accepted that “gay men and lesbians have been killed for a long time, and it is just a low priority with the police.”

3. “A commonplace and, quite frankly, sensible fear of being outed made such cases difficult to prosecute and the defenses difficult to pierce.” I can tell you from experience how frustrating it was as a prosecutor to see a key victim witness back out because going forward could cost them too much, but knowing as a legal expert that meant I didn’t have enough evidence to convict a perpetrator. Sometimes, the bad guy gets away because seeking systemic justice just hurts the victim more.

4. The Gay Panic Defense. This is a piece of history makes me want to scream every time I see the meme. Not to be the old jerk yelling at the kids to get off my lawn, but it’s sickening that people have forgotten the real meaning. Gay Panic does not mean being gay and awkward because you have a crush. Gay Panic Defense is a real legal strategy that is being used in courts “against charges of murder and assault that enable perpetrators of anti-queer murders to receive diminished sentences or even avoid punishment entirely by, in effect, blaming the victim.” Here’s how it works: someone can kill you if they know you’re gay by saying that either you ‘came on’ to them which causes them to believe they are in danger, or JUST KNOWING YOU ARE GAY caused them to suffer some kind of mental breakdown. For some perspective: the Gay Panic Defense is legal on the books in several American states in 2023.

Swirl these reasons together, and you get the cocktail for why the Last Call Killer happened: homophobia. Maybe it was internalized, although it’s aggravating to speculate that queer people are to blame for their own distortions. It flirts too closely to homosexuality’s old classifications as mental illness or disorder for comfort. But, most importantly, it was the homophobia of larger society that treated these victims as less important that caused this case to fall away. After all, when bad things happened to gay people, as the dirty, undesirable secret subcommunity, the “response tended to be, What did you do to deserve this?”

Seeing all of this, Green did not set out to document the killings. Unlike so many True Crime stories, there is no imagined ‘reconstruction’ of the events of each slaying. Instead, Green chose to capture “the lives of the victims. I became obsessed with the lives they wanted but couldn’t have.” Capturing the secrecy, the suspicion, the self-medication, and the susceptibility surrounding the victims, Green honors “a generation of men, more or less, for whom it was difficult to be visibly gay. To be visibly whole.”

In the end, the star of the book is not the Last Call Killer. The focus is placed where it belongs: on Peter Anderson, Thomas Mulcahy, Anthony Edward Marrero, Michael Sakara, and all the community around them. As one loved one eulogized: “it is ironic that someone filled with so much love was taken from us in a crime by someone filled with so much hate.”

That’s why we tell the story. Not because we want to glorify the wicked, but because we want to whisper to the innocent, no matter where they are now: we see you. You are not forgotten. You are whole, and worthy of love, exactly as you are.

For the curious, the Townhouse bar remains open to this day: “a bar birthed during one pandemic might just survive another.” It has seen the fall of secrecy, and now proudly advertises itself as an ‘elegant gay men’s club.’ I hope someday to make a pilgrimage to New York and to include it on my itinerary of landmark sites. Not for a lurid thrill, but rather for a sense of pride: to honor the people who lived, loved, and drank here.

From one queer to others, across the distance of space and time, I raise my glass in your honor and in your memory.

[desireandduty]

Her eyes narrowed, and the corners of her mouth turned down as her jaw set in rigid, angry lines. She could feel the anger building inside of her. All the frustration, fear and grief of the last twenty three years was bubbling up inside her like magma in a cinder cone. Was he actually insinuating that she had done something wrong, when for the last half of his life, he'd been making one terrible choice after another?

When he stood up, she did as well. There was no way she was going to let him tower over her and snap at her. The fact that he had to lean against the counter gave her some small, mean measure of satisfaction. "Don't you dare put any of the blame on me! I had to make the best of the bad choices in front of me to keep all three of us safe from Palpatine. Surely you remember why I had nothing but terrible choices in front of me, Anakin? I begged you. I begged you to turn back, to come with me, and you chose that wretch over me. Over our family. We could have been together all these years."

She was absolutely fuming now, as everything she'd wanted to yell at him for decades was finally allowed to come tumbling out. "I cried so many tears over you. So many sleepless nights. And yet while I've been fighting for the last 23 years to make a world safe for our children to exist in, safe from your Inquisitors, it turns out that you've been actively working against me this whole time." She shrugged off the question about Obi-Wan. "He told me that Darth Vader killed you. Perhaps he thought the lie was kinder than the truth." Honestly, at this point, she was undecided on which would have been worse: to have spent all this time mourning Anakin or to have known the whole time what he'd become.

His eyes locked on hers, and he may not have the best eyesight, even with these stupid glasses, that made him look old, so he took them off. Okay, now he couldn't see much at all, so he had to put them back on. His irritation was getting the best of him, at the moment, but still. How? It wasn't that he had ever gotten over her, but how had she been alive and he never felt it?

The one thing he had known was she was not dead, when she dropped to the ground. "Don't call him that! He's not your Master. He was never your Master. So, let me get this straight. You had a part in deciding to split them up, to send Leia to Alderaan and send Luke to Tatooine a place, that you knew was horrible and is a horrible way to grow up?"

He stood up again and he was winded, so he had to lean against the counter, but he'd be as annoyed as he wanted to. He was going to talk to Obi-Wan about this one. "Obi-Wan said what, exactly? I'll have a talk with Obi-Wan, if he was a moron."

[marvelmusing]

The Spider Incident

Pairing: Single Parent!Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that you and your coworker Zemo bicker regularly, the two of you are slowly becoming friends. One evening you offer to babysit his son Carl, to which Zemo agrees. (An AU where Zemo is just a regular single dad)

A/N: I’m not actively writing for Zemo anymore but I found this little drabble and thought it was cute

My Masterlist

»»---------------------►

You’re awoken by someone nudging your arm. You shift slightly, careful not to wake the boy snuggled up beside you. You blink blearily in the lamplight, before your eyes settle on Zemo.

“You are aware he’s old enough to sleep on his own?” He whispers. You scowl at him before sliding out from Carl’s grasp.

“Of course I am. There was a spider in his room.” You explain quietly. Zemo’s eyes flicker down to his son in concern, before looking back at you as you lead him to Carl’s room.

“And you couldn’t handle that yourself?”

“I did handle it.” You argue, a hint of pride shining in your voice as you open the door. You gesture towards the laundry basket overturned on the floor. “I’ve trapped it.” He glances down at the basket, then back at you.

“How you’ve survived as an adult for this long, truly astounds me.”

“In a good way, right?” You tease with a grin. He shakes his head,

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Liebling.” As he approaches the basket you shift your feet warily. Zemo notices and looks back at you. “Would you prefer to stand on the bed?” You smile sheepishly at him before nodding. You jump up onto the bed, peering down at the floor.

“It was huge.” You explain, before showing him with your hands how big the spider was. Zemo plucks a tissue from the box on Carl’s desk and advances towards the basket. When the basket is lifted and the creature scuttles out you can’t help but recoil. When Zemo spots it he drops the basket and jumps onto the bed beside you, clinging onto your arms for support. You grab hold of him to prevent the two of you from crashing to the floor.

“Told you it was huge.” He hums in response, not wanting to agree with you, but certainly recognising the monstrosity he’s just released. “So what’s the plan?” You venture.

“I’m going to use you as an offering.” You tighten your hold on his arms.

“Don’t you dare.”

“It’s a necessary sacrifice.”

“It’s really not.”

“What do you propose?”

“We could evacuate the house?”

“Is that not rather drastic?”

“And using me as a human sacrifice isn’t?” You seize a large encyclopaedia from Carl’s nightstand.

“What are you doing?”

“Solving the problem. You’re going to hit it with this.” You tell him, waving the book for emphasis. He shakes his head slightly before he meets your hopeful eyes. He sighs, taking the book from you. After a few failed attempts on the spider’s life, Zemo finally drops the book onto the creature. As he’s flushing the remains down the toilet and cleaning up the bedroom, you scoop Carl up into your arms before returning him to his own bed. When Zemo looks for his son, he finds you tucking him in with a tender expression on your face. Zemo hovers in the doorway, watching the rather domestic scene. You turn to look at him, a rather embarrassed smile adorning your face as you stand up. You gesture slightly towards Carl’s bed and Zemo nods in understanding. The two of you swap places and you lean against the doorframe as he crouches on the bed. He bends down to press a kiss against Carl’s forehead, smoothing the blankets down as he stands. He turns the lamp off, and you hold the door open for him as the two of you step out into the hallway. You both make your way down the stairs quietly. Zemo looks back at you as you walk,

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“You’re welcome. And anytime you need someone to watch him, I’ll be free. He’s a sweet kid.” He seems rather taken aback by your offer.

“That means a great deal to me.” You smile gently at him. You’re about to reach for your coat when he asks you, “Would you like to stay? For a drink?” You hesitate at his offer.

“I shouldn’t, really. I have to drive home.” He nods,

“You could stay the night?” You hesitate again.

“Okay.” You say with a small smile. “If you’re sure it’s not a bother?” He shakes his head.

“Not at all.”