#and you can argue that this exploit should have never existed in the first place

[forcedhesitation]

the “criticism” that larian should never have added good minthara recruitment and that that was just “pandering” to fans is so unbelievably ridiculous. what else were they supposed to do about the sheepthara exploit?? attempt to patch it out and likely fuck up plenty of people’s game files? the solution they offered literally just acknowledges the exploit without dramatically changing anything, other than the player’s ability to have both minthara and halsin in their camp. if you want to kill minthara, recruit halsin, and play an authentic good run, then do so. if you want to abandon halsin, attack the grove, and authentically recruit minthara, then do so. the sheepthara method being simplified and added into the game has absolutely zero bearing on anyone’s ability to play the game normally. some people are just making a problem out of nothing. perhaps go complain about something actually worthwhile, like the lack of content for wyll and karlach.

[astonmartinii]

knives out | lewis hamilton social media au

pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

2016 saw the murder of brocedes right before our very eyes, but who got y/n in the will?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and 751,209 others

tagged: nicorosberg

yourusername: back in barcelona! nothing has ever happened here, right? RIGHT?

view all comments

user1: when i'm in a victim of brocedes contest and y/n rosberg turns up

user2: nico was like "oh, lewis has had a good qualifying... here comes the curse"

user3: he's the hater we should all aspire to be

nicorosberg: barcelona is a beautiful place but you should pick your company well!

yourusername: great advice nico, i should've left you at home

nicorosberg: snore! i'm great company you just can't keep up with my great personality and wit

yourusername: what ever you need to tell yourself old man

nicorosberg: i'm two years older than you?

yourusername: how was the industrial revolution?

user4: i hope they never grow up and always argue in public

user5: omg the argument on sky about lewis v seb in canada... and jenson just stood there with the biggest shit-eating grin ever

lewishamilton: my trauma is not your joke

yourusername: it was my trauma too i was the one who had to listen to him complain for the next TWO WEEKS

lewishamilton: trying to find where i care...

yourusername: you complained first ??

lewishamilton: rightly so!

yourusername: do not tussle with me about this, by now i thought you'd know that us rosbergs don't play about complaining

lewishamilton: believe me my therapist knows that

user6: i know nico sat on his hands forcing himself not to comment back

user7: alternatively, celebrating that he still lives in lewis' head

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc and 2,305,899 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: @yourusername i may love you but if that man ever takes a picture of my car i'm putting a hit on his head

view all comments

user11: we got a relationship reveal and a death threat all in one post

user12: lewis saw yall ready to make a brocedes edit using this race and made sure you knew that he doesn't care about a his old haunts

user13: he was like yall shipping me with the wrong rosberg

yourusername: let's refrain from threats for now

lewishamilton: we're gonna have to get rid of that last name, no more curses

nicorosberg: RIGHT THAT IS IT IF YOU DARE GET MARRIED DOUBLE-BARRELLED OR ELSE, ROSBERGS ARE ELITE AND YOU WISH YOU HAD THIS NAME

yourusername: he does have a point

lewishamilton: i'm for real going to lose my mind that we haven't spoken in years and this is where he drew the line

nicorosberg: you told the world you're dating my sister at the same time as me

lewishamilton: stop cursing me then 🤨

nicorosberg: i don't curse you my devilish good looks just sent your engine into cardiac arrest

user14: i know toto wolff just fell to his knees in the mercedes garage seeing them bicker in instagram comments after making merc a literal warzone for years

user15: and yet this is the most brocedes way to go about it

georgerussell63: even if you're dating his sister, i'm still your favourite teammate right?

yourusername: valterri exists buddy soz

georgerussell63: *clutches my pearls*

lewishamilton: and that is exactly why valterri is my favourite teammate

georgerussell63: whatever 💁🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc: not for long xx

yourusername: whoever can bring me the best coffee can get the crown?

lewishamilton: stop exploiting my teammate and future teammate

yourusername: that's what they're there for?

yourusername

liked by nicorosberg, maxverstappen1 and 823,087 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: anything happen this week?

view all comments

user19: y/n ruining her brother's week - anything happen this week?

user20: more like year

nicorosberg: more like life

yourusername: drama queen

nicorosberg: as i should be !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

yourusername: got enough exclamation marks in there buddy

nicorosberg: no open the door i need to scream directly in your ears

yourusername: if it's any consolation, the relationship started after 2016

nicorosberg: so he got me out of the way so he could go for my little sister 🤨

lewishamilton: yep!

nicorosberg: no i'm serious let me in i need to yell

nicorosberg: I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE I CAN HEAR ROSCOE

nicorosberg: fine i'll just abseil from my apartment give me a sec

user21: y/n please let him in he's so serious about that i can feel it

user22: anyone from monaco here and want to keep us updated?

danielricciardo: Y/N LET HIM IN HE NEARLY KICKED MY POTTED PLANT OFF THE BALCONY

yourusername: lol

danielricciardo: THIS IS NOT A LAUGHING MATTER PLEASE

lewishamilton: fine, you people are such bores

nicorosberg: i nearly lost a birkenstock

yourusername: and my inheritance nearly doubled

lewishamilton: *our

user23: i think lewis is having way too much fun with this

nicorosberg

liked by lewishamilton, jensonbutton and 692,889 others

tagged: yourusername

nicorosberg: we're back at the track and i've got a sneaking feeling that the red bull might be fast around here

view all comments

user24: nico said babe won't catch me posting lewis on my instagram

maxverstappen1: sure thing buddy he's dating your sister, but there's NO NEED TO TAKE IT OUT ON ME

nicorosberg: i said you're going to win?

maxverstappen1: i DON'T NEED YOUR BAD JUJU GIVE IT TO LEWIS HE'S THE ONE YOU'RE ANGRY AT NOT ME

nicorosberg: i'm not angry at lewis

lewishamilton: really?

nicorosberg: OF COURSE NOT

yourusername: he'll get over it soon lewis don't worry

lewishamilton: really? he's still holding a grudge from 2016 - that was EIGHT YEARS AGO

yourusername: yeah sorry that's a rosberg trait ❤️

user25: not the grid becoming victims of the brocedes fall out eight years later

yourusername: you're so shady why did you crop lewis out?

nicorosberg: outfit wasn't on par with the rosbergs

yourusername: oh no

lewishamilton: HOW DARE YOU

yourusername: you queens can take this out on each other i'm not getting involved in this one

lewishamilton: i know this birkenstock wearing primadonna is not dissing my custom mcqueen

nicorosberg: it's custom because no one would want something so ugly 🫶🏻

user26: someone take nico off the parc ferme interviews lewis might just run him over

user27: he should just let roscoe at his ankles

nicorosberg: that vegan dog can't do shit to me

yourusername: leave the kids out of it nico

nicorosberg: you birthed that? my condolences to your reproductive system

lewishamilton: DO NOT FAT SHAME MY SON

roscoelovescoco: kill yourself @nicorosberg

user28: WTF IS GOING ON

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, kimiantonelli and 2,844,599 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: he may have won the battle, but i won the war

view all comments

user29: bro you're going to be subjected to boho chic Christmases for the rest of your life

user30: guy is going to get poisoned via christmas nut roast by nico 😭

yourusername: this is corny but i love you

lewishamilton: i love you too i'm going to pretend you didn't just call my super thought out caption corny

yourusername: it was corny and that's what i love about you

nicorosberg: you need better standards

yourusername: for someone who had so much homoerotic tension with the man that you retired you're being very rude about the subject of such tension

nicorosberg: that's not how that went

yourusername: sure, jan

nicorosberg: stop trying to rewrite history

yourusername: i saw it with my own two eyes... are you jealous that i ended up with lewis instead of you?

nicorosberg: nO

user31: i feel like this is definitely not the argument i thought i would see on the internet today

user32: lewis hamilton got passed around the rosberg house ... this your goat?

user33: both rosbergs are hawt as hell so yes!

charles_leclerc: oh great, keep stoking the flames lewis! if you invoke his wrath upon ferrari next season i will personally sacrifice you to the gods

lewishamilton: excuse me?

charles_leclerc: i don't know if you know this but i kinda don't have a world championship yet ... I DO NOT WANT THE ROSBERG CURSE ATTACHED TO ME

lewishamilton: do not minimise my trauma charles

charles_leclerc: you haven't joined ferrari yet, you don't know trauma. be nice to him, i can't finish my career with max having more championships than me

maxverstappen1: skill issue

user34: do these people ever stop arguing?

yourusername: no! and i can assure you it's worse in person

user35: worst brocedes tussle since nico found out?

yourusername: i was making a list of people to invite to my birthday dinner and nico was angry that i wrote lewis' name before his

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 1,304,277 others

tagged: lewishamilton, nicorosberg

yourusername: still a victim of the brocedes nuclear fallout all these years later

view all comments

user37: bro nearly lost her bf to her brother

user38: lewis couldn't have nico and went for his sister instead

user39: insert larry stylinson theory here that y/n is just the beard and toto wolff is simon cowell

yourusername: i'm blocking all of you

nicorosberg: still yapping about this ... and i'm the dramatic one

yourusername: babe we can all see all of your comments on previous posts where you're the literal definition of crashing out

nicorosberg: BARCELONA WAS LEWIS' FAULT WE ALL KNOW THIS

yourusername: when did i bring up barcelona... you just proved my point IDIOT

nicorosberg: make me sound insane all you want ... TOTO IS THE REAL VILLAIN HERE

yourusername: ???

nicorosberg: he notebooked us

yourusername: riiiiiiiiiiight

nicorosberg: i wrote lewis a letter when i retired and toto never gave it to him

yourusername: you're telling me i had to hide my relationship for so long because you trusted that austrian big foot fraud to be your messenger pigeon ?

user40: did we just get insane brocedes lore on a random tuesday?

user41: you're telling me it was toto's fault the whole time?

lewishamilton: well yes it would've been helpful to have gotten the letter, you have to admit the sneeking around was hot

yourusername: you're right 🤭🤭🤭

lewishamilton: hiding in your bathroom while nico came over to bitch about me was a personal highlight

nicorosberg: excuse me?

lewishamilton: i know we're trying to be better, so here's a compliment: you're very creative when being mean about me

nicorosberg: why thank you 😝

yourusername: nuh uh we ain't doing this shit

lewishamilton: don't worry y/n you'll always be my favourite

nicorosberg: but you'll never have our trip to greece :P

yourusername: i will strangle you britney

user42: y/n got brocedes to talk again, but at what cost?

lewishamilton

liked by nicorosberg, charles_leclerc and 4,677,309 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: got y/n's hand in marriage in the will (after i murdered her brother's career)

view all comments

user43: y/n can't escape brocedes even on her engagement post

user44: she (and them) will never get rid of it

yourusername: i love you baby, here's to the rest of our life (even if that includes you arguing with my brother for the rest of time)

lewishamilton: i love you even more, i'd go through all of that psychological warfare again and again if it means i still end up with you

yourusername: we've always had an invisible string

lewishamilton: and there's no one else i'd want to be cosmically tied to <3

user45: i might cry they're so cute

user46: that comment thread called me single in about 100 different languages

charles_leclerc: congratulations you two! also congratulations to me - no more rosberg curse!

yourusername: really? on this POST?

charles_leclerc: hold on girlypop, it was mr hamilton-rosberg that brought up your brother first not me

lewishamilton: you better get all this attitude out now charles

charles_leclerc: what? you gonna marry my brother?

yourusername: lol i'm not threatened by them

arthurleclerc: why am i being shaded?

user47: 2025 HURRY THE FUCK UP

nicorosberg: i guess you're finally getting the rosberg name you've always wanted ...

lewishamilton: yes... i have always had a crush on your sister

nicorosberg: GASP! PERVERT 🫵🏻 i have known you since we were 12 you GROSS MAN

lewishamilton: WELL YES I WAS ALSO 12 I'VE NOT ALWAYS BEEN 36 MORON

yourusername: well doesn't this just get me excited for christmas

user48: i know a monopoly board hate to see these three coming

yourusername: @nicorosberg can i have an actual congratulations???

nicorosberg: i'm happy for you, i'm glad you're happy (also he's loaded so slay)

yourusername: i'll take it!

lewishamilton: sure whatever thanks nico !

fin.

note: lol finally finished this one! i have been very in and out on here, i have a lot going on x

[comikadraws]

I was working on a different analysis, only to find the Chunin Exams even more unreasonably barbaric than usual. Because, honestly, why?

Yes, yes, I know. Tobirama designed the modern Shinobi system and the Chunin Exams were introduced as a replacement to war. However, before the preliminaries in Part 1 of Naruto, Hiruzen gives us a brief lesson in history, and it made me curious.

"[...] our alliance is, in fact... a temporary and mutually beneficial agreement between a group of geographically contiguous lands... whose previous existence was one of continual strife... constantly jockeying aganst one another [...] until a better way was devised... the way of the Chunin Selection Examination...!"

To summarize, the Chunin Exams were introduced as a replacement, or rather, a preventative measure for war, hoping to sate the villages' need to show off.

Thing is, Tobirama died in the First Great Shinobi War, meaning that, between the introduction of the Chunin Selection Exams into the world and Part 1 of Naruto, three world wars have taken place. Then add a bunch of minor conflicts, such as the attempted kidnapping of Hinata by Kumogakure, and we soon realize that the Chunin Selection Exams have actually done nothing to prevent conflict in the past four decades or so. So why continue holding them in this, frankly, self-destructive way?

I see two possible explanations for this:

In spite of bearing witness to the previous uselessness of the Chunin Exams, he never thought to re-adjust them into non-killing games.

The current style and purpose of the Chunin Exams are actually a fairly recent development.

And I know that the wording here already further supports the second reading due to Hiruzen's focus on "recent history" - But, personally, I wouldn't pay too much mind to such details as Viz is not exactly known for its accurate translations. This leaves us with no definitive proof for either of these two hypotheses.

What we do know, however, is that, in the past, the Chunin Exams were held under far less lethal conditions. Thanks to Obito's flashbacks in Chapter #599, we can make a direct comparison. As it turns out, the second stage is unnecessarily barbaric.

During Team Minato's era, the second stage of the Chunin Exams once consisted of simple team battles. Since the exams likely took place during wartime, the teams probably consisted of Konoha shinobi only. Hence, none of the examinees should have had any particular desire to eliminate their opponent, rather than just beating them in combat and winning the round. On top of that, proctors were put into place to supervise the battles, and it is entirely possible that the teams were allowed to take breaks between rounds.

Meanwhile, Team 7's Chunin Exams were exactly that but with no proctors and no breaks, in the form of a 120-hour-survival test, stuck between enemy teams and wild animals. Examinees originated from all across the continent, including rival nations, potentially with a desire or incentive to kill and maim their opponents.

And, of course, during Team Minato's era, the third stage of the Chunin Exams consisted of one-on-one battles in a secluded, private arena, whereas participants during Team 7's exam were made to fight in a grand stadium with foreign guests for the "prestige of the village". But that's just a minor nitpick, honestly.

And even if we were to argue that due to an ongoing war, Konoha simply couldn't afford to open its gates to foreign guests and risk exposing their Genin's abilities to the enemy... the same case can be made in the present day.

If tensions are already on the rise to the point of requiring a glorified child-killing event to keep enemy forces happy, those foreign relationships are probably beyond saving already. Truly, Konoha never was at peace, only ever maintaining a begrudging armistice. Therefore, opening your door to a potential enemy is always a weakness to exploit. If not to invade you today (like Orochimaru did), it can be used to collect intel on your shinobi for tomorrow's invasion.

So yeah, the point still stands.

They were capable of holding the Chunin Exams under relatively safe conditions previously. They were not, however, capable of "promoting friendship" via the Chunin Exams. Realistically, letting down your defenses and allowing foreign shinobi to kill your young sure has to have backfired in the past already. So why? Why bear the risk?

I wouldn't be surprised if the current style of the Chunin Exams were a recent development in hopes of preserving peace after the passing of three wars. Or if they had been temporarily changed back when Hiruzen was still too optimistic about peace in the Ninja world.

[audhdnight]

Okay friends gather round because I’m here to talk about porn (this will be a long post).

Specifically, why it needs to be safer instead of banned, why it’s not inherently harmful, and how a lot of the harm associated with it is straight up prejudice.

I recently got drawn into an argument about this (i know, I should know better, but I guess this time I didn’t). People love to talk about how the porn industry is harmful because it’s “addictive” which makes it dangerous, or because it makes men do bad things.

I want to say first that this is just feeding into the “all men are inherently bad and violent” shit which I do NOT support because it is not true. A lot of men in patriarchal society are violent, yes, but only because that society tells those men they can have whatever they want, they can take it if we won’t give it to them, and there are no consequences for this behavior. This apathy is conditioned. If you never hold a man accountable for his actions and the ways in which he exploits others, OF COURSE he’s going to hurt people. This issue exist less with women because societally, women are conditioned to give of themselves to the point of burnout, to always place other people’s (most often specifically men’s) wants and needs and preferences over their own. Not because women are biologically less violent or selfish.

Now, there is something to be said about the ways in which certain kinds of pornography portray sexual relationships. In heterosexual male-centered porn, the woman is, more often than not, merely a vessel for his pleasure. She does what he wants, in the positions he wants, because he is the focus. This kind of porn is often characterized by a POV that makes it look as if you’re watching through the male actor’s eyes.

This kind of porn, especially if it is a man or boy’s introduction to sexual relationships/pleasure, can encourage them to see all women this way. If you teach a boy that women are meant to serve his whims because that’s just what women are for, of course he’s going to continue seeking out this kind of media. This is an example of societal prejudice and how it influences everything we do. It does not mean that pornography makes men misogynists.

The second point I want to discuss involves why I say we need reform and laws that keep people safe from exploitation, not a ban on pornography as a whole.

When I told the people I was arguing with that this is what I personally advocate for, they tried to say that I was admitting porn is bad, “because it hurts people.” One man said that I couldn’t possibly dismiss the experiences of real people hurt by the porn industry by saying porn isn’t harmful.

I want to make it exceptionally clear that I am absolutely not dismissing anyone’s experiences. I am well aware that many people are hurt by the modern pornography industry and have been for as long as sex work has existed. But I also want to make it clear that this is not because sex work is bad. It is because people get trafficked, and people often feel like they have no other options because of economic and life circumstances. Some people who entered the industry willingly, who even enjoy their work (crazy concept, I know) end up leaving because they were pressured into certain acts that they weren’t comfortable with. Some people get recorded without their consent. Some people have to leave because of harassment (and yes, sexual harassment IS a thing, even for sex workers). Some people feel like it is a path they will enjoy, but discover it’s not a kind of work they want to do. Some people find it incredibly draining. Some people’s coworkers make for an unpleasant or even unsafe work environment.

There are hundred of reasons someone might leave sex work or be harmed by the people they work with. This doesn’t mean that the work itself is morally wrong. Which is why I say that we need laws in place that protect sex workers from exploitation, and we need people in place to actually enforce those laws (rather than the slew of pedophiles and rapists we have in office right now, or the police officers who let traffickers off the hook for bribery - the financial kind and the human kind).

My third point involves the lack of any scientific backing for the claims that pornography is inherently harmful. While anecdotal evidence absolutely has a place in the discussion, and we should never dismiss someone who was hurt in their time in the industry, this is not scientific. Neither are sermons, unfortunately for most of the people I talk to about this. Usually when I ask for a study backing their claims - just one single peer reviewed study - I am offered this:

The very first thing I want to point out about this paper is that it is not a study. It is essentially a personal interest essay. Just because a work references other works does not make it credible. The man who wrote this paper is a religious fanatic, first of all, and while his Phd does actually appear to be real (oftentimes I get referenced to people with fake doctorates) that does not automatically make any words he writes factual. Several of the footnotes include links that look pretty legit but actually lead nowhere. A couple are just surveys where they asked religious families if their children struggled with mental health consequences from pornography, which is again anecdotal evidence at best, and definitely not a peer reviewed, credible source.

Secondly, if you read this paper you may notice that in a few places Fagan claims part of the mental toll pornography takes on teens is the shame and guilt it creates. Gee, can anyone guess why a sexually repressed teenager in a conservative Christian purity culture home might feel ashamed of indulging in sexual pleasure?? My personal “porn addiction” guilt went away when I realized that I wasn’t hurting anyone by watching it, and my sexual pleasure was not sinful or dirty. What fixed my mental turmoil was letting go of the shame, not letting go of the thing that made me happy.

All of this is to say that the shame and guilt around teens watching porn does not come from the pornography itself, but from the adults around us who tell us we are dirty rotten sinners who are going to burn in hell for wanting to feel good.

Fagan also talks about the consequences of pornography on children, without ever addressing the fact that this is harmful because usually if a child is viewing porn, it is in the context of grooming. I’m not advocating for showing your young child pornography obviously (please don’t do that) but it feels incredibly irresponsible to say that we need to ban porn because “if a child is groomed with it that hurts the child”. In his list of reasons why pornography is harmful to children, Fagan also includes things like it can be upsetting for a child to overhear their parent engaging in “phone sex”. Surely I’m not the only one wondering what that actually has to do with porn…?

Now, I’m not saying that no one is ever engaging with pornography to a point of harm. But this is still an issue of misattributed blame. If someone is watching porn in excess, using it as a coping mechanism of some kind, that is a problem that has very little to do with the porn they’re watching. People fill holes of emotional and physical needs in all sorts of different ways. My cousin ended up on crutches because she went through a rough breakup and dealt with it by running. She overdid it too many times and injured herself, but no one would ever say that means we have to ban running.

My main point is that safe, consensual sex work is not harmful. If consenting adults wish to have sex, play sexual games, record themselves, watch a recording of another consenting adult, or do literally any other kind of sexual activity - that is perfectly okay. We don’t need to shame them or condemn them for wanting to feel pleasure or for working a job in which they bring other people pleasure. This is purity culture bullshit.

And on the subject of teens - it is literally the most natural thing in the word for a teenager to feel curious about their bodies and desires and to want to explore that. Again, I’m not advocating for showing your teenager pornography, but If they find it themselves that’s a wonderful opportunity to have discussions with them about safe sex, boundaries, consent, and all the things. You can even talk to them about it before they seek out the porn. You can teach them about masturbation, and let them know that these desires are not shameful or bad or dirty.

I’m also really tired of certain people insisting that porn is “addictive” because it produces dopamine in the brain. Wanting to feel good is not a crime for fuck’s sake.

[goblincow]

Deeply relatable to me. I get incredibly exhausted any time I see someone proudly claim that they don't give a shit or even believe men are oppressed by the gender binary. Because obviously men do get a massive upper hand and benefit from the power imbalance but it's not like I was given a choice? I don't want it? It's restrictive and actively harmful to me too?

Like it's crazy to me that there are conservative feminists (like I get where they come from but those ideologies are so wildly contradictory, conservative feminism can never be meaningfully feminist) and they would tell you a guy like me or nick offernan has no right to speak on it. But you can't challenge the patriarchy and refuse to understand that it's bad for men too & you cant want it to change and stay the same. Like that's literally just perpetuating the patriarchy.

This should be no surprise to literally any trans person and I should hope it would be obvious to all queer people too – hell I want to live in the world where cishet people understand this as well because then gender dissolves and we're all free woohoo happily ever after (not a joke).

But yeah gender as its widely imagined is clearly a social construct & tool of patriarchal power and it sucks for EVERYONE except those who are in positions of power, who embrace it for obvious reasons. Obviously this applies to all men to some extent regardless of any attempt to reject it but like, only because it's forced on us in the first place? I want actual equality please, I don't want anyone to have more power than anyone else? And that can't happen as long as the gender binary is so rigidly enforced. Like honestly while you could argue that binary broadly fits *most* people (and honestly I'm really not sure I believe that) it necessarily restricts all of those people too.

I'm a radical feminist (NOT the genocidal fake kind, you know the evil fuckers I'm talking about) partly because it's in my own personal interest to be – and a prerequisite of that is understanding that gender oppression affects all people because literally every single human being to ever exist has had their own unique genders & pretending otherwise must either be naive or malicious, and obviously both of those (intentions aside) have the same result: the worst people on the planet continue to hoard power and control the rest of us by denying us the very ability to conceive of our identities and shape who we are. Hmm where have I seen that before? 👀

They get to decide who we get to be on our behalf (and obviously their interests and ours do not align) and a major tool for doing that is this perpetuation of what's essentially a myth about what human beings inherently are and are capable of being. All working class people suffer from the binary gender lie, and frankly I dont give a shit if the ruling class suffers from it too because the same rules and laws don't apply to them and for any of us to be free from this they need to cease to exist. Failing to understand the obvious class implications there is antithetical to any effort to collectively do anything about it. While women are "more oppressed" as a social class than men (a loaded term for sure, and there's certainly nuance there that theorists I haven't read have dug into, but for all intents and purposes here I think it's a pretty uncontroversial statement), ultimately we're all insignificant peasants and second class citizens and the differences between us are meaningless at that scale – it's just a matter of how efficiently we can all be exploited.

We're all the working class regardless of our genders and the people who benefit most from the gender binary are the ruling classes. They reap the vast majority of the rewards for it and we are so far beneath them that whatever differences there are in the material experience of living as a working class man or woman are so small that I'd honestly be surprised if they even registered at the scale required to see the big picture – I should be clear here that I am NOT saying there is no material difference and it IS obviously fucking huge at any scale that we mere peasants will ever get to experience: I am instead saying that we can't ever address it without understanding that we're all crushed to an indistinguishable pulp at the bottom of the hierarchy.

But yeah doesnt this all sound really familiar? Can't you apply this framework to all forms of oppression and develop greater class consciousness because of it? Doesnt that help you understand how crucial intersectionalism is? It's divide & rule folks, do you think it's an accident that women's opression is deeply tied to the home & childcare and yet this work is not compensated and free childcare does not exist? Do you think it's an accident that disabled women of colour experience even more of it? The ruling class NEEDS us not to understand this shit. They NEED it to control us and acknowledging the reality is the only way we can collectively do fuck all about it.

Class dismissed! 🫡

Yo why did I put this in the tags. At least I got to give it a second draft.

I want to be free too & none of us can be until we all are. We've got to understand the functions of all oppression under capitalism if we hope to achieve it and that means understanding that opression for any of us means oppression for all. You get me.

I want to be free too.

Have I mentioned how much I love Nick Offerman?

[tv--fan17]

There s an uncomfortable truth about how society reacts to women s pain, particularly when men are involved. Whether it s a dismissive joke or a sneering comment like "who hurt you?", the underlying message is clear: your feelings are an inconvenience. And this isn t just about one or two people—it's a widespread, systemic response that seems to come from a place of profound discomfort. But why does this discomfort exist in the first place? Marriage laws are often structured in ways that disadvantage women. In divorce, women can lose access to property they helped acquire, be forced to pay alimony, and face lengthy legal battles over custody. These legal barriers make it difficult for women to leave marriages, trapping them in unhappy or abusive relationships. Radical feminists argue that marriage reinforces patriarchal control and should be critically examined. Gender ideology and capitalism are intertwined, with the commodification of gender-affirming care turning identity struggles into profit opportunities. Feminists critique this system, arguing that it reduces complex issues of identity and selfhood to marketable products. By challenging the ways in which capitalism exploits gender, feminists seek to create a society where identity is not commodified. and who is saying this? men. men who police women in the libfem space to do their bidding and let them invade. same shit, different dress (literally). The ease of accessing transgender medical care without thorough mental health evaluations raises questions about the responsibility of the medical system. For such life-altering decisions, a lack of psychological support can leave trans individuals vulnerable to future regret or emotional challenges. This oversight points to a broader problem in healthcare, where efficiency and profit sometimes trump patient well-being. cow…That's it.

Well never make it to the Toasty Realm with all this Evil Aura. Well, thats just toasty. I cant respuremer my way out of this. Men's control over women's reproductive choices is a form of violence that spans cultures and religions. From birth control sabotage to anti abortion laws, men have long sought to control women's bodies through reproductive restrictions. This control is often justified through religious or cultural norms, but it serves to perpetuate women's subordination and limit their autonomy over their own lives. perfect cell: You can peang the Waluigi, but itll never be scribuilus. Me:

[goatlingsvent]

Nah ☎️ you're nuts. I don't remember who specifically was banned but in this case it was justified. They were at the top of the leaderboard very quickly after repeatedly duplicating rare, expensive items for their own benefit. In my opinion I feel like the glitch was previously regarded as not really worth patching, since it was more just an occasional source of bonus items during big giving tree drops. That person abusing it in such a blatant way was just cheating. Sure you can argue that the glitch should have never existed in the first place and that would be an opinion I respect, but that person was still undeniably in the wrong for exploiting it.

💽

[fictionyoubelieve]

The AI lawsuit stuff has made me think a bit more about copyright. The socialist, anarchist, and libertarian positions seem to be that copyright (and IP generally) should not exist at all, and that makes sense if you already have the other features of each of those ideologies. If we were living under a decent implementation of any of those systems, then I agree copyright should not exist--so if one of those is your ideal society, it's reasonable for you to assert that ideally, copyright would not exist at all.

However, that's not the situation in the US (and most other places) today. We live in a capitalist system where "property" (capital) helps you get by, and it's generally easier to accumulate "intellectual property" than the more tangible kinds. If copyright ended tomorrow, with no other changes, that seems like it would allow far more exploitation by the people holding all the other kinds of capital, and greatly increase inequality on net. So even if you want to take an incrementalist approach towards your ideal society, removing copyright protections entirely seems like the wrong step to take first, before other protections are in place.

(You might argue that the legal system already enforces copyright only for the "haves" and never the "have nots"; while there is some truth to this, I don't think there's enough to negate the above. For all the legal system's flaws--for all the ways it's biased in favor of the party with the biggest money stack--it does offer some protection for the "little guys" in the copyright game. The megacorps would love to never pay royalties again, but even they cannot completely flout the law without consequences, and there are plenty of realistic reforms that could level the playing field further.)

Of course, we still must weigh this benefit against the cost of letting megacorps utilize the same protections, to much greater effect. What do we lose, individually and as a society, by letting them hoard IP?

Current US copyright law certainly has a lot to improve when we consider this tradeoff. A term of 95 years (or life plus 70!) is obscene. Purely intuitively, somewhere in the ballpark of 10 years seems fine to me, so 95 takes some explaining! Fair use should also be shored up and expanded. I think we should care less about people accessing or reproducing copyrighted works in most cases where they're not making money from it, perhaps by shifting the legal standard to focus more on how much the perpetrator benefited (which is related to parts 1 and 4 of the doctrine, but not directly covered) than how much theoretical economic harm was done to the copyright holder (part 4). Of course big companies have more to "lose" from violations!

And finally, most pertinent to the topic of AI art: what counts as transformative? "Transformative" is a relatively recent consideration added to part 1 of the doctrine, and has been inconsistently applied in court. It's basically, and perhaps inescapably, "you know it when you see it." But I think I can still make a claim here: for judging whether an AI model is sufficiently transformative, the process matters, because no one can assess all the possible outputs.

You shouldn't have to sue to find out how likely it is for a company's AI to produce close-enough or verbatim excerpts of your work. There needs to be some level of transparency to provide a check on misbehavior. And AI providers shouldn't need to excessively guard against producing copyrighted material purely by happenstance; they can demonstrate some level of due diligence to reduce their culpability when the wildly rare edge cases eventually crop up ("gosh, this essay I asked for looks a lot like the Bee Movie script!"). I don't know enough about it to suggest a specific solution, only that it seems like there should be one.

Anyway, this is all to say that while I still think the median tumblr take on AI art is fundamentally misguided, some of the discourse has gotten a bit overzealous in the opposite direction. It's completely reasonable for creators to expect some kind of formalization of what their rights are when it comes to AI, so we need to hash that out one way or another.

-

Thanks for reading all that. Since it's obnoxiously long, I'm making another post that links to this one to use for reblogs, which you can find here.

[constelationprize]

Sure, Dan is a bad captain, if the only measure you are using is the fact that the Foxes hadn't won a championship yet. That misunderstands both what the team is supposed to be and why Wymack chose her (and why he later chose Neil).

The point of the Foxes as a team is to help the players. To give them access to opportunities they would not have otherwise gotten. I think it's easy to forget that this is their fifth year of existence, and that by the end of the books, no Fox had even graduated yet. There were players dropping out of the team until the semester before Neil gets in – you can see that because they were nine players counting Kevin, who only signed as a striker during the summer.

The main problem the Foxes faced on their first years was that they did not respect each other. After their debut was a disaster, Wymack recruits Dan because she is hard-headed and prideful and not easily cowed. He needed a captain that would not be whittled down by an unruly team, someone willing to stand their ground. That's what she provides: endurance. Dan was never MEANT to make the Foxes champions, she was meant to force them to get their shit together for long enough that they could start to worry about winning.

You can tell by the Upperclassmen's account of what their first years on the team were like that the Foxes Neil meet are already the improved version. Dan, Allison and Renee were constantly harassed. Matt had to sleep on their couch because the other players kept pushing drugs on him. If nothing else, even as the '06 Foxes still were not collaborating on the court, they stopped turning on each other out of it.

Do I think that Dan's hatred of the Monsters was unprofessional of her as a captain? Sure. Was it unjustified? No. I love Andrew, I do, but he is unreasonable on purpose. The same way Andrew's trauma has shaped him to behave the way that he does, acting by his own moral code and never explaining himself to anyone, so has Dan's influenced the way she acts. Dan was pushed into sex work as a minor, to provide for herself, her aunt and her baby niece. She is wary of men in general (in quite the same way Andrew is wary of women, actually), and for two years before the Monsters got in the team, she was fighting tooth and nail against male players whose behavior could be compared to his (not caring for the game, being dismissive of her, pushing drugs into Matt as she could do nothing but watch him struggle).

I would also argue, though, that this is supposed to be a flaw. Dan not giving the Monsters the benefit of the doubt is supposed to be a mistake. At the same time, it is completely understandable and in-character why she did it. In the same way her disproportionate response to Kevin is understandable – he was a man that only knew how to criticize her hard work, and he hurt the first person to ever have Dan's back.

And you are right that Dan could get an in with the Monsters! Because she did. That was what Neil was for.

When Neil arrives at Palmetto, he hates Andrew's guts. Up until like 80% through the first book, Andrew treats him just as he does anyone else – hostile, dismissive, aggressive. Andrew keeps Kevin, the one reason Neil is in Palmetto in the first place, away from him for weeks.

The first people Neil actually befriends are Dan and Matt, who, after his first time at Columbia when Neil starts to hand around the Monsters more, are the ones to tell him he should exploit that connection to help get the team together. Renee refused to interfere because that could hurt her hard-earned friendship with Andrew, but Neil agreed because uniting the team would help his goals of getting to play for as long as possible. Throughout the trilogy, Dan and Matt actually keep asking Neil to be the bridge between them and the Monsters, until Drake happens and they finally unite with the intent of kicking Riko's ass (and, by the way, it's Dan that urges them "not to loose a single game this spring").

So tl;dr: Dan doesn't unite the team and make them winners because that wasn't her purpose. She built the base Neil would later come in and work with.

(also, that's why I at least think he will also struggle with captaincy: Neil relies on being able to manipulate and threaten people into cooperation. Eventually, he is going to run into people who won't take him seriously, and in those cases he will lack Dan's level-headedness and pride to guide him and will just keep butting heads. It's called having flaws, and neither of those makes one better or worse than the other as captains. It just. makes them different characters.)

tw: opinion

am i the only one who doesn’t particularly think Dan Wilds is a good captain? she lead the foxes to their first championship, but did she? sure she was assertive and tried to get everyone in line. but for 3 years she failed to do what neil did in 1? (unite the foxes) neil obviously had an in with the monsters and an advantage but i feel like if Dan really wanted to, she could’ve (got an in, even if it was small, with them, i mean). and she could’ve asked renee for help. but she basically hated them since what they did to matt in columbia and i feel like she let her emotions/feelings towards that whole situation get in the way of actually trying to bring the team together and stuff?

(and, contrary to popular belief, i think neil’s gonna go on to be a much better captain than her sorry 🤷‍♀️)

[balkanradfem]

I remember back in the old days, when I first found radfems, I kept feeling it is inevitable that something will destroy them, someone will argue them down, shame them, point out that they’re doing something they’re not supposed to, and I kept reading on and on just waiting in fear, waiting for men to attack them and to humiliate them for speaking against the system.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, I found radfems arguing directly with men, over and over again, and defeating every single argument like it was nothing. Being raised in patriarchy, it was something I had never experienced before. I couldn’t understand the courage, the boldness and the dare to do it, I knew they were doing something dangerous, and I didn’t understand how was it possible that they couldn’t be shamed, couldn’t be guilt tripped, could not be humiliated or bullied into backing down.

They weren’t arguing with men for the chance they would persuade men to change their opinion, they were only showcasing for the other women, how to defeat those arguments, why are they wrong, why was it okay for a woman to fight back, to argue back.

I can remember the exact moment of reading one of those arguments, that reprogrammed my brain. I only wish I could find it again.

A woman was arguing against a man who kept saying things like ‘And how does this benefit us? Feminism is for everyone? You’re not helping anyone by being sexist and excluding men! What about the men who are abused, who are dying, traumatized, disabled? You’re uncaring and selfish **** and you should be shut down! You’re generalizing and demonizing half of the population! What about what we feel? What about our mental health? Men are victims too!’

And these arguments are something I’d heard so often I had them memorized, and reading radfem ideals, these arguments would constantly activate in my head, that we’re selfish and cruel if we don’t take care of the men in need, that compassion towards men is something we absolutely must have if we are good, normal human beings, that it’s only reasonable for men to despise us unless our movement is also proving useful to them, that they must have benefits too otherwise we’ll never get their support, never get anything done.

But the woman arguing back was having none of it. She asked right back ‘Why should you benefit out of it? Why should men get anything from a movement of women’s liberation? Do you only support women’s freedom and women’s rights if you directly benefit from it? Women are a half of a human population too, and you never once sacrificed anything to benefit us, yet you expect every single time that we sacrifice ourselves in order for you to get more benefits.

Why would I be uncaring and selfish if I don’t care about the men? You’re our primary predators, you are the number one cause of death in women, you are the reason we cannot go out safe at night, you’re the reason most if not all of our ancestors spent their lives in servitude, never getting to pursue their passions, never getting acknowledgment, money, land, legacy and matriarchal line of last names they deserved. You are shaming me like a wolf would shame a prey for running away from him, do you think a woman’s morality is to be questioned if she doesn’t feel compassion for a man who is holding a boot on her neck? Who is most likely to kill her? We have to put our safety before your feelings, for the sake of our own survival.

Why would men be what everyone and everything else must benefit? You think the rest of the world exists as resources to you, you believe we exist for you, to be used and violated and exploited by you, and you treat us accordingly, shaming us for having one place where we care about ourselves, and not you.

We have said nothing but the explicit, factual truth about the men, and if you find this demonizing, that’s on you. If mankind hasn’t oppressed and violated women’s freedom and lives for thousands of years, there would be no such facts to tell. If the truth reveals something rotten and demonic in you, that is not on us. We won’t shut up about what happened just because it makes you feel bad. Your feelings do not trump reality.

When men are victims, it’s primarily caused by other men, and in those situations, what do you expect us to do? Fight other men to save you, when we’d likely be killed? Fight for men, even though these exact victimized men are more than happy to go and victimize women, because now they have a great excuse of being victimized themselves? Men use everything, even their own victimization, against women. We do not have to feel compassion for those who have never, and will never feel it for us.’

-

It was while I was reading this, that I realized. I have been living all my life, until that moment, brainwashed to believe that I exist for men. That we all exist for men, that we’re around to make their life easier, that giving them whatever they want is mandatory, that we’re to be used. I believed my every word, action, thought, even appearance, has to be pleasing and approved by men in some way, or I would be shunned, punished, despised, and eventually, tortured and destroyed, for not being of use.

I believed that was reasonable, because men kept claiming it was, because they were arguing it loudly, with a threat of violence and humiliation for everyone who disagrees. I also believed it because I’ve never seen anything else. I’ve only ever seen women in servitude, acting like it’s natural to be so. All women in my family were servants of their husbands, almost all women in media were sexualized for men’s pleasure, almost every grown woman I’ve known was inclined to jump at male attention. Institutions, jobs, education, everything was favouring men, and we could have a try at it, but would ultimately be expected to be caretakers, or if we have a job, contribute money to men, to take off pressure from their responsibilities. We were supposed to believe they knew ‘better’ about what to do with money anyway. I’ve never dared to question it because the backlash was so hateful, violent, abusive and terrifying, I believed I would be a bad person if I thought otherwise, if I shut my compassion down.

But now, a handful of women online could argue it out without any fear of retribution because they were anonymous, they could not be touched, they could say anything, and no violence would reach them because it was anonymous platform. Men could rage at them but not touch them, never beat them. The power in that was unbelievable.

Realizing all this made me enraged, distressed, mortified, and determined to get free. From that moment on, I’ve not spend a second longer believing I exist for men. I never again considered if anything I wanted to do benefited them or not, or if anything that would benefit me would be well received with them as well. They never did this for us. They never took us into consideration when building the entire goddamn world. We do not exist for them. We are humans too. We are not selfish for not extending our patience and compassion to oppressors and predators. We are not responsible for troubles they create for themselves. And we do not have to sacrifice our rights for their convenience.

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (4)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: symptoms of depression, PTSD, anxiety, some really sweet moments to balance it out, more book recs 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“You’re staring at the doors again, sweetie.”

Chin resting on your hands, arms folded out on the countertop of the library’s front desk, you tore your eyes away from the entrance to find Mrs. Jefferson peering over at you from over the bridge of her glasses. She smirked as she returned to her book, knowing she’d caught you in the act.  

“Have patience,” she said simply.

“Book club is tomorrow and—” you sighed, a heaviness returning to your body as you slumped back against the counter, stare drifting back to the doors at the entrance. The sun was beaming outside, reflecting in beautiful rays as it illuminated the walkway and touched over old oak and the colorful bindings of novels. 

You frowned. “I really thought he was going to come.”

“This James Barnes... he’s a soldier, yes? Like my boy?”  

You nodded, disappointment burning like a lump in your throat, though you swallowed it back. “A Sergeant. Sam said he came home a little under a year ago.”  

“Then he’ll come,” Mrs. Jefferson pressed confidently, sliding her glasses up her nose, the chain of purple beads clicking against the gem stones on her sweater. “Boys like that don’t break their word. Even if he is a bit of a hesitant one.”

You knew what she meant by that. Hesitant.  

No one liked to talk about the dangers of a soldier post-war. It was uncomfortable; the idea that they could still be fighting a battle long beyond the absence of a weapon in their hands and the threat of present danger. Heroes weren’t supposed to have chinks in their armor. They weren’t supposed to crumble and break under the weight of what happened beyond borders and the guilt they carried.  

They were supposed to be strong; a symbol of a great country and a willing tribute to place upon a pedestal. It was unacceptable to be a burden, unacceptable to do anything other than seamlessly integrate back into a society that they never really knew to begin with.  

It was all a farce; a rigged game set to line the pockets of the rich and exploit everyone else in its path – sent off to fight for a cause no one really understood or believed in. It left behind good men and women to the rubble; Bucky Barnes among them.  

Sam hadn’t told you much about Bucky before you met him, but you knew enough to tell that it was a struggle to get him to leave the apartment. He was isolated and quiet and hardly recognizable from the man you’d seen in photos. Only, it wasn’t the lack of his left arm that drew your attention when you first saw him, but the lingering sadness in his eyes.  

Sam had a picture hanging in the office that often pulled you in. Bucky stood on his left side, smiling so wide it left lines on his face. He was bright, light as a feather, only weighed down by Steve’s arm slung around his shoulders. You wondered if the man in the photo would have flirted shamelessly with you, if he’d have corny pickup lines or offer to take you dancing. He looked like the sort of man who had girls chasing his tail, a line of heartbreak in his wake. He was beautiful.  

It was strange to see him like that, comparing him to the man he was today. Now, it was like a cloud lingered over his head, draining the color from his skin and chipping away at his soul until it dimmed and crumbled and faded away.  

But you’d seen glimpses of the man in the photo. He was still beautiful; a little hurt and dragging his feet, but beautiful. His smile wasn’t quite as wide and the cloud was still present, but there was a peak of sunshine peering through. A single ray puncturing over stormy skies, but it was something. He’d laughed and teased and it was more than Sam had known him to do in months. You were determined to see the sun touch his skin again. If only he’d let you guide him there.  

“I’m going to go restock on the second level,” you conceded, pushing yourself up from the counter and sauntering over to the cart lined heavy with books.  

“Alright sweetie. I’ll be sure to page you when your Sergeant shows up.”

You felt a heat burning in your face at the very idea of ‘your Sergeant’. Mrs. Jefferson chuckled to herself, eyes still down on her book. She waved you off, not giving you a chance to object, even if you could string together a coherent sentence.  

***

Bucky couldn’t get out of bed.  

He’d been in this predicament hundreds of times before; staring up at the ceiling, wasting the days away as the curtains blocked the light and shielded him from the reminder of another sun daring to rise beyond his window. His energy would be drained and his willingness to so much as brush his teeth was obsolete. He’d known what it felt like to not be able to get out of bed.  

This was different.  

He had somewhere to be. He actually wanted to get up. He really fucking wanted to.

But the pain in his arm had flared to one of the worst episodes he’d had in months and it rendered him useless; the arm that was both there and not there. He could feel his left hand curl to a fist, could feel the itch on his palm, but when he tried to scratch it, he was only met with thin air, his right hand sinking to the mattress in search of the sensation that didn’t exist.  

It was infuriating.  

The nerve endings in his shoulder were going haywire. It felt like his arm was being ripped from his body and it took nearly all the energy he had not to let it consume him. He’d even gone as far to bite off a piece of his cheek in an effort to suppress the lump in his throat.  

Sam would have frowned at that, spewed him some bullshit about how crying can be therapeutic and Steve would nod his head annoyingly in agreement, but Bucky was tougher than that. He had to be tougher than that. If he allowed himself to unlatch that gate, it would consume him whole. He’d drown.  

Hinges squeaked at the front entrance as the door swung open and a pair of heavy footsteps came rushing into the apartment.  

“I’m coming, buddy! Hold on!” Sam called, the plastic swish of the grocery bag handing off his arms dropping to the floor. Bucky tried to concentrate on the sound of running water, the bottle of pills shaking in the small orange bottle, and not on the pain threatening to tear him in half.  

The door to his bedroom flung open and Sam rushed in with a glass of water and his fist closed around two red capsules. He paused in the frame, a frown pushing down at his mouth, and Bucky could only imagine what he looked like; disheveled, sweating, laying in day old clothes and muddled sheets. His right hand was shaking.  

“Alright, help me out, Barnes,” Sam said, setting the glass down on the bedside table. He placed a steady hand on Bucky’s back to help push himself upright. Bucky swung his legs off the side of the bed, finding his balance before Sam placed the pills in his hand.  

Bucky threw them back into his mouth, holding his hand out for the glass of water that would come next. It landed in his grip and he gulped down the medication. There was no instant relief with pain like this, but the knowledge it would soon wear off to something manageable was enough.  

“Thanks,” he mumbled out, voice tense as he struggled to find it.  

“Insurance companies are assholes,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head, though he patted Bucky on the knee. “Cutting off coverage for a fucking vet with no warning like that? Can’t believe you’ve been without this stuff for almost a week. It’s messed up.”  

Bucky had come to expect it. He knew something had to go wrong eventually with how things were starting to turn around. He’d actually been looking forward to seeing you at the library and almost went that next day if it wasn’t for the sudden attack on his own body. He'd tried to deal with it on his own, thinking he might sleep it off, but then it became unbearable. Insurance wouldn’t budge and he didn’t have the energy to argue on the phone with them all day. Thankfully, Sam did.  

Except now it was a day before the next book club meeting and Bucky didn’t know how he was supposed to face you. Part of him wondered if you'd be disappointed, if maybe you’d steal a glance over the doors and hope that it was him walking through, only to be let down as each day passed by. The other half wondered if you’d care at all.  

But he’d seen the way you’d smiled at him, how you’d lit up at the idea of him stopping by.  

You’d care.  

He wasn’t sure if that hurt worse, seeing as he never showed up.  

“You could still go.”

Bucky sighed at Sam’s suggestion. He wasn’t teasing him, wasn’t wearing that shit-eating grin. He was being serious. It was the kind of look that reminded Bucky that under it all, Sam was one of his closest friends, one of the few that stuck around when everything went to shit.

“She’ll want to see you,” Sam continued, nudging Bucky’s side with a soft smile, but Bucky shook his head, unconvinced.

“What am I supposed to say to her, Sam?” Bucky groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “’Sorry I stood you up, but I felt like my hand was being sawed off on an arm I don’t even fucking have?’”

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, earning a glare in response he let roll off his shoulders with ease. “She’d understand, Buck. She knows what comes with the territory here. She’s a lot more familiar with this stuff than you think.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a pang of jealousy burning hot in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you should ask her why she got involved with the VA in the first place.”

Bucky pressed his lips to a thin line, a silence coming over them. That was an immensely personal question; one akin to someone asking him how he’d lost his arm. He wasn’t sure that was an answer you’d be willing to share.  

Sam exhaled a heavy breath, patting Bucky three times on the knee before he stood up. “Let the meds kick in, but promise you’ll try to go, alright?”

Bucky stared up at Sam for a moment before he conceded with a short nod. The pain in his shoulder was starting to lessen, at least. It didn’t feel like his arm was being torn from his body or a knife was plunging into a part of him that didn’t exist anymore. It would likely get back to a place he could deal with within the hour.

“I promise,” Bucky said. “I’ll go.”

***

A brush of warm air filtered in through the vents as Bucky stepped inside the library. It was bigger than he remembered with large stain glass windows on the outer walls, filtering in a colorful sunlight onto the aisles upon aisles of books. At the center, just ahead of the entrance, was a reception desk. Bucky exhaled a tense breath in an attempt to rid himself from the nerves rattling in his veins and made his way to the woman sitting behind the counter.  

She was reading quietly in her seat, a pair of glasses on a beaded chain perched at the very tip of her nose. She didn’t look up in his direction until he stood at the edge of the desk, and only then, she caught glance of him over the top of her glasses before a smile rose on her lips.  

“Can I help you, young man?”  

Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to meet someone. She, uh, works here. Y/n.”

The woman nodded. She wore the kind of smile on her face Bucky was familiar with. He’d seen it in Sam about a dozen times in the last week; the kind of smile that said ‘I was right.’

“You must be Sergeant Barnes,” she said as she picked up the radio from the desk.  

Bucky nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt jittery. He tried not to let the fact that you’d clearly talked to this woman about him throw him completely off his game. If he even had game to begin with…  

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied with an even tone. She smirked.  

“Y/n,” she called into the radio, “you have a guest at the front desk.”

The woman held up a finger to him though it trembled with age, signaling for him to wait a moment. Bucky nodded, tucking his hand into his pocket as he silently made his way over to the series of chairs lined along the wall.  

He gripped his fist tight inside his pocket, trying to ignore the pulsing in his shoulder. It had lessened considerably since Sam brought him his meds, but it hadn’t gone away completely. Showering had taken longer than usual and it took him nearly four minutes just to pull a shirt over his head. His army jacket hung over his shoulders, wrapped in a protective layer, loose sleeve at his side. 

“If you’re pulling my chain, Mrs. Jefferson…”  

Bucky perked up at the sound of your voice. You were crossing the main entrance from the staircase, half jogging to the counter where the woman, Mrs. Jefferson, was grinning to herself from behind her book.  

You draped over the counter, toes barely keeping hold on the tile floors as you attempted to reach for her book, but she snatched it from your grasp just in time. You huffed, sinking back down the floor.  

“It’s not funny!” you whined and Bucky almost felt a little guilty for not making his presence known yet, but you were just so cute the way you slumped your shoulders and glanced back at the entrance.  

Mrs. Jefferson pointed over to where Bucky had slowly begun to make his way towards you, but you folded your arms over your chest. Bucky cleared his throat when he stood a few paces off your shoulder, but you didn’t seem to hear him.  

Mrs. Jefferson caught Bucky’s eye before she turned her attention back to you. “Sweetie, he’s—”

“He’s not coming, okay?” you groaned and Bucky felt a stone drop into his stomach. “I—I thought he would but… I was wrong.”

Bucky parted his lips to speak but suddenly his throat was dry. Mrs. Jefferson’s smile started to fade. Clearly, Bucky wasn’t the only one who heard the disappointment in your voice, the sliver of heartbreak, too. He tried to speak, to call your name, to say something, but he was marbled stone.  

“I’m going back to work.”

There wasn’t time to pull his words together before you slammed head first into Bucky’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces, surprised, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth.  

“Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—” You stilled, taking in who was standing in front of you. “Bucky?”

He pressed out a smile, though his ears were burning red. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No! N-no, you’re totally fine! I didn’t—I didn’t think you were—” You blinked a few times before your eyes darted back at Mrs. Jefferson who only smirked from behind her book, adjusting the glasses on the tip of her nose. You turned back to Bucky, brushing out the hem of your skirt and wrapping the thick layer of a lavender colored cardigan tightly around your waist, almost like a blanket.  

You exhaled a nervous breath, a nervous smile lifting into your cheeks. “I’m happy you came.”

“It would have been sooner, I swear,” Bucky replied quickly, watching helplessly as your smile brightened into a laugh. “But, um, my uh—”  

He chewed on the edge of his lip. Was he really going to tell you what kept him held up in his room for days on end? Would it bitter the sweet way you looked at him to know that he was a mess under a poorly constructed surface, tied together with string and scotch tape? But you were looking at him so fondly, he wondered if there was anything he could say that could take that away.

“My arm,” he admitted, waiting for a flash of disgust on your face that never came. You softened a bit, but your eyes never left his. He cleared his throat. “It, um… It was just acting up. I ran out of meds and the pain it—it got bad. The kinda pain that sorta makes me wish I had the arm just so I could saw it off myself.”

Shit. He hadn’t mean to say that much but there was just something about the way you looked at him that made him feel like he couldn’t say a damn wrong thing. You pursed your lips, nodding in as much understanding as you could offer. You gestured to the staircase and Bucky followed you without question.  

“I would have been here last week,” Bucky finished because he needed you to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of you being upset, of that sliver of disappointment in your voice when you’d accepted he wasn’t going to show. He needed you to know he’d tried.  

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said simply, though he could tell you appreciated it nonetheless. You offered him a smile, one that washed away any feelings of doubt that crept up to the surface. The pain in his shoulder was long forgotten when you looked at him like that.  

“I just wanted you to know.”

I just wanted you to know I’m trying.

He had something to look forward to now, a reason to get out of his bed and open the curtains and look at the fucking sun for once. He had reason to shower and go outside and shove away all the thoughts of self-doubt and paranoia because there was something incredible waiting for him beyond the door.  

I just wanted you to know you’re the reason I’m trying.

“Come on,” you grinned, leading him to the staircase. “I have a few books in mind you might like.”  

Your hand extended in his direction, but you caught yourself when you realized what you were doing. It was seamless enough that you easily played it off as you tugged your sweater tight around your body, but he noticed. It was an intimate gesture, a closeness he hadn’t known in years.  

He hadn’t remembered what it felt like to crave something like that.

***

It didn’t take long for Bucky to settle on The Martian by Andy Weir. It was the first book you pulled from the shelves, one amongst a series of alternatives you had ready in the event this one didn’t appeal to him. All it took was a single glance over the back cover, a slight incline in his brow, and he was sold.

“I trust you,” was all Bucky had said; so simply, as if it didn’t take the breath straight from your chest.   

Bucky didn’t have a library card you realized as you brought him back to the front desk. He’d sheepishly asked to check it out on your account, but you were determined to see more of him and you hoped that by getting him his own card, he might be more inclined to come back. Not that you explained it that way per say, but he didn’t object at least.

It had taken a lot less time than either of you anticipated and you found yourself following him to the exit, both of you dragging your feet.

“So, um…” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice. “That was easy.”

“Yeah,” you scratched at the back of your neck, glancing to the clock hanging high on the eastern wall. “I hope you like it after all this trust you’re putting in my judgement.”

“I’m sure I will.”

A short silence swept over. Neither of you moving to leave. A couple swerved around you in an effort to get to the doors. The silence wasn’t awkward, but there was a nervous energy in it, like you were both waiting for the other to make the first move. Only, you both did it at once.  

“Would you want to—”

“I’m off at four—”

You bit down on your lips, suppressing a laugh. You gestured for him to go first. His looked so sweet with the pink in his cheeks. A man who had been once rendered as a weapon and he wore a blush in his cheeks. Your stomach held butterflies in its cage.  

“There’s a coffeeshop nearby,” he continued nervously. “I was thinking I could replace that coffee of yours I spilled last week…”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from how wide you were smiling. “Give me five minutes? I just need to wrap things up with Mrs. Jefferson and then I’m yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, a flash of something unreadable on his face. He shook it off quickly and nodded, telling you he’d wait by the chairs along the wall until you were ready. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the desk that you’d realized what you’d said.  

I’m yours.

A harmless saying; one people used every day in passing. Still, you felt that same surge of energy at the thought. From the twists in your stomach and the stammer in your heart, you knew that if he’d asked, it would be true.  

***

Bucky watched as you scurried back to the main desk, a few quick glances back over your shoulder in his direction like you were making sure he was still there. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it ached in your cheeks. He’d never known anyone to smile as much as you did, like you had this limitless supply of joy eager to be tapped into. He couldn’t help but feel a twist in his stomach, knowing he had been able to syphon some of that joy and bring it to the surface. It was him you were smiling at. It felt like a dream.

He glanced down at the book nestled into the sleeve of his bag; a stunning ombre in shades of orange to red to black, a lone astronaut in the center – like he was floating adrift. You’d told him it was a story of survival, of the intricacies of humanity and human connection. It was funny at times and filled with science beyond your pay grade, but it was mesmerizing.  

There was an unspoken hope he could read in your eyes that he might connect to the main character, Mark Watney in his search for connection, in his desperate hope to free himself from the isolation, in his resilience. You’d said Mark was an exceptional character, one with courage and determination to be admired.  

Bucky wasn’t sure he could stand up to the likes of Mark Watney, but he would certainly try.  

The glimmer in your eye as you spoke about the book, almost as if it were an old friend, was enough to convince him. For the first time in years, he felt the urge to read when he got home, just so he could see the look on your face in book club when you realized he’d already started it. He wanted to make you proud, wanted to see more of your smile. It was his new drive.  

A few minutes later, you came jogging back up to him. Your purse hung over your shoulders, a few new books of your own tucked under your arm. You’d done more than finish your shift at the desk though, he realized, because his eyes flickered to a reflective shine on your lips, one that hadn’t been there before. You’d put on lip gloss.

His heart flipped.  

“Ready?” you asked, gesturing to the doors. All bright eyes and sunshine as you looked at him.  

“There’s a café called Luciana’s not too far from here. I’ve heard good things about it. Might be quiet,” Bucky offered and a flash of something unreadable crossed your features. “Do you know it?”

“I go there every Sunday before book club! It’s my favorite,” you replied, nearly skipping in your steps. “Replacing my coffee and getting it right down to the same shop? I’m impressed, Bucky.”

He chuckled, hanging his head as he followed you down the descending staircase and into the heavy flow of pedestrian traffic. He’d forgotten how busy the sidewalks could get at rush hour and the smile quickly drained from his face, though he wouldn’t let you see.  

Bucky tried to focus on you as the strangers circled in around him, how you were laughing at the coincidence of it all, starting on a tangent of your favorite donuts at the shop. Your voice was like a beacon and he did his best use it as a guide.  

But he could feel the quicken pace of his heart inside his chest, how it thumped through his ribs and pulsed into his head the closer strangers got to him. He swerved out of the way of a tourist who was too busy looking down at his phone to notice Bucky in his path. He kept his head down, hand clenched tightly in his jacket pocket, eyes staring at the concrete.  

Teenagers were whispering behind him, snickering under their breath, and Bucky could hear the harsh ‘shhh’ of a father at wit’s end. His lungs felt tight, certain that the boys were mocking the loose sleeve hanging down by his side. He could have taken it if here were on his own. His ears would flush red and a wash of shame and embarrassment would flood his senses, but he could have taken it.  

Not with you by his side. Not when you could be privy to the harsh stares and the cruel voices, the validation to a fear he’d known to be true long before he met you – that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and he would never find that sense of normalcy again. He was kidding himself into thinking that you could ever want someone like—

“Bucky?”

When he looked up at you, your smile had fallen away, replaced with concern. It must not have been the first time you called his name. He didn’t know what to say. He felt small, like a child, embarrassed that even on a good day the influx of people still rendered him to a state of panic.  

“Come on,” you said quietly, glancing around to an alley off your shoulder. “Let’s take the scenic route.”  

He followed gratefully, staring at your shoulder blades as you led him away from the busy hustle of the crowd and along empty side streets and residential neighborhoods. It would take longer this way, but you didn’t seem to mind. You were too busy admiring the architecture of the brownstones and the beautiful array of plants and flowers hanging along the windows. In the open space, you skipped a few paces ahead, arms out wide and twirled around, simply because you could. You laughed and it echoed up along the buildings.  

Bucky could have handed you his heart right then. He could have pulled it straight from his chest and set it into your palms. He wondered if you would handle it with the tender sort of care he hoped you would. His heart was fraying and damaged, after all. It required a gentle touch.  

You fell back in line with him easily and you checked to make sure the next block wasn’t too busy before you led him down another side street. He tried to ignore the voices telling him he was a burden, that his baggage was dragging heavy at your feet, but it crept to the surface no matter how many times you smiled at him.  

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, willing his voice to be stronger than it felt. “I don’t know why this is such an issue for me. I was fine on the way over.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Bucky,” you said gently, slowing your pace until you came to a stop.  

Bucky dragged his feet, stopping along a bush of pink hydrangeas planted outside a stunning brick townhome. From the corner of his eye, he watched as your hand reached out to him instinctively, almost in slow motion, and you only paused as you realized what you were doing and pulled back. You cleared your throat.

“I’m not ever someone you have to apologize to about this stuff, okay?” you continued with a kind of sincerity in your voice, Bucky didn’t have a choice but to believe you. The way you looked at him nearly pulled him to pieces. “It comes and goes. Waxes and wanes. There’s no fault. No blame. Just tell me if something’s wrong, so I can help. That’s all I ask.”

Were you speaking from experience? Did you know someone who had been as shattered as he was? Was it the reason Sam wanted him to ask about why you were involved with the VA to begin with?  

It was quiet on the side street; the only sound the distant footsteps from traffic up ahead and the low rumble of car engines in the distance. A bird chirped from a low handing branch above.  

You shoved your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep yourself from reaching for his. He was surprised at the twist in his stomach when he wished you would have tried just one more time. Maybe he could have had some courage to take it.  

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. When you smiled again it was small— a little heavy— but it touched your eyes. There was a relief in it, maybe an appreciation, too. It swept away some of the anxiety from his veins.  

“Okay.” Your smile widened as you continued to walk down the sidewalk. Bucky found himself feeling a little lighter as he followed behind.  

When the two of you approached the main street again along the block Luciana’s was tucked away in, Bucky didn’t feel as though he was suffocating anymore. He could sense his reflexes picking up, a subtle increase in his heart rate, but he walked a little closer to you, your hip bumping against his every so often and he found that it grounded him. It kept him firm on the surface when he felt like he was floating up into a distant unknown. He wondered if you knew the extent to which you affected him.  

Luciana’s was quiet inside as Bucky jutted out ahead of you to reach for the door. A soft strum of an acoustic guitar and a Spanish speaking singer’s intricate melody hummed over the speakers. He felt a solid breath of air fill his lungs, tasting of coffee beans and fresh pastries.  

“Welcome to—” a voice called from behind the counter before she paused, eyes falling on you. “Y/n!”  

A woman ran out from behind the counter, dressed in a stained apron and a long, bright pink dress, and held her arms out to you. You laughed as she enveloped you to her chest.  

“My darling! It is not Sunday, you know. You’re getting your days mixed up!” she exclaimed, wagging her finger at you. She didn’t even give you time to explain before she turned to Bucky, who suddenly felt a burn of heat on his face. “Ah! You finally brought me one of your boys!”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, turning to you quickly. His stomach dropped.  

“She means at the VA,” you explained, a little embarrassed at her implication as you shuffled your feet, eyes darting at the floor. Bucky raised an eyebrow in realization, eyes flickering back to the woman – who he assumed to be Luciana herself – as she scurried back around the counter. He noticed then that she was wearing slippers on her feet.  

“Come, come!” She called eagerly, waiting with a tapping toe at the register.  

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, a breath of a laugh escaping before you stepped up to the counter. You didn’t hesitate in your order, though you took some extra time in looking over the pastries and donuts after Bucky told you to pick something out for him. You put so much thought into it, it was really quite sweet. He waited until you reached down for your purse to slip his card over the counter to Luciana.  

She wore that same smile he’d seen on Mrs. Jefferson at the library. That smirk. Like they knew something he didn’t.  

You heard the ring of the cash registered and looked up at him, agape. You swatted his arm without thinking twice about it and there was a comfort in that. He laughed, taking his coffee and settling in at a table by the windows as you followed behind.  

As he watched you across the table, your eyes glancing out to the pedestrians as they walked back, nursing the steaming mug of coffee between your hands, that morning suddenly felt like it was a life time ago.  

Had he really been paralyzed with pain, unable to move from his bed, just a few hours earlier? It felt like a century had passed in between. In a rare indulgence, Bucky let himself wonder what it would feel like to spend all his time with you; if maybe time moved so fast it swept him off his feet or if it moved slow enough to allow him to catch every second.  

All he knew was that he wanted more.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (6/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.1k words

Bucky couldn't recall the last time he had a genuine conversation with someone who wasn't his best mates, Sam and Steve. He enjoyed your company and as much as he hated to let his guard down, he wanted to do just that with you. You were everything that Bucky thought he would find repulsive, but he couldn’t help but be attracted towards you. And for the first time he wanted more, he didn't want a one-night stand or a fling with you, he wanted to know you. He admired your courage and bravery, but mostly he admired you. You, with all your stupid yet funny jokes and spontaneity; he liked you more than he would like to admit.

But there was this thing that you were his employee and one meal doesn't count as a date. It was just a meal. But yet, Bucky wanted it to be more. He had never been so intrigued by another person, but it was also clear that you didn't reciprocate his interest. And Bucky would have all of his 206 bones crushed out rather than giving his heart to someone only for it to be not requited. 

So, when you walked into the club the next day, pretending as if nothing had changed, Bucky knew where your relationship lay with him, and he was content with it. Okay, he wasn't content with it, but he knew he couldn't force something that wasn't there. He would choose to be in your life as your boss, acquaintance, or maybe even a friend if he's lucky enough than to not be in your life at all. 

***

When you got settled behind the counter, your mood wasn't that great. It could be because you weren't drunk this time, or maybe because you enjoyed your meal with your boss a little too much for your liking. You wouldn't call it a date, but it sure as hell was a lot better than all the dates or meals you've had with people.

Your good mood was definitely not because of the fact that your mother called only to inform you that this family friend's son is not going to wait around long, and you should at least find a stable job if you can't find a suitable boyfriend. Then she started boasting about your sister and her amazing profession and how she and her husband save lives every day. And you might have had enough of her bullshit and lied that you indeed have a stable job and relationship. None of which is true. 

Bartending only pays the bills, and you haven't had a relationship in years and none of them were serious. You always ran away from any sort of commitment because you knew you would eventually have to introduce your partner to your family and nobody deserves to see that circus, and you told yourself that you're doing a favor to those previous partners by leaving them or as your friends like to call ghosting them. In your defense, dealing with you and your family is more horrific than any scary movie. 

Well, until now because tomorrow your sister and her family are coming to meet your partner and take you back to your parents' place for the weekend. The only problem is that you lied to them about your job and your partner. The worst part is that both of them are pretty non-existent.

"Hey, How are you feeling? " Peter asked you, noticing how you still weren't paying attention to the customer in front of you. 

“Great, not drunk, if that's what you're wondering.” 

“I'm fine," you retorted, glancing at the concerned look Peter was giving you. You quickly took the customer's order and proceeded to make the drink. 

"The last time you said you were fine, you threatened to kill a dude," Pietro interjected, enjoying the faux disbelief that landed on your face. You looked over to Wanda for help, but she just chuckled at her brother's antics.

The rest of the night at work went by as it usually did. Pietro making a sarcastic remark here and there, Wanda countering her brother with a snarky response, you were laughing your ass off watching the duo and Peter awkwardly tried to suppress his amusement. In a weird custom, these three coworkers were the only thing that felt normal. 

By the time you were done, it was mostly you left like always, with the addition of security guards that James added since Rumlow. You wanted to talk to him, especially after the wonderful not date you had, but the situation with him was not under your control anymore and it released from your grasp which scared the shit out of you. If James and you had met under different circumstances, then you would have tried to date him, but with him being your boss and the whole Rumlow thing made everything so complicated, and you didn't have time for any sort of relationship complication in your life. At least that's what you kept telling yourself.

When you were done with your shift and were about to leave, a very familiar voice called for you. You've been trying to ignore him all day and just when you thought you've succeeded, he catches up to you. 

The thing that scared you with James was that you felt safe, too safe with him. You were scared that you were going to become dependent on him for your security, and you hated that. You always despised women who weren't anything except their husband's wife, as if their whole identity was being a man's property. Furthermore, you knew the only thing to be blamed here was patriarchy and men, but you decided that you weren't going to be someone's property, you were going to be your own person. 

And you rebelled a lot to reach here, dyed your hair blue just because your mom told you not to, pursued your dream just because your dad told you to follow a secure nine to four job, left ex-partners because they told you what to and what not to wear. And some part of you knew that James wasn't like that. He wouldn't exploit you and your weaknesses. 

But what you didn't realize was that these were merely excuses that your brain mustered up because you were too scared to be dumped. A long time ago, you decided that it is better to leave than be left. And James — well, James made you feel things that you didn't want to chase. You feared commitment and abandonment too much to go after a guy. 

Your thoughts were brought to a halt when he held your wrist gently and called your name again. Reluctantly, you turned around, pretending to be surprised as if you didn't see him. 

He obviously caught on to you. "Why are you ignoring me?" 

"What?" You scoffed in feign disbelief, taking your hand away from his grasp and setting it on his shoulder. "Why would I ignore you, bud?"

Bud? What the fuck? , both of you thought at the same time.

Carefully, he eyed your hand and then you, "Okay, come on, I'll drop you home."

"No, James, it's fine, I can go on my own." 

"Yes, yes, you are an independent, strong woman but come on," He teased, but you didn't seem to pick up the glint of mischief in his eyes. 

You heard that as a taunt, a taunt your father has told you an ample number of times, that you indeed can never be anything on your own if you don't have a man beside you. While you were lost in your thoughts, James was moving towards his car, assuming that you were following him.

 "But I am," you argued. 

Your voice sounded distant to him, he turned around and walked towards you. "You are what?" 

"I am strong and independent."

"Yes, you are," he agreed as a matter of factly because it was the truth. He had never met someone so strong who would leave behind their whole life to pursue their dreams. He, being the mob boss, and filthy rich couldn't do the same, and he may not tell you this, but he admired you so much. 

Once you got the assurance you needed, you started walking towards his car. "Are you coming or not?" and he followed you. 

Of course, you knew you were strong, but your life had not been going as smoothly as you anticipated. You're stuck in writer's block, your family interference and lack of trust in you hurts like a bitch. You were somewhat crushing on your boss, and you blurted random embarrassing stuff in front of him without thinking. You know, normal crush things. 

When you reached the apartment, he insisted on dropping you to your floor. The car ride was spent in peaceful silence, but the time spent in the elevator was everything but that. No, the fifteen seconds were spent in James fidgeting beside you because he wanted to say something but didn't know how to. 

After you unlocked your door, he finally spoke up. "Um, I was just wondering whether, you know, - I had fun last night and I don't have smooth conversations with people - um, I don't know, I'd like to go out with you again," he didn't finish, but your eyebrows shot up to your forehead and he quickly backpedaled. " Not as a date, if that's what you want. It could be a meal shared between you and your boss. Not that I'm implying that you are obligated to go with me just because I'm your boss. I'm asking this as a stranger, well, not as a stranger but as a friend, I think."

"James,” you spoke softly, and he could feel the denial coming his way.” I had fun too, but you're my boss. This is highly unprofessional."

He signed in defeat and looked at you one last time. There was so much he wanted to say, he wanted to tell you that he enjoyed your company more than he should. He wanted to tell you that he liked you. He wanted to tell you that he wanted to see where this thing would lead with you, but he knew better than that. At the end of the day, you were his employee and if you were to get involved with him in any form, it would only end in your tarnished reputation. So, he nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak much after the clear rejection. "I understand."

"Y/N! “

Both of you turned towards the source of the voice and frowned. He frowned because he was confused, whereas you, oh, you weren't confused, you were furious at the person standing there and at yourself for forgetting about their arrival.

 "Hi, Carol. I thought you were coming tomorrow," you stated, faking a smile, and everyone in the area could see your distressed attempt at looking excited.

 Well, everyone except your sister because she shrieked with happiness and ran towards you to throw her arms around you. Her husband followed behind and gave you and James an awkward smile.

 "I just couldn't wait to meet my baby sister and we'll take you guys back for the weekend."

You guys, James and you thought at the same time. James looked at the side of your face for an explanation, and you kept looking forward at your sister, avoiding his gaze.

Fuck, you forgot about that. How can you forget about that? You mentally cursed yourself and didn't say anything because you didn't know what to do. 

Your sister picked your silence as her cue to talk and pointed her index finger at James, who was standing beside you now. "Is this him?"

Your sister looked at you, expecting an answer, your brother-in-law looked at you with something called, please hurry up, I just want to go back to the hotel. James looked at you with bewilderment. 

You sighed and took your boss's hand in yours, who also happens to be the most dangerous person in the town. He complied, holding on to you tightly, running his thumb on the back of your hand in a soothing manner. It felt like the most obvious thing as if your hand was made to be held by him. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you were too stubborn to accept it.

"Yes," you finalized. "This is James, my boyfriend."

TAGS: @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @goodcleanfunsis @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407​ @priii��

[bubblegumbeech]

Haunted Towers and Hidden Truths

Phic Phight prompt by @lexiepiper

Write a more traditional ghost story. How would things change if ghost powers weren’t super powers, but closer to old horror movie tropes?

“We shouldn’t do this Danny,” Sam said, ever the voice of reason. “This place isn’t like our usual haunts.“

But Danny shook his head, “No Sam, I have to do this. I have to know what that dream meant, if it was really a dream or something else.”

He moved to take a step forward when his other friend, Tucker, grabbed his arm, “I don’t know man, I think she’s right. There isn’t a possessed item to destroy, or an overactive ghost to try and calm down, heck even Vlad has a weakness we can exploit, we don’t know anything about this place. What if we don’t make it out of this one?”

“Come on Tucker,” Danny argued, his own confidence nothing but a mask, “It can’t be as bad as the haunted video game right? You die in the game you die in real life!”

Tucker didn’t laugh, “this is serious Danny, I know that dream had you messed up, but what if it was just that? A dream?”

“Or,” Sam cut in, “What if it’s a trap? Remember how Desiree tried to get us with that monkey’s paw when she realized we were getting involved with every scary story and urban legend in town and she didn’t want us to find out about her?”

There was also the time a ghost discovered Danny’s secret and decided to haunt him personally and make his life a living hell until he and Tucker were able to exorcise it. It had involved a gorilla, a lot of research into dead safari hunters, and one of his parent’s inventions that they rigged to do what they needed before destroying it so it couldn’t be used against Danny himself. 

“We made it through all of those things together, remember when we first saw Cujo? And we thought he was to blame for Valerie’s mother?” Danny said.

Sam deflated, “and then we did research and discovered that Cu Sith only foretell death, not cause it… But Danny, we tried to research this place, remember? We found nothing. It’s like it doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah man,” Tucker scratched the back of his neck uncertain, “I couldn’t find so much as a blueprint. No building plans, nothing. The only thing we have to go on are stories from reckless kids trying and failing to spend the night.”

“You don’t have to follow me, the last thing I want is to put you both at risk. Especially after last time.” 

Tucker groaned, “Danny you know we aren’t going to let you do this alone right? Especially not after Walker’s prison. Who knows what would have happened if we didn’t come in and save you?”

Danny smiled, “I probably would have starved to death to be fair, but yeah, I’ll try to avoid getting locked in any metal cages, deal?”

“To be fair,” Sam said, returning his smile with one of her own, strained though it was, “you probably would have died of thirst first.”

Chuckling at his friends' attempts to lighten the mood once they realized his mind wouldn’t be changed, Danny finally let himself look up at the place in question. It was a tall, crooked looking clocktower with old, brittle wood and peeling paint. In the low light of the evening it looked almost purple and with the dust and cobwebs covering it, it was clear no one had been inside for quite some time. 

The Clocktower was a recurrent presence in his dreams, the ones he’d started having since the accident that made him the way he was: different from any person, but not quite anything else. It was always there in the background, but he’d never gone inside. 

Once, during a particularly dull recurring dream where he relived the life and consequent death of a warehouse worker, he’d walked away from the endless piles of boxes and tried to go inside the clocktower instead. But no matter how far he traveled, it was always the same distance away. He just couldn’t get to it. 

Danny couldn’t shake the feeling though, that something inside might have the answers he’s been searching for. So he stepped forward, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, of course, and  Danny almost felt foolish doing it, but also, ghosts and spiritual beings all had their own rules and perceptions of what is or isn’t polite, most of which Danny had stumbled into learning the hard way, and it really didn’t hurt to check.

“No answer,” Sam said and Danny nodded, turning the handle. It was old and brass and when it turned it made a loud grinding noise that vibrated along his arm. But it did open, and without Danny needing to persuade it, so that had to be a good sign right?

Unless it really was a trap. 

“Maybe we should leave someone outside, in case it really is like Walker’s prison.” He offered, but both of his friends shook their heads and stepped past him. It was dark, musty and smelled in a weird way, like a library. If a library had locked its doors and not let anyone enter for a good century or so. 

Sam took the lead, her flashlight catching on unfamiliar shapes and shadows. “Do you know what we’re looking for?” she asked, her voice uncertain. 

Danny shook his head, “Not really, just… answers.”

They looked around the ground floor at first, but if it held anything particularly supernatural or important, it wasn’t going to be found. “This just looks like my grandma's living room.” Tucker complained, taking the sheet off of one of the couches, “we need to go further in if we want to actually find something.”

He wasn’t wrong, Danny looked over to the spiralling staircase in the back of the room, and then to the other doors that surrounded it on the first floor. “It’s probably better to do this systemically right? Go through every room on each floor and move our way up?”

“You mean like in a video game?” Sam asked, “sure, we can do that.”

They started on the left, but that room wasn’t much better when it came to finding any kind of clues. It held a kitchen, a very old kitchen, with a stove and oven that Danny had only ever seen in period movies. But…

“Why does it smell like cookies?” Danny asked, turning to his friends who both looked at him like he was crazy.

“Cookies? Yo, Danny this place smells like straight up death. Not cookies.” Tucker said, backing away from the oven and starting to open up cabinets. 

Sam rolled her eyes and did the same on the other side of the kitchen, “it doesn’t smell like death you dolt, it smells… like a graveyard.”

Danny walked to the middle of the room, towards the oven- he always made sure to be the one seeking out the more dangerous or suspicious things in the haunts they went to- while the two of them bickered. They tended to start these smaller, petty arguments when they were scared, it took the edge off. 

“Duh?” Tucker said, and Danny heard him slam one of the cabinets shut, “graveyards are death? What does it smell like to you? Your Mom’s perfume?”

“No, it smells like someone dying, you know all hospital chemicals and gross stuff.”

There wasn’t anything in the oven, but oddly, Danny had felt a wave of warmth when he opened it. Almost like it had just been used. But, ghosts didn’t need to eat, right? And there couldn’t have been a person living here, they’d notice that. At least, Danny hopes they would notice that. After being in dozens of life or death scenarios hinging on whether they noticed important but minute details, they’d become pretty good at that kind of thing.

“Ugh! Don’t talk about hospitals, I’m still not over North Mercy, that was horrible,” Tucker turned to Danny, leaning on one of the counters and ignoring the cabinet he opened right behind his head. “What do you think death smells like Danny?”

Danny walked over and closed the cabinet, he didn’t want something to suddenly appear inside of it all twisted limbs and empty eyes or for something to crawl out and scare them, or even have it slam shut on Tuckers head, like some ghosts were known to do. He didn’t have to put much thought into his answer, “It smells like burnt flesh, electricity, and polished wood.”

Tucker paled, “oh… right. Sorry.” 

He shrugged, “anything yet?”

“Not unless you count cobwebs, dust, and deteriorating cooking books,” Sam answered, walking over to both him and Tucker. 

Danny looked around at the kitchen, it looked normal, even some dying light shone in from the one window along the outer wall. The only thing weird was the shape and that was because it was at the bottom of a spiralling clocktower. There was nothing particularly scary about the place, and frankly Danny didn’t know what to do with that.

“Let’s move on, this place is giving me the creeps,” Sam said, crossing the room and going to the next door. 

Danny and Tucker followed, unwilling to be left behind, or to let her go on her own. The next room was the same size as the other two, but it had an extra window and was crammed absolutely full of books. Just books. Stacks and stacks of them where they didn’t fit on the shelves, which were completely packed themselves, and Danny had the thought that this was probably what he was smelling when they first walked in. 

It was a library. A personal one, but without any room to sit or anything to sit on despite the genuinely impressive display of books and Danny found himself gently stroking his hand against the cover of a book on the top of the nearest stack, When Ghosts Speak: Understanding Earthbound Spirits.

“Please tell me we aren’t reading all of this,” Tucker whined. Danny frowned, why wouldn’t he want to read these? It was a treasure trove of information, these books could have countless, researched, answers to questions they’ve been asking since the start of everything! 

What if one of these books could tell them why Amity Park seemed to attract the supernatural, why they seemed to gain power within the city’s boundaries, why Danny wasn’t dead. He wanted nothing more than to grab any one of these books, walk into the next room, with the couches and comfortable chairs, sit down and read and read until he found something, anything he could use. 

These books might even be able to help him deal with the supernatural threats that plagued their town. Mostly they’ve been surviving through luck and half baked internet searches with the occasional trip to the town library. And while it had been enough so far, Danny was practically salivating at the thought of being properly, genuinely prepared for something for once. 

“Of course we aren’t,” Sam said, dragging Danny out of his fantasies of maybe knowing what he was doing, “they’re completely deteriorated. If we even tried to open one it would probably fall apart.”

Danny frowned, and then looked down at the book he’d subconsciously grabbed. It didn’t seem as bad as Sam was describing, but he also didn’t want to risk it either. He’d realized early on there was a difference between what he was seeing and what was actually real. He set it down gently and looked around the rest of the room with his friends. 

“Are we so sure this place is haunted?” Danny asked. By then, the sun had set entirely and the only light left was their flashlights. High powered and with fresh batteries they were still little use against the encroaching dark and Danny wanted to move on to the next floor already if he wasn’t going to be able to open a book. 

Tucker stood up from behind a precariously leaning shelf and dusted himself off, “Dude you’re the one that said there was something here and we needed to investigate. Remember, like an hour ago when the two of us were trying to stop you from going inside?”

Danny scoffed, “that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean then?” Sam asked, stepping closer so she could meet his eyes. There was something in her expression, curiosity or suspicion, Danny couldn’t quite parse. 

“I…” Danny stopped to think, what did he mean? Was it just that the place didn’t feel haunted? There wasn’t anything here trying to scare him away, no ominous winds or loud knocking, but they’ve gone into haunts before that took a long time to start actually reacting to them. “There’s no, I don’t know how to explain it. Usually when we go somewhere haunted, that a ghost has a claim to or whatever… there’s this feeling that I’m trespassing? I don’t feel like I’m trespassing here.”

That probably didn’t make any sense, and despite everything they didn’t usually act on Danny’s gut instincts as a group without evidence. The issue with the circus and it’s terrifying owner was a lesson too well learned after all. 

True to expectations neither Sam nor Tucker looked convinced. They shared a quick ‘what now’ look between each other and Danny resisted taking a step back and sinking into the wall. Not that he could do that, as far as he knew he couldn’t do that. Only actual ghosts could do something like that and despite everything Danny was still human- well, still had a physical form. 

Permanently. 

“Let’s move on upstairs,” Sam reasoned, “if Danny’s right there won’t be any harm in it, and if he’s not we’ll find out once whatever’s here starts actually reacting to us, right?”

Perfectly reasonable and logicked as always. Danny nodded and walked to the next door, if he was right it would lead into the room they had first entered with the staircase that twisted and climbed higher and higher into the heart of the tower. That was the next place to go. He knew that.

Tucker gently patted his shoulder as they walked towards the base of the stairs, “yeah, maybe the ghost doesn’t consider this bottom part his haunt? Maybe he just likes the clock on top?”

Danny smiled, “like the hunchback of Notre Dame?”

Smiling back, Tucker nodded, “exactly! Oh man, we gotta find out if that guy is real one of these days.”

“We have our hands a bit tied with Amity Park without going after disney characters,” Sam said, pushing the two of them from behind so they’d actually go up the stairs. “Now let's get a move on, I want to be back home before breakfast so my parents don’t realize I snuck out again.”

There was something Danny could say but he bit back the comment about how at least her parents would notice and quickly walked up the stairs instead. As soon as his feet touched the first step a bubbly feeling lifted in his chest, and it made him want to go higher as fast as he could there was someone up there waiting for him-

“Danny!” Sam called out, grabbing him by the arm, “calm down!”

Her grip on his arm was tight and Danny looked down to see what had her panicked only to find his feet had left the stairs entirely and he’d started floating upwards instead of walking. Like a human. Like his friends. Like what he was supposed to be. 

He swallowed and let himself sink back down, forcing the feeling in his chest back as much as he could. It was like trying to kill the fizz in a shaken soda by screwing a cap back on it and he struggled with it for a moment. He’d never felt like this before- sure, most ghosts and other supernatural entities tended to broadcast emotions to a higher degree than humans, and with them also being natural empaths and Danny’s unfortunate situation it often led to him being overtaken by emotions that weren’t necessarily his own. 

It’s just, they’ve never been this overwhelmingly positive before.

Even with Vlad, as human as he was, his emotions were always tinted with obsession and desperation. His need to have Danny and his mother for his own colored every interaction he’d had with the man and it often left a bitter, strained feeling in his chest. Right now, Danny felt almost giddy. And he wasn’t even sure it wasn’t just his own emotions, reacting to the environment around him. It was a nice environment after all. 

But Danny was good at ignoring things like that. 

“My bad. I’ll try and keep my feet on the ground from now on.”

Sam looked conflicted, “Danny you know we don’t mind you using your powers,” Danny nodded, they’d told him so many times over and over again, “But we don’t want to lose you to them. You promised to stay with us, remember?”

Danny smiled, “I remember. I won’t end up like that, I promised. That’s why we’re here right? To stop it?”

Sam nodded and let him go. 

The second floor was similar to the first, in that it had three rooms leading into each other with the spiral staircase in the center. Danny started with the door on the right. It was a study. There was a desk, paperwork, and a bottle of ink with a quill and Danny found himself wondering just how old this clocktower really was. And how long it had been since its occupant was truly here, alive, if ever. 

They split up and started looking around, eagerness exposed in their movements. This was the most likely place to have something useful, especially if whoever spent their time here was as studious as the lower floor suggested.  Danny went for the desk. 

There was a note on it, in perfect, looped handwriting and the ink was still glistening, fresh from the bottle if the smell had anything to say about it. Danny ran his hand across the words hoping to smudge it, but it had dried already, if barely. 

It’s nice to meet you, little anomaly.

Danny grit his teeth. 

“Guys,” he called out, holding the paper, “It knows we’re here.”

Sam and Tucker rushed over, and Sam grabbed the paper from his hand to read for herself. “Little anomaly? Isn't that kind of insensitive?”

“Yeah,” Tucker agreed, “you just have weird ghost powers right? Vlad’s the same way it’s not like you’re the only person on the planet like you.”

Hesitant to correct him, Danny bit his tongue. It was true that Vlad was a person who had unfortunately gained the abilities of a ghost, things like floating, making objects move with his mind or using his spirit to control people while he slept safe and sound at home. And he’d gained them in a similar way to Danny as well, trusting the wrong people and delving into things he never fully understood and still didn’t. 

It was just … less true for Danny was all. 

But he wasn’t going to tell them that, he wasn’t going to tell anyone that. So how did whoever, or whatever this was, know? Or was it just saying things to get under his skin, that was pretty par for the course when it came to ghosts. So why wasn’t it doing anything else? Trying to get them to leave? Was Sam right? Was it really a trap this entire time? What would happen if they went back downstairs and tried the door, would it open?

He grabbed the paper and shoved it into one of his jackets pockets, there was plenty of time to freak out over it later after all. “Let’s keep looking around, there has to be something here that it’s trying to distract us from.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything more useful than there had been downstairs. Just what one would expect from a normal office. What papers he did find had detailed extensive notes, yes. But they were in a language Danny couldn’t read and neither Sam nor Tucker even recognized. It was infuriating!

Almost like whoever was haunting this place, was telling them it had all the answers they wanted but wouldn’t give them any. He just wanted to know how - Danny shook his head. There had to be something. He wouldn’t have been led all the way here, had all those dreams, if there was nothing he could do at all. 

He threw one more frustrated look around the office before he threw the stack of papers he’d been digging through on the floor and marched over to the next door. It was unlocked, again, just like all of the others and it only served to increase Danny’s frustration. 

“Wait, Danny,” Sam noticed him leaving and quickly followed, the door slammed shut behind them, locking Tucker inside the office.

“No,” he whispered, this was all his fault, he shouldn’t have let this ghost get in his head like this! He never should have let his emotions take him over, he knew better. It led to bad things. Horrible, terrible, things. 

There was a loud bang on the door, someone was pounding against it and Danny flinched. Was the actual haunting finally starting? Was everything really just a way to lure them deeper into the tower and away from each other? 

“Guys?” he heard Tucker call out from the other side of the door, “did you seriously just leave me behind? Don’t we have like, a rule against that?!” 

Danny sighed in relief, it was just Tucker. “Are you okay Tuck? Did anything happen over there when the door shut? Any oozing walls or flying papers-”

There was another thump, probably Tucker banging his head against the door, “I know what to look for Danny I’ve been doing this the exact same amount of time as you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny acquessed. “Just get to the stairs and we’ll meet you there.”

He exchanged a glance with Sam, she was glaring a hole into the side of his head and he felt guilty for being the cause of everything going wrong, again. So he apologized and ignored her exaggerated eye roll when she said he should have known better, because well, he did. But what was he going to do, apologize twice?

The room they were in was a simple one, likely some kind of storage space that he and Sam could dig through for hours on end, but it was more important to get to Tucker than to try and make sure they didn’t miss anything. 

Which, in hindsight, was probably exactly why they’d been separated. 

A cold breeze tickled at Danny’s hair and he felt himself relax despite it all. It felt nice, the cold, and Danny liked when the haunts they went to leaned towards the chillier side like this. Sometimes, especially if Vlad was involved, it felt like he was walking into an overwarm swamp when he entered a haunt and it made him itchy and uncomfortable the entire time. Vlad never seemed to notice, and his friends complain equally about both, so Danny had mostly kept it to himself. 

The entire tower felt nice, cold dry air, the smell of books, ink, and cookies, even the playful, excited feeling that seemed to permeate throughout the tower. Like someone had designed it to appeal in every way to both sides of Danny’s instincts. 

It was unnerving. 

He followed Sam out of the room and back into the middle where the stairs were, but Tucker wasn’t there. 

Sam pulled out her phone, and Danny held his breath as it rang, once, twice, and then a click and Tucker’s familiar, annoyed voice came through the speaker and Danny sighed in relief. “Uh guys? I couldn’t get out the door so I tried to climb out a window, and there was uh, a ladder. So I’m outside right now. Come get me?”

Danny met eyes with Sam and nodded, they headed back down, “we’re coming Tuck,” he said.

“Cool, cool, actually rather than coming to get me, can we just go home? Come back later, like in the day time? How come we never do these things in the daytime?”

“You know that’s not how ghosts work Tucker.” Sam said, bored, as they walked to the front door. Danny felt a tug, something like a hand on his shoulder and turned to see what was behind him. There wasn’t anything there. 

He turned back around to see that Sam had already walked outside, and was holding the door open for him, one of her eyebrows raised. Awkwardly, Danny jogged a little, so as to not hold them up too long. But before he could actually walk outside the door slammed shut.

Sam screamed.

“Danny! Are you okay!” Tucker asked, his voice panicked and muffled from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine,” Danny said, gritting his teeth and turning around. The room didn’t look or feel any different. There was nothing screaming at him to get out or anything else malicious. If anything it seemed even cosier than before, and Danny didn’t really know how to react to that. 

He looked back at the door. There was a way, no. He couldn’t do that. Danny pinched at the bridge of his nose, the only thing to do, really, was to see who had invited him in. That’s what it was right? Some kind of weird ghostly invite?

“I’m going to go check upstairs,” he called out to his friends before walking back towards the staircase. 

They pounded on the door, “Danny don’t you dare go up there without us! Just wait, we’ll find a way in! It’s dangerous alone!” 

Ignoring their protests Danny took the stairs two steps at a time, fighting the rising excitement in his chest and firmly planting his feet against the polished wood. There were answers waiting for him, he knew there were. He just had to find them. 

The third floor had a bedroom, it was nice, cozy and the bed even looked inviting. Danny didn’t bother to stay long. Whoever it was that called him here wasn’t in this room, nor were they in the next or the one after that. Just two bedrooms and a bathroom on that floor and Danny quickly made his way to the next. 

This room was different from the rest. For one there were windows, everywhere, that seemed to play different scenes of different people from all over the world. If Danny strained his ears, he could even hear them speaking different languages. On the other side from the windows was an entire wall of clockwork that chimed and churned as the gears moved, keeping the face of the clock on the outside ticking along in sync with the rest of the world. 

When Danny stepped into the room properly the carpet sunk easily underneath his feet and he felt a nice, cold breeze that came from a purple flamed fire housed properly in a fireplace in the middle of the room. He hadn’t even noticed a chimney from outside. 

There was a man in front of the fire. He was tall and hooded and he carried an equally tall and gnarled staff in one of his gloved hands. Danny felt himself freeze, he had never seen a ghost this solid before. There was always a little bit of transparency, no matter how powerful, they didn’t have physical forms afterall. Not like Danny.

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice was dry and soft and Danny was thankful when it didn’t crack on his question. How embarrassing would that have been? 

The man turned around, his face changing as he did from old and aged to a younger one, closer to his parent’s age, a large jagged scar marking it’s way through one of his eyes and down his cheek. He smiled, “I am Clockwork, Master of time. All that was, All that is, and All that will be. I understand you have many questions for me. I hope to answer them.” 

A thousand questions ran rapidly through his mind, why did you call me here? Did you call me here? Why get rid of my friends? What are you and why haven’t I seen anything like you before?

“How do I prevent myself from becoming that.” Danny asked the most pressing question first, desperate. The man-ghost-Clockwork, sighed and gestured for him to sit. There was a comfortable looking couch with an equally comfortable chair across from it and a plate of cookies set on an elegantly carved coffee table between the two.

“That’s easily answered, sit, have a cookie.” Clockwork floated over, crossing his legs and settling into the chair before grabbing a cookie for himself. 

Danny glanced at them, uncertain, before taking a seat. The couch was even more comfortable than it looked and he found himself sinking back into it, confused. The room was a nice, cold, temperature as well, despite the fire clearly burning in the fireplace. 

He grabbed one of the cookies, “can I eat these?” he asked, looking over at his host.

“Of course,�� Clockwork smiled, taking a bite of his own before leaning back, “I made them for you. Though your friends would have to be more careful, I’m not sure what food like this would do to a human.”

“I am human,” Danny argued, placing the cookie back on its plate. He had to, denial was all he had left at this point. 

Clockwork frowned, “yes, well, I suppose we’ll get there next. You wanted to know about your dreams.”

Finally, Danny nodded, “they’re different ever since- uh well… ever since the incident.”

“It’s natural to not want to talk about one’s death,” Clockwork said, he leaned forward and tilted his head, “or one’s birth.”

“My dreams,” Danny asked, avoiding that conversation with all the grace of a blind hippo, “why are they different. You know right?”

Sighing, Clockwork nodded and leaned back, “yes, I know everything. They’re different, frankly, because they’re dreams. It’s unsettling to you because it’s new, you’ve never dreamed before.”

Danny scowled, “that doesn’t make any sense, I had plenty of dreams when-”

Clockwork interrupted him, disappointment plain under his hood, “You can lie to your friends Daniel, but I already know the truth. Just as you do.”

“I was astral projecting. Like what Vlad does… but then why-?” Danny bit his tongue. He couldn’t say it, not outloud. It was too difficult, he’d spent too long hiding it, pushing it away and doing everything he could to keep anyone from noticing. 

“Why can’t you do it anymore?” Clockwork answered for him, Danny nodded. “The simple answer is that you aren’t like Vladimir, despite what he believes and would like you to believe as well. But that’s something else you already know. Ask me a question you don’t have the answers for.”

Danny grabbed another cookie, biting into it fiercely just to have an excuse not to speak. It tasted really good, better than anything he’d had in a while and Danny wondered if maybe there was something in it meant to sate his less human cravings. The thought didn’t help his inner turmoil. 

Clockwork smiled softly at him though and sighed, “Fine, in order to answer your question, first I have one of my own.”

“Didn’t you just say you know everything?” Danny mumbled before shoving more cookie in his mouth. 

“What good is a teacher that only lectures?” Clockwork said in retort, “do you remember how you died?”

He did, of course he did. “Kinda hard to forget that. Lab accident, electrocution, nothing fancy.” he said, curling in on himself. Clockwork had been right before, it was painful to talk about. But he wanted, no, needed the answers to his questions. He’d survive this. 

“Well, that’s where your first mistake lies. Yes, that is what stopped your heart, and likely the most memorable part, but you didn’t die from that Daniel. What killed you came after.”

Danny frowned, “that doesn’t make any sense? What happened after?”

“Your spirit was never particularly bound to your body in the first place, likely due to your parents dabbling where they shouldn’t for as long as they did before you were ever born. There was a summoning, I think you remember, that your parents were holding when your accident happened on the floor below them.”

It was frustrating, that he was right. That he knew it. “I remember them recognizing me, my spirit. I remember them finding my body and shoving me back in. I remember the pain, and waking up and seeing-” Danny choked on the realization. It couldn’t be...

“Seeing the world in your dreams?” Clockwork asked, “the way you saw it when you were a spirit, free from the confines of your body, correct?” He floated over the table, sat next to Danny, and placed a hand on his back. Danny realized he had been shaking. 

He grabbed the fabric of his jeans in a tight grip and tried to stop, “It’s all real, right? It isn’t… I’m not still dreaming? Please, I need to know.”

The hand on his back pulled him close, tucked into Clockwork’s side and Danny felt comforted despite himself, he fought to blink away tears that had been building behind his eyes as he tucked himself into Clockwork’s side. He was so solid, unlike any other ghost Danny had ever met and he seemed to radiate comfort where most just gave off fear and hurt. 

“You’re not dreaming Daniel, you never were. The world is different when you see it  through our eyes, that is all. When you woke up, you weren’t human anymore. Of course you wouldn’t be limited by a human’s sight.”

Danny curled into himself tighter, despair clouding around him and likely leeching unpleasantly into the air. It would be a wonder if Clockwork didn’t feel it. “So I’m a ghost.”

“Hardly,” Clockwork said and Danny stopped breathing, “Do you think the world is so simple it is split between what is ghostly and what is not?”

“I…” Danny had actually assumed that. So far everything they’d dealt with so far, short of Vlad, had either been a ghost or spirit of some kind, or a human that used magic or ghostly artifacts. Even Vlad had simply been a person who had learned how to control his own spirit the way a ghost would. If Danny wasn’t a human, and he wasn’t a ghost, then what was he?

Clockwork ruffled his hair, “I suppose you’re young. It is easier, afterall, to think of it that way. But Daniel, ghosts don’t have physical forms. They can possess one, or control one, and sometimes even mimic one, but they are spirits.”

He sighed, “you are something entirely different. You’re something remarkable.”

Danny leaned back, using the sleeves of his hoodie to quickly dry his tears so he could look Clockwork in the eye, “What am I?”

“You’re new.”

Danny shoved him, “Agghh, I knew that you jerk!” It was probably a bad idea to attack or antagonize someone as clearly powerful and knowledgeable as Clockwork, but really he’d been asking for it. And Danny’s patience was only so strong. 

Clockwork didn’t fight him back though, nor did he get offended. Instead he just smiled that soft smile that Danny was starting to realize was affection, and said, “did you? Weren’t you trying to read my books to find out if there was anyone else like you?”

“Well yeah-” Danny stopped, “Oh. There wouldn’t be anything would there? If I’m the first?”

He groaned, that really was just his luck. He’d never figure out anything at this rate. Clockwork, the bastard, just hummed and grabbed another cookie, offering it to him. “No there wouldn’t. But you’re not the only one who was the first or only of their kind. Who had to figure out on their own, who and what they are.”

“You mean Vlad?” Danny asked, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth, wow he really hoped he didn’t mean Vlad.

Clockwork’s smile turned brittle, “I don’t mean Vlad.”

Danny chuckled, his thoughts turning mischievous, “I don’t know, he seems pretty unique, what with all those different abilities he has and the way he can choose to be human or ghost-”

“Oh please,” Clockwork interrupted, “there’s plenty of humans like Vladimir Masters, you were fully capable of astral projecting like that from birth, no black magic necessary. Just because he found a way to twist-”

He stopped, then looked down at Danny who was trying and failing to hold back a shit eating grin. All at once the air seemed to leave him and he deflated, the irritated look on his face replaced with open and honest affection and Danny felt it sing in the air around them.

“You were messing with me.”

“To be fair I didn’t think it would work, all knowing and everything.” Danny said, unable to fight the bubbling feeling in his chest as it rose to meet the affection around them. Usually it sucked having the empathy of a ghost and being near one or at least, something with the same traits. The negative emotions tended to bounce between him and them and amplify and it always made Danny struggle to parse his own emotions from theirs. But right now, in the top of a clock tower with the most powerful entity Danny had ever met, he felt happiness and joy to a degree he’d long forgotten. It was dizzying. He was almost giddy with it.

Clockwork patted him on the head, purposefully messing his hair, “yes well. I think in time, it will be more obvious just how different you truly are, how crucial every small coincidence was that came together that night to create you. But until then, you had another question? I can answer it now.”

Danny frowned as he realized what Clockwork meant, “You! I asked that question first! How did you only answer the one you wanted to!!”

“It was important,” Clockwork said, relaxing into the couch next to Danny, “to answer that question I had to be sure you knew what you were.”

He sputtered, “But I don’t?! I’m just something new! Something different!”

“Something physical that exists with the laws of the spiritual.”

“Yeah!” Danny said, “Wait, what?”

Clockwork nodded his head, “a physical entity that exists within the realms of spiritual possibility. It must be such a struggle, to deal with both sets of instincts like that.”

Danny’s head hurt, it was too much to try and understand the details of all of this. Maybe Tucker was right and he should just have let it be, learn to live with the new normal his life was now. Wasn’t that kind of what Clockwork was suggesting anyways? Then again, unlike Tucker, he did seem to thrive off of all of Danny’s questions, whether he actually answered them or not. 

“Yeah, I have to fight my more ghostly instincts all the time. It’s exhausting.” he said, leaning into Clockwork. It should have been embarrassing, seeking comfort like that, but he’d already cried into his shoulder and there wasn’t really any way to come back from that so Danny did as he pleased. 

He felt Clockwork’s hand return to his back, a solid comforting presence, “Now why would you do that?”

Danny tilted his head in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Why would you fight against one half of yourself so thoroughly? But embrace the other side entirely?” Clockwork elaborated. “Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences in fighting against your nature?”

“But,” Danny struggled to speak, pieces of the puzzle he’d thought hopeless putting themselves together in ways he had never expected and didn’t quite understand, “my nature is bad.”

Clockwork frowned and turned to look at Danny properly, “Daniel, it’s your nature. There is nothing good or bad about it. It is only as it is. Everything is as it’s meant to be.”

This was too much, Danny sat up fully and turned entirely towards Clockwork, “are you saying, the way I become that thing from my nightmare, is by… doing what I’ve been doing to avoid becoming that thing?!”

“Yes,” Clockwork answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He blinked, the answer really couldn’t be that easy. “But in my dream, I, my instincts-”

Clockwork grabbed a cookie and placed it in his hands, “even humans react poorly, when they starve themselves. As you exist now, you simply need a different kind of sustenance. One you’ve been denying.”

Danny felt dread crawl down the length of his spine, “what kind of sustenance?”

“Spirits exist for reasons, and they exist differently from humans. In order to keep existing they need emotions, experiences, something to keep them held together. A spirit that has no reason to exist will simply disappear, you’ve seen such before it is relatively common after all. But you can’t do that, since you are physical in a way that they are not. You can starve yourself endlessly, into madness even if you’re desperate enough.”

“I do it to myself?” Danny asked, flustered and frustrated. It was true then? He really was his own worst enemy? 

Clockwork shook his head, “it is not inevitable Daniel. As you were, it was the most likely path forward. Yes. You would have noticed the symptoms, seen yourself losing control and then, in reaction, suppressed yourself further. Starved yourself further.”

Danny cringed, yeah, that sounded like him. “How do I stop it then? I just embrace what makes me ghostly? What about my parents? If they think they failed the resurrection, that I’m not human anymore, they’ll kill me for real! Or worse!”

“That is indeed troublesome, and the paths of the future where they know your truth are twisted and sharp, every small decision every tiny change causing a greater effect on their reactions as a whole. But you do not need to reveal yourself to your parents to live your truth.”

Relieved, Danny fell back into the couch. He hadn’t even noticed he’d floated off of it, was that good? Bad? He shook his head, this was all too confusing. “How then?” He asked, maybe this time he’d actually get a straight answer. 

Clockwork ruffled his hair and stood up, er, well, floated up and over towards the fire. “You continue doing what you’re doing with your friends, protecting your town and interacting with the truth of the world around you. And…” He turned around, “you can come visit me. It’s quite lonely in the clock tower they trapped me in, and there is much I can teach you about becoming. I had to learn such things about myself once after all.”

“You’ll let me come back? To visit you?” Danny didn’t know what to say. He could come visit, ask more questions, get more answers. It seemed too good to be true, and Danny found himself eager and excited at the prospect. 

For some reason, the entire conversation, he’d thought this would be a one time thing. That the clocktower would disappear behind him and leave any question he didn’t ask unanswered. To find out that wasn’t the case, that he had somehow, against all odds, made some kind of ghostly ally, was beyond expectations. “You’ll help me?”

The answering smile had Danny floating out of his seat, “Of course Daniel. I’ll even bake cookies.” 

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing #81 Review

i swear i actually thought no one was interested so i didn’t write one but a grand total of two (2) people said they wanted to read it, so here it is. honestly, my opinion’s been going a bit downhill, but the art is really cool and there are some decent parts so. holding out i guess? i really hope taylor has an end goal or at least a cohesive plan, otherwise i don’t see this series going anywhere i’ll particularly enjoy

the cover is very straightforward in its imagery, this villain has nightwing in the palm of his hand, easily manipulated, easily controlled no matter the action dick thinks he’ll take. 

what i find interesting is the colour: both previously and heavily in this issue, the colourist has chosen to make pink this villain’s main colour, with different shades of pink as accents. so why the red in the cover? possibly to just make it more eye-grabbing, though one could argue that pink is even more eye-catching than red. maybe to convey a sense of dread or fear that pink won’t fully get across. either way, it’s definitely a decision i’m curious about.

so melinda zucco is in a high enough political position within bludhaven that she is next in line to become the mayor after the previous mayor died and dick just,,,,didn’t have any idea she existed? dick didn’t know anything about her? forget dick’s own brilliant detective skills, forget his doggedness at anything zucco related, you’re telling me bruce never found her and told dick about her? maybe he wouldn’t have now, but back when dick was a young kid, he definitely would have at least made dick aware of her existence, to let dick know and ask if he wanted to interfere with her life or anything.

i have a thought about zucco’s facial expressions. she is very much stone-cold poker face throughout the entire issue. the only time i see her pull a different expression is near the end when dick corners her against a wall with an arm around her throat. 

this is most certainly intentional, what with the varied and intense expressions we see on other characters, dick most prominently. i’m wondering what exactly is the creative team’s reasoning behind this. in these panels, zucco is meeting with the most dangerous, powerful, near-bloodthirsty man in all of bludhaven and becoming the mayor of the city respectfully. in both of these panels, there is barely a hint of emotion in her face: no fear, no determination, no satisfaction. it’s just odd, considering the circumstances she’s in, regardless of any training recieved.

just spitballing here but. like. from what i’ve read so far, dick doesn’t really seem like bludhaven’s guardian angel. more like when peter parker first put on spandex and blindly stepped out into new york.

dick, how exactly can you underestimate someone from one move. so he caught your escrima. anyone with enhanced reflexes can do that. you still don’t know how he can actually fight, and this is shown in the next set of panels. 

i just don’t like the wording here. dick’s “underestimated” him, but beats him up easy in the next page. in addition, i don’t know much about combat, but i would assume it would take more than one move to determine exactly what an opponent’s skill level is, made even more complex when you add physical enhancements and metahumans and aliens into the mixture.

idk my first thought when i saw that he caught the stick was “ah ok he’s enhanced” because obviously he couldn’t have reacted fast enough if he wasn’t (as there are few people trained enough to catch it on human reflexes alone.) then the wording in the next panel, i’ve underestimated him, made me think “oh no ok so he’s not enhanced, he’s just a really good fighter and can give dick a run for his money in a fight.” then, it turns out my first assumption was proven correct in the next panel. it just comes across as misleading to me.

(also sidenote but his curls are cute.)

have i praised the art enough in this series? no, i have not.

i adore the way this is laid out and illustrated. without even having to read the text, the action sequence is visually engaging and intense, and easily followable from one panel to the next. dick’s physical expertise comes through quite efficiently, and i love the special attention shown to draw our attention to dick’s escrima in the bottom right corner.

also that move in the middle row leftmost panel that’s the mcu black widow move to get up off the ground it was the first thing i noticed and it made me laugh; thought it was worth noting

i’m really loving dick’s escrima sticks in this run. they’re just so multipurpose, it’s hilarious and exhilarating. kinda reminds me of bruce’s belt, the way the button in the middle does eevveeerrryyytthhiinngg. 

got a problem? don’t worry! dick’s installed a feature into his escrima that can fix that! (i like thinking dick helped make them it makes me happy and makes my engineer!dick side satisfied)

yawn. your big heart is your one true weakness yadda yadda the fact that you care will be used against you blah blah we get it. jesus can the villains please find a different weakness to exploit, this is getting old.

i need dick’s capacity to empathize and care and love to stop being a weakness that villains sneer about. bonus points if dick saves everyone anyway, either because of or despite his great big heart and the villain is surprised by the goodness of mankind or some shit like that.

i need it to be a strength, right from the get-go. the fact that he cares so incredibly much should be an asset that dick has and will use. he’s a very complex character with years of background, it can’t possibly be that hard to find another weakness of his. 

ooooh this is cool, gosh i absolutely love this.

because what exactly is the reader doing? we are seeing the fear in dick’s face, just as this villain intended. even better, we’re seeing the reflection of it from the villain’s glossy mask, telling us exactly what we’re seeing and exactly what he likes so much about it.

dick’s standing up straight, shoulders drawn back, looking up at this villain’s face with determination and resolve, but his suit is tattered. one eye looks to be swollen. his hair is falling limply around his eyes, as opposed to the curls from earlier. his escrima aren’t even part of the main focus, instead blending into the side of the mask in the outer corners of the mask’s eyes, which tells you exactly how big of a threat they are to this villain.

poor bitewing’s quite alarmed.

also on second thought why would you bring your puppy out like this, when you know you’re gonna end up fighting someone in the suit. a) how many grey three-legged adorable little puppies live in the bludhaven area dick? and how easy will it be to connect the doggo running around with nightwing with the doggo that dick grayson owns? and 2) is this puppers trained? does she have fighting experience? how exactly can you ensure she will survive this highly stressful situation?

dick take better care of your dog 

you know what? i was with tim on this one. why exactly is dick so optimistic and trusting about the people of bludhaven? bludhaven, which has been described as gotham’s smaller, smellier, more corrupt sister city once or twice. it’s not just the corrupt people in power, the entire system needs to change and people need to have faith and hope in order for them to come together, espcially if they’ve been living in conditions like how bludhaven has been described. from how clueless dick is about his own goddamn city, i can tell he hasn’t been here long.

it was a nice moment of hope, i’ll admit. but it was a tad unrealistic for me.

also it was in a weird place in the comic. this sort of confrontation and big get-together of the people to rejuvenate hope in each other feels like it should come near the end of a run, if not the end of an issue. certainly not in the first third of an issue. the pacing’s a bit off to me.

loyal little puppy patiently waiting for her human to wake up. i love her so much.

no it’s not. it’s bitewing.

living for this t-shirt honestly. do comics of dc characters exist in the dc universe? they must if the mug and the shirt are any indication

(now i’m imagining the first batman movie that came out in the dc universe and bruce just. being so offended at who they chose to play him.)

well, yes. but when a group of people are put through hellish conditions over and over again, they soon become desensitized to the pain and terror of their everyday lives in order to both stay sane and keep their life relatively stable, and part of that becomes ignoring or blocking out anything that isn’t directly important to you or your loved ones. having a bleeding heart will most likely get you killed in a city like bludhaven if you don’t have the same skills that vigilantes have.

and of course, people are more than capable of coming together and rallying under their city’s vigilante after seeing the good they’ve done and how they’ve helped the people, but that sort of trust takes time and effort to build. dick also had the whole ric arc and was gone for a while, which has been referenced several times in this particular issue in fact. that’s not going to make bludhaven’s citizens any more likely to trust him.

maybe i’m being a bit harsh but this comic is comic off as a bit too idealistic for the amount of change nightwing can do in a city given the present and past circumstances as well as nightwing’s own abilities. even dick grayson can’t pull off everything.

ok seriously this needs to stop this needs to stop.

right now, dick reminds me of oliver queen in the few episodes of the cw’s arrow i watched. he does the punchy-kicky-fighty and occasionally has smart insights due to the skills he gained from his past that he certainly definitely totally has but only ever exhibits once, while his team does all of the background research and information gathering and actual work.

this is dick’s city. if he has the same intelligence, worth ethic, and stubbornness in this run that he’s been shown to possess all his life, then he knows this city inside out. he’ll have meticulous notes organized in a ridiculously efficient system, he’ll have scouted out zucco long before this started, he’ll have known when anything big happened in the bludhaven political landscape in an instant.

i’m really not liking exactly how much dick’s relying on babs and tim in this series. sure, he loves them and cares for them and likes working cases with them. but he always pulls his own weight, has always been a mentor figure to tim instead of what’s weirdly becoming the other way around, and takes point on the cases in his own damn city.

what kind of weak-ass oracle is this?? redacted fbi files are child’s play. babs used to hack into the fbi for fun. this one particular picture is so out of character i want to laugh.

reading this series has unfortunately made me confront that, despite the tiny fluid acrobat dick that lives in my head 24/7, canon dick is impossibly 5′10 and muscular at that.

mmm. titties.

tim said hydrate or die-drate bitch

love how dick’s doing all this intense brooding and stuff meanwhile bitewing is curled up in a soft comfy post having the time of her life.

you don’t understand i would legitimately kill myself for her.

also the lighting in this one scene is cool. the blue tones come off so well.

they’re just. so multipurpose!! they can become a bo staff. they can cut glass. they can become a grapple hook/line. they can electrify someone. they’re a funky colour. i’m becoming really attached to these things. absolute solid choice in weaponry.

if you’re gonna write up every rookie mistake dick has made during this series to head trauma, then dick shouldn’t be out and about at all, much less in costume.

see this? this is just straight up wrong. dick most definitely should have spotted her, and would have immediately moved to take her down.

scratch that, dick would have done a full check of the building, because he knows not to break into places uninformed, especially if the owner of the apartment was raised by the maroni family. someone as highly trained, experienced, and competent as dick wouldn’t have done this.

and if you chalk it up to head injury, (which is probably true), than his ~love interest~ and his little brother should have done a much better job making sure he stays in his house.

zucco looks so awkward it’s fucking hilarious

are those shadows that mimic a domino mask, to both reflect and hide the fact that his mask is missing? are those bruises around his eyes, to show how, despite what good he’s doing, being nightwing is hurting dick right now? 

(isn’t his domino mask supposed to have an electrifying feature that keeps people from removing them?)

it’s a little odd how the three known villains of this series are all coloured in warm shades, more specifically pink. meanwhile, in earlier issues, dick’s fondest memories were in pink, memories of him and alfred in particular. why has the colour pink changed from signifying something benevolent to something malicious? idk i hope this gets explained later.

this i did like. either it’s just a display of brute force in anger, or dick slipped the ties and pulled them off once untied. both ways, it’s an unintentional display of power, and i think that’s kinda cool.

again. dick is,,,tall? sort of? weirdddd

i’m so glad most readers are unified in the notion that this was the absolute dumbest fucking thing.

i’m hoping this gets disproved or something soon. and i hope dick doesn’t fall for it, because he definitely knows better than to take something as important as this at face value.

what exactly is taylor trying to accomplish here? why is he trying to go back on what we all knew was a happy, loving childhood and throw strife and disharmony and (what i’m assuming will be) infidelity? this will not end well at all.

---

,,,,,this review got way longer than expected lol. and i realize most of it just became me ranting. i guess i didn’t realize how ticked off i was originally. fingers crossed it gets better.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer

[tv--fan17]

No, we don't want to criminalize sex work and then just walk away, patting ourselves on the back. Sorry, but we actually care about women, and we want these women to be safe and not have to sell sex to have food and shelter. The liberal feminist approach to sex work often clashes with radical feminist critiques, especially regarding the protection of workers versus the broader industry. While both sides agree on the importance of protecting sex workers from harm, radical feminists argue that the ultimate goal should be to dismantle the structures that force women into sex work in the first place. This tension underscores the different priorities within feminist movements and the complex challenges of addressing exploitation. Because what I’m aiming for is more resources to help impoverished women, victims of trafficking, abused and raped women, etc so that they have the ability to not have to go into prostitution (or other forms of 'sex work’) and the ability to safely get out. The hypocrisy in how gender and sex are used interchangeably by some gender activists is often a source of frustration for feminists. While activists claim that sex and gender are distinct, they also demand access to sex-segregated spaces like bathrooms and sports based on gender identity. This inconsistency reveals a deeper ideological confusion that often sidelines women’s concerns in favor of prioritizing gender identity over biological realities. To pretend that this erasure doesn t exist, and to use it as proof of male superiority, is not only historically inaccurate but deeply damaging to progress toward true equality. You wouldnt believe what the mengit did in the squibulous zone, its downright squishy. You can slaps the scumbo, but itll never be snorbly.

[paenling]

no ones saying you cant enjoy daniil? people like him as a character but mostly Because he’s an asshole and he’s interesting. the racism and themes of colonization in patho are so blatant

nobody said “by order of Law you are forbidden from enjoying daniil dankovsky in any capacity”, but they did say “if you like daniil dankovsky you are abnormal, problematic, and you should be ashamed of yourself”, so i’d call that an implicit discouragement at the least. not very kind.

regardless, he is a very interesting asshole and we love to make fun of him! but i do not plan to stop seeing his character in an empathetic light when appropriate to do so. we’re all terribly human.

regarding “the racism and themes of colonization in patho”, we’ve gotta have a sit-down for this one because it’s long and difficult. tl;dr here.

i’ve written myself all back and forth and in every direction trying to properly pin down the way i feel about this in a way that is both logically coherent and emotionally honest, but it’s not really working. i debated even responding at all, but i do feel like there are some things worth saying so i’m just going to write a bunch of words, pick a god, and pray it makes some modicum of sense.

the short version: pathologic 2 is a flawed masterwork which i love deeply, but its attempts to be esoteric and challenging have in some ways backfired when it comes to topical discussions such as those surrounding race, which the first game didn’t give its due diligence, and the second game attempted with incomplete success despite its best efforts.

the issue is that when you have a game that is so niche and has these “elevated themes” and draws from all this kind of academic highbrow source material -- the fandom is small, but the fandom consists of people who want to analyze, pathologize, and dissect things as much as possible. so let’s do that.

first: what exactly is racist or colonialist in pathologic? i’m legitimately asking. people at home: by what mechanism does pathologic-the-game inflict racist harm on real people? the fact that the Kin are aesthetically and linguistically inspired by the real-world Buryat people (& adjacent groups) is a potential red flag, but as far as i can tell there’s never any value judgement made about either the fictionalized Kin or the real-world Buryat. the fictional culture is esoteric to the player -- intended to be that way, in fact -- but that’s not an inherently bad thing. it’s a closed practice and they’re minding their business.

does it run the risk of being insensitive with sufficiently aggressive readings? absolutely, but i don’t think that’s racist by itself. they’re just portrayed as a society of human beings (and some magical ones, if you like) that has flaws and incongruences just as the Town does. it’s not idealizing or infantilizing these people, but by no means does it go out of its way to villainize them either. there is no malice in this depiction of the Kin. 

is it the fact that characters within both pathologic 1 & 2 are racist? that the player can choose to say racist things when inhabiting those characters? no, because pathologic-the-game doesn’t endorse those things. they’re throwaway characterization lines for assholes. acknowledging that racism exists does not make a media racist. see more here.

however, i find it’s very important to take a moment and divorce the racial discussions in a game like pathologic 2 from the very specific experiences of irl western (particularly american) racism. it’s understandable for such a large chunk of the english-speaking audience to read it that way; it makes sense, but that doesn’t mean it’s correct. although it acknowledges the relevant history to some extent, on account of being set in 1915, pathologic 2 is not intended to be a commentary about race, and especially not current events, and especially especially not current events in america. it’s therefore unfair, in my opinion, to attempt to diagnose it with any concrete ideology or apply its messages to an american racial paradigm.

it definitely still deals with race, but it always, to me, seemed to come back around the exploitation of race as an ultimately arbitrary division of human beings, and the story always strove to be about human beings far more than it was ever about race. does it approach this topic perfectly? no, but it’s clearly making an effort. should we be aware of where it fails to do right by the topic? yes, definitely, but we should also be charitable in our interpretations of what the writers were actually aiming for, rather than reactionarily deeming them unacceptable and leaving it at that. do we really think the writers for pathologic 2 sat down and said “we’re going to go out of our way to be horrible racists today”? i don’t.

IPL’s writing team is a talented lot, and dybowski as lead writer has the kinds of big ideas that elevate a game to a work of art, particularly because he’s not afraid to get personal. on that front, some discussion is inescapable as pathologic 2 deals in a lot of racial and cultural strife, because it’s clearly something near to the his heart, but as i understand it was never really meant to be a narrative “about” race, at least not exclusively so, and especially not in the same sense as the issue is understood by the average American gamer. society isn't a monolith and the contexts are gonna change massively between different cultures who have had, historically, much different relationships with these concepts.

these themes are “so blatant” in pathologic 2 because clearly, on some level, IPL wanted to start a discussion. I think it’s obvious that they wanted to make the audience uncomfortable with the choices they were faced with and the characters they had to inhabit -- invoke a little ostranenie, as it were, and force an emotional breaking point. in the end the game started a conversation and i think that’s something that was done in earnest, despite its moments of obvious clumsiness. 

regarding colonialism, this is another thing that the game is just Not About. we see the effects and consequences of colonialism demonstrated in the world of pathologic, and it’s something we’re certainly asked to think about from time to time, but the actual plot/narrative of the game is not about overcoming or confronting explicitly colonialist constructs, etc. i personally regard this as a bit of a missed opportunity, but it’s just not what IPL was going for.

instead they have a huge focus, as discussed somewhat in response to this ask, on the broader idea of powerful people trying to create a “utopia” at the mortal cost of those they disempower, which is almost always topical as far as i’m concerned, and also very Russian.

i think there was some interview where it was said that the second game was much more about “a mechanism that transforms human nature” than the costs of utopia, but it’s still a persistent enough theme to be worth talking about both as an abstraction of colonialism as well as in its more-likely intended context through the lens of wealth inequality, environmental destruction & government corruption as universal human issues faced by the marginalized classes. i think both are important and intelligent readings of the text, and both are worth discussion.

both endings of pathologic 2 involve sacrifice in the name of an “ideal world” where it’s impossible to ever be fully satisfied. in the Diurnal Ending, Artemy is tormented over the fate of the Kin and the euthanasia of his dying god and all her miracles, but he needs to have faith that the children he’s protected will grow up better than their parents and create a world where he and his culture will be immortalized in love. in the Nocturnal Ending, he’s horrified because in preserving the miracle-bound legacy of his people as a collective, he’s un-personed himself to the individuals he loves, but he needs to have faith that the uniqueness and magic of the resurrected Earth was precious enough to be worth that sacrifice. neither ending is fair. it’s not fair that he can’t have both, but that’s the idea. because that “utopia” everyone’s been chasing is an idol that distracts from the important work of being a human being and doing your best in a flawed world. 

because pathologic’s themes as a series are so very “Russian turn-of-the-century” and draw a ton of stylistic and topical inspiration from the theatre and literature of that era, i don’t doubt that it’s also inherited some of its inspirational literature’s missteps. however, because the game’s intertextuality is so incredibly dense it’s difficult to construct a super cohesive picture of its actual messaging. a lot of its references and themes will absolutely go over your head if you enter unprepared -- this was true for me, and it ended up taking several passes and a bunch of research to even begin appreciating the breadth of its influences.

(i’d argue this is ultimately a good thing; i would never have gone and picked up Camus or Strugatsky, or even known who Antonin Artaud was at all if i hadn’t gone in with pathologic! my understanding is still woefully incomplete and it’s probably going to take me a lot more effort to get properly fluent in the ideology of the story, but that’s the joy of it, i think. :) i’m very lucky to be able to pursue it in this way.)

anyway yes, pathologic 2 is definitely very flawed in a lot of places, particularly when it tries to tackle race, but i’m happy to see it for better and for worse. the game attempts to discuss several adjacent issues and stumbles as it does so, but insinuating it to be in some way “pro-racist” or “pro-colonialist” or whatever else feels kind of disingenuous to me. they’re clearly trying, however imperfectly, to do something intriguing and meaningful and empathetic with their story.

even all this will probably amount to a very disjointed and incomplete explanation of how pathologic & its messaging makes me feel, but what i want -- as a broader approach, not just for pathologic -- is for people to be willing to interpret things charitably. 

sometimes things are made just to be cruel, and those things should be condemned, but not everything is like that. it’s not only possible but necessary to be able to acknowledge flaws or mistakes and still be kind. persecuting something straight away removes any opportunity to examine it and learn from it, and pathologic happens to be ripe with learning experiences. 

it’s all about being okay with ugliness, working through difficult nuances with grace, and the strength of the human spirit, and it’s a story about love first and foremost, and i guess we sort of need that right now. it gave me some of its love, so i’m giving it some of my patience.