#and you know what I have no doubt they will go down the misogynistic route if they really genderswap dorian

[gabrielisdead]

while I think the leak of a modern adaptation of Dorian Gray on netflix is trash at best but we all seem to forget that Oscar Wilde was not an innocent little baby, that they yet to confirm the gender swapping of Dorian Gray in the series, and last but not least The Grays is intentionally deviate from the source material because making a good adaptation is not a priority to them, it's about money, making a business. Don't expect the mainstream market to give you liberation, especially from a producer who made Riverdale out of all things

[catinfroghat]

I've joked a lot about tomshiv divorce era but honestly I don't see it happening so here's my actual predictions for tomshiv going forward (This is looonnngggg btw so if anyone actually reads all of this I love you):

Shiv will not tell Kendall or Roman that it was Tom who sold them out, that would require her admitting that she made a mistake and would make her feel too vulnerable, which she is not ready to acknowledge, especially in front of her brothers who have been consistently misogynistic towards her throughout season 3. Imagine the shame of having to admit as a woman in the Roy family that you were brought down due to marital issues.

She may try to keep up a facade with Tom and pretend she doesn't know it was him to try to keep the upper hand, but she is firey and impulsive so will probably let it slip at a time she knows will hurt him just for a taste of revenge.

Neither Tom nor Shiv will want a divorce but one or the other may threaten it as a form of leverage because they know the other person needs them to keep their current position, so may bring it up to get what they want.

Tom needs Shiv to stay close to Logan. Despite everything, Logan does love his daughter and would not stand to see her publicly humiliated by a divorce so soon after they got married (Remember their wedding was only around 3 months ago). It's also unlikely that Tom would be considered for a high position unless he had ties to the family, so he knows that if they were to divorce he would be out on his own.

Shiv needs Tom because she is acutely aware that her status as a woman means she will be judged for her personal life. Admitting that her marriage is a failure will reflect poorly on her and she knows it, however unfair and sexist it may be. I also think that she will use Tom's new position as Logan's favourite to her advantage in some way, maybe trying to get insider information from Tom. This could backfire if he figures out what she's doing or refuses to comply.

They may come to a new agreement where they treat their marriage more like a business arrangement than ever, with Shiv perhaps even agreeing to having children in return for them keeping up the facade of a functional relationship in public.

I think them having children is likely at this point, but I think it will be uncomfortably transactional. If Shiv carries or is already pregnant (which I doubt), it will solidify Tom's "villain arc" so to speak because forcing Shiv into such a misogynistic role when she seems so against being a mother would be undeniably awful, and considering raising a child in that environment is arguably worse.

BUT I also think a Shiv pregnancy would have unfortunate connotations in such a male dominated show, so I think the writers would be wary going directly down that route. It would also limit the amount of things Shiv could do in the story if she is pregnant, such as a possible return to her past as a party girl and addict as she spirals. Given the compact timeline of Succession, she would probably spend the rest of the series pregnant which would be shitty for a lot of reasons.

So I think it's probably more likely that they consider using a surrogate. It could double as an interesting exploration of how money and power can be wielded and the ethics of wealthy couples paying for someone else to go through the process of pregnancy and childbirth on their behalf so that they don't have to sacrifice their own lifestyle. Since the timeline is so short, the baby will probably not appear on the show but will function more as a symbol of the cycles of abuse in this family continuing long after the show ends.

If a split does happen, it will be negotiated in private, and will be a separation rather than a divorce. They may even live separately for a while, but they will continue to act like a couple at public events and maybe even within the family.

Both will use their private separation as permission to have gay sex (this is more a hope than a legitimate prediction but come on... at least one of them has to)

Anyway I think the healthiest thing for them both would to get a divorce and that's why it must never ever happen. There is much more failmarriage toxicity coming our way and it's going to be delicious.

[akampana]

Continuation of this ask

Bedivere x Arturia - Ship it

What made you ship it?

TBH I was one of those few people who shipped it based on that like 2 second scene at the end of FSN. The Camelot Singularity just reinforced it. A lot came from the original Arthurian legend as well. Bedivere is similarly insanely loyal as he is in the game, and like in Fate lore, he’s been with Arthur longer than most.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

He journeyed so far for so long just to see her smile OH MY GOD BRB IM SOBBING HOLY CRAP CAN YOU JUST IMAGINE—

I’m a sucker for intensely loyal knights and I will always be. ALWAYS.

THE ANGST POTENTIALLLLLL but also THE FLUFF POTENTIALLLL

This man loved his king so bloody intensely. So strongly that his desire to see her survived the test of time. To be loved so much, so unconditionally for a thousand and a half years? Gods, that’s just too much, man. ;-;

And I absolutely adore how much it means to him to remain her knight, even if he tends to be insecure about the limb that he lacks, and how he believes he is nothing special in comparison with everyone else. I love that Arturia recognizes his strength and his worth, even if he himself can’t see it.

THE ENTIRE CONFRONTATION IN THE THRONE ROOM LET ME TELL YOU I WAS CRYING SOOOOO HARD THROUGHOUT THAT IK NIT EVEN KIDDING

THIS, the MINDBREAK Arturia goes through when she tries to remember

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I think that THIS SHIP NEEDS MORE LOVE AND I REALLY OUGHT TO CONTRIBUTE

All the other answers below cut!

Irisviel x Arturia - Ship It

What made you ship it?

I think I was bound to the moment I watched Fate Zero. When I was younger it was overshadowed by the feels Diarturia brought and not to mention Kiritsugu and Iri but this ship is damn good on its own.

What sold it though, is the argument she and Kiritsugu have in Episode 16, right after the last Saber and Lancer fight. Irisviel, who we all know loves her husband so much, forced Kiritsugu to answer Saber. That’s just how important Arturia was to her.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

I think they both found in each other something they themselves lack. It’s actually kind of funny. Arturia is human, and yet she’s so heavily consumed by her ideals that she doesn’t act like one. Irisviel, on the other hand, is not human, and yet everything that she does and wants to do is exactly that.

Throughout the anime, Being with Iri puts Saber into such mundane, ordinary situations that it teaches her to live. The suits, the escorting, being a passenger instead of a driver, appreciating the water by the seashore, etc. It's like the woman wants to leave her with some appreciation for the world, especially when she herself doesn’t have all that much time left.

On Irisviel’s part, I think she found in Saber the companionship she would have wanted from Kiritsugu during the last few days she remained on the Earth. Arturia had been the perfect knight in shining armor, taking Irisviel around to see the world as much as they could amidst a war. If they’d just had more time, I have no doubt Arturia would have taken Irisviel even more places, you know?

It makes me sad :( but in a good way.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I’m pretty sure Irisviel would wear the pants in this relationship ya know what I mean? Hahaha

Much as I love this ship, I think that it becomes all the more valuable because of how it ended. To each other, they were this brief, fleeting feeling of happiness. A love that was so short and yet so strong.

Shirou x Arturia - Don't Ship it

Hooooooo boi. Hear me out, mkay ? But this is just my personal opinion so pls no hate

Why don't you ship it?

I’m gonna start out by saying I don’t think I need to, tbh. Hahaha there’s enough content for this ship being fed to us, so my liking it or not is immaterial. But the reason is well...I watched FSN and Shirou x Saber was...not the best thing about it (the best thing about it was the soundtrack omg iconic) Shirou comes off as a bit of a misogynist, and kind of immature, and the whole time it’s like he doesn’t really listen to Arturia at all. Plus, it’s kind of like he just likes her looks at times. The final deciding factor was the date scene. That was just unbearable.

But then I go online and I see all this good stuff about them. And my friend ships them cause they’re canon, right? So, I’m like okay, what if I judged too quickly, let’s play the VN...and I did. And I still didn’t like him with Saber at all. So, I played the next route, watched the next anime, trying to redeem 1st route Shirou as much as I could but it just....didn’t happen. I think I can safely say I tried to like them. I really did. But no.

What would have made you like it?

Removing the misogyny and the immaturity and letting him listen to her. Like he should have.

At no point in their interactions did it feel like they were standing on equal ground, ever. Either he was speaking over her or the opposite. So less of that and a lot more respect.

And when you compare this relationship to what he has with like with his other two love interests, it makes this ship fall completely flat. It’s pretty...bland and honestly kind of shallow. It’s like the story just tells you they’re in love but there’s no answer to why they’re in love. Make him fall in love with her for her without necessarily forcing his need to save everyone on her.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

I may not like how they got there, but in the end Arturia was able to pass peacefully.

I acknowledge that Shirou was important and made a change in her life.

That ending scene where they meet after so long, NGL is pretty sweet.

A lot of my headcanons happen post-Shirou, so there’s also that.

Archer x Rin -Ship it

What made you ship it?

Tsundere x Cynic has gotta be one of the best dynamics out there.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

His true identity. The fact that she dragged him all the way across space and time to return as her Servant, that’s just bloody fate at work.

The fact that he keeps acknowledging she’s a strong Master despite his later conduct in UBW.

Archer is ridiculously crass and Rin is easily riled up. In the Fifth Holy Grail War, they had the best Master-Servant relationship period. They have this explosive chemistry that just works so well.

When he smiles at her at the end of the route, and you just know that Tohsaka’s gonna be stubborn enough to make sure Shirou doesn’t end up going down the exact same path.

I think it’s sweet that he ends up going along with her whims because he secretly likes housework.

THE PRINCESS CARRY/ CATCH. MAN OH MAN.

Unlike the previous ship mentioned here, these two actually stand on equal ground with each other.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I don't think it's exactly an unpopular opinion, but I think they really ought to have more official content y'know? Rin is important in every route, and Archer's the actual climax of UBW and also entirely significant across three routes.

Medusa x Sakura - Don't ship it

Why don't you ship it?

Because while journeying through the routes, I always saw Rider as more of a best friend/sort of motherly figure to Sakura.

Or that Rider fulfilled the kind of relationship that she wanted to have with Rin, while Sakura unknowingly filled the void Medusa's sisters left in her life. I thought she was more of a guardian angel really, not a romantic interest. Kind of like how Heracles was to Illya.

What would have made you like it?

If I could maybe forget about the threesome with Shirou and the implied romantic feelings Rider has for him in Ataraxia that would be great.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

Sakura deserves all the happiness in the world and I really do believe that Rider could fulfill that.

This ship DEFINITELY DEFINITELYYYYYY NEEDS MORE CONTENT

Diarmuid x Cú - Ship it

What made you ship it?

oooh this probably sounds surprising since based on my content you'd think, no i dont ship this BUT I DOOOOOOO (i just happen to hc them as bros more often)

Honestly what did make me ship it is the parallels.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

IMO They have the biggest potential for hurt/comfort amongst all the ships mentioned here.

They can help each other get through their trauma. Their whole relationship would be extremely healing and supportive.

I love that Diarmuid seems to have idolized Cú Chulainn at some point and honestly who wouldn't be honored to stand beside him, no?

They could be up to the funniest shenanigans because Cú is chaos and Diarmuid would absolutely be an enabler because when he isn't angst-ing he's super damn chill.

Bros being bros hahahah...unless?

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really. Maybe that I think Lancer Diar and Cascu would get along better and Saber Diar and Lancer Cu would also get along better but honestly any form is good this ship is good

[peter-pan-on-neverland]

Opposites Attract

Request: hey may I request a one shot for your Peter Pan story if yes can you, use my real name (Zai) instead of Y/N if you please and can you have me pans total opposite like sweet, shy everything he would hate but in the end he falls for her and becomes really protective

Pairing: Pan x Zai

Warning: None

Part 2 >

It was so surreal, everything around me seemed to move in slow motion as if I were a character stuck inside of a movie, high pitched ringing pierced through my ears and stung my brain like a thousand tiny knives pricking it. An uncontrollable tremble grabbed a hold of my body refusing to let go, toying with my muscles as though I were nothing but a puppet on a string dancing for the demon that now had possession of my tiny frame.

The air was cold, so very cold, nipping and scratching at my fare skin as I silently sat on the leaf-covered floor. So many questions ran through my mind, too many to count, too many to keep ahold of. What was this dark place I had found myself in?

Dirt and pinecones filled my nostrils as I took heavy, deep breaths in and out, in and out, in and out.

A pair of eye's shot daggers at the back of my head, sending shivers to travel up and down my spine. The knotting in my stomach became apparent, growing tighter and higher by the second. I tried my hardest to fight off the fear which coursed through my veins and stole my heart, but I couldn't. There was no power in the world, no bribe was big enough, and no prize was worthy enough to get me to turn around and meet the eyes staring at me.

As time passed I felt more and more eyes creep up behind me, taking their place and just silently watching. That's when I heard them, footsteps, shuffling, whispers in the night running through to cold air from person to person, or perhaps from monster to monster.

"What have we got here boys?" A jovial voice sounded, too old to be a child's but it held the power and wisdom of a thousand lifetimes.

"We-we think it's a girl, Pan." Another said.

Pan, so that was the creature's name. In any normal circumstance, someone might jump for joy at the sign of another person, but this was no normal circumstance and the confirmation of other people only made my skin crawl. Every red flag was waving and alarm bell ringing, I was not safe, not one bit.

"She might be dead, or unconscious," Someone sounded, "she hasn't moved in a while."

Whoever this Pan was leant down close to me, so close I could feel his breath travel down the nape of my neck. He placed two gentle fingers on my pulse, paying for a second.

"She's not dead," He confirmed, "James and Dan set up a tent for her, Felix see if she has any wounds and take care f them if she does."

It was Clear Pan had authority over everyone else there as if he were some kind of mayor or leader, the boys named did nothing to displease him as their footsteps grew quieter and quieter.

"Where are you going, Pan?" A rather deep, husky voice spoke, curiosity dripping off every word yet he was confident in his ways. Maybe he was somewhere higher up on the food chain in this strange land that he had to power to question and possibly even disobey.

"To ask the shadows why they bought a bloody girl to the island." His tone had changed, sounding more aggravated than intrigued.

There were no other words exchanged between the two and I could feel myself being lifted off the cold ground, I felt weightless in the arms of this stranger that I was too afraid to look at.

Perhaps I would become a burden to the boy, but I had no energy left to think about that, I had no energy left to think about anything. I wanted nothing more than to drift off into a peaceful sleep but my body would not allow it for the danger had not yet passed, it kept trying to fight and fight but finally lost the battle and sleep had won out.

I woke up, my head pounding like there was no tomorrow. I found myself in a white tent, laying upon a mattress, only a thin blanket keeping the cold from consuming me. Swinging my legs over the side of the make-shift bed I walked towards the fabric flaps, sunlight poured into the room as I pulled them back, almost blinding me.

A tall figure hovered over me, blocking out the sun. For a split second, he looked like a dark, black giant but once my eyes adjusted I took a closer look at his face. Is pale blue eyes stared at mine for what seemed like a few minutes, becoming familiar with my brown ones. I noted down the scar that ran down his cheek, how did he get it?

"Pan," He called, "she's awake."

My eyes averted to the boy, who looked no older than seventeen, quickly stalking towards us. Panic flashed through my body enduring my paralyzed, there was nothing I could do but watch as they got closer and closer despite the urge of wanting to run and flee.

His eyes stood out to me the most, the vibrant green colour seemed to radiate off him, capturing and gaze and holding it there. This boy had power, that much was obvious, what scared me was how he used it. There's no doubt in my mind that he could mortally wound or even kill me if I looked at him the wrong way, the safest route is to be obedient otherwise I could end up dead.

"Follow me." He said sternly, I didn't dare speak, I didn't dare to even breathe I just nodded my head in his direction before silently following after him like a little lost puppy.

One step after another I felt more and more eyes scanning over my body, however, I would never meet anyone's gaze. I wouldn't dare give any of these people the satisfaction, after all, they still need to tell me how I got here in the first place. I felt like an animal caged up in the zoo, just a pretty and unusual thing for them to stare and gawk at, all the meanwhile missing my home.

A pain shot through my chest, a deep aching at the thought of my family and friends, at the thought of everything I had left behind.

"Sit." The leader spoke, snapping me from my thoughts.

I complied without any issues, placing myself onto the wooden stump poking its head out of the ground to say hello to the golden, glowing sun beaming down on everything below it. I hadn't noticed just how beautiful this place was in the day time, the lush green trees, the birds tweeting, the odd deer walking by before scattering and running off from the wild people whom they shared the land with.

I felt his strange green eyes watching me, finally, I had worked up enough courage to look into them. They were filled with wonder and amazement, much like a child seeing snow for the first time.

"You can start by telling me your name," The boy's thick British accent becoming prominent.

"Zai," I whispered, nearly audible but he heard it and so did the forest.

"Zai," He repeated as if he were testing out how my name sounded on his tongue, "Cute. Now, what are you doing on my island?"

Oh, so it was his island.

"I don't know," I said, my tone sickly sweet but the boy in front of me could tell I was being genuine.

"You're a strange one aren't you?" He claimed, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear an act that made my cheeks turn a deep shade of red as I desperately tried to hide my face from his view.

I should be afraid, I should be terrified, running for the hills and never looking back. There was danger behind those vibrant green orbs, so much danged but for some reason that only drew me in more. The very thing that should make me leave is the same exact thing compelling me to stay, how can that be?

I had never been one for diving into the deep end or taking risks, I liked to be in control of my fate and how everything played out, I know this boy could never give me security so why am I being pulled closer and closer t him?

He's attractive yes, as if he were chiseled by the God's themselves, but it's more than that, it's deeper than that. The risk, the excitement of it all is what drew me in and managed to hold me there. Maybe staying here wasn't as big of a heartache as I previously thought.

"Well I guess that's irrelevant, I'll be sending you home now." He announced.

"What makes you think I want to go home?" I asked, standing up defensively.

He raised a single eyebrow at me, the expression on his face caused me to shiver, "So you want to stay little one?"

I could feel a smile creeping its way onto my face at his words, "Perhaps to do, I could be of use to you,"

I desperately tried to come up with a list of jobs I could do just so he could let me stay, although I was still scared I had this feeling deep inside on me. Way down in my bones as if I were meant to be here as if my soul belonged here.

"I can cook." I blurted out.

Only to be met with a smirk, "My boys can cook too."

"I can clean," I said.

"So can my boys." The leader retaliated.

"Can they?" I asked, raising my eyebrow to him, mimicking his previous actions, he gave a low husky chuckle to my somewhat sassy comment.

"Oh, I'm sorry princess, is it not up to your standard?" The boy smirked in return, toying with me a little. He could sense when I was on edge, I knew he could, maybe a skill he had picked up in the years that he had been alive.

"Please, I'll do anything, anything you ask of me!" I pleaded, hoping and praying that he would allow me to reside here with him.

"It doesn't matter what you want." His demeanor suddenly turning nasty at the flip of a switch, the green eyed boy stalked closer and closer to me until my back had been pressed against a tree, leaning down he whispered, "I don't have girls on my island, you're weak I have no need for your kind."

I felt my blood being to boil, this misogynistic-

I held myself back from doing something that I regret, out of the fear that I could possibly end up dead at any second.

"Maybe they are where you're from," I said in a low yet innocent tone, my words sounding like a smooth lullaby slipping into his mind, "But I am different."

"Fine, I'll be interested to see how long you last around here." He stated, "I'll get Felix to show you around."

He took a few steps back, giving me the space that I craved. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in until now. Pan's comment not only sprinkled fear and dread into me once more but also seemed to excite me as if I had something to prove to these people. One thing was apparent, they were not people I wanted to play with or tourment. I was better off just seeing how this plays out and trying not to end up dead in the process.

Within the day I had circled around the island twice seeing all the beautiful sights and scenery as Felix, who is the second in command around here, told me what was what. His explanations were only met with a nod as I was far too shy and nervous to open my mouth around him or any of the boys for that matter. Luckily for me, Felix wasn't much of a talker either, we spent most of our little adventure in awkward silence.

The more I explored the more I wanted, no longed to stay here. The crystal blue seas, the majestic waterfalls, the tall towering trees, and the white sandy beaches. This place seemed like paradise, shame the people who inhabited it didn't radiate the same energy.

The once pale blue sky turn to a dark navy as tiny, white sparkling dots hang high in the sky, a roaring fire was situated in the middle of the camp the boys all sat around eating, laughing, and having a good time. They all seemed so happy, yet the damage behind their eyes was apparent, they all had the same look behind them.

I felt a presence sit down beside me, "Zai," they spoke, to which I said nothing. I didn't turn my head to look at the person whose voice I had heard not hours before.

Before I knew what was happening a hand was placed under my chin, forcing me to look in their direction, "It's not a wise idea to ignore me, little one."

"Sorry," I whispered, I knew he heard my faint words but I wasn't entirely sure they made that much of a difference.

"Funny, just hours ago we were having a perfectly fluent conversation and now you seem so shaken up you're hardly getting your words out, tell me, why is that?" He knew what he was doing, it was apparent, he knew he had the upper hand, he knew I was still scared.

I shrugged at their so-called king, not giving him the satisfaction he craved, he wanted me to squirm, but I wouldn't allow that to happen.

As the days went by my shyness didn't disappear or get easier, in fact, it seemed to get worse. I was on edge, especially around Pan, it wasn't hard to tell that the boy was ruthless.

It was hot, the sun beaming down on the island. We all slowly walk deeper and deeper into the forest the boys not only thankful for the shade but excited for the activities ahead. Pan had promised us a game of target practice, something that I had learned I was terrible at.

Silently, I watched from afar as the boys took turns shooting apples off one another head. Of course, there were many injuries but they loved the thrill of it. I got many stares, none of which I paid any attention to, but what riled me up the most were to comments.

"What's she even doing here?"

"Why would Pan allow a girl into the camp?"

"Look at her she wouldn't even hurt a fly."

"She doesn't have what it takes to be one of us, she's too sweet."

"I wish she would just go back to where she came from."

Biting my tongue, I tried not to let their words get to me. Sometimes I fantasize about those boys tied to a tree, no means of escape or survival, I would pull the arrow back tight, stretching the string of the bow before letting go. The arrow would soar through the air before landing deep into their skulls with a satisfying think, bullseye.

I could feel the wicked smile on my face grow as my heart became that little bit darker. What was wrong with me? I had never wished ill will upon anyone before, so why was I starting to know. Maybe it was the island, supplying me with anger as if it were some kind of git, some means for survival if in a wretched yet beautiful place.

Suddenly, everything stopped and silence grabbed hold of everyone around. My interest was peaked, I rose from my makeshift seat to see what was going on. There the leader of the lost boys had one of his very own pinned to a tree by an invisible force, choking and spluttering as his legs kicked and kicked.

I wasn't sure what had brought this on, but my gaze was held hostage by the scene unfolding before me, the boy begged and begged apologizing relentlessly, but none of that mattered to Pan. We all stood there and watched, some boys with tears in their eyes as their friend asked for mercy and was not given it, I almost felt bad for the boy until I had realized who it was.

Adam, the little ring leader of the group of boys who liked to push my buttons.

We all looked on as the light slowly left his eyes, his cold body slumped to the floor, no one dared to move.

"Fun's over boys," His powerful voice boomed, echoing all over the forest, "Get back to work."

One by one the boys went back to camp, they were shaken up, but not as bad as I was. I still felt a sense of remorse for the poor boy, but the more I reminded myself of all the things he said the sad about it I felt. I still wasn't able to take my eyes off his lifeless body until there was no one else around apart from Pan.

I looked up at him, but no words left my mouth, they were all choked up in my throat. The smirk on his face let me know he was proud of what he had accomplished a minute ago, what kind of a monster was he?

He left, leaving a wink as his parting gift to me.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, I didn't like what he had done and worst of all I didn't like how he had just made me feel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you guys like part 1!!

[superleeleehipster]

Theories on Season 11

Hey! So, as I’m sure you all are very aware, Find Me is out, and I can honestly say that I’m somewhat relieved it did. I was tired of all the theories and anxieties I was feeling about it. At least now we know what we’re working with officially.

I don’t want to make a review, as most blogs have already done their own. For this post, I’m going to jot down some theories on what Leah’s role will be in Season 11. Some of these theories I’ve thought of and others I’ve seen from other bloggers, but I just wanted to get my thoughts down. 

Of course, it’s just my opinion, and if you don’t agree, that’s perfectly fine.

Spoilers and theories under the cut... 

So is everyone ok after 10x18? Yes? No? No worries on whatever your answer is; your emotions are valid.

Anyways, even though the episode was a bit painful to watch as Caryl shippers, I really don’t think it sunk the Caryl ship. If anything, the subtle (not really) parallels between Caryl and Daryl and Leah just showed that Caryl could very possibly happen despite all the naysayers saying they could never sleep together. 

Also, can I say that the whole fish scene was freaking hilarious.

But I digress... I have a few predictions on how Leah’s going to fit into the storyline for season 11. I might hit the nail on the head, or I might be so off that I break my thumb instead, but that’s ok. It’s what makes it fun.

1) I’ve made this first part into a group of theories instead of just one. These are theories that I’ve heard about or read, but I really don’t think are going to happen. They’re just interesting enough for me to list them, but they’re unlikely in my opinion:

- Leah is in Season 11 but in flashbacks - I don’t think they would go this route, because it would be even lazier writing than what we’ve gotten, and it would be more interesting to have her in person instead of being in flashbacks. If they went that way, it would be incredibly obvious that she is a plotpoint for Daryl and that’s it, and that’s pretty crappy writing even for TWD.

- Leah is in Season 11 but she isn’t real - Now this one is an interesting concept admittedly. What if Daryl was in such a crappy mood in the woods, and is thirsting for companionship, so he makes someone up in his head that is pretty similar to Carol, but doesn’t look like her b/c he wouldn’t want to be that kind of creepy friend. Then in Season 11, the viewer realizes one way or another that she was made up, that he made her up in his head to help with his woes, but now that he’s better and with Carol he doesn’t need her anymore. Really neat theory from a mentality standpoint, but I highly doubt that’s where the writers would go.

- Leah is in Season 11, but she dies - I know some folks have said this before, and I get it. Some of us are so done with the drama, we’re just thinking the worst case scenario at this point. What if Leah comes back and Daryl’s all happy and thinks that he’ll spend the rest of his life with her but then Leah dies somehow and he decides to go on a roadtrip with Carol to help with his man pain. I know some peeps feel like that would happen, but in my opinion, I really don’t think so. Angela Kang does have a lot of respect for Daryl and Carol (I know we don’t feel that way right now b/c of 10x18 but bear with me), as she’s said that this is about their story and their journey I really don’t think she would have the story go as low and as misogynistic as that. I honestly don’t.

Now these next two theories are the ones that I believe have a much higher chance of happening in season 11:

2). Leah is in Season 11, and is a part of the new antagonist group (Reapers) - So it wouldn’t be a season of the walking dead without some sort of antagonist being around. The Reapers have already made their presence known with the first extra episode, and I’m sure is going to cause issues throughout the season. An interesting theory that I’m a fan of that people have thought up already is that Leah is part of the Reapers. Whether she’s the leader or one of the followers, it doesn’t really matter, for she’s still a plot device for Daryl. 

The current fantasy I’m having is that Leah comes back and tries to get close to Daryl, which Daryl isn’t necessarily against but is still wary. But then Carol notices things about Leah and catches her doing stuff and she’s like “wtf?” and she tells Daryl her concerns but he brushes her off because he doesn’t trust her judgment very much right now. Most ASZ peeps think Leah is a good person but Carol’s like “mehhh something’s off”. Then the reveal happens where Leah is a double agent of sorts and betrays them all by having the Reapers infiltrating Alexandria or some crazy shit like that. Then it looks like she kills Carol in some way and Daryl’s absolutely gut wrenched because his Carol just died at the hands of his crazy ex girlfriend that he believed more than his best friend and what the fuck is wrong with him?? But then Carol comes back and butchers the Reapers cause she’s a goddamn queen and Daryl looks at her like she could fart fairy dust and gives the biggest smile we’ve ever seen him give on the show. Then he hugs her fiercely and starts sobbing, telling her how sorry he was and how relieved he was at her being alive and... same old story that’s happened on MULTIPLE occasions with other shows and books.

Now considering how Leah is made out to be in 10x18, I would say this theory is ‘less likely’ than what I thought it would be originally, but there’s still a decent chance. I don’t think Leah’s a cold blooded/narcissist, but it’s possible she could get roped up with the Reapers... and lets face it, Daryl isn’t the same person from who he was in the woods, so there’s a good chance she won’t be either when she comes back.

3). Leah is in Season 11, and pushes for a relationship with Daryl - Admittedly, this one would hurt to watch, but I think it’s a fair possibility we can’t rule out. Daryl is arguably at a better headspace now than he was way back when in the woods, and he knows he belongs with his family. But then Leah shows up and wants to start things over with him, and it could go multiple ways. He could realize right away that he doesn’t want that, and maybe he and Leah both get closer together. Or maybe he will give it a try for old times sake, but then he realizes that she’s not the person she was, or whom he thought she was, and they’re not actually a good pairing, and then he realizes “you know who I really want? That grey haired queen”... it would probably more emotional than that though.

I mean, we’ve all been there. We break up from a long term partner and it hurts like hell but we heal and we’re stronger for it. But then the ex comes back and is wanting to be with you again, and you’re at the very least tempted to give it a go b/c you were happy with them at one point. But then you’re with them and you realize that maybe this wasn’t a good idea, and maybe you should’ve listened to your goddamn gut all along b/c it was warning you that there’s a reason why it didn’t work out the first time.

Arguably, this theory would be more satisfying than the last one, because it would be Daryl who would choose who he would want to be with in the end. Think about it. We were initially bummed that Ezekiel wasn’t going to get his comic death in season 9 (and of course we were pissed about Henry), but then it turned out for the better because Carol willingly chose to leave him instead of being forced out of the relationship via death. So for Daryl to choose Carol over Leah in the end would be incredibly satisfying, albeit looooong overdue...

I still very much think Caryl is endgame despite the tough road we’re facing. I know folks are taking this last hurdle really hard because it’s been ingrained in our heads that Daryl is a “one woman kind of guy”, but... maybe that’s still the case. Maybe his heart is a “one woman kind of organ”, but Daryl’s been able to move past his traumas enough to be physical with more than one person. At least that’s how I’m seeing things at the moment. Obviously, it’s not good taste to go completely backwards on what is “known” about a character and assume that the audience would catch on as to why it would happen (like how Daryl reading the “children of abuse” book was never addressed in the show, but we’re having to assume he did b/c Norman said he did). Hoping the audience assumes the things that the writers are thinking of has always been an ongoing issue with TWD, so this whole shindig wasn’t necessarily surprising to me.

Anyways, that’s my two cents on things. I still think they’ll happen, and I still trust Kang. I’m just thinking of this as just the angsty part of a fanfic that I love and adore, and I just have to grit my teeth and wait for the author to finish writing the next chapter before hauling ass to my computer to see the update and breaking my desktop in the process. We’ll get to the healing part, I promise.

And if the spin is anything like the playful banter between them in this episode (albeit more mutual and fun), then sign me the fuck up and let me be a voyeur in their passionate travels.

Cheers my loves! 

[prongsisabadger]

TWP Chapter 28

Wolffe and I spoke casually as we made our way towards the bridge. Not a lot had happened since I’d been gone, the Pack had mostly been assigned extractions, rescue missions and patrols among other things. The clone commander didn’t show his feelings on the lack of battlefront action, but then again, I was still his superior and it might have looked like he was complaining to some. He was glad I was back, I could tell that much. Wolffe might have looked like an emotionless steel blast wall, but the man was still a sentient, and sentients interacted with the Force. It was a quiet, tame feeling he allowed himself in the confines of his mind, but he would never allow it to show. Clone Commander Wolffe was many things, emotional was not one of them, even if he did feel things deeply in the privacy of his soul.

Like Obi-Wan, he felt safe because he was strong and reliable and fiercely loyal. But my Master at least allowed himself to show feelings to those he cared for and trusted the most. Wolffe was the kind of person that didn’t open up easily even to his closest friends, regardless of how deeply he felt about things. It was the kind of self control and discipline only extensive training and programming in a Kaminoan facility could grant. I was pretty sure Master Plo and I were the only ones that had an idea of how Wolffe felt about certain things, and it both felt like privilege and like I was intruding on something deeply personal. Those were things the Force told us about him, not things he had volunteered himself, so Master Plo and I had come to the silent agreement that we would not speak about them until he volunteered the information himself. It was both heartwarming and sad to have such a close, intimate look into a person such as him and not be able to share them because at the end of the day it would have been very intrusive.

That is how I knew it hadn’t been the 104th who had gifted me the vibroblade, it had been him. That is how I knew he was annoyed at the celebration the 212th wanted to throw for me. That is how I knew he liked my older armour best, because it didn’t have a wide, loud orange stripe. That is how I knew Art hadn’t been completely dishonest when he told me Wolffe was a little too protective of me.

And now, walking side by side, finally having a moment to ourselves in what seemed like years, I could feel how at ease he was. The Force around him flowed naturally, almost visible in how bright it felt, and yet, to the naked eye, he looked no different. His back straight and his pace leisurely, face relaxed as he spoke of his brothers’ shenanigans. He was so at peace, and for a moment there I didn’t realize that very peace was being reflected within me.

I was so lost in the feeling of the Force around him that I missed the question he asked me.

“Huh? I’m sorry, what was that?”

Wolffe cleared his throat and repeated the question, never taking his eyes off the corridor ahead.

“I was wondering about the new robes, Commander. They suit you.”

I looked down at myself. Right, the new robes. Last time he’d seen me I had been wearing a style that resembled Tusken robes. They had soon proved to be quite inefficient when I’d accidentally caught fire twice.

“Oh, right. I thought that since my armour represents who I fight for, who I fight with; then my robes should tell a story too. Where I came from, where I am, where I’m headed.” I answered truthfully.

“But, Commander, you don’t have the insignia of the Republic on your-” said Wolffe, confused for a second until his mind clicked. I could see the realization in his eyes. “Oh- don’t let anyone know that.” he added seriously, taking me by the arm and guiding me towards the wall for privacy. He looked in every direction before looking me dead in the eyes and saying the next words. “Some could call that treason, Commander.”

I smiled at him and put a hand on his bicep.

“You are not anyone, Wolffe. I trust you. You know I fight in this war because I have to, but I am not a soldier. I fight so that the Dark Side doesn’t win, I fight so that innocents don’t suffer, I fight because I can’t bear to see the Jedi commissioning an army of slaves and do nothing about it. I’m not blind, Wolffe, clones aren’t free, the war has hit you the hardest and until you are free to do your own will, the least I can do is keep you alive. This war cannot last forever.”

Wolffe was not one to show emotion, but I knew stoic when I saw it, and I had the Force. He wanted to disagree with me, he wanted to tell me he was a free man and that he fought because it was the right thing to do, but he knew that was not true. He wanted to tell me he was not a slave, he wanted to tell me that his brothers and him did not need protecting, that they did not need pity or saving, but he knew it wasn’t true.

He wanted to be angry, to contradict me, to defend the system, the very people that had created them, he wanted to say that without the war they would not exist. But existing to fulfil somebody else's purpose, to die for that cause that wasn’t his own, to know his life had no meaning of its own, that was not living. His eyes were conflicted, his soul tormented, his conscience raging because he wanted to fight, but he didn’t know how much of that will was his own.

In the end, all he could do was take a deep breath in to try and calm the storm raging inside of him and say:

“We will not betray your trust, Commander. I will not betray your trust.”

…

I had an entire week off with the Pack before our next deployment, and I spent every single moment of it catching up with the boys. After a disastrous night bar hopping in Coruscant, I promptly decided the Jedi had the right idea when they said alcohol was no good. One hangover was enough to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. I spent the day after napping on a cot while Art worked on my left shoulder blade, and only got up to sip on my water bottle -which Boost, Force bless him, refilled every time I emptied it- and to go to the refresher. At some point during noon, Twitch brough Art and I lunch from the mess hall and stayed to chat before going off to do some reading of his own. It was a very lazy day, and so were the ones that followed. Except for the evenings when Headfirst came to drag my ass to the training facility and made me do my lightsaber drills while he did his own thing. We would wrap up the day with a spar which, to be completely honest, wasn’t always a fair fight. Since I had the advantage of Jedi training, Headfirst had gotten into the habit of playing dirty. We had to agree on a new set of rules when he decided trying to get me angry with misogynistic comments was a perfectly good idea. He had a black eye for the next two days.

Once our week was over, briefings and preparations for our next mission to Khorm started. It was the first mission I would be in command of, Master Plo was being held up in Coruscant my Council duties and would not be coming with us. So the mission was technically in my hands -even if I did have Wolffe and Vero Zapal, our admiral. The situation in Khorm was unknown to us. Like in Orto Plutonia, the republic had lost contact with a clone division stationed there. The entire overview looked, at first glance, like a re-living of Orto Plutonia, since Khorm is also a frozen planet, but something felt terribly off to me. I told Wolffe and Zapal this, and that we would be going in to investigate with the utmost caution. Things never happened the same way twice, and I doubted the universe was going to go easy on me on my first command.

I was going to take every precaution and plan every last second of the mission, and prepare at least one contingency plan. I knew from experience that battles had a knack for throwing plans out the garbage shoot but it paid well to be prepared. Every maneuver, every flight route, every entrance, nook and cranny of the facility was taken into account; and every plan I made, I ran by both Wolffe and Admiral Zapal for their opinions.

It’s safe to say I didn’t really sleep well that week, not because of nightmares or resurfacing memories, but stress and anxiety does have a knack for making sleep restless. I meditated more during that week than I had before any battle I’d faught up until that point. I practiced mindfulness every morning as I woke up and tried my hardest to keep the Force as close to me as I could.

I tried to keep my appearance as neat and put together as I could, and tried to do the same to my quarters, but the amount of holomaps and  datapads on my desk were too many to keep in a neat pile. I didn’t want any aspect of my life to be neglected during that time, because neglect leads to darker places and I would not allow myself to be distracted in any way. Lives were at stake.

My friends helped in any way they could when they weren’t busy making their own preparations. Some sat with me during lunch, even when I was too busy reading to talk to them, others forced me to exercise or to take recreation breaks, others simply checked on me at night to make sure I wouldn’t stay up too late reading. It warmed my heart, even when I couldn’t tell them how thankful I was for taking care of me.

I also fell into the habit of performing my lightsaber drills every morning and every night. The funny feeling I had about the mission only grew as our departure date neared and something told me I needed to be ready. In any other situation, I would have considered the possibility that I was being paranoid, but we were at war against a very real enemy. It was only paranoia if they weren’t out to get you, and our enemy was.

It was almost time for lights out when Wolffe walked into the training facility. Only a section of it was lit up, the one that I was still using. I repeated form after form, one, two, ten, forty times until I was satisfied with it. I felt him approach me from the darkness, but I didn’t acknowledge him until he stood a few feet away from me, watching, waiting for me to stop. I didn’t.

“You should turn in for the night, Commander.” He said finally, never shifting his posture. Straight, solid, face and body language betraying nothing as he stood with his hands at his back.

“My forms aren’t as good as they should be, I’m staying for at least another 50 reps” I said, never stopping, my pace never dwindling. “Go to bed, Wolffe.”

He said nothing, but he also didn’t move. Wolffe just stood there, watching me move through the forms once, twice, three times. He wasn’t annoyed, I knew that much. He wasn’t pitying me either, he was simply there to make sure I didn’t work myself to exhaustion. He didn’t even feel resigned, it felt like he knew me well enough that he didn’t expect me to stop when he asked me to. He felt determined, like he knew the only way to get me to listen right then would be waiting for me to be done. There were times to insist and times to wait, he had known me long enough to identify each of those instances and react accordingly.

Wolffe knew I was nervous and doing my very best so that everything went smoothly. He knew the thing that stressed me out the most was the fact that his brothers’ lives, my friends’ lives might be in danger. He knew I would blame myself for each and every loss we suffered, and he knew this was my way of getting ready for that. Because we would lose men, we always did. But up until that point, I had never been the one in charge, I had never been responsible for the cones’ deaths, not really.

So Wolffe stood there, silent and strong and reassuring. Because he knew nothing he said would make me feel any less responsible, because he knew the best thing he could do was to be there for me.

[jimmigmalingan]

Her Name Is Not “baby”, It’s JANET.

It’s not “Miss Jackson if you’re nasty” either, although just as iconic.

What better way to celebrate Women’s Month than to get to know a great embodiment of a strong and powerful woman. In fact, so strong and so powerful that my instinctive reaction when I first saw the invite to her journalism class was “Oh no.”

That was the G-Rated version of it actually. Nevertheless, same message. 

I barely even knew who she was or what her teaching style was going to be like. Her G-suite display picture just exuded “Oh no” energy. I mean that as a compliment.

I went straight to my friend from elementary school who shifted to Communication a year earlier than I did. I said “Do you have any tea on her?” The first thing he told me was that she had very high standards.

I like that, actually.

Back when I was in high school, which seems like very long time despite only having been a whopping three years, those were the types of teachers that I would consider my favorite ones. Ma’am Rachel from my English class, and Ma’am Elma from my Research and Biology class. Both of which actually went on to be school heads in different schools after we graduated.

I’m just here thinking to myself “God, I would’ve been excelling at her class if it isn’t for this stupid pandemic.” I clearly am not. We will get to that soon.

When we had the chance to organize an interview as a class, it invigorated me a tad bit. This is the closest I can get to having human interaction in an academic sense, but it was also my chance to have an idea or two of who ‘Janet Tibaldo’ was. Is she going to be the bane of my existence for the next four or so years or is she going to be alongside the people who I consider to be my “heroes”?

To my surprise, she’s very, well... human.

From what I’ve gathered in both of the interviews, our class’ and the other, she is a woman of strength. She is a passionate educator, a dedicated mother, and most of all, a woman of faith and devotion. In both of the interviews, she often emphasizes the importance of the “vertical relationship” in her life, and how it can have a positive effect in one’s horizontal relationships.

I do appreciate those remarks from her quite a bit, despite me having a rockier and more complex relationship with God as a queer person. I never considered myself an atheist. I do believe in God, and I believe that I am loved by God, despite knowing that people out there will try to convince me otherwise.

How could he possibly hate me when I pray to him too and he answers them just the same? It makes absolutely no sense to me.

When she said that you can fix your horizontal relationships once your vertical relationship is stable, it did strike a cord just as much as it struck a verve in me. I am trying to. It took me a while, but nevertheless I’m glad that I am here.

She often described herself as “strict”, both as a parent and an educator. It often surprises me how much bombardment my friend from elementary experiences from her subjects. The way he describes it to me sounds a bit like torture. I always took his words about her with a grain of salt. I will probably never believe him until I experience it first hand. He did say I was lucky that I shifted during online classes because she is a bit more lenient, otherwise I would’ve been dead meat.

If she was the monster that she’s painted out to be, I do understand why. It’s not like I don’t have a maternal figure or two in my life with eerily similar approaches. Like I said, she is a bit more human than what one would expect. She talked about her sleepless nights to dedicate herself onto her work, how she takes it upon herself when things go wrong, and how she said she hopes for a better and more empathetic world when I asked about her hopes for the future. To me she sounds like a person who stands her ground and knows exactly what she wants, even if it gets the best of her at times.

With that, she shared a peek of her younger days, how she spent her childhood during the Martial Law era, how newscasters on TV sparked her interest in the field of Communication, how in her college days they made do with the resources they had back then, emphasizing how lucky we are to have the technology we have now, how she was an activist back in the day. It painted a picture in my mind. Ahhh. No wonder.

There has always been ‘fire’ inside of her. A fire that lead her to be an educator today, despite having left the path of being a media practitioner.

I did think about it a couple of times. If being a visual artist doesn’t work out for me, maybe I’ll just teach. To me, it looks fun. She did say that she never thought in a million years that she would end up becoming a teacher because she thought it looked boring. According to her, lot of her family members ended up becoming teachers and she never wanted to be one of them. Maybe there’s some ugly parts of it that I don’t get to see, but it seems like a much more stable career path than visual arts, especially in a country like this.

Just from the interviews alone, you can tell that she has so much wisdom to offer in this field. That makes me all the more excited to meet her in person. If anything, there’s your proof right there that God is out there writing poetic justice for people. Maybe it was God’s way of saying “I have something better in mind for you, you just have to trust me.”

Another standout from the interviews was when she told all of us as a piece of advice that we should grab opportunities as they come. Oftentimes, the biggest regrets you have in life aren’t the things you did but the things you didn’t do. I have to admit, the main reason why this music video is taking too long to make is because of self doubt and insecurity. She’s right. I should toughen up a bit, shouldn’t I? Not only that, but there’s a lot of competitions that I found interesting in the facebook group that I just allowed to pass me by. I don’t want to blame my years in Architecture for it, because it did cause me some good. It’s just that I knew what I was running away from after years of feeling like I will never amount to anything. 

I knew that. If anything I was way bolder when I left high school, only for Architecture to beat me down. It does take someone like her to remind me of who I was then.

When I was going through my depressive episode late last year, ultimately leading me to shift to Communication, I found myself seeking refuge in the music of Janet Jackson. As a matter of fact, I shared her music to the same friend I mentioned earlier, and now he’s a fan too. We’d often joke about which Janet we were talking about in the conversation.

On one hand, we have Janet the popstar, who despite being blacklisted by Bush’s racist and misogynistic America, kept on going. She kept performing and making music for as recent as 2018, and now she’s inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. On the other, we have Janet the teacher, who keeps holding on to her faith despite all of the trials and challenges that came her way all these years.

What’s it about Janets being fiery passionate women anyway?

That actually leads me to my next point of interest.

What moved me the most about both of the interviews was her openness about her struggles with mental health, and how she refers students to seek help as well back when classes were physical. I don’t think conversations like these were possible back in the day, especially when I was a child. Apparently I didn’t have ADHD I was just an idiot, and people like me get punished for their idiocy. That was my upbringing, and it’s so refreshing to know that kids nowadays are lucky to have a ‘zeitgeist’ like this.

I was brought up for the longest time in the idea that if you show any signs of vulnerability, you are weak. It took some time for me to ‘rewire’ my brain and undo all of that...

because that is blatantly false.

If anything, for me, it further solidified how strong she was. It takes so much strength to admit that you’re human. It takes so much courage to tell yourself that you probably need help because you struggle in this aspect of your life. It is so easy to pretend that you can take everything like a champ and you don’t need anyone to help you.

The easy route was to say “I’m fine” or “I’m doing good” when asked a simple question “How are you?”, the hard route is to ask yourself that same question “How am I?” and be honest and introspective about it.

She did just that. She took the hard route.

She said she was having trouble sleeping and that she had to consult a mental heath expert for that recently, and that this pandemic made it particularly hard for her to juggle work and home matters.

I don’t think she will ever understand how a simple statement like that inspires someone like me, because what I got from that was ‘if somebody as strong and as passionate as her bleeds the same way that I do, I too can be strong like her.’

I just booked my appointment to my therapist yesterday. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. It’s nice to know that I’m not alone in this, despite going there for feeling alone. Ironic, isn’t it? I feel like I’m running out of friends, and it’s starting to feel like paralysis, really.

After the interview ended, and I finished watching the interview from the other block, I couldn’t grasp the idea of this woman being taken as a monster, because the only words I could think of in association to her thus far is ‘uplifting’ and ‘inspiring’, in the same way that Ma’am Rachel was one of the people who inspired me to be a a cartoonist and Ma’am Elma inspired me to be a competitive dancer.

I had to give up three years worth of friendships to start back from scratch and to be here. I was actually so unsure if it was even worth the sacrifice, but Ma’am Janet Tibaldo, out of all people, showed me something to look forward to in this field. Based on what I’ve gathered from her, I’m up for a good time.

[arcticdementor]

It’s easy to decry cancel culture, but hard to turn it back. Thankfully, recent developments in my area of academic specialty—artificial intelligence (AI)—show that fighting cancel culture isn’t impossible. And as I explain below, the lessons that members of the AI community have learned in this regard can be generalized to other professional subcultures.

…

It’s a tale that illustrates a number of useful principles for those seeking to combat cancel culture. These include:

Find your friends. There’s nothing worse than facing a mob alone. Build your network in advance, so that you don’t have to cold-call free-speech advocates when a crisis already is upon you. Create relationships with people in your workplace and field who share your views. Find out whether there are unions or other groups that are responsible for protecting your rights, and find out what they can do to help if a mob ever comes after you. Join and support organizations such as Heterodox Academy, the National Association of Scholars, and the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education (FIRE). Connect with like-minded people on social media. Your friends may come to your aid publicly or privately. Both are good. Even just receiving words of encouragement from like-minded individuals can make a big difference when you’re under attack.

Pick your battles. All workplaces and professional fields can present their share of dogmatists and unpleasant personalities. You can’t take on all of them, and not all battles are worth fighting. Pick the ones with high symbolic value—which is to say, battles that act as proxies for some larger principle—and which you think you have a reasonable chance of winning. In my case, I knew that taking on a notorious bully in the AI community was worth it because her rout would send a message to imitators. I also knew we had an advantage going in, because this individual already had hurt and angered many people. Moreover, her position as research director at a prominent company made her more vulnerable than me.

Know what to expect. The cancel crowd has its own bullet-point playbook. And they’ll respond aggressively to any symbolic act that threatens their status, or erodes the impression that they are the ones calling the shots. Remember that behind the social-justice veneer lies the brutal logic of power and ego. To maximize the pain you feel, they’ll tag activist groups on social media to inflate their numbers and reach. They’ll bombard every organization you’re part of with demands to censure, discipline, disown, fire, or expel you—often phrasing their appeals in the passive aggressive guise of “concern” and “disappointment.” At other times, they will insult, taunt, and, threaten you in a manner resembling middle-school children having a recess meltdown. In my case, the ringleader called me “a full on misogynist and racist,” “shameful bigot,” “hypocrite,” “clueless,” “tone-deaf,” “snowflake,” and “soulless troll.” She assailed my “privilege and patriarchy,” “lack of basic empathy and ethics,” and “zero self-awareness.” She also questioned whether I’m really a human, and called on NeurIPS to ban me, and for my department to expunge me. Her goal, in short, was to ruin my life. The cancelers will dig up anything they can from your past. And if they can’t find any, they’ll make it up. This will all seem terrifying, but much less so if you realize that you’re just the latest victim in what is basically a mechanical and dehumanizing process. Insofar as you don’t actually get fired from your job or suffer some other equivalent setback, these are all just words, and they don’t define who you are.

Don’t back down. Don’t apologize. Don’t make clarifications, and don’t try to appease the mob. All of these will only be taken as concessions, and embolden the mob to demand more. The real Achilles’s Heel of the cancel crowd is its short attention span. Once they bully someone into submission, they move on to the next victim. It’s a system designed for quick wins. If you don’t back down, they’ll raise the pitch as far as they can—but eventually they’ll be at a loss for what to do next, and all but the most fanatical will lose interest. The few that remain, now bereft of their backup, are just what you need to teach all of them a lesson, as we did in my case.

…

Mock them mercilessly. Fear is what keeps the silent majority from speaking up, and laughter is the best antidote. The cancelers take themselves extremely seriously, imagining themselves to be social-justice angels whose holy ends justify every imaginable means. Their sanctimonious spirit is a gift to you, if you call it out instead of playing along with its conceit.

Don’t let their narrative outrun yours. Once a false narrative is entrenched, it’s hard to overturn, no matter how many facts you have on your side. So while, as noted above, I generally would discourage you from focusing too much on defending your own actions, there should be some resource you can point to so that everyone can know the truth. Once you have established that resource—a blog post, a published article, a podcast, even a set of tweets or Facebook posts—point people to it where necessary, including your own professional contacts and potential allies. Keep it short, crisp, and compelling so that it gets widely circulated and isn’t thwarted by short attention spans. And keep the tone confident (and possibly even funny), so that it’s clear who the real inhuman fanatics are.

Goad them into overreaching. The cancelers’ overconfidence is your greatest asset, as I learned when the ringleader of the mob that came after me resorted to posting the above-referenced list of people whom she wanted canceled, many of them junior researchers whose only crime was to have followed me or liked one of my tweets. This crossed a line for a lot of observers, and of course the people on the list itself were aghast. Word spread of the shocking behavior. Even people on her side started turning against her.

Turn their weapons against them. You may find this to be the most controversial principle, but it’s also arguably the most crucial—as the cancelers won’t stop until they fear that they’ll endure the same consequences that they seek to impose on others. In my case, I watched as investors and customers leaned on the ringleader’s company to rein her in. Even companies that posture heavily in the area of social justice don’t actually want to be stained by the disgraceful behavior of mob leaders. Indeed, I have no doubt that it was an ultimatum from her employer that finally led the ringleader to stop her Twitter outbursts and apologize publicly to her victims, for all to see. Some will say that once we resort to this step, we become as bad as the cancelers. But that’s a false equivalence. The cancel crowd tries to ban people because of their views. We try to stop bullying—behavior that is reprehensible regardless of ideology.

…

Get the majority on your side. In the end, most cancelers can’t be dissuaded in the short run: They’ve invested too much in their roles as inquisitors to give them up easily. The goal isn’t to win them over—you won’t—but rather to persuade the much larger number of people in the middle. Just because these people aren’t vocal doesn’t mean they aren’t out there watching, reading, thinking.

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Sunsets (and  Music Notes)

Request: can i make a request pleaaaase :3 could we have Javier Escuella taking the reader out for a picnic, and playing his guitar for her? i need some soft Javi aaa thank youu!!

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long!

Requested by Anonymous

The atmosphere of camp was somewhat tense. There was almost no time for privacy, and everyone seemed to be riled up at one thing or another. Arthur was gone most days, Dutch was doing God knows what, and you had to once again but up with Micah’s misogynistic bullshit; the latter which you believe will be the straw to break the camel’s back.

Javier had come to your rescue more than enough times, so Micah made an effort to terrorise you and the other women when he was away from camp. You didn’t know how much more you could take, so you steered clear of most people on this particular day, mostly because you were feeling like if someone spoke one wrong word, you’d either throw them down a hill or in a body of water.

You weren’t ready for the Hosea lecture just yet. 

“Y/N?” Javier poked his head into your tent in the late afternoon as you were tidying up. 

“Hey, Javi. Do you need anything?”

“Querida, you are the one that needs something, and that something is a break.” He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed the shell of your ear. “I have a surprise for you.”

You laughed, your face flushing with heat. “What is it?”

“Ah, ah; if I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He kissed you again before holding open the flap of your tent. “Let’s go.”

Squinting suspiciously, you followed his directions, grabbing your hat on the way out. You made your way to Boaz, sneakily feeding a carrot in his direction. Javier unhitched him and mounted, waiting for you to mount quickly behind him. It was only now that you realised that he brought his guitar with him. 

As Boaz began walking out, the sound of trotting hooves saw Arthur rounding the bend, a doe strapped to his horse. 

“Arthur!”

“Hey, Arthur.”

He smiled knowingly at you both as he went past, sending a casual two finger salute your way. “Lovebirds,” he greeted with a smirk. You hid half of your face in Javier’s back, embarrassed. You felt the rumble of laughter in his chest at that, no doubt flushed beet red. Kicking Boaz in the ribs, the pace picked up into a steady rhythm and soon the scenery changed into an expanse of lush fields with beautiful views of the late evening sun. 

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice Boaz coming to a stop. “We’re here, mi amor.” Javier hitched the reins around a thin tree and dismounted before holding his arms out for you. 

“How chivalrous,” you laughed, grasping his shoulders as he helped you to the ground. 

“Pick somewhere to sit.” Javier began rummaging around his saddlebags as you looked over at the view; the top of the hill you were on sat high, the closest to the sky you’ve ever felt. The sun began to cast evening rays through the clouds. You stood where the view was clearest on the path with the most grass. 

“Is here okay?” You began to turn around.

“Don’t look!” There was some jostling about before a short silence. Then, you felt hands softly grasp your arms to coax you to sit down. Then they released you.

“Now.”

You opened your eyes and looked around. A smile broke out in full force once you recognised the scene in front of you. 

Javier sat on a blanket, surrounded by food no doubt stolen from Pearson’s wagon, with his guitar by his side. “Surprise!” He lifted his hands to gesture around.

“Javi! What is all this?”

“I wanted to surprise you, querida.” He smiled endearingly as he watched you grin widely. “Now, let’s eat!”

You and Javier sat next to each other as you ate food and watched the sun sink ever deeper below the horizon. The atmosphere was more than pleasant, with the laughter ever present for what seemed like hours. 

You knew it was getting late when Javier began to set up a campfire. “This has been an amazing evening, Javi,” you said, lying beside next to his cross-legged figure. “Thank you.”

“It was worth it, seeing you smile like that.” Gently, he began strumming on his guitar. It was a random tune at first, with a gentle melody lulling you into a soft doze. It became white noise for a while, and so when you first recognised the opening chords to some familiar songs you would hear back at camp, you began laughing. 

“Oh, anything but that one!” Opening one eye, you took a moment to look at Javier. His hair fell in strands over his eyes as he watched his fingers pluck the strings. 

“What did I do to deserve someone like you?” you asked.

“I am far from the man of your dreams, Y/N,” he smirked, somewhat bashfully.

“You are more than enough, Javi; You are the man of my dreams, and I couldn’t ask for anyone better to share my life with.”

He began plucking absentmindedly again. “You have the ability to make a grown man cry, hermosa.” 

“Ah, well, it comes in handy.”

The atmosphere in the little bubble of your picnic was the most comfortable you’ve felt in a while. Only Javier had the ability to lighten the world when you thought it couldn’t get any darker. 

“What would I do without you, Javi?” Sitting up, you leaned on his shoulder, watching him play from a new angle.

“If I were without you, Yo esperaria bailar a Chalma.” He smiled, half speaking under his breath. In response, you pressed a kiss to his temple and wrapped an arm around him. 

“I love you, Javi.”

“I love you more, querida.” 

You spent half the night listening to Javier’s guitar strings and stargazing, and the other half taking the scenic route back to camp, giggling and laughing atop Boaz as he trotted back into camp. You frantically shushed him as he rounded the bend. “You’ll wake people up.”

“That’s their problem.” 

If you couldn’t shut Javier up, John sure did once he heard him. “Asshole,” he murmured as you both went past. You and Javier just giggled. As soon as you both dismounted, the first bouts of tiredness began to wash over you both. 

“Tonight’s been fun, Javi. Thank you.” Before you could react, arms encircled around your waist and Javier’s chin rested against your shoulder. He pressed soft kisses along your jawline and up the shell of your ear. 

“But mi amor…

“...Who says tonight has to be over?”

-----------------

Translations:

Querida = Dear

Mi amor = My love

Hermosa = Beautiful

Yo esperaria bailar a Chalma = (A Mexican idiom literally meaning ‘To dance to Chalma) I would wait for a miracle

[metalchickaf19]

The Bowers Gang: Ship #15 - Henry Bowers

Request: hello i would like to request a ship, if you don't mind +_+ i'm not really tall,average build, really long dark hair. i'm fond of formal office wear and in general prefer dark colors and non-revealing clothes, if that makes sense. as a person i try my best to be a good friend though at some times i'm a bit too caring and at others times i care less than i should bc i'm sick or busy af(i easily get sick.). i tend to be anxious and even a bit paranoid bc of some kind of ocd i dunno ( i get all those unnecessary thoughts like "i should leave the bus immediately bc i've got a bad feeling about this dude" and then i should look 10 times to the left and 10 to the right to calm myself somehow ._.) my hobbies is reading (mostly scandinavian detectives), watching films and playing tabletop role-playing games. also i secretly like date sims. in society i try my best to be polite and patient(i'm this person who takes all the shit goin my way to stop conflict from happening), but with my friends i can be more open and even impulsive. that's it. i hope it's not too much and my english is okay.

First and foremost, it’s kind of astonishing that you were even able to befriend The Bowers Gang at all - let alone start hooking up with their leader

Their reputation (+ Hockstetter’s hardcore creeper vibe) kept your paranoia on high alert for a long time - so much so that it was all you could do not to drop the few classes you had with specific members of the group

... And it was that insane, animal fear that would eventually cause the guys to target you later on

Hey - you were walking down the hall one day, saw the guys standing around Belch’s locker, and instantly turned on your heel to avoid them

I can’t help the fact that Patrick saw you do that

And I can’t help the fact that that gave he and the guys reason enough to start messing with you

Wound up resulting in a super adorable relationship with Bowers though, so yay (and genuine yay this time - not yay with a question mark attached to it)

Joins in whenever the guys make fun of your “office wear” proclivity (and they make fun of it often)...

... but secretly kind of likes the fact that you prefer non-revealing clothing

Mostly because he’s a misogynistic bastard who doesn’t want the girls he dates “on display” for everyone else, but still - Bowers is down with the corporate causal aesthetic

Sometimes lets you read to him, which is one of the most endearing thing I’ve ever heard  

Was originally something you only did when Henry got sick (he was in a fever-coma once, and you figured some quality Scandinavian literature couldn’t hurt), but now it happens basically every time he wants to get his mind off of something

... And Bowers wants to get his mind off of something a lot

So it’s not uncommon for people to catch you reading to him while he carves into things with his knife, puts his head in his arms and “sleeps,” etc.

Generally tries to look like he’s not paying attention to the story, even though it’s obvious he’s invested (i.e. glances over at the book for a second when something surprising happens, tends to open his eyes during intense parts when he’s had them closed for a while ...)

Aka: One of the most dangerous people in the city of Derry is becoming a hardcore reading buff, and that’s 100% because of you - congratulations

Makes all the guys check up on you whenever you get sick

... Seriously, it’s so cute - you’ll just be sitting at home, all stuffed up and gross, when suddenly you’ll get a random knock at the door

... at which point you’ll open it to find either Belch, Victor, or Patrick standing there with the rest of the guys waiting in the car behind them

Just let that imagery sink in...

Have you fully appreciated how adorable it is?

Okay, then.

Sometimes you get a Victor Criss care-package complete with aspirin, tissues, and suckers to keep you going (hence why you tend to hope it’s Victor when you hear that knock on your door), but it usually has something Hockstetter-esque added to it in the few instances when Patrick gets to bring it to you

... He once switched out a little book of poems Criss gave you with a pocket-sized copy of the Kama Sutra

Just had that on him for some reason - pocket-sized copy of the Kama Sutra

Regardless though, Henry never comes to the door (even though the guys always show up on his orders) because he’s too macho to show he’s concerned about your well-being even though it’s painfully clear he’s concerned about your well-being

Have fun with that even mix of ice and passionate care

*Somewhat triggering, but kind of lighthearted side-note*

Patrick is the single worst thing that has ever happened for your anxiety issues, and he loves every second of it

Sometimes physically interferes with your compulsions, because he doesn’t want you to be able to calm yourself (holds your face still when you try to turn your head back and forth a certain number of times, will block your exit if you start to feel overwhelmed in a specific setting, etc.)

Also actively triggers a lot of your intrusive thoughts (”You really feel safe right now, princess?” *Ultra-specific Hockstetter smirk created to make you doubt yourself* “Really?”)

Also sits behind you in one of the classes you share together, and constantly does things to fuck with your hair

It’s not really important, I’m just letting you know

Sometimes keeps a lighter under the ends just long enough to create that “singed” smell, twists a few locks around his fingers, etc.

Basically just wants to remind you that he’s there (right behind you) as often as he can, and has always liked your long dark hair, so that’s the route he takes

I’m so sorry for the paranoia in you; truly

*Somewhat triggering, yet kind of lighthearted side-note over*

You, Belch, and Victor are arguably the most tight-knit friends in the gang, and it’s kind of amazing on every level

Ya’ll share 3/6 classes together (without Patrick or Henry), so you really got used to being your authentic selves around one another over time

Nerdy inside jokes, deep talks, genuine “this is me” moments - you guys have it all (and, to be honest, you’d all be super down to arrange a hangout without the other guys if any one of you had the balls to suggest it)

Low-key very similar to The Losers’ Club when it’s just the three of you, but we’ll pretend I never said that

Victor came to one of your table-top gaming sessions once

Only attended the one time (because cold-blooded reputation/genuine lack of skill), but he befriended some of your nice table-top gaming compatriots, so good job being a positive influence

... Alright... now get ready for some pretty legit unpleasantness  

Henry unloads on you often because he knows you’re willing to take it, and sometimes the kid just can’t help himself

You know that scene from the movie where he yelled at Belch to shut up (when he was cutting Ben)?

Yeah - that type of rage-filled Bowers energy has been directed at you in the past

Low-key one of the most unhealthy aspects of your relationship, but you tend to default to radio-silence at the first sign of Henry starting to lose it on you (what with your dislike of conflict and such), so it typically never escalates past one hardcore outburst (like Belch’s “shut up!”)

Never outright apologizes to you for it, but tends to try to get physically close to you after he calms down as an indirect way of saying he’s sorry

I.e. Will sit down next to you without saying anything, will come into a room you’re in and awkwardly walk around without acknowledging you, etc.

Basically just tries to let you know he was wrong with his actions rather than with his words

... And if you want a future with Bowers, you’re gonna’ have to get used to accepting apologies you never got like that

Sorry - it’s just the way his broken brain works

Overall though, a great relationship, and one that works well with the rest of the guys

They all love you, dude - you’ve been accepted. Just feel that

[commonsensewizard]

The Founders Were Geniuses

I have a B.A. in History and am working on my M.A. in Government with focus on International Relations. I have studied with great care the Declaration of Independence, the United States Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Federalist Papers and the Articles of Confederation. I have read many of the personal communique’s of our founders, and have also studied the writings of the 18th century British MP Edmund Burke, who is fondly referred to as the Father of Conservatism, and written a collegiate essay on his views of the American Revolution. 

The idea of separation of powers within a government construct has been around since at least Aristotle. When the founders of the United States gathered to throw off the yoke of the British Empire, they were keen on doing all they could to bring as much immunity from a tyrannical government as possible. They were well aware of historical precedents, political philosophies, and current events of social upheaval within Europe. All of their personal experiences were combined with their own knowledge and wisdom, along with history and political philosophy. 

What they came up with has stood the test of more than two-hundred and forty years. To say it is perfect would be foolish at worst, naive at best. No form of government run by man will ever be classified in such a term. To denounce our form of government because the men who formed it were slave owners, economic opportunists, conquerors of native peoples, elitists, and held the view that men were superior to women; is to think men of the 18th century should be judged by 21st century standards and that these aspects of their character should be a stain on what they created. People should always remember that the only one who was qualified to throw the first stone...didn’t.

No, our form of government should be judged on its merits over the last nearly two and a half centuries. Of course, liberal progressives will laugh at this statement, mainly because they live their lives looking through rose colored, utopian scented spectacles that only allow them to see the positives in their dreams and smell the lilacs of impossibilities. What they fail to see is what is transpiring right before their lying eyes, in real time...right now. For there is a concerted effort to oust a duly elected president at any cost, by any means, through any charge...manufactured or not. This is fascinating to watch the genius of our founders play out. No other impeachment ‘process’ has taken this perilous of a route. What is happening in D.C. right now is more dangerous to the foundation of our Constitution than the Civil War was. This isn’t an outside force of arms marching to overthrow the United States. No, this is an attempt at an inside coup to tell sixty-three million Americans their vote doesn’t matter; due process doesn’t matter; innocent until proven guilty doesn’t matter; the right to face your accuser doesn’t matter; the right to see the plaintiff’s evidence doesn’t matter; the right to cross examine doesn’t matter; the right to call your own witnesses doesn’t matter; and the powers invoked to the president of the United States by Constitutional mandate doesn’t matter. And I could go on, but those are the high points. And if these enemies of the State are successful, then all of us...ALL of us...are in the same sinking boat. The rule of law in this country will be in tatters and its destiny placed in the hands who think laws don’t matter. And this is where the genius of our founders will be seen, and at its finest hour.

The House of Representatives, the founders declared, would be the only branch of our government who could wield the power of impeachment. The executive and judicial branches of the government are not allowed to do so. Once the House approves articles of impeachment, their job is OVER as a body. It only takes a simple majority in the House to approve impeachment articles. Only the House counsel(s) are in the Senate to act as prosecutor before them. This is as it should be. The House of Representatives is made up of legislators who are placed in office by their district constituents in the state they are from. The number of representatives from each state is based on population. The Senate is made up of two senators from each state, each being elected by voters in their respective states.  In other words, these two groups are as democratically elected as we get. With Representatives and Senators, mob rules. Popular votes are all that matter in these races. When they go to the capitol, those who voted them into office are then to have their best interests at the heart of the legislators selected. It doesn’t work out that way, but then again...what government is perfect.

The United States Senate is another aspect of the founders’ genius. Articles of Impeachment, once passed, goes to them. The trial of the impeached president takes place in this chamber. The House has no more say as a body. The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court sits in as judge, but has no power over the proceedings other than in a ministerial capacity to arbitrate dissensions for both sides. After the case has been presented, it takes a two thirds super majority to convict. This assures that no matter which party controls the Senate, it will be a hard mountain to climb to remove a duly elected president unless the charges of high crimes and misdemeanors are clear and concise.

What Nancy Pelosi, Adam Schiff and Jerry Nadler are doing, along with their other criminal cronies, is beyond the pale of just practices. Secret meetings? Unknown witnesses with third party information? No questions allowed from the other side? Selected leaks to the media? Hearsay being included as evidence? Transcripts being put in the public record when read as a parody? Since when did ‘reading between the lines’ become valid evidence of wrongdoing? If they can do this to a president, and open this Pandora’s Box of making up the rules as you go; do not think for one minute this will never trickle down to the common citizen. It’s almost there now. 

Our founders need to be revered, not reviled. For not only did they separate the legislative branch powers, but they kept the judicial branch out of impeachment altogether, except for the Chief Justice being involved in nothing more than a figure head position during the senate proceedings. Even the Chief Justice has no vote in the matter. Hamilton was adamant in an independent judiciary, and that is why no federal judges are elected. Federal judges have no skin in the game of politics. For if they did, then they would be beholden to the ones who put them on the bench.

So what we are seeing is a blatant attempt to circumvent the Constitution by a political party establishment who knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they have no candidate among them who can defeat Donald Trump. The only way to defeat him is to remove him by establishing the best kangaroo court they can muster and hope beyond all hope that it will work. Maybe even make him so tired of the fight he’ll just resign like Nixon did. The difference is Nixon knew the jig was up. Trump knows there isn’t a prayer the senate can snag a two thirds majority to oust him. The only other hope they have is to damage the public perception of Trump to such a degree people will get tired of it and simply not rally around one so tarnished over the last four years. What they don’t realize is that the majority of the American people do not approve of what is going on, and the massive decrease of money going into the DNC and to the poor losers running for the Democratic nomination is a sign of their political anemia.

The final thing the Democrats have missed out on, is that the founders...even though they lived in the 18th century and owned slaves and were economic opportunists and Indian conquerors and misogynists and elitist snobs...were even then FAR smarter and vastly more intelligent than the likes of them. And all of us are going to be better off for it in the long run.         

[elbiotipo]

Ok so elecciones time en Argentina, and I have a the feeling you know more than I. I was considering the FernándezX2 formula, but I honestly can't take out of my mind the fact that they supported Maduro and probably still do, what proof can we have that they won't go down that route? what do you think of the other candidates?(if you're not comfortable answering its ok just ignore this!!! It's just I heavily distrust like, every single candidate)

(Sorry for the long post, I just REALLY like to talk about politics)

I understand. Elections are a wild time, especially here on Argentina. (I will answer in english because the ask is in English).

I don’t support Maduro either, despite (in fact BECAUSE of) my leftist leanings. I know Cristina and many Kirchnerists supported him, and I think that supporting him based on the legacy of Chávez, while the Venezuelan people suffers and cries for freedom is wrong. However, I also believe that any solution for Venezuela MUST start with dialogue, by the simple and pragmatic fact that Maduro still holds power there, despite the opposition.

Also, Alberto Fernández has took a more pragmatic stance on this. You can read his opinions here: https://www.infobae.com/politica/2019/07/05/tras-las-criticas-de-macri-alberto-fernandez-reconocio-que-en-el-regimen-de-maduro-hay-abusos-y-arbitrariedades-del-estado/

He isn’t alone on this. Uruguay and México have also called for dialogue, as well as many other countries. Now, I think even with this, he is too soft in this, but I also think the current strategy of the Lima Group of cutting all dialogue with Maduro has evidently failed, and another approach is needed.

…

However I will be very clear and strong on this: the Argentine right-wing is using the real suffering of the Venezuelan people as political manipulation and it’s disgusting. The fear of “Becoming Venezuela” is being preached 24/7 in an attempt to spread fear and division. It’s unfounded, stupid, and uses an actual humanitarian crisis to manipulate public opinion. It humilliates the Venezuelan people and does not help towards a solution. They don’t really care about Maduro or Venezuela; only the political points they can extract from it.

We cannot “Become Venezuela” because we are, well, Argentina… Venezuela is the classical example of a single-export nation, in this case oil, that has little local industries and mostly imports all other things, from food to consumer goods. Argentina, meanwhile, has a midly diversified economy; while our main production and exports are indeed agricultural products and food such as soybean, we also have (for now…) a consumer industry, and we produce all of our own food.

Compare and contrast; these are Venezuela’s exports by renueve in 2016:

And these are Argentina’s:

Brown is oil and fossil fuels, yellow is foodstuffs and associated products. The rest are various industries: services, consumer goods, automotives, construction, industrial parts, and so on.

Now, exports don’t mean everything a country produces, but they give us a pretty good idea of the complexity and nature of a national economy. Argentina is a net food producer with a relatively good national industry (again, for now…). Venezuela is a oil-exporting nation that is sensitive to changes on the trade of that commodity. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem: Oil-exporting economies can grow and work very well, but Maduro’s incompetence and corruption has ruined the nation to an unprecedented state in history, and that’s why the crisis has become so deep.

But no nation is inmune to political mismanagment, and certainly not Argentina. Even with that, could we come to a point like Venezuela with the return of Kirchnerism?

From me, the answer is a confident no.

Why? Simply because the Kirchnerist era was a lot more moderate than what media sells us.

Neoliberals and “economists” tells us the catastrophic tale of rampant spending, national intervention, closing of trade, lack of employment, and other disasters encompassed under the scary word “populism”. If you believed them, you would think Argentina was a Soviet-bloc country that needed to liberalize and privatize everything to refloat again (and go ask them how it worked there…)

In fact, while there were many economical missteps like the “cepo” and the INDEC manipulation (that Alberto has already recognized and will not repeat), Argentina… had a quite moderate and coherent economical system? Tariffs were high, sure, but it’s normal to have high tariffs in key exports to have higher income (and the rich agricultural owners can certainly pay it). Protectionism in key industrial and high-tech industries is necessary for a relatively mid-level economy like us, and is, in fact, one of the reasons economies like South Korea and Japan had their amazing successes once they developed critical size for those industries. The so feared by the economists mass nationalization didn’t happen either, except for YPF, some trains, and Aerolíneas, and I believe there is little argument against our oil resources being back in hand of the state (and Macri is certainly enjoying it thanks to Vaca Muerta, one of the few industries currently growing). Taxes were high and yes, some social plans were mismanaged, but Argentina has an important public education, healthcare, science, social, cultural, and public works sector (not to mention the salaries of the massive police/gendarmerie forces, which nobody wants to talk about apparently…), so obviously relatively high taxes are needed. While I admit some things might be better, I don’t know about you, but I (well, my family) have gotten my taxes back through education, health, roads, and I am proud that my country has, despite all, such a strong scientific and cultural tradition. And of course, labor rights are *strict* (depending where you look…) thanks to a long legacy of worker’s struggles, but are we really gonna lower them just to bring foreign megacorporations to take advantage of us? I think not, thanks.

In fact, besides somewhat high taxes and tariffs, and of course corruption (but that’s a whole other deal…), Argentina during the Kirchnerist years wasn’t the insanity they say. Maybe not an investors paradise, but wasn’t the socialist (lol, another scary word) mismanagement disaster the media sold us, and still sells us. And even in those years we had investments from all over the world. 4 years of Macri and economic “liberalization” and there have been no promised “lluvia de inversiones” for all the destruction of our own economy.

I believe you could compare your own quality of life in those years with right now, but that depends on the particular case. I KNOW my quality of life has descended since Macri took power.

Now, with the current inflation, desindustrialization (there has been a record THREE YEARS of industrial decay on Argentina, and the few factories still open operate at less than 50%), primarization of the economy (the main winners of this economic model are big agribusiness and financial enterprises), historical debts (some to be paid A CENTURY from now) and a nation dependent from the IMF and thus the whims of USA politics, which economic model has brought us closer to collapse, in even less years?

Tarea para la casa.

…

As for the other candidates:

I believed I explained plenty why I never voted for Macri and I won’t vote for him this time either.

I think Lavagna is out of touch, and couldn’t even keep his coalition together, so I doubt his leadership skills; his “centrism” offers little to me. The other progressive parties have no managed to make a coherent option either.

 I sympathize with Del Caño and the Left, but they don’t have the leadership and support to make their promises come true, their parties are always fighting between themselves, and I can’t afford to vote for them, not in this crucial election.

Espert is a neoliberal flirting with anarchocapitalism, defending the worst of the Menemist era, his response to our problems would be accelerating privatization, “liberalization” and the destruction of the economy. He’s also a misogynist pervert, and inmature like his followers. I have a strong dislike for the guy.

I would also take this opportunity to say RIP Unión Cívica Radical (1891-2015). While they were the greatest rivals to Peronism and I never voted for them, I have the outmost respect for those radicals who fought for democracy and civil rights. Unfortunately, the UCR joined the right instead of keeping to its social-democratic ideals (did you know the UCR is an official member of the Socialist International? no, no es joda), and the PRO has chewed and spit them. A sad ending for such a party.

The other far-right and far-left parties are irrelevant, but I hope bazofias such as the Frente Patriota get as few votes as possible.

And of course, there’s Romero Feris, a corrupt, nearly feudal character who those from Corrientes know well, who has used necromancy to revive the Partido Autonomista Nacional, the party of Julio A. Roca. No only it’s corrupt, regressive and racist, it’s also probably haunted and I don’t want ghosts running around my goverment.

I’ve always been a zurdoperoncho, but as it stands now, FernándezX2 is the best option. Alberto is a coherent, disciplined and skilled man, who has proven himself during the Néstor presidency as a good leader, he’s even a little too moderate for my tastes, but the rest of his coalition balances that. Regardless of what you might think of Cristina, she’s the most important political figure of Argentina, and her prescence and leadership is needed for a sucessful progressive political project. The rest of their coalition (except for Massa, who I hate) also have the support and ideas to make their goverment sucessful.

Like with all politicians, I have my objections to some of their positions, and I don’t think they are saints. But I think they are not only the least worst, but indeed the best option we have. I will vote for them with conviction.

[shirtlesssammy]

4x13: After School Special

Then:

Sam and Dean were once kids, and they had a pretty crappy father.

Now:

High school, amirite?

A joyous time where friends call you “slut” so you turn around and call a nice helpful classmate a “fat, ugly pig”, only to have the nice helpful classmate turn around and swirly you to death the next day in the bathroom. Plus your parents set your curfew at 9 pm on weekdays.

April, the girl who murdered her classmate, is in an institution. No one believes her story, but Sam Winchester in white scrubs does. Sam asks about sulfur or black smoke, but April just thinks he’s crazy.

Back in the Impala, Sam tells Dean that he believes April’s story and thinks they’ve got a case of demonic possession. The only thing off about it is that she didn’t see any black smoke. Time to check out the school. Dean sarcastically agrees. “Truman High, home of the Bombers.” (Oof, I’m surprised there wasn’t a referendum in that town to change that mascot!)

(And because I paused the video and was granted this aesthetically pleasing shot, I will share with the class)

It seems that the brothers went to this school once upon a time. Dean wants to know their cover. “FBI? Homeland Security? Swedish Exchange students?” Sam’s got an idea.

Cue Foreigner’s “Long, Long Way From Home”, porn shots of Baby, and a flashback to Sam and Dean’s first day at Truman High. A) Baby Sam in his little Carhartt just is the cutest thing ever. B) For all the math nerds out there, the caption says “Truman High School, 1997”. Sam says that it’s November. So, do the math and Dean should have graduated in the spring of 1997. We all know he didn’t because he got his GED. So, the question remains, was Dean held back in school (a VERY real possibility considering his extreme intelligence and extreme dislike for book learning, and all the monster hunts and moving and being a full time parent, etc.) or is he going through the motions of school just to watch out for Sammy? I don’t know which is worse.

Sam and Dean are introduced to their respective classmates. As Sam plops his stuff down on his new desk, his butterfly knife falls out. Millhouse Barry, another student that will soon become friends of sorts with Sam, notices.

Dean, meanwhile is pressing hard on the condescending, misogynistic bravado that we all know isn’t him at all. I really love this tidbit of information that Jensen gave to Brock Kelly, who played the flashback Dean in this episode.  

In Sam’s classroom, while the teacher discusses an essay assignment, Barry gets bullied by another classmate. Sam Fucking Winchester tells the bully to knock it off. Sam, who hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet, is called a midget and Sam, gifted with the self-confidence of a boy that has his tribe (albeit small) and an outsider’s assurance that fitting in won’t matter to his drifter lifestyle (and that butterfly knife in his pocket, no doubt), challenges the bully. The bully flinches.

Present day Sam wanders the halls of Truman High as a custodian. He just walks past his old English class when his old English teacher, Mr. Wyatt, comes out.

Present day Dean is A LOT. He’s dressed as the substitute gym teacher. And well, we all know how much Dean loves to dress up. When he leans into an act, he leans into an act.

He tasks his poor underlings to the art of the Dodge while reconvening with Sam. Sam shames Dean’s outfit, and Dean’s slight look of abashment is so sad. The dude loves to LARP. Sam has been all over the school but not one clue. Maybe there isn’t a case after all.

Meanwhile in Home Ec, Male cheerleader threatens his table partner with a fist to his throat if he doesn’t share his homework. So, the other dude does what any sane person would do and takes said fist and pushes it into a whirling food processor. Sam is there to see the cheerleader whisked away and the other kid fall to the floor, black goo oozing from his ear.

While the school has a non-violence assembly, Sam and Dean have free reign to search the school for EMF and ghosts. 

They’re dealing with a seriously pissed off ghost. Dean already did a little searching in the principal's office and found out that there was one suicide back in 1998, Barry Cook.

Flashback to this gem of a school banner:

Mr. Wanek is the art teacher. ALL THE HEARTS.

We’re shown more bullying of Barry with Sam coming to help. Sam learns that Barry wants to be a veterinarian. “You like animals?” dog loving Sam inquires. “They’re a lot nicer than people.” We also learn that Sam is adorable in his little brown striped hoodie. 

Dean, meanwhile, is making out with a fellow student in the broom closet. This whole scene is a gold mine for Dean analysis. Needless to say, the more Dean tells the girl about his life, the more her alarm bells are going off for him. You’re life isn’t normal or healthy, Dean bby.

Sam and Barry run into Barry’s bully, Dirk, in the hallway. Sam tells Barry to run while Dirk threatens Sam. Sam just stands him down, and starts to walk away before Dirk punches him. His English teacher breaks it up.

In the present day, Sam and Dean burn Barry’s bones and leave town.

Sam laments the fact that if he could have stayed at Truman High just a little longer, maybe he could have helped Barry. Dean tries to console him, and tells him that it was a good thing they got out of there so soon. Sam doesn’t think it was all bad.

Flashback to Dean raging about what Dirk did to Sam, but Sam doesn’t want Dean’s help. He wants to be normal. They’re stuck in this town for at least another week (MY GOD, JOHN WINCHESTER. This. Is. Child. Neglect.) (Sidenote: Dean tells Sam that Amanda wants him to meet her parents. He then says he doesn’t “do parents” and well, we know he met Cassie’s mom and he met Cas’s dad, so sometimes he’ll meet the parents. Just saying, and welcome to my world where I can make literally anything about Dean and Cas.)

Back in time, Mr. Wyatt pulls him aside to ask him about a “non-fiction” essay he turned in where he describes how he and his family killed a werewolf over the summer. Sam’s only somewhat abashed. He’s clearly taken on the mentality that whatever he does in class won’t matter since they’ll be moving on soon. But the teacher tells Sam that his work is good enough that he could be a writer someday. Sam shuts him down: he has to go into the “family business.” (Hey Sam, you can always write on the side, baby.) The teacher asks him if he wants to go into the family business. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” Sam says. SAMMY. While I weep over Sam’s childhood, the teacher encourages Sam to make his own choices in life.

For Pretty Patterns Science

In the present, Sam heads back to find the teacher who encouraged him when he was a child. Standing nervously outside the door, he’s interrupted by a girl who asks him for directions. “Thanks, Sam,” she tells him when he helps her and then she STABS HIM OH MY GOD. “You got tall.” 

She starts beating him up, ectoplasm oozing. Sam shoves a handful of salt into her mouth and expels the ghost.

Back at the car, Dean mirrors the school scene from earlier. He feeds Sam alcohol while he rages about ripping out the ghost’s lungs. “Or, you know what I mean.” They realize that all three of the attacking kids rode the same school bus.

Cut to Dean stalking through the suspect school bus with his shotgun, as one does.

They’re looking for hair, for skin, for anything that might tie a ghost to the bus. Dean finds the bus driver’s recent certification; he started the route 2 weeks ago. He’s the dad of Dirk, Sam’s youthful tormentor.

In the past, Sam confronts Dirk for beating up Barry. When Dirk attacks him, Sam’s had enough. He pulls out his raised-from-birth fighting tactics and quickly beats Dirk to the ground. “You’re not tough. You’re just a jerk. Dirk the jerk.” The nickname spreads like wildfire.

Sam and Dean talk to Dirk’s dad. Dirk died when he was 18 of an overdose. Dirk Sr. tells them that Dirk was poor and bullied. When he was thirteen, his mom got cancer and Dirk took care of her while he dad worked three jobs. As a cloud of guilt descends on Sam, Dean asks for Dirk’s burial site. Unfortunately, Dirk Sr. had him cremated. “All of him?” Dean asks. Dean. Bean.

It gets the job done. Dirk Sr. keeps a lock of Dirk’s hair in the bible on his bus.

That evening, the bus ferries a load of (presumably) football players to a game. Ectoplasm oozes out of the bus driver’s nose. The bus rams over a set of road spikes. I’m asking the screen WHY there are road spikes when Sam Winchester approaches the bus driver. Yeah, motha fuckahs, it’s a Winchester trap. (Related: they keep ROAD SPIKES in Baby’s trunk? Ooookay.) Dean ties up the bus driver, aka Dirk, in salt-soaked rope and then heads into the bus to find Dirk’s remains. He gets recognized as the gym teacher but Dean deflects: He’s 21 Jump Street, man. This ain’t nothin’ but a drug bust.

Dean finds the bible, but there’s nothing in it. Dirk falls into his villain monologue. In his experience, Sam and the popular kids are the bullies - they’re evil. “I’m not evil,” Sam protests because he is CUT TO THE CORE by being called evil. (Me: remembers that this is Season 4 and nods knowingly.)

“We were scared and miserable and we took it out on each other...that’s high school. But you suffer through that and it gets better.” Sam’s words don’t convince Dirk, who bursts free of his bonds. He gets shot out of the bus driver’s body and possesses one of the students. While Sam’s getting the crap beaten out of him, Dean searches everywhere for the hair, eventually finding it in the bus driver’s shoe.

Dean fumbles with his lighter (MY GOD invest in better lighters, boys) and then lights the sheaf of hair on fire. Dirk bursts free from the student and dissolves into flame.

And...we’re in flashbacks again. Dean’s kissing a different girl in the supply closet. Amanda walks in and Dean very, very poorly tries to cover.

Amanda delivers a scathing analysis of Dean: “I thought maybe underneath your whole ‘I could give a crap,’ bad-boy thing, that there was something more going on. I mean, like the way you are with your brother. But I was wrong. And you spend so much time trying to convince people that you're cool...but it's just an act. We both know that you're just a sad, lonely little kid. And I feel sorry for you, Dean.” This devastates Dean, of course. We close the episode with Sam riding an absolute high, beloved by the school and Dean at his lowest. John Winchester shows up just in time, or way too soon, depending on your viewpoint. They climb into John’s car, Sam waves goodbye to Barry, and they leave town.

In the present, Sam finally heads in to talk to Mr. Wyatt. (Sam’s still bruised and cut from the fight so...awkward.) He thanks Mr. Wyatt for the advice he gave him years ago. Sam admits that he made his own choices for a little while but got pulled into the family business in the end. Oh, Sammy. <3 “You took an interest in me when no one else did,” Sam tells him. “That matters.”

“The only thing that really matters is that you’re happy,” Mr. Wyatt tells him. “Are you happy, Sam?”

And...fin.

Rollin’ with the Quotes:

You got your lunch? Books? Butterfly knife?

The whistle makes me their god.

I have to go into the family business.

There may be three or four big choices that shape someone's whole life, and you need to be the one that makes them, not anyone else.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[gaycrouton]

Femininity

Words of Love 6/27 One of my favorites [Scully gets her period at the office and Mulder tries his best to help her.]

Femininity: (noun) the quality or nature of the female sex

There was not a day that went by in their partnership where Mulder did not recognize Scully wholeheartedly as his equal. Unlike his colleagues at the Bureau, this was not a conscious choice that took effort. She was a woman, and she was by far the best agent he had ever worked with, bar none. Even though it was the nineties, it seemed many men they came in contact with were still a bit archaic in their thinking.

He was aware that every comment aimed at her that pissed him off was only a glimpse at what she must deal with on a daily basis, and it infuriated him. Whether it be a male agent’s appreciative glance that lasted too long or someone on a crime scene refusing to address her, he felt his blood boil. There was no reason that her womanhood made her any less capable as an agent than his manhood did.

He had to be honest, even though he found her outrageously attractive, he was so worried about making sure to conceal his admiration so that she didn’t lump him in with the misogynistic pigs around the office, that he sometimes ignored the importance of regarding her as a woman.

In his mind, she was the definition of femininity. She was stunningly beautiful, ferociously witty, unwaveringly intelligent, and, most importantly, incredibly independent and strong. He loved her with every fiber of his being.

Back in the day he used to hide his appreciation of her behind a guise of humor, “I think it’s remotely possible that someone might think you’re hot.” Only within the past few years, now that he felt comfortable in her trust in him, that he felt okay with openly flirting with her.

Though, it wasn’t until recently that he realized the importance of recognizing her, not only as a partner, but as a female, and that recognition came in the most usual of circumstances.

It was on a normal Thursday that had consisted of nothing but paperwork. They had sat in their respective areas, typing in companionable silence for essentially the entire work day. It was nearing five, and for the past half-hour, Scully had started shifting uncomfortably in her seat, a noticeable grimace on her face. He didn’t fully understand why, but she took off her short jacket and draped it on the seat underneath her. When he had asked her what was wrong, she insisted she was fine and he took her for her word. It was only when he announced their shifts were over, but she made no attempt to move, that he realized something might be wrong.

“Scully, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked from over his desk.

She looked like she was contemplating something before meeting his gaze, he noticed a slight blush had spread on her cheeks. His worry and confusion were increased by what left her mouth. “Mulder, you know I trust you right?”

“Yeah, Scully you’re scaring me. Is something wrong?”

She nodded her head vigorously to assuage his worries. “N-no, I’m fine. I just-,” she paused before muttering quietly under her breath, “This is so embarrassing.”

Now that he knew she was okay, his curiosity was piqued. Embarrassing?  “Scully, you can tell me anything. I promise I won’t tease you if it will make you feel better.”

She regarded him for a moment before continuing. “Okay. I might need your help, but I need you to be mature about this.”

He simply nodded, having no idea where this could be going. Scully let out a long sigh before standing up and smoothing out her ivory-white skirt. “I’m pretty sure I got my period, and I need you to tell me if I bled through my skirt,” she mumbled it so fast, he wasn’t sure if he heard her right. When she turned around, he had no doubts that was what she asked.

On most occasions, he definitely would have teased her about asking him to check her out. But right now all he could focus on was the blood-red stain blossoming out around the middle of her skirt. It was significantly large, and now the seat-shifting and grimacing made sense. She must’ve laid her jacket down so she didn’t bleed on the fabric of the chair.

“I’m sorry, Scully. You definitely did. Do you need to sit down? Are you sure you’re okay? That means you bled through your underwear, your tights, and your skirt. That just seems like so much blood, is that normal?” He knew he was rambling, and even though he knew what it was, he would never be comfortable with seeing blood on her. He stood up and made his way to stand closer to her.

He was glad to see, even though she was still embarrassed, she was clearly amused by him. When she answered, she couldn’t keep the coy smile off her face. “Yes, Mulder. I promise this is normal. I was just so engrossed in typing up the reports that I didn’t notice until… it became obvious to me,” she broke off not wanting to get to graphic.

“Were you just sitting in pain? Why didn’t you say anything?” He was worried she had been afraid he would judge her and had been waiting for him to leave before dealing with it.

“I figured I’d just wait until we left for the day, but I don’t know how to leave right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want anyone upstairs to see this Mulder!” she exclaimed. “I’m already made fun of enough for being a ‘bitch.’ If they saw this, it would be five steps back for women in the office. Anytime a woman is assertive, the guys will make ‘on the rag’ jokes.”

Mulder appreciated her honesty, and his heart broke for her. This was a circumstance that he had never even imagined and would never have to go through himself. He was kind of at a loss for what to do. “Scully, I don’t think anyone thinks you’re a bitch.” She shot him an amused, knowing glance and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay, well I know you’re not a bitch.”

“Thank you, Mulder,” she laughed, appreciating the fact he was lightning the mood for her.

A light bulb went off and he was pleased with his idea. “Scully, why don’t you wear my jacket? That would probably go low enough to cover your predicament.”

She looked like she was considering his offer before a small frown graced her face. “I appreciate your offer, but I think being seen in your jacket would cause just as many rumors as someone seeing the stain.”

He realized her point immediately. They had just been called into Skinner’s office last month after some rumors upstairs got a little too out of hand. Unbeknownst to them, apparently they were having an illicit affair and had been ‘seen’ at nearly twenty different romantic hot-spots around D.C. by various members of the secretary pool. Skinner had confronted them, much to their embarrassment, and they had to dissuade the rumors and reassure him that their relationship was nothing beyond platonic. Much to Mulder’s despair. He wished the rumors were true, but he would never risk what they had by making a move.

“Do you have your coat or maybe a change of clothes in your car? I could run and go get them for you?” he offered.

“I really appreciate that, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything.” She paused a minute before sighing again. “Do you think you could do me a favor? Could you just walk behind me and hide the stain with your body?” She wasn’t making eye contact anymore and he knew this was taking a lot for her to ask.

“Of course, Scully. Absolutely anything you need. I’ll drape my jacket around my arm to help look inconspicuous.” That earned him a hearty smile of appreciation and she gathered her stuff up, including her lightly bloodstained top she had been sitting on, shoving everything in her purse before they started to the door.

The trek to the parking garage wasn’t too far, but it probably felt like miles to her. When she opened up their office door, she poked her head around to make sure the coast was clear. It was a quarter after five, and most agents liked to leave as soon as possible. She nodded at him that they were good to go, and he followed her after locking the door behind them.

They walked in tandem to the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. Why they couldn’t have an elevator leading from the basement to the parking garage was lost on him, and was currently the source of a lot of stress for Scully. Those few hallways distancing one elevator from the other was going to be the stretch with the most people.

She sighed as the elevator doors opened and she made swift strides to get out. Mulder didn’t know if it would be better for him to stand directly behind her like she asked, or go the less creepy route and place his hand on the small of her back, allowing his jacket to drape down and hide her. Thinking the latter would be less suspicious, he gently placed a hand on where he knew her tattoo was and walked down the hall with her.

He knew some of the secretaries were turning and staring, but honestly, it’s not like the rumors would be any different than what they already were. He could feel Scully slightly tense under the attention, but they were able to make it to her car without a hitch. She smiled up at him, but he could see her brow was furrowed in pain and she was trying to subtly grab her side.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” He didn’t want to sound condescending, he knew full well she could take care of herself and had dealt with this for god knows how long, but, call him ridiculous, but he could only focus on the fact his petite partner was freely bleeding out right now.

She laughed and he grinned at the sweet sound. “Yes Mulder, I’ll survive. Thank you for making this less humiliating for me than it could have been.” She opened up her car door, re-setting down her stained top on her seat. She turned to him and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, well really his jaw since that’s about all she could reach, even on her tip-toes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He couldn’t help the grin that made its way to his face at the gesture and waved her off as she drove away. He got into his car and started on his normal route back home.

It wasn’t as if he was oblivious to the intricacies of the female reproductive system, he even knew more details about Scully’s than what could have possibly been anticipated, but he had genuinely never considered the fact she had to deal with this every month. He felt his heart sink when he realized what a period might represent for Scully. Normally blood represented fertility and healthy ovulation. Things that Scully didn’t have. Was this monthly occurrence a source of great pain for for her? Blood of life that would never provide. A slight twinge of guilt started gnawing at him when he started to really think about it. How many times have I pushed her and made her run around chasing monsters and serial killers when she was in pain and bleeding?

He knew she was tough and it’s not like she would ever opt out on a case just because of this, she obviously had never made a big deal out of it, but the fact he had never taken it into consideration bothered him. He tried to remember what they were doing a month ago from today, and let out an exasperated sigh when he realized it was the case that he had snapped at her. She had done two autopsies back to back and had protested when he asked that she do a third.

“Mulder, I’ve been on my feet for eight hours. The lab will probably be so swamped with what I just sent in, that it wouldn’t make a difference if this body’s samples were sent in tonight or tomorrow morning.” He remembered she had been laying on her bed awkwardly and looked truly exhausted.

“Sure. Fine. Whatever.” He had snottily regurgitated those charged words back at her before storming off. Retrospectively, regardless of her predicament, he was still totally out of line and was being a total dick. But with the new knowledge that she had probably been having cramps and soreness all day while on her feet, added to his building guilt.

Running a hand through his hair, he pulled over to the side of the road to the nearest convenience store. He just wanted to do something nice for her. Scanning the aisles, he realized he was a little out of his element. He never really had been close enough with a woman before to hear her talk about her menstrual cycle, so he was at a loss as to what would help. He tried to summon all the knowledge he had accumulated from television shows and readings and found himself frowning at how grossly underrepresented this normal-bodily function was in the media.

Deciding he didn’t need to start a women’s rights rally in the middle of the store, he stuck with what was obvious, and what he knew Scully liked. He left the store with Midol, a heating pad, red and white wine, that weird chili flavored chocolate she raved about, and a bouquet of flowers. He couldn’t help the embarrassed blush that broke out on his face at the older store clerk's praises, “What a wonderful young man you are! Taking care of your woman like this. The world needs more fellows like you!”

He made his way to Scully’s apartment and felt slight worry blossom in the pit of his stomach. Is this too much? Will she be offended? Deciding it was too late to worry, he jogged up to her apartment, lightly knocking on the door with his offerings behind his back.

She opened the door after a moment and met him with surprised eyes, “Mulder, what’s up?” He smiled down at her choice of pyjamas; what he recognized to be an old Yale sweater he thought he had lost with polka dotted silk shorts. Her eyes followed his gaze and an embarrassed grin spread across her face.

He loved it and didn’t want her to think she had to give it back, so he brought the flowers and the bag of goodies from behind his back, earning him a soft gasp. “Mulder, what is all this?” She asked, taking the bouquet and bag from his hands, ushering him inside. He closed the door behind him as she made her way to the kitchen counter, opening the bag.

All the sudden feeling shy, he rubbed the back of his neck while explaining himself. “Well, I still felt bad that you had to deal with that today, and then on my way home, I realized that I never took your well being into consideration while we were on cases. Well, I mean, I cared about your well being, but not in regards to your time of the month. And while I know you would never make a big deal out of it, and I promise I won’t either, but I just felt like a dick for being so hard on you, and I wanted to make you feel better.” During his speech he got a bit more confident at the beaming smile she had while unpacking her gifts.

She looked up at him and surprise him when he saw tears in her eyes. “Mulder, this is so sweet, thank you so much.” She walked around the table and gave him a big hug, which he relished every second of.

After a moment, she looked up at him with an embarrassed chuckle and broke the hug, wiping away the tears she had shed. “Um, I just finished making soup. You can have some if you want to stay and watch a movie with me?” she offered.

“I would love that,” he beamed. She would never cease to amaze him.

[maskydoo-old]

Nightmare Neighbors 4

(I’m writing out scripts for upcoming storytime style youtube videos, and posting what I have here. Note that this is a true story. Feedback is welcome.)

Up to a point, I tried to give my neighbors, Loony and Toony Feckwad, the benefit of the doubt.

Sure, they were definitely acting like weirdos, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re up to no good.

Maybe they were just really, unfathomably socially inept and genuinely did not realize how inappropriate they were being.

Maybe they’re just having a few bad days, and I was only seeing them at their worst.  

Maybe they’re just plain weird people, but… ehhhh…. probably harmless.

Maybe my increasing suspicion of them had more to do with my own stress than anything else?

I was gas-lighting the shit out of myself. I was looking for ways to rationalize their antics, doubting my own perceptions and creeping unease.

I just didn’t want to believe that these people could really be out to get me and for no reason at all as I’ve done anything at all to them. I want the world to make sense. I wanted to believe people are rational, reasonable. And this just didn’t fit.

I was just too patient, too willing to be understanding, and too forgiving to see the situation for what it was. You might think that’s giving myself a compliment. It isn’t. It makes an easy target.

Doubting your intuition, ignoring warning signs, and denying your own situation helps the aggressors. Bullies rely on the politeness and meekness of their targets in order to get away with abuse.  

But in the end, even I could only gaslight myself for so long. Eventually, their insanity and increasing hostility got to be undeniable.

Right out of the harassing neighbors handbook, the people I’m referring to as Loony and Toony Farkwad started wasting police time with made-up noise complaints.

Now, I won’t pretend my dogs never bark, but when they do, I bring them inside. Duh.  

And in the middle of the day, among all the cars, construction, lawnmowers, and playing kids, what’s a few barks anyway? It’s not like she’s out there at some unreasonable hour, like, oh, say, 3 am.

And it’s not like mine are the only dogs in the neighborhood. There actually were a few nuisance barkers around, dogs who were left outside prettymuch 24/7, and would not be brought in no matter how much or how lard they barked and barked and barked.

Those poor doggy lungs.

Don’t. Don’t do this. It’s not OK to treat your dogs like this. If you’re not going to take proper care of your dog, if you’re just going to leave it alone outside all of its short life, don’t get a dog.

Get a houseplant. A fake one.

I assumed the neighbors just mistook one of the other barking dogs for mine. I know my own dog’s voice but there’s no reason to expect other people would. Honest mistake.

Then I got to talking with one of the other neighbors across the street. Turned out, his family had their own run-ins with the Feckwads before I moved in.

His wife even caught Loony looking over this neighbor’s fence, yelling his dog and kicking the fence boards to provoke the dog to bark as much as possible, then recording the dog’s freak-out with her phone.

Yes. Loony went to these peoples’ house, across the street, all so she could report the barking that she intentionally caused.

It wasn’t a matter of making any mistake. The Feckwads were just making bogus reports on purpose.

Why? What do they stand to gain from this? How do these people not have anything better to do?!

So there I was with animal control showing up at my door to give me warnings.

Weird that this only happens during periods when I live alone, and not when my boyfriend is home from his job overseas, even though the dogs were exactly the same.

One morning, and by morning I mean nearly 7AM, you know, when, noise ordinances end, road works begin, kids head to school, adults go to work, and prettymuch everyone is generally awake, I put my dogs outside for a few minutes, just long enough to change into my uniform.

I was just about to bring them in anyway when one of my dogs barked. Once.

Bark.

There was one, single bark.

“Molly, Shadow.”

“Shut those F-ing dogs up!!”

This guy. This freaking guy.

Tick seriously stuck his head right out his bedroom window, which overlooked my yard and the back door, and was just screaming his head off.

What. What does it look like I’m doing? I was clearly bringing my dogs inside already.

Literally the only reason he’s even able to yell at me at all was because I just opened up the door to do the exact thing he was demanding.

Even after my dogs were in the house. He was still screaming. Why? To accomplish what, exactly?

“BLAH BLAH BLAH ALL THE BARKING AT THIS UNGODLY HOUR!!!”

Oh. Oh OK. I guess 7 is an ungodly hour for a dog to bark, but 3AM, that’s just a perfect time to be creeping around ambushing women alone in the dark.

And here he is, hollering. If he hadn’t come to the window to yell, he could have quiet by now, we all could. He was being louder now than my dogs ever were.

Tch! Whatever. I had enough.

Me: “Is this how adults behave?”

(slam door)

This is when I started going outside with my dogs whenever they were in the yard, recording the whole while, making sure they didn’t make a peep, and being ready to prove it. I’d also be able to record Toony if he acted up like that again.

You’d think that now that it was certain that that my dogs weren’t a problem, the Feckwads would have nothing to be mad about. Their complaint is solved.

But that would be assuming these were reasonable people, and that their grievance was ever honest in the first place. Instead, the aggression only increased.

Loony and Toony saw that their bogus complaints, while annoying, weren’t actually getting me in any kind of trouble since they couldn’t prove anything. I didn’t give them the opportunity to create evidence like Loony did with the neighbor across the street.

So they moved on to new plans.

I felt like I was being watched whenever I was outside. I’d hear muffled voices, and shifting blinds from their windows.

Then, Loony started trying to catch me whenever I was outside. Day, night, whenever, didn’t matter.

I’d step outside, maybe to take out my trash or something, then – ope - here comes Loony. She’d stomp my way, right to my property, with body language like she’s looking for a fight.

Nope. Not dealing with this. Whatever she has planned, it’s clearly not an apology. So… I’m out.

(abandon trash, slam door.)

I started going outside less.

Again, it was only me, a 4’11 woman they ever have any words for. They never have anything to say with my 6’3, muscle-bound boyfriend around.

Another day, Luna spied me through her window, then came right out and did thing where she’d stomp my way like a mad cow charging, yet again.

But this time, I didn’t move.

She was nearly to me when (Surprise motha-f!* ) OOPS! Miss something sweetheart? My boyfriend only just got back from oversees, and they hadn’t noticed yet. Now there he was, sitting in the car parked next to me, watching.  

Luna stopped dead in her tracks! I could see the wheels spinning while she considered her options. She pulled a hard turn and pretended she was out there to check her mailbox.

Oh, just taking the scenic route were ya, hun? Yeah. I’m sure.

Now why would she do that? If she had any good intentions, if she was just there to talk to me, or to make some reasonable neighborly complaint, then why would she suddenly abandon her course? She wouldn’t. She backed off immediately because she was up to no good, but suddenly realized I was not as vulnerable as she thought.

I wonder if they thought my boyfriend and I broke up, that he was gone for good and I would remain alone. They sure minded themselves when he returned.

As long as they knew my boyfriend was around, the neighbors kept their heads down. No screaming at me. No stomping at me. No ambushing me in the dark. No bogus noise complaints. No making a peep at all. Nothing.

But that couldn’t last long. Soon, boyfriend had to leave the country again. And as unreasonable as these people were, they still possessed basic pattern recognition.

They waited for a few weeks to make sure he was gone, then they’d get back up with their antics. And on every event, they’d escalate, getting crazier and crazier.

One night, when I got home from work, they were waiting for me. Yes, again. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them lurking in the darkut this night the crazy jumped to a new level.

“My neighbor Maskydoo McSurname at 8802 Illusion Drive is a ------ -------- --------- --------!”

Toony was outside, in the dark somewhere I couldn’t see, shouting my full name and address (why my address?,) followed by calling me a long string of vulgar and misogynist insults.

By now, the neighbors screaming all the insults they could whenever they saw me wasn’t even new. They’ve done that plenty enough it hardly got my attention.

What was new was the how.

Toony was shouting about me in third person, as if he was talking to someone else about me.

It was like what little bratty kids do when someone they don’t like is around. They suddenly turn to their friend and start loudly trash talking that person as if they weren’t aware that person was there but it’s totally fake?

It was like that. It would be pathetically sad if it weren’t so disturbing. What adult does this?

As dark as it was, I wasn’t even sure if there was even anyone actually there with him, or if he was out there alone pretending. I’m not sure which would be creepier.

I wonder if he figured it would be some kind of legal loophole, harassing me like this, claiming he wasn’t actually yelling at me… just about me.

He wasn’t even pretending to have some kind of grievance anymore. Couldn’t be bothered to make anything up.

It was just a series of loudly yelled insults.

I didn’t say anything. I was honestly too shocked to. I just spent a minute questioning everything.

What? What?! I mean - What?! Is this guy serious? He can NOT be serious. Who does this? How is this a thing that anyone does? Is this how adults behave? I. What? Is this real life?

I’ve moved in next to a Youtube comments section.

Among other things, I’m a C word, a B word, and F-ing C word and B word. Typical generic insults.

But he did get a little more original. I’m rancid, disgusting, Heinous -

Woah, heinous?

Really breaking out the thesaurus on that one. That’s worth like a 10-points in Scrabble right there.

He must have been pretty impressed with himself on that one, he repeated it a lot.

Ugly-

What, am I in violation of a city ugly ordinance now?

Fake Toony: Hello, police? I’d like to report my neighbor… for being the ugliest uggo to ever ugg!

Fake cop: Ugly you say?! Outside designated ugly hours! Now that is a crime!

Fake Toony: A heinous crime!

Oh, and – get this, he kept calling me “psycho.”

Yeah. Between the two of us, with me minding my business, just wanting to go to bed after a long, irritating day at work, and him standing around in the dark to screaming abuse at women alone in the dark

Yeah. Clearly I was the psycho one. Ok.

Toony repeated the same handful of insults. Didn’t take long to reach the limit of his vocabulary.

He just kept standing out there, screaming in the dark at nearly midnight.

I could hear him even inside my house.

What, I thought he cared about noise disturbances. But oh, I guess he’s special. A dog barking in the middle of the day makes me terrible, but this grown ass man screaming as loud as he can is just fine.

I bet every house on the block heard him. Though no one poked their head outside to check what was up. It turned out they’d all had their own run-ins with these people too and just weren’t about to get involved.

Yeah, thanks everyone.  

But I did have some help. It came from Reddit.

Yeah. That reddit. Of all places. If you want to fine a way to deal with shrieking jerks, go to their breeding ground.

I’m kidding. I like reddit.

The subreddit /r/letsnotmeet was on my side. I’d been writing about my neighbors there ever since I found them lurking around my house and detailing their creepy behavior. The sub advised me to record incidents with the neighbors, that way if their antics escalate, and I ever have to do anything about it, I’d have ongoing documentation on my side.

So I grabbed my phone in one hand and pepper spray in the other, and went back outside. I’d just record from a safe distance, just get what I need and get back inside.

But… he was gone.

So… he figured I was in for the night, so he no longer needed to be out there either.

Was he waiting for me to get home? Just so he could do this?

Ok. Alarm bells. Alarm bells ringing real loud now.

And I turned out to be right, because a pattern emerged and this started happening pretty regularly. So I had confirmation.

These people were watching me. They figured out my work schedule, irregular as it was, and knew that most days I worked a shift that would have me home at about 11PM, where they could catch me alone in the dark.

I started to enjoy days I’d work overtime, just knowing those idiots were outside waiting for me, for who knows how long, only to be stood up. HA! Sucker!

I’ll take the small victories.

[agameoftragedy]

Ugh, I’m still recovering from invasive medical tests, so didn’t reply to things immediately, but I’m worried about the upcoming Tumblr apocalypse, so this time on ‘Are these all the same anon, or....?’:

Rhaena-Anon here, I really like your Rhaena as Queen AU.  I personally think in this scenario alysanne would never let a husband use her a pawn against her sister, she is the loyal type she does whats needed for her family.  you also avoid Rogar as Hand if you have Rhaena as queen because she's old enough to rule in her own right. also Alyssa may get a better end as well because I doubt she'd be cool with sending Alyssa off home to Rogar (maybe that marriage wont happen).      

Rhaena-Anon, part 2, I think its possible Alysanne could find Barth in this AU setting. she seems to be the one he respected intellectually, so mayb these two intellectual soulmates could still find one another, and he could maybe be part of her household somehow and Alysanne could put their ideas to her sister the Queen. I think Alysanne would be a fixture at court even after she marries because she'd be the only other adult Targ until the twins come of age added to sitting on the small council

The only thing i'd add to your wonderful rhaena au proposal is, I think it'd be good if Aerea rode Balerion. It gets them a big dragon added with the two they have,you have the added legitimacy of the queen's heir riding the conquerors dragon, and if rhaella could ride Vhagar all the better. But if one of them could mount one of those big conqueror dragons, it'd be good for the image of this new all female royal family. Equally it'd keep at least one away from any kids Alysanne has, just incase.     

Right, so. I agree about Alysanne, though there is an element that’s a bit like Robb and Jon - Jon would never, but when it comes down to kids and grandkids...? If anything happens to Alysanne (death in childbirth comes to mind...) and she leaves one or more sons, it’s potentially then down to their father or other men who could want to put a (dragonriding) guy on the throne. Which is why I think it would be sensible to marry Alysanne to somebody who is already loyal to Rhaena and the Targaryens, and marry any son they have to Aerea to reunite claims and prevent too many factions.

I think there is potential for Rhaena and Alyssa to fall out in this scenario, depending on how it’s played. Because I think Alyssa wants to be with Rogar to begin with and it’s not an obviously unreasonable desire, so that marriage can still happen, and then Alyssa probably also thinks he should be on the council (he did so much for them! He’s a great lord!)... But you’re right, he should have no cause to be regent and that wouldn’t be quite as much power even if he is on the council. But I feel like Rhaena and Rogar have very conflicting views and personalities (esp Rogar being misogynistic and Rhaena being all about the ladies), so trouble could brew. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rhaena ends up dismissing him back to Storm’s End, though perhaps he’d be on good behaviour trying to get a marriage of Aerea/Rhaella/Alysanne to one of his male relatives.

Without the plots to separate Jaehaerys and Alysanne that caused the rift between Alyssa and Rogar (assuming Rogar doesn’t try something else incredibly stupid and counter-Alyssa’s interests), they may never need reuniting. But as you say, it’s possible that after Alyssa gets pregnant by Rogar the first time and struggles, Rhaena might step in and be like NO IMPREGNATING MY MOTHER AGAIN, so Alyssa could live longer than she does OTL with just one son by him (still potential for Rogar to try to marry the boy into the royal family).

The thing about Barth is I still feel like I have no idea how Jaehaerys ever found out about him in the first place (have I missed information somewhere?). But yes, Jaehaerys and Alysanne were generally in the same places, so if Jaehaerys heard about him/met him before then Alysanne should have been able to hear of him. Whether she would then have the authority to get him to King’s Landing... But maybe they would start corresponding instead, and she could get him a place wherever she is, and maybe impress his intelligence onto Rhaena... It’s just not so direct a route. And while we know that Rhaena cares about women’s rights to a degree, I don’t recall seeing much indication of her caring about the common people in the way that Alysanne and Barth do - she cares about her mother and daughters and favourites, but they’re all highborn; would Rhaena have ever contemplated the universal women’s courts that Alysanne did? Would she have listened to women like the sex workers at Mole’s Town? I’m not convinced, unless she allowed Alysanne to do these things (on her behalf). I don’t know how well Rhaena would listen to her little sister necessarily, but they are the only adult Targs left in this scenario so we can hope.

(Possible) Other anon: While Balerion might be a good idea theoretically and symbolically... I’m not sure about this. Part of the question is whether the twin swap still happens, because original!Aerea is meant to be rather timid and Balerion is a large, fearsome and potentially dangerous dragon to go for (especially when the dynasty is so small right now). And obviously the other twin did kind of get Balerion in OTL, but look what happened there... Perhaps that wouldn’t happen in this AU if the twins had been taught and showed more about dragonriding to prepare them as it would be a natural expectation as close heirs, but I think to be safe and to ensure that the twins could be obvious dragonriders from an earlier age, it could be sensible to go for eggs or smaller pre-existing dragons like Jaehaerys’ now riderless dragon, to buff up the twins’ perception from earlier ages rather than waiting for them to be big enough to control the likes of Balerion (and risk them getting hurt/killed trying to take him).

And it’s possible the fiercer twin (original!Rhaella) might be able to take a conqueror dragon, but if they’re second in line then she might overshadow her sister and that’s a different succession issue (if the switch can’t/doesn’t happen). But then that depends on the relationship between the twins in this scenario, as they’re barely around each other in OTL. They have very different personalities from the sounds of it, but we don’t know if that will result in disagreements and resentment, or if they might work as a unit like the later Baela and Rhaella do.

There’s still so much potential for drama, you guys.