#animals deserve to be treated with respect and be given the best care possible while they're alive

[whats-this-mustelid]

I just think that 'animals are living intelligent creatures that have feelings and deserve to be respected' and 'when done properly farming is beneficial to both people and animals and there's nothing wrong with raising and killing animals for food, clothing, and other products' are concepts that very much can and should coexist

[dearzoro]

Chopper's Birthday Party

You plan the best birthday for Chopper and not everything goes as expected, but Zoro is there to cheer you up and make the date extra special.

Warnings: Sexual Harassment, Canon-Typical Violence

We have: Female Reader Insert, Established Relationship with Zoro, Slice of Life on Sunny, Domesticity, Fluff, Zoro’s sewing skills and maybe OOC Zoro? I see him this way tho :P I just love him and wish to pamper our beloved Chopper.

Today Thousand Sunny was decorated for the birthday celebration of the youngest of the crew, Chopper.

The little reindeer was very happy. Although he tried to hide his excitement and awkwardness about the party whenever someone passed by, his little eyes shone brighter than the sun itself. You wished that day to be very joyful and full of good memories for him and that he felt as loved as possible because he deserved it more than anyone. Ever since you started being part of the Straw Hats and got saved by the cutest doctor of all, you wanted to give back all the care and affection. Even more so when the story of everyone in the crew was revealed to you. It was absurd that someone sweet like Chopper was attacked and treated like a monster, and even worse, made to believe he was one for so long. That's why you and your boyfriend are usually a bit protective and considerate of the crew's precious doctor. All you wanted most was for Chopper's existence to be celebrated and cherished so that he would never again doubt that he is well-loved.

You and Sanji were in the kitchen preparing Chopper's favorite sweets. While Sanji was cooking on the stove, you were peeling and slicing the tangerines picked from Nami's tree that very morning. You could hear the screaming outside, with Luffy and Usopp filling and popping some of the balloons while arranging the ship's decorations. Along with the shouting, Brook had already started playing his guitar and was joined in the singing by a very cheerful Franky. You would dip the wedges in chocolate and then set aside in another tray that Sanji would take to the fridge. You adored helping Sanji in the kitchen, as much as you respected his space and directions, after all, he was the chef. And as much as he said your pretty hands should never smell of garlic, you appreciated peeling them and remembering home. You were cooking all day long, sometimes accompanied by the birthday boy himself who helped make candy in the shape of little animals and strawberry mochi.

Once you had finished your part and at the insistence of the cook, you left the kitchen to get ready for dinner. The sun was almost down and the captain was already shouting impatiently for the meat. Since it was a special date, you decided to wear your favorite dress that you had been given by Zoro and almost never put on for fear of ruining it. You also took the opportunity to wrap the gift you made for Chopper and seal the envelope of the letter you wrote to your favorite boy.

When you came back, the table was almost ready and Sanji asked you to call all of them. Everyone was happy, Chopper and the boys were playing on the table with the utensils, Robin was cheering him on with his dozens of hands, everyone was talking loudly and laughing. You looked around the table for Zoro and your eyes met, he was smiling too.

“Oi, Chopper! Can you hand me a strawberry mochi?”

You were surprised by the request because Zoro doesn't usually like sweet things. But, Chopper cracked a huge smile shaking his head vehemently as he carried the tray with the mochi for Zoro to take saying those he had made himself. The swordsman took one and had a bite making a satisfied sound.

“It's so yummy! That's the best mochi I've ever had, Chopper. You'd beat our shitty cook 10 to 0”

He said making exaggerated expressions and Sanji fell for the teasing, starting to swear at him and calling him to fight. You started laughing and your heart warmed at these little gestures Zoro made, he was always aware of what was going on and encouraged Chopper and also everyone he loved in a very subtle way. It was in those moments that you wondered if it was possible to love him even more.

Everyone were having fun enjoying that precious moment, so it was extremely frustrating when right at that moment the ship started to be attacked by an enemy.

Immediately everyone stood up and went on alert, rushing outside. Just now, at the best moment, it had to happen. Your emotions overpower your senses and you didn't pay much attention to what was going on around you until you were grabbed by one of the invading pirates. Suddenly, you felt a huge hairy arm around your neck, the pressure of a stout body against yours, a blade pressed against the side of your abdomen, the pirate's foul breath on the back of your neck and the harsh voice echoed in your ears when he spoke.

“You're kinda hot, I could have fun with you. Stand still and I won't hurt you. Take me to the treasure and, who knows, I'll thank you by shagging your ass. Now.”

He wrapped his arm around your neck tighter and made it hard to breathe for a few seconds. You began to hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears. In a slightly risky move, you kicked him and disengaged from his grip on your neck, just having time to move a little out of reach of his blade, hearing him rip the fabric of your dress that fluttered with the movement.

“You bitch!” He yelled and advanced towards you. You managed to use your powers to knock him out. You heard your name being yelled in the background and just yelled back that you were fine even though you were shaking.

In no time, the entire enemy crew had been defeated and evicted from the ship. Chopper was passing by asking if everyone was okay and the party atmosphere had been completely ruined. You held in your tears for the whole situation that happened and to control your feelings, you kept quiet and a little away from the others. You could still hear Luffy and Franky cursing the enemy pirates and Usopp talking loudly, but you couldn't differentiate the sounds properly, too focused on not crying.

Zoro, very thoughtful, stopped beside you and ruffled your hair before teasing the cook. He knows you are upsed.

“Oi, you useless bastard. When are we going to sing Happy Birthday?”

Sanji almost cursed him back, but he looked at you first and overly courteously stretched out his hand to you and spoke in that honeyed voice he used for flirting.

"My fair lady, would you not give me the pleasure of your company to the kitchen for the final cake decorations?" His eyes turned into hearts.

You tried to smile and cheer up, getting up and following the cook. Before long, everyone gathered around to sing Happy Birthday. Chopper closed his eyes and put his hands together to make a wish and gave a faint giggle before blowing out the candle flame. Everyone ate a piece, Nami and Robin were the first to ask permission to retire and little by little the others retired to bed as well.

Zoro calls you out with a tilt of his head and you follow him to the foremast near the stairs. He just sits and taps the empty space next to him and you feel the tears start to run down your face instantly. How dear you felt. You cry silently with your head in the crook of Zoro's neck as he strokes your back and squeezes you tightly. It feels so good to be under his protection. But, every time you calm down, you remember what happened, get angry and cry more, then get more frustrated that you're crying and which makes you cry even more.

“You know… you know… what's… Worse?!” You turn away and say between sobs with your eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Zoro denies it with his head. “Hm?”

“They… he… ripped my dress!” You say stretching the part above the hem that had been ripped. Zoro looks at the dress in concentration before getting up saying he'd be right back. And he did come back. With a sewing kit. You laughed and he laughed too, picking up a spool of the color closest to your dress and running the thread through the needle. You are safe. He was stitching when Chopper appeared, surprising both of you due to the time being past midnight.

“Can I stay with you?” Chopper asks, with a paper bag in hand.

“Sure. Come here.”

And Chopper stayed on your lap sharing the chocolate bonbons with you while next to you Zoro was splicing the two ends of the torn fabric and interacting every now and then in the conversation started by Chopper about animals, the islands and daydreams about the new adventures.

[horseimagebarn]

welcome to the first weekly horseimagebarn interaction recap where every week i find the important tags reblogs and comments you lovely people have left for me to read and i respond to them in one fun post i will do this every friday to recap another week of horseimagebarn so get ready

if i were to make any other blog in the manner of the horseimagebarn it would likely be fish as i feel there is more variety in regards to fish and while i love new world monkeys and many of the old world variety there are certain types that really frighten and disconcert me and many pictures of monkeys you see in the modern day are actually apes which i have a distaste for though it is no fault of the apes and i do not blame them at all and still love them as creatures of this beautiful earth to put it simply i dont like their nipples and one time i saw one shit into its own hand and eat it right in front of me and it really gave me a fright however back to the fish subject i have gotten really into fishkeeping as of late and i thoroughly enjoy them and find it a most rewarding hobby to tend to a mini ecosystem in my own home and i love the practice dearly however i am dedicated to the continuation of this account for as long as possible and feel my interest in this blog is a one time thing that i must give myself to fully and if i were to make a fish blog it would be one for my personal fish and also i love you too though i do not know you personally i feel and appreciate your affections

this comment has given me much to think about as i am not he and this fellow as i have googled seems to be a politician and i do not prefer to associate myself with those types of folk especially those who participate in totalitarianism and fall off of their horses i am in fact a little hurt you would compare me to a rotten man such as this the further i look into it and i ask my audience to refrain from comparing me to such in the future

i agree with this commenter immensely i always post images after giving the origins of the image the benefit of the doubt as i want to believe every human treats animals with respect and care and i want to spread the message that animals are beautiful and intelligent and deserving of that respect and care using these images and i want to give these humans a level of trust that they are acting in the best interest of their animals and if it is discovered that they are not i will take proper action whatever that may be i have refrained from posting certain images due to these ideals before and i will continue in the future if it comes to it long story short please treat animals with respect and educate yourself on the best ways to do so and please know that i will never ever post an image in which i believe an animal is being hurt and if it comes to my attention that the animal is for certain being hurt i will remove it

thank you my friend i do indeed write poetry and have won one scholarship for it from my college in the past so i am happy that seems to permeate my life and the way i handle myself in general i have been thinking about submitting some of my writing to a literary magazine in my hometown recently and you have bolstered my confidence greatly i appreciate you

happy birthday my friend i hope you had a wonderful day

i love you dearly it is absolutely incredible to me that this account has gone from less than 100 followers to over 600 in less than a week i never thought that so many people would find joy in a blog i made as a silly side project to make myself and my girlfriend laugh every now and then but i am so happy we have gotten to this point

shoutout james

[forever-rogue]

Of Princes & Berries - Part 1

A/N: Yeah, so I have like zero self control, and I’m so deep in my Pedro feels and Oberyn is one of my og loves. In this family we throw canon out the window. Canon? I don’t know her. Anyways, this will probably be like 2-3 parts, y’all will get some sexy times, so hold tight. As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: slight language

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

MASTERLIST

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Popping a few of the fresh, succulent berries into your mouth, you received a tut and playful glare from the chef that was busy preparing various foods for feasts throughout the day. You gave him an innocent smile before putting a finger to your lips.

"Those are for the prince," he reminded you playfully, passing a jug of wine towards you, "those were imported just for him, best not eat them all."

"Oh relax," you gently bumped him with your hip as you loaded everything onto your serving tray, "our esteemed guest won't be missing a few of them. Besides, these are so much mode delicious than the ones we have here. Ours are so lackluster and have no flavor. These are practically bursting with juice and flavor. Maybe the best I’ve ever had!”

"Why do you think he specifically asked for them?" he turned back to the pot he was stirring, giving you a little sigh.

"Because he's the fucking prince of Dorne?" you started to lift the tray up to carry it to the gardens where he was no doubt waiting, "and he's got impeccable taste. Looks, taste, people throwing themselves at him left and right? What a life he leads.”

"Just make sure this gets out to him," he insisted and you gave him a small salute as you headed out of the dim kitchens, “and no detours to eat more berries!”

A small sigh escaped your lips as you stepped into the daylight and felt the sun's rays hit you and instantly warm you up. Everything felt lighter already. Most days in King's Landing were overcast and not this beautiful, at least not during this time of year, and you planned on taking full advantage of it. Perhaps later, when you were done with morning duties, you’d go and set by the sea for a while. It always relaxed something deep within you.

As soon as you spied the prince, staring out into sea, a smile grew on your face. You'd spoken to him a few times here and there, mostly in passing, since his arrival at King's Landing. He was a bright spot, a welcome interruption in our normally monotonous and drool days.

He always spoke to you in a kind manner, taking the time to ask your name, how you were doing, small things. But unlike most people in the court, he seemed genuine in his actions, kind even. He truly listened when you spoke, rather than just blowing you off.

As you approached him, a smile stretched across his handsome features when he realized it was you, causing a small flutter in your heart.

"Good morning, Y/N," he stood and offered you a small bow as you set the tray down on the table in front of him. It was a sign of respect; reverence. Proprietary would have you bowing to him, but he never was one for rules, "how are you on this fair day?"

"Your highness," you beamed at him, pushing a plate of berries at him, "I dare say my day has been much improved. What good luck it was that they sent me to serve you."

"Good fortune, even a wonderful twist of fate," he sat back and watched you intently, "or perhaps I made a simple request."

"A request," you raised an eyebrow as you sneaked a berry, which just made him chuckle at you. Normally, with almost anyone else, you'd never be so bold. But with Oberyn...it felt normal, right even, "you asked for me?"

"You sound surprised," he mused as you leaned against the table, trying to soak up as much sun as possible, "why does it surprise you so?"

"I don't know," you said quietly, "I just never thought I'd make that much of an impression on anyone. I prefer to pass by quietly, generally."

"You've made quite the impression on me, sweet girl," he said softly. You caught your bottom lip in between your teeth as his words fell over you, "I'll take every opportunity I can to look at that lovely face."

"You flatter me," but a content sigh escaped your lips nonetheless, "it is I who am in awe of your beauty, your highness. Surely."

“Now you’re just flattering me, fanning my ego like everyone else,” he waved his hand at you laughed at him, “I didn’t specifically ask for you just because you fall in line like everyone else.”

“I’m sorry then,” you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, “I shall never flatter you again. Nothing but complete honesty.”

“A simple request, no?” he teased, letting his fingers linger near yours. You studied his hands, the few scars that had marred the warm, tan skin. He was really was beautiful, such a sight to behold in your otherwise dreary life, “can I ask you something...perhaps too forward?”

“Yes,” permission was given without hesitation, and worry. Nothing about him worried in you in that sense. Sure, he was the Red Viper, deadly, feared, and brutal in his own way, but you saw past that...he was also kind, gentle, surprisingly soft spot and quick as a whip, “anything.”

“Have you been with a prince before?” 

“I’ve been with many men who call themselves all sort of things,” you shrugged your shoulders as you poured more wine into his goblet, “kings, princes, knights, lords. You name it and I’ve been with one.”

“And have they lived up to your expectations?”

“Hardly,” you grabbed a berry and popped into your mouth, and raising an eyebrow at him, “the only time I’ve experienced true pleasure, it has certainly not been at the hands of a man.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” you sat down across from him, far overstepping any boundaries that remained. But Oberyn was different; he wasn’t like all the other princes and lords who spoke down to you like you were some sort of mere peasant. He treated you like an actual person. That in itself was enough to keep you intrigued; his delicious, warm accent didn’t hurt either. It was like music to your ears, sweet like the wine that flowed freely throughout the court, and much more pleasant than the harsh accents of the King’s Landing that you’d have grown accustomed to.

“You prefer the company of women?”

“I do enjoy the company of women,” you gave him a lazy half smile, “very much so. They’re beautiful creatures, soft, and warm, kind. Unlike men, they know how to touch other women, how to make love and make it a pleasurable experience, not just spend five minutes pounding into you until they’ve found release like a common barnyard animal. And then again, if all else fails, there is also the undeniable pleasure you can give yourself.”

“Very valid points,” he eat a few of the fresh berries, his dark eyes never leaving yours. A smile played on his features as relaxed in his seat, letting the sun warm him, “clearly you haven’t been with the right men.”

“Do you think you’re different?”

“I know I’m different.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “you’re very sure of yourself, my prince. Is your reputation well deserved? Are you as good of a lover as they all say?”

“I am,” a small smirk played on his lips as he crossed his legs, gauging your every reaction closely. He was curious, almost deathly curious to see what you hid under your cool exterior. You acted like you belonged in the court, under the direction of the Lannisters, but he could see through right through you. He knew you weren’t fully invested in your job or life here; hells, anyone that spared you more than a passing glance could see that much, “do you care to find out?”

“I appreciate the forwardness,” you gave him a wicked little smile of your own, “but surely you’ve got better things, and individuals, to shower in your worship. I am a simple servant, not worthy of anyone’s time, something I am made sure never to forget.”

You didn’t wait for a response before standing up and brushing your skirts off as you turned to head back inside. You’d been gone for some time now, surely you’d be attracting some unwanted attention any minute. You’d only been meant to serve the prince, not converse as though you were fast friends, shamelessly flirting in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.

Oberyn was a welcome change to the cold atmosphere of the court you were used to. He brought a certain liveliness, warmth, and you swore more sunlight, with him. You could only imagine how wonderful it must be back in Dorne, where he got to spread that same radiance day in and day out. 

“Where are you from?” he asked as you turned to leave. You paused and tensed up, surprised by the sudden question. He didn’t move as he waited for answer; part of you was tempted to pretend that you hadn’t heard him, but you knew better than to defy the prince.

“I’m just a servant, your highness,” you gave him a saccharine smile as you watched his expression falter slightly. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, “I am from wherever I am situated. My job isn’t to have a personality, it’s to serve others.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he grabbed a particularly plump looking strawberry, took a bite before standing up and striding over to you. His caramel gaze was focused on yours as he gently grabbed your jaw with one hand raised the berry to your lips. It was a question of sorts, to see if you trusted him. Without hesitation, you parted your lips slightly, letting him pop the berry into your mouth. You let the juices coat your mouth before swallowing, your eyes never leaving his. Oberyn traced his thumb delicately along your bottom lip, wiping away the small bit of lingering juice, “where are you from, my sweet girl?”

“Your highness-”

“It’s a simple question,” he let go of your jaw, his face moving into a softer expression as his eyes slowly raked over you. If it had been almost any other man, you would have been disgusted, but there was some gentle about when it was Oberyn. 

“Honeyholt,” the name of your birthplace fell off your lips almost like a whisper, and your eyes darted around to make sure no one had heard. When you worked for the Lannisters, personal matters as such were best left unsaid; they paid you, albeit barely, for your service, not to moan about your previous life. 

“That’s rather far from here,” he mused and you shrugged lightly. You were a a child, a mere young thing the last time you had visited your place of origin. You didn’t remember enough of it to truly miss. King’s Landing had been your home since, “what brings you here, to the harsh life of the court?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you bit your lip, unsure of how far he wanted you to go into detail, “I...was brought here by parents. They needed the money, and I was their only source of commodity. For them it was an easy decision. I haven’t seen them since.”

“I could tell you were not from this forsaken place,” you wondered what he meant, how easily he could tell you were different. You’d spent most of your life trying to blend and not stick out, you’d thought you’d been doing a fairly decent job. Most people didn’t spare you a passing glance, unless they desired something from you.

“And just how is that, if you don’t my asking?”

“You’re much too beautiful to be from here,” he answered and your entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. You turned your head, gaze intently trained on the cracked ground of the aging palace as you avoided his inquisitive looks. He reached over and with a few gentle fingers tilted your chin up to face him, “do not shy away from your beauty.”

“I do not,” your voice was but a whisper, “people do not usually show me such...reverence.”

“You have kind eyes,” he carried on, “the sweetest smile, hair fair more beautiful than the Lannister gold they love so much here. Your accent gives you away, it is very slight, but anyone with a keen ear will be able to pick up on it. These barbarians here no doubt have come to ignore it.”

“You...” no one had pointed out that fact that you have a slight lilt to your voice in years. You’d lost the majority of any accent as a child, having come to court as such a young one, and being surrounded by nothing but the gruff voices of the crownlands.

“And if you don’t mind my saying so,” he took a step closer and ran a gentle hand down your body, fingers grazing down your side and sending a shiver down your spine, “a figure that any man or woman would be blessed by the gods to know. Beautiful breasts, a round bottom, lovely thighs, I can only imagine how exquisite everything I’m not seeing is.”

His large hand gave your ass a firm squeeze, and a small sound escaped your lips; a mixture of surprise and pleasure. He was forward, there was no doubt about that, but nothing about it felt...wrong, or unwelcome. You could tell he was making sure every touch and word off of his lips that he was making sure you were okay with it. And you were. Everywhere he went, women, and men, fawned over him, dying for even a bit of affection and attention from the prince. Here you were, having down nothing and you were the object of his desire. 

“You flatter me far more than I deserve, your highness,” your cheeks were on fire as he smiled at you, trying to reassure you that his affection was well deserved.

“Please,” he insisted, bringing a hand back up to your face, “enough with the formalities. Oberyn.”

“Oberyn,” you repeated, enjoying how it felt on your tongue, so sweet and foreign, much more interesting than anyone you encountered through your daily duties.

“What was your name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insisted, but he was not fooled by your attempts at deflection. Instead, he leaned against the carved marble pillar, arms crossing his chest as he analyzed you, “you know my name.”

“My dear, sweet little one,” you sighed lightly at the sound of his voice, so rich and warm, hitting each last nerve within you, “everyone has a name. It means something, even if that of a bastard.”

“What if I don’t want to have a name? What if I want to be no one?” you shrugged as you leaned against the column facing him, “what if I want to hide in the shadows?”

“Y/N,” your name had never sounded more lovely or magical than when it came off of his lips. It sounded pretty, beautiful almost, “it matters. You should be proud of who you are...unless you are some sort of monster, which I already know you are not.”

“You already know my name.”

“And you know exactly what I’m referring to you. I am a prince, sweet one, not a fool.”

“Flowers,” you gave him a soft smile, “just like all bastards of the Reach.”

“But you’re not a bastard,” he pointed out as you nodded, “so why do you claim the name?”

“So I can be no one.”

“You, my sweet girl,” he was by your side again in no time, leaning only mere inches between the two of you. He smelled warm and sweet, likes spices and exotic fruit. Enchanting. Lovely, “are destined to be so much more than no one.”

“I assure you, it doesn’t matter,” you said after a few beats of silence, “my family was once one of the many great houses, just like so many others. But they fell and were broken apart over the years. The remainder of them are common merchants now. It’s easier to claim the name of a bastard than to receive pity for your family’s misfortunes from the likes of Lannisters and Starks and whomever else.”

“I am sure you far outshine them in every way,” he pushed a few locks of your hair out of your face, “your kindness is fair greater.”

“I...I know why you’re here, your hi- Oberyn,” you were scared that you had overstepped your boundaries, but weren’t able to hold back your tongue. He was so forward and open with you, surely he wouldn’t mind if you did the same. 

“And why is that?” his curiosity was piqued as he tried to read your expression.

“Your sister,” you answered softly and he shifted on his feet, shoulders tensing slightly, “I used to work for her...when I was just a child...before. She was the kindest woman I had ever met, gentle and sweet to everyone she ever encountered. Beautiful to no ends and her smile could light up the entire kingdom. Her babes were just as sweet, they would grown up to be the kindest people.”

“You knew Elia?” he was quieter now, and had a soft pang to his voice. He still missed and longed for his sister. Even though she had been gone for some time now, he still mourned for her and her children every day.

“She’s probably the reason I’m still alive,” you admitted, “she took me under her wing when I was brought here. I miss her too. I cannot imagine the sadness and burden it must have placed upon you and I would not dare to imagine. But I know how hard it was on someone like me, just a servant.”

“I think of her every day,” he admitted, “I know I cannot get her back, but it doesn’t dull the pain; Dorne has mourned her loss every day. Instead we must honor the memory of those we’ve lost, instead of letting grief consume us, no?”

“Yes,” you agreed, placing a small smile back on your face. You hadn’t meant to bring the mood down, but you wanted to let him know where you stood, that you were on his side, “I...I blame myself some days. When they attacked...I just ran and hide. I ran and ran and ran until it felt like I couldn’t breathe and then I hid and waited, waited till the smoke had cleared and it was safe to come out. I didn’t even try to help her or her babies. I just wonder if...I had stayed if I could have done something.”

“You were a child,” he could imagine the horrors you had seen, all the thoughts and emotions that had stayed with you throughout the years, “it was not your place to do anything. You protected yourself; it is our instinct to flee and hide, especially as children.”

“I was a coward.”

“You were a child,” he repeated firmly, “you were not a coward and it was not your duty to protect anyone. They should have protected you.”

You weren’t even aware of the fact that a few tears had rolled down your cheeks, but Oberyn was quick to wipe them away. He brushed a thumb over your cheeks, in such a soft and intimate gesture, offering you a small, reassuring smile in return. You put your hand on his wrist and gave it a firm squeeze, “thank you.”

“Y/N,” you almost jumped out of skin at the sound of Cersei’s grating voice. Swiftly wiping the rest of your tears away with the back of your hand, you took a step back from the prince, who seemed completely nonplussed, “surely you’ve got other duties to attend to. I’m sure the prince’s wine and berry need has been satiated for now. We know where to find you if we want more. Go on and apologize to his highness for your folly and distraction.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you let out a shaky breath and gave her a nod. She had her trademark smirk on her face and you wished you could slap it off of her pinched features. She really was cruel down to her core, and you often wondered when the last bits of humanity had left her. You wondered how much she had seen or heard. Hopefully not enough to warrant any sort of punishment. 

Instead, you gave her a nod and small bow before turning back to Oberyn, “I apologize for my indiscretions, your highness. Please let me know if I can be of service at any time.”

“What did I tell you, my sweet girl, call me Oberyn,” he was not bothered by Cersei in the slightest and her jaw dropped in surprise. You couldn’t hide the small smile that crept onto your face, “and do not apologize for a conversation I have initiated. Surely even the lovely Cersei can understand that people enjoy conversation.”

“I...yes,” you returned his warm smile, unable to contain yourself and enjoying the little thrill that defying Cersei had placed in your bones. He reached for your hand and placed a kiss, chaste kiss to the back of it. You knew Cersei must have been dying on the inside at the exchange, frankly, so were you, “thank you, Oberyn.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised, making it a point to look directly at Cersei, who was fuming silently. If she had been a kettle, steam would have been exploding out of her ears, “I’ll find you.”

Just before you could turn to return to the kitchen and go about the rest of your daily duties, Oberyn trailed his fingers over your face, letting his gaze linger on your lips, “until later, dear Y/N.”

You turned to go back inside without another word, a bounce in your step at what had just happened. But just before you got inside, you heard him call after you, “I’m glad you enjoyed my berries, sweet girl!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[emilyofjane]

Why the Disney Princesses definitely need therapy: a Hot Take

Snow White

Losing her parents as a child and having to learn to take care of herself at a very young age (Snow White is 14 in the movie, and judging by her work ethic, she appears to at least have some experience with living independently before moving in with the 7 dwarves)

Lack of socialization due to isolation

Depression due to isolation and loneliness. This makes the whole “Someday My Prince Will Come” thing much more believable, because Snow White really isn’t in any sort of immediate danger and doesn’t need “saving” or whatever; she’s just tired of being alone and wants human companionship. (And tbh who can blame her? The poor girl’s literally talking to birds and moved in with the first group of humanoid creatures she could find ffs)

This one’s a bit of a stretch, but I’m pretty sure Snow White would also have an unhealthy fear of strangers and/or an irrational fear of being poisoned after the whole apple fiasco

Cinderella

Being raised in an abusive home environment for most (if not virtually all) of her life

The complete lack of positive social interaction throughout her life has probably led to problems with social withdrawal and isolation at some point, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she has repressed symptoms of chronic depression due to loneliness.

Her closest emotional confidants are literally two talking mice, and that just screams “My only friends are animals because their love is unconditional I’ve been invalidated and unloved by every human being in my life” (aka extreme emotional neglect)

She probably has tons of questions about her biological parents that were never answerd because, again, her stepfamily hated her, which would obviously lead to some emotional baggage

If we consider Cinderella III: A Twist in Time to be the new canon, she definitely has some unresolved PTSD from her near-death experience (the “almost getting crushed to death in the carriage because it was transforming back into a pumpkin” scene)

Aurora

Existential crisis because the three fairy godmothers basically rewrote her entire identity as “Rose” and hid the fact that she was a princess

Never knowing who her real parents were as a child, leading to emotional baggage similar to that of Cinderella and Snow White mentioned above

Either the emotional burden of having to make up for 16+ years of lost time with her biological family, or the grief of losing her biological family without ever getting the chance to know them (idk whether Aurora actually got to meet her parents by the end of the movie or if they died before she woke up, because I don’t remember exactly how much time had passed while she was in the coma)

Speaking of the spindle prick-induced magical coma (which is a really long-winded and inefficient way to kill someone honestly, idk what Melificent was thinking), Aurora also has to deal with the emotional burden of how much time has passed while she was in a coma, which would only further feed into the existential crisis and emotional trauma in bullet points 1 and 3.

(Also, off the record, but Aurora’s entire life post-movie is just a hot fucking mess and she really deserves a second movie exploring that concept imo. I know that Sleeping Beauty has already gotten a live-action villain spinoff, but the story of Aurora herself really deserves to be reexamined under a modern lens also. Aurora is easily one of the most overlooked Disney princesses and tbh she deserves more love.)

Belle (feat. the expanded lore from the live-action movie)

Witnessing her mother die from the plague in their own home

Being forceed to move from the more culturally progressive city of Paris to the unnamed “poor provential town” in the movie, where she is clearly the odd one out and is subject to gender inequality on a daily basis (in the form of being publically shamed and socially ostacized for being an educated woman)

Being regularly sexually harassed by Gaston, which is further exacerbated by the villagers and their close-mindedness. Not only is Gaston’s behavior enabled and encouraged by the villagers, but they even go so far as to idolize Gaston — as shown during his namesake song — despite his obviously predatory actions, simply because he is a cishet white man that they find conventionally attractive

Watching her father get arrested despite being 100% innocent...TWICE

Also being arrested when her father is wrongly convicted a second time, by none other than her abuser

Watching her lover — who besides her parents was the first person in her life who truly loved her and respected her intellect despite being a woman — nearly die in her arms, as well as everyone else in the castle (who ALSO respected her regardless of her gender) nearly die at the same exact time.

...And you know, Stockholm Syndrome or whatever. (But tbh, given how everyone in the castle was very kind and respectful and how the Beast was a tsundere at best, Belle would probably suffer far more from PTSD brought upon by Gaston and her previous environment than from “Stockholm Syndrome” in a castle where everyone actually treated her like a normal fucking human being. Unpopular opinion I know but as a sexual assault survivor this is literally a hill I will die on.)

Jasmine

I’ve actually never watched Aladdin all the way through, so unfortunately I can’t give a full analysis of Jasmine’s conflicts...but I have seen that gif of her saying “I am not a prize to be won” and that just screams “I’ve suffered a lifetime of female objectification and gender inequality despite my social status, and not even in the highest position of authority possible am I allowed to have a voice” and idk about you but that is really fucked up man

Ariel

PTSD from being manipulated by Ursula to give up her voice and nearly losing everything (both her previous life in the ocean and the promise of a new life on land with her love interest) because of it

Near-death experience from *vague hand gesture to whatever the fuck that was at the end of the movie*

Inevitable depression from abandoning the only home she’s ever known (the ocean) and leaving her friends and family behind

She’ll probably also need some form of behavioral therapy to help her adjust to her new home on land, whose culture is still extremely foreign to her — and maybe even additional therapy for social anxiety, given how her first 3 days of human interaction were so mortifyingly embarrassing that she’ll probably be laying wide awake at 3 AM and thinking “oh my god I can’t believe I looked Eric’s parents dead in the eyes and brushed my hair with a dinner fork” for the next 10 years.

Tiana

PTSD from literally being turned into a frog

Overworking herself to the point of near burnout, and being unable to fully live out her prime adult years because of said burnout

Constantly dealing with shitty customers, bosses, and other white-collared people disrespecting her and treating her as subhuman because of her career choice, which is unfortunately a common shared experience among restaurant workers and those who work hourly wages

Since this movie takes place in the United States presumably before the 1960’s, it’s probably safe to assume that Tiana also probably had to deal with segregation, Jim Crow laws, and other forms of racism off-screen on a daily basis, which would obviously take a toll on her mental well-being and further exacerbate the issues mentioned in #3

Grief from losing her dad, which has likely been repressed due to her workaholic tendencies denying her the ability to properly take the time to mourn

I don’t even know what to categorize the whole witch doctor shenanigans as, I just know that she and Naveen are both going to need some SERIOUS therapy after going through all that shit

Rapunzel

Being raised in an emotionally abusive and controlling environment for her entire life

Being completely isolated for 18 years with no social interaction whatsoever with anyone except her own abuser

Existential/identity crisis from discovering that she’s actually a princess, that her “mom” was actually the one who kidnapped her as a baby and tried to cut her hair, and that everything she knew about herself and the world she lived in was essentially a lie to keep her obedient to Gothel

Near-death experience (the drowning scene)

Internalized fear and mistrust in strangers — and quite possibly in people in general — due to Gothel’s lifelong warnings that people in the outside world would only want to take advantage of her

Watching the woman who raised her MERCILESSLY STAB THE ONLY OTHER PERSON SHE EVER KNEW AND LOVED IN THE GODDAMN CHEST

Watching the woman who raised her LITERALLY CRUMBLE TO DUST IN FRONT OF HER VERY EYES

WATCHING FLYNN, THE ONLY OTHER PERSON SHE EVER KNEW AND LOVED BESIDES HER GODDAMN ABUSER, FUCKING DIE RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER before she miraculously healed him

Because Flynn’s revival was such an uncanny revival that not even Rapunzel knew how she did it, she obviously thought he was gone for good...and since Gothel was gone also, there must’ve been at least a split second before she healed Flynn where, for the first time in her entire life, she was completely and utterly alone. That alone deserves to be a bullet point because holy shit

I’m not even going to get into Tangled: the Series man this list is getting too long as it is

Elsa

Losing her parents at a young age

Abandonment and isolation issues (mostly self-inflicted due to her own fear of hurting others, see #3)

Internalized fear and self-doubt of her powers — and, by extension, fear and self-doubt in herself

Guilt from nearly plunging Arendelle into an eternal winter

Guilt from almost losing her sister (twice!) due to her own direct actions

(Coinciding with #3) Guilt from isolating herself from her sister to protect her, only to nearly get her killed by the very thing she was trying to protect her from

Anxiety. Just lots and lots of general anxiety.

(Omitting Frozen 2 for Elsa because I haven’t seen it yet and this list is getting too long)

Anna

Also losing her parents at a young age

Abandonment and isolation issues, but hers are moreso due to Elsa “shutting her out” as a kid and having no one else her age in the castle to interact with

Lack of socialization in general for much of her childhood, as well as any social anxieties/lack of social knowledge and etiquette/etc. that would come with it

Abusive relationship with Hans (I know it was only one day, but holy fuck that was a trainwreck. What Hans did to Anna is a literal breeding ground for PTSD and trauma)

Coming to terms with the fact that the trolls fucking erased her memories of Elsa having ice powers and that Elsa isolated herself to protect her (and not, you know, because she hated her or something)

Leftover guilt from holding a grudge against Elsa for most of her childhood for shutting her out, because NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL HER THAT IT WAS FOR HER OWN GOOD and she never knew why

Basically Anna and Elsa both need joint therapy or family counseling or something because holy shit their parents did NOT handle this situation properly AT ALL

(Also omitting Frozen 2 for Anna because I haven’t seen it and this list is also getting too long)

Moana

Surprisingly, Moana’s movie was relatively tame — in fact, because her tribe returned to voyaging and she is now exploring the seas/following her passion, these events were arguably beneficial to Moana’s mental health rather than detrimental. The only emotional baggage I can really imagine Moana having post-movie is leftover grief from her grandma dying and maybe the stress of having to put up with Maui’s shit

[acertainsomeone]

Finding us- EdSer one shot

If he had any doubts before, this incident cleared them altogether. Eda Yildiz had not only taken over his holding and life but his dog as well. He couldn't come to terms with the fact that his best friend, his dog, whom he had brought up since he was a baby, had turned his back on him. Ever since he proposed to Selin, Eda had asked Seyfi bey to get Sirius back to Bolat place. Not that she didn't love him anymore, she found it appropriate that the dog was returned to his rightful owner. She didn't wish anymore for Serkan to treat her worse, if fate planned, his memories will come back otherwise she was not going to desperately beg him to choose her over Selin. It wasn't about pride. Her love was much more than self-respect. She realized that Serkan was scared of her because she managed to strike chords of his heart that were nonexistent for him. If she pushed him further, if she hovered over his head, he would be irked and god forbid if something serious happened to his health, she won't be able to forgive herself.  

Sirius wasn't home, this was twice in the last three days that he had managed to escape. Serkan's pride was too much to call Eda and ask her to pay a visit to Sirius. Usually, he came back wagging his tail, it wasn't hard to spot him around but this time Serkan panicked. He checked the entire neighborhood and every possible place where Sirius could've gone. He had lost his memories; he couldn't afford to lose him.

"Where are you oğlum ?" He drove across the seats of Istanbul in apprehension. His heart skipped a beat thinking of a much worse possibility. Sirius wasn't among those dogs who get along with people, forget strangers.

What if somebody tried to harm him?

It wasn't hard to come across such crackheads, who would hurt animals for their pleasure.  

"Alo" Serkan answered his phone in panic upon seeing Eda's name on the screen. She was going to chide him enough for being so careless.

As if he wasn't to be blamed in her eyes already

"No need to wander around the streets, Sirius is with me. I'm sending you the location. Hadi gel." Her voice was devoid of any emotions, she didn't let him speak and hung up asap. 

 Did he make a mistake?

What was this place? And why would Sirius come here? He wondered while climbing the steps of the apartment. He entered and found a wounded Sirius lying in Eda's lap. He was asleep, and Eda was caressing his head.

"SIRIUS!" He cried in panic, and Eda glared at him for being so loud. 

"Shhhh you're gonna wake him."  

'What happened?" He asked incredulously. Sitting beside Eda, caressing his only best friend with affection.

"I think he ran from your place - to find me. He would've expected me to be at the park. Few children hit him there. Thankfully, I was there for a walk and spotted him immediately."

"What park? I checked all places where he could be."

"There are places that became Sirius's preference, if not yours." She rolled her eyes

"Anyways Serkan, tell me in all honesty, can you take care of him or not? I can't risk his life like this."

He was about to fight back with a 'he's my dog' but he knew that would've turned into a nasty conversation. He owed a thank you to Eda.

"Teşekkürler Eda."  

Eda looked at him plainly. It was hurting him to see her eyes without that love he was used to seeing ever since he came back. Why was it bothering him?  He pushed her away, that's what he wanted.

"You stay with him tonight. He needs to rest."  

"What is this place?" Serkan asked

"Home." She sighed in reverence. "I mean your home, you shifted here."

"Neden."

"I'll leave that story for your fiancé to tell after all she had been telling you everything, and you only believe her."

Eda picked her bag and stood up. "There's food in the fridge. Sirius's food is by the coffee table. And-        your room is upstairs."  She seemed in a hurry. He felt she was only telling him this to fulfill an obligation. He could feel her restless. But why? He had no idea

Serkan examined his room carefully. He was amazed Selin hadn't told him about moving out. The bedroom screamed that he was in a relationship with her Eda Yildiz.

Yok, the bed was made and broken lamps were fixed.

It had their memories. Her memories and belongings. Belongings that he would've never allowed in his premises.

Her clothes and undergarments were piled up along his. Her toothbrush and other toiletries were neatly placed in the bathroom. It didn't seem that they were placed there recently.

A weird sensation was pulling him towards those things. He ran his fingers through her belongings, having flashbacks. They were vivid.

For the first time, he heard her cackling voice too. It was blurry but even his bones could tell that they were in bed, and – he was doing things to make her laugh.

It can't be me

He shook his head in denial.

Serkan opened a drawer and found a USB. It wasn't the USB that grabbed his attention but the flower and note attached to it. That was his handwriting

"For us to remember all the good times- just in case."

***  

"Serkannn!! Would you stop? Look at my state." A sleepy yet annoyed Eda shrieked at Serkan, who was prolly filming a video. He chuckled at her words, not paying attention to whatever she said.

"Eda I know how you look like without clothes." She threw a pillow at his head, and the video disrupted. "Watch out!"

"Are you filming us naked in bed?"

"Hayır, I'm filming this for us to remember that you can't stay mad at me for long." He replied in amusement. This was one of those nights when she had been mad at him but they made out in less than a moment.

"You think too highly of yourself Serkan bolat."

"I've got the brightest star for myself. Shouldn't I?"

"Can you stop this? I have to get up Serkan!"

"How about first you record a message for an 80-year-old Eda, who might've forgotten me?"

"How are you sure that it can't be you."

"I love you way too much to forget you. More than you could. We can bet on that." He winked at her shamelessly

"Tamam." She wasn't going to fight him on this. Eda moved forward cautiously wrapping her naked self with the duvet and kissed Serkan on the tip of his nose.

"This message is for old, yet madly in love Mr. and Mrs. Bolat! No matter how hard the times are, no matter how grave misunderstandings can be, no matter how bleak the road of hope is, we will find our way back, together." 

"Always." He said with a smile and pulled her into a kiss. The video was for them so it didn't matter if it was all being recorded in that state. 

*** 

We don't choose our parents, we don't choose our family, and at times life doesn't allow us to choose our partner as well. He would've never in his right mind made an illogical choice of falling for Eda Yildiz.

Yet he did

Did he make a mistake?

Because all that he had given her in this relationship was pain, so far.

The video brought back a bunch of memories. Their first kiss, first fight, first night, and the last goodbye.

Serkan was mercilessly driving on the empty roads of Istanbul. It was raining heavily and he was drenched. This rain could've made him sick, terribly

But did he even care anymore?

He had hurt the most important person in his life. He ruined everything

How could he forget her of all people? Serkan always claimed to love Eda more than she could. His love was fragile

He sobbed mercilessly, wishing to hit the car somewhere and end this pain. Events of the past few weeks circulated in front of his eyes. The way he was indifferent towards her. The way he resisted her touch and broke her heart all over again.

I never deserved her

He smacked his head against the steering wheel. His tears blocked his vision and he had no idea that he was driving beyond the speed limit with an absolutely insane state of mind.

Suddenly it grew all dark. He couldn't see anything. It felt that the steering wheel was moving in its own direction

All he could hear was noise. Eda's cries and his broken promises.

He was sitting in the police station absentmindedly. Eda was completing the formalities. They hadn't had any eye contact so far else he would've started crying right there. She took him by his arm as if he was lifeless.

"Serkan noldu? You were absolutely fine when I left." She asked him apprehensively, careful not to touch him. "Do you want me to call someone? Selin-"

She stopped immediately. He looked at her for the first time. 

The gaze

Eda caught her breath. It was him. 

It was really him

She knew that man 

Those eyes, they weren't of a stranger. Those eyes recognized her, and she had seen love for her in them. But why was she seeing something stronger than love right now? Anguish

"Serkan!" She gasped unbelievingly. Her hands wrapped around his face possessively as if he'd leave this time if she didn't hold him tight

"I-" he was struggling with words. Should he tell her how scared he was when the pilot told them that the plane was going to crash? How he cursed himself for leaving her behind? Or how much he loves her? Where do I begin

Eda sobbed with happiness. She did not know what to say anymore. He was there, right in front of her. Her Serkan. Her robot bolat

The man who loved her

They were sitting at the shore. Looking blankly at the sea. The waves were calm but their hearts weren't. He had held her hand, and the grip was so strong that it was hurting her a bit but she didn't complain۔

"Eda" he broke the silence

"I don't even have words to ask for your forgiveness. I made another mistake, I broke your heart once again, didn't fulfill my promise, and became the reason for your tears." He was stuttering۔ words weren't leaving his mouth easily whereas Eda kept on looking at him with tears in her eyes

"What I did in the last few weeks can't be forgiven. I've hurt you. I won't beg you to return back to me. I can't make mistakes repeatedly and expect you to stand by the road waiting for me. I-" He stopped and his voice broke further

"Eda you might not want me back in your life but can you please forgive me? One last time? I won't be able to live with the fact that you hate me. Just don't hate me please"

He was begging her, his hands joined together in front of her pleading for forgiveness. His eyes were screaming in pain. He won't be able to bear that hate in this heart. If she stopped caring for him, he won't even bat an eye, but accepting the fact that she despises him? Serkan Bolat would die.

He knew he was being selfish. Yet again, he was thinking of himself. But he was selfish, he never deserved someone as selfless as Eda Yildiz. He disgraced their love, he ruined their relationship, and now if she wished to discontinue this fragile relationship, he won't subject.

"I failed our love Eda. I failed you." She could tell that he was not able to breathe properly. Eda's heart sunk the moment he adjoined his hands in front of her. With each pleading, it felt as if someone was squeezing her heart mercilessly.

"Fate failed us Serkan." She sniffed between her sobs. Her hands cupped his face immediately. She wanted to protect him, she wanted to curl his masculine self among her soft frame. She wished to provide him that comfort and safety his heart seek for the last few months.

He was asking her to forgive him. He feared that she hated him now. How could she?

Serkan had become more than a partner for her, he was a part of her. We don't detach ourselves from what lies within us.

He looked at her disbelievingly. Eda wiped his face with her palms. No more crying. They had enough, more than enough. The pain they had endured was enough for a lifetime.

"We'll leave. Somewhere far away, nobody could find us. Away from this mess, this hate, this chaos. Serkan we have each other. We are not going to let them ruin our happiness."

Was she for real?

"Tamam?" Eda pestered. He nodded in return, unable to say something.

"Seni cok seviyorum." Serkan mumbled only for her to hear as she adorned his face with delicate kisses.

"I have so much to tell you." She sighed in between.

"Where are you taking us?" He did not know why he was asking this. It didn't matter, the question came out of his mouth involuntarily.

"We are going to look for phoenixes." He did not know what that meant but he need not ask. As long as she was there, he didn't have to worry about anything. Eda embraced him protectively like a child. He was in his safe haven.

He was finally saved from the crash. 

[satanic-assistant]

Jeff and I got ready for bed together, for once. His "happy pets" as I have started calling Smile dog and Grinny cat much to their dismay, hardly ever let me see him without his jacket. Let alone his shirt entirely.

The happy pets were being suspicious; smile was a bit of a darker pink and smiling wider than normal a clear sign he was up to something, and Grinny cat wasn't being as much of a nuisance which made me think he was sick or planning something bad.

Jeff of course didn't notice, busy making"innuendos" that we both knew the happy pets would never let happen.

Getting in the bed was awkward to say the least, but we managed it with me hugging him from behind while smile was in his arms and Grinny was covering his feet, like a fuzzy rug.

It normally takes Jeff awhile to sleep but I put my hand in his hair and suddenly, gentle snores.

"you are so touch starved I swear, gum bug."

Making horrible but somehow cute pet names for each other was an inside joke, but got really mean about it sometimes especially when he was mad. He made me cry at least once and then his sadist would show, laughing at me and calling me even worse names. He never apologized for it, but I forgave him it was a joke anyway. Besides Jane walked in and threw things at Jeff and called him "twinkle toes" and he didn't let that go.

Eventually I got to sleep too. I was hoping for a nice dream, but then I heard an all too familiar voice.

"heeey there, ahem "gum bug" how're you, in my dream?"

When we heard Smile dog budge in

"the sarcasm is crippling, Jeff. Anyway Grin and I won't get in the way of you two's disgusting human acts."

And with that Smile was gone. I looked up at Jeff, who was staring at me with what can only be described as, embarrassment and obsession.

"what are you looking at-...."

I tried to snap him back to a conversation

My voice trailed away as I look down and see a very "suggestive" outfit. I look back at Jeff with the look reserved for Grinny when she tries to swipe a crispy chicken nugget from Sally.

He looks like he's fighting a very hard battle with himself, somewhere along the lines of; should I take what's been given to me, against staying in this relationship.

I tried to snap him back to a conversation.

"w- who does he think he is. We both know he isn't and can't be "fixed". So what does he mean "disgusting human acts"?!"

Jeff didn't answer, looking at me like "take what has been given" was winning. He never answered me which was very chilling to say the least.

I'm maybe slightly uncomfortable right now, I'm not really saving myself for anything or anyone, but Jeff is the kind of person you'd want experience with before trying anything out. For once he said something before me, surprising me.

"ahemmm anyyywayyyy maaaybeee we should try to wake up, though I doubt either of them would let that happen."

I kind of wanted to know what the huge change of pace was for so I asked

"W- what was that? The change of pace! One day I can't look at you without a jacket, next we have to bang!?"

Maybe I was getting hysterical but I was justified. Plus I didn't get an answer just a recognizing

"hmmmmm"

I'm getting hot and shakey now, it's a weird but exciting experience even if nothing happens.

"instead of doing anything I know I can't do, how about we just talk???"

I know he'll laugh at it but I know I can't do anything he wants.

"I guessss but you have to be in my lap, and I'm touching you. Not my fault we're here, but I'm going to take advantage of it."

I agreed and the night was eventful and slow thanks to smile's dream manipulation. We both laughed, I told him about how the twinkle toes thing made me feel, he still didn't apologize so I got annoyed at him.

"okay then Twink-le toes, see how it feels when I ignore you."

Tilting my nose up away from his face with a little puff of breath.

He grabs my face with two hands, not really helping his point, and drags my head to look at him. He was cute in some kind of e-boy or emo way, the thought making me giggle

"what're you laughin about Hug Bug~?"

I could only reply honestly through laughs.

"You look like a emo, or an e-boy, I can only see you with the-"

"I can see the-"

Bursting out into laughs again my throat almost hurting

"I can see the stupid little chains but they're coming out of your s- swe- sw-weater pocket-"

Crumpling up to hold my stomach I look at his face, he looks dramatically unamused, at least. I think he does it can hard to tell with out his eyelids and eyebrows sometimes. Nonetheless his face reads "I'm not humoring this shit, but it is kind of funny." Not being able to tell only makes me laugh even more. By the time I calm down my throat is sore and my stomach feels liquefied.

He starts saying something but I don't hear, so I responded with maybe the worst choice I could have picked.

"What did you say stupid e-boy?"

He looks absolutely enraged and I'm half afraid of getting hit, but as always he was just being as dramatic as possible.

"I swear I'm going to make you go to sleep whether you want to or not, Snot Cake."

I decided to try and match his drama.

"Oh my heart, it hurts. My vessel only used for love has been damaged to no end!"

We both continued one upping each other's dramatisms until we were yelling at nothing, I gave in because I knew he never would. I pecked a smooch on his cheek and lay down, my outfit finally changing into my own clothes signaling I was awake.

Jeff still sleeping soundly like a baby. I reached over and tried to pet his hair until Grinny walked up and demand that I feed her, I look at the near by clock it says 12:30 am. I have no idea how Jeff ever went to bed before 1:00 but I have a feeling it was a combination of be hugged for once and the head rubs.

"No Grinny it's nowhere near breakfast."

I was tired and could hear it in my voice

Grinny, being hungry voiced his complaints in BEN's voice.

"I am Hungry, I will wake Jeff up right now! Do you think I won't!? Watch me!"

I'm tired and not in the mood to hear Grinny's bs, responding to him saying.

"Do you want a treat then?"

Just to shut him up.

Both Happy pets shoot up at the word and get on to the floor ready to tail me until occupied with their late night snack.

I try to be quiet though for no real reason, most of the proxies being awake or gone anyway.

BEN was playing on his new nintendo Masky is cleaning up Hoody's room while Hoody watches. Toby is pestering EJ for nothing other than entertainment. Jane, Clockwork and the other grown women were out having a "girl's night out" which they deserve to be honest Liu, well Sully was out aswell but not for socializing, he was doing what most of the proxies did best, kill. LJ doesn't sleep often. The real concerns are Sally sleeping soundly and Slenderman passed out on the couch.

Sally is a child and Slenderman being intimidating, I'm a fairly new proxy and I don't want to piss him off too much.

I get downstairs and in the kitchen, very aware to be even more quiet than before. Getting the respective treat cans for Smile and Grinny, I prepare them and put crunchy treats on top.

About to put the bowls on the floor, Grinny plays another great prank knowing full well I'm trying to be quiet as possible.

"Heeeey We're hungry Ya'know!"

I shoot a begging look at the two of them before putting the bowls down faster and running upstairs.

Getting to the room without confrontation, I keep the door open, knowing Grinny will try to prank me again if I close it.

"hmm morning uhhh- busy bee. Where were you?"

Jeff's sleepy voice makes me fill with some kind of energy I can't explain. Swooning nonetheless I answer.

"Giving your asshole animals late night snacks."

I say in a voice more irritated than I meant to sound.

"ohh don't care, but okay."

He says with a smirk and a shrug. I pick up a pillow and smack him with it, making him jump and grab me by the waist, pulling me into his lap.

"Don't get so buzzy, Honey cake~"

I turn around and try to hit him with my hand only successful once on his thick skull.

"the damn cat threatened and then pranked me!"

I get huffy and try to melt out his grasp, again failing in that endeavor, again attempting to hit him.

"Come on slug bug, don't treat me like that."

The only thing that gets me to calm down is his voice. I push him into our previous spots on the bed only missing the happy pets. He doesn't fall asleep right away this time, but I do finally getting rest without two furry assholes pestering my dreams.

Scene sorry if it's hard to read, this is my first fanfic anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.

[asiryn]

Hi, FFN anon here again. KHMOM is out and I'm losing my mind because I just want to be able to complain about Kairi being written misogynistically without So/Kai fans coming onto my posts and telling me to "stay positive." It's driving me nuts.

Hello again!! Well, KHMoM isn’t out yet everywhere, as at least in America we have to wait until tomorrow. But we shall see how that goes. (I want to be optimistic, but frankly, I have been burned by this series too many times to hold out much hope.)

As I’ve stated quite a few times, the thing is, while at this point any improvement in the way they write for Kairi would be much appreciated, it’s impossible for them to completely fix everything. Even if MoM delivered us the absolute best, most mind-blowing story for Kairi ever, packed end to end with character development and agency, it still wouldn’t be enough to undo the years upon years of terrible and shallow writing. One game alone cannot fill the deficit of seven other games completely and utterly failing to deliver even halfway decent writing, and that instead seemed to almost go out of their way to shaft Kairi as much as possible. Even if MoM is full to the brim with incredible awesomesauce for Kairi, it will not retroactively fix the, as you’ve said, misogynistic writing of KH1, KH2, KH3, Re:CoM, Days, Re:coded, or KH3D. 

I really, truly, honestly hope that Melody of Memory doesn’t disappoint. But either way, whether it’s bad or good, it will not be a magic wand that’ll wave away the need for much-deserved criticism. Even at its best, all it can ever truly be is a band-aid slapped onto the gaping open wound left by the rest of the series. 

All this to say: I see and hear you, Anon. While at least a part of me can understand where the S*Kai fans are coming from, I wish they could understand that “staying positive” is not a tenable solution or mindset that a lot of us can have. Because, really, when have these writers ever demonstrated any kind of respect for Kairi as a character? When have they ever shown any kind of respect for her agency, or treated her as anything more than a hollow prop for the stories that they seemingly actually cared about? Why on earth should I have any faith in them, given that they’ve failed to deliver in every single game Kairi’s ever been in thus far, and have squandered every opportunity to improve for eighteen goddamn years?! I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me if I find it a bit difficult to drum up any trust, at this point. 

So, yeah....I’m sorry that I have to say it. But while I hope MoM is good, it will not be a magic fix-it button for the criminal mistreatment of Kairi and S*Kai. If we’re still getting an anime, then maybe if they’re willing to stray away from the game canon and add in all the missing connective tissue and improve things, then maybe we can wipe the slate clean and they could have the opportunity to do right by Kairi this time. Hire the manga writer(s) to handle Kairi across all the KH mediums from now on, and maybe then we’ll talk. 

[ziracona]

so can u tell us a little about ur characterization of Lisa?? What's she like inside and outside of trials? Does she have a lot of lucidity, what were her relationships with others like, would she ever get better, do you think? ( im SAD.) Just. What's she like!! Also, same for Sally? Oh! And I'm rly enjoying two songs by Meg Myers which maybe you'll like? Running up that hill (Cover) and Desire. Maybe check em out? :3 - Sleepy

Sure!

My Lisa is from a bit before the archives for her placed her (early 1970s), because I wrote ILM back when there was no date given for many killers or survivors, so I just hoped they were historically accurate with the things they did mention & went through a fairly exhaustive list of drained swamps in the Southern US & paddleboat makes & placed her according to that data (it’s been a bit so I don’t remember the exact date without looking up my notes) in the 1920s-1930s, I believe? And in her early 20s, since she’s described as a girl & young woman, which DbD usually does only for characters in their early 20s. (Which I’d still assume is her age, bc even though her archives, if you go by them, have her in her teens, they’re not connected to the events of her disappearance/definitely happened before them.)

In trials, Lisa has like 0 lucidity. I talk about this some in chapter notes, so I’ll try to give a quick overview instead but sry if I restart myself. She’s so starved that any time she sees a living being, she is just completely overcome with hunger and can’t do anything but operate on it. Very scary. Feral. Like being attacked by a starving animal. She’s super out of it, and is completely wild and violent and has no control, only the need to eat. Outside of trials, if no one is around, she’s lucid again, but will remember trials and what she did to people, and spends that time in horror and despair. She’s tried to kill herself before, because the last thing she ever wanted was to become the thing she swore vengeance on (the Entity’s a real cruel motherfucker. Did the same to Rin, to Philip, to everyone it could. Likes to really twist decent people into what they would most despair to be), but in the realm, she’s stuck as it. She’s not really aware for trials, but remembers them with decent clarity, and is in constant agony over what she’s done. Unfortunately, suicide does not take in the realm, and every one of her attempts failed, just like her attempts to maim or tie herself up so she wouldn’t be able to hurt people did. She’s horribly alone and despairing, and also in physical agony. She’s at the worst end of what a human can be at as far as emaciation and starvation while still being alive goes, and that’s physically awful. It fucks up your brain chemistry too, and everything is just really fucking miserable all the time. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, your breath smells tastes like rotten fruit but in a way that’s so much worth than that can sound. She’s so hungry, her addons are things like dragonfly wings consumed to give her extra stamina. That’s the kind of bare sliver of relief she ever gets. God, poor Lisa’s life is hell. She’s completely heartbroken and isolated and almost dead. As far as relationships go, she didn’t have any for a long time. No one can really interact with her, because she goes feral at the sight of food. She’s kinda utterly alone. But briefly, when Alex, Philip, Vigo, Benedict, and Sally were a group, she kind of got stumbled into, and after a kind of nasty first encounter, was able to regain lucidity around other people, and had a truly sweet and memorable and invaluable bit of time with love and friends and other people. She was kind of in love with Sally, who did her hair for her and was really kind to her, and Sally liked her too. They were close. Lisa was close with all of them. But when things ended the way they did, the Entity took that away. Lisa remembers it, but she could never get them or it back, and was cast aside and left behind until the end of ILM, when she finally got peace and found happiness in finally getting to be at rest in the arms of a friend. Overal, she’s a fairly young and wide-eyed, bright, cautious, fun and sweet girl by nature, now massively traumatized and hopeless and broken, but still with a truly incredible amount of that kind nature retained. She would have really loved reading fantasy novels aloud and exploring the worlds of lore and history, travelling, seeing other cultures and geographic features and animals. Enjoys fashion too, and has a heart for designing and making cool, personal and cultural and symbolic tied designs, and would have been both great at that and loved it if she’d lived long enough. (Shoutout to @artianaiolanthe who inspired the fashion take & it is so suited to her I love it). A little shy, but an extrovert at heart under it, just a nervous one. Loved people. Liked climbing trees and fording brooks and baking bread and throwing rocks and baseballs to knock a target out of a tree and win a prize at little town fairs. Didn’t get the length or quality of life she was owed, and it’s just not fair or okay at all. Liked to watch the stars.

As far as getting better goes, mentally, totally. If they could get her out of the realm or break the Entity’s connection, she’d immediately stop killing. She has never done it of her own free will. She’s a sweet small town kid who was just trying to live her life. As far as physically goes though, Lisa is in one of the worst possible spots. Unlike say Amanda, who was on death’s door but healed by the Entity, or the Legion, who weren’t injured at all, Lisa was on death’s door and like Adiris, did not get healed. Just preserved in that near-death state and forced to work in it. Honestly, it’s possible she could survive long enough to get to a hospital and be saved, but at best, she’d probably live another year. When you starve, your body begins to catabolize/eat your own tissue to save itself, starting with fat, and ending with muscles and organs, which, when it reaches the heart, kills you. Lisa was so close to dead, the organ damage was probably awful, and would leave her with complications that would take her very young. The most likely thing, since she was saved literally seconds before death, would be for her to step outside the realm and immediately die. However, it’s possible she got lucky on body damage and could be saved—kinda up to interpretation—and if say, she was around for Quentin’s Vigil going healing batshit, and got some organs repaired that way, she’d have a real shot. (I also am sad. Lisa was actually the only determinate character in ILM to me/that I wasn’t sure the ending for, and while I am very happy with what ended up being her closure, I also would like to see her live for even more love and peace TuT. Lol, if I ever end up doing my goddamn four fate route fics like I’ve joked now a truly dangerous number of times about doing [>.> me @ me] then maybe she will get a variety of lives in the end). I’m glad you wanted to know! I really like and pity her. This poor kid really did nothing wrong, much like Rin, and just got eternally tortured for asking for help and justice against the monsters who took her life so violently. Fuck Brittany. (Read: the Entity.)

Ahhhh Sally. My sweet, sweet girl. Uhhh, not sure which of the Lisa questions you meant for her too, so I’ll try to speed-answer them all? Sally’s intelligent and understanding and thoughtful, patient, polite, almost elegant despite how impoverished she spent most of her life—she just tries to act like a lady and treat people with as much respect and esteem as she can (unless they suck lol). She’s also very mentally damaged and not there though, and has extremely unstable mood swings, especially into despair. Her relationships with the other killers were limited. She talked to & was on polite terms with any who would talk to her and not be condescending or a dick so openly she’d pick up on it (so like, on cordial terms with Evan, Herman, Caleb if she’d been there that long, but not like, Kenneth or Freddy or someone who wouldn’t bother to put up an act). But mostly, after figuring out she wasn’t really of any use to them, they quit communicating with her. Sally has been extremely isolated since shortly after being taken. She believes that the survivors are innocent and suffering and knows that they don’t deserve the hunt, but has no way to stop the whole system, and has been convinced by the Entity that if she does a good job and earns moris, the ones she strangles to death get to stay dead instead of coming back after death to suffer endlessly again, so she works very dedicatedly and slowly trying to earn kills to save them. It took her physical eyes when it got her and lets her see through it’s powers, and uses that to randomize what survivors look like in her memory so she doesn’t catch wise it’s the same people over and over and she’s not saving them at all. It’s extremely tragic. God it’s one of the most cruel Entity tricks, which is saying a lot. Poor gentle woman is Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill day after day year after year and she doesn’t even know how hopeless and meaningless it all is. : (

When the Vigo-Philip-Alex-Benedict team was going, though, she met and attacked, then was convinced to instead befriend them, and quickly became very attached and well liked by them. Met Lisa while with the group, and became extremely fond of her and loving towards her and was truly, truly happy for a brief period of time. Still remembers her, even as lost as all her memories are. Not her name, but what she looked like to Sally, and how her hair felt, and how nice it was. Sally would have considered everyone in that group a dear friend, and in ILM, Philip most definitely becomes her deepest, closest, and best friend, just like she does to him. She’s a very faithful woman to her soul. Loved her family, loved her husband and mourned him, worked as hard as she could. Cared for her patients, and did her best in that hell until the Entity slowly whittled away at her sanity until it broke her mind and left her convinced the only way to end their pain would be to give them death, and she had to do it to save them. Sally loves little pretty things and neatness and collections. Flowers, bows and ribbons, china and colored glass. She would have treasured gifts like decorative holiday cards and carved animal figures and left them on her mantle or carefully tucked in lovingly organized and decorated books she could open to revisit the memory. Likes dresses and skirts and the way the wind feels. Hopeful and very enduring. Loving. Had a mom heart, and will never really get entirely over the loss of her children, but is strong and kind and will find new love that makes life still worth living in other people. Will remember both kindness and cruelty a long, long time. Loved Quentin from the second he gave her flowers (Dwight: Quentin, why did the entity let you have three moms? Quentin: Because I fucking earned it >:[“ [author’s note: he did. God that poor kid...]). Loved Kate from the day she sat with her in a hospital and held her hand. Is like that. Remembers small kindness and treasures them.

Sally could definitely recover. Not all the way probably, physically or mentally, but by far enough to be complete and happy and realized and who she wants. She never meant to hurt people, so she really just needs some stability, and I think she finds that with her new family. I mean, it is a lot to adjust to. It’s been like nearly 100 years. The Entiry broke her mind, and she’s got some damage that just probably can’t ever be fixed, but a lot can be, with drugs and treatments and therapy and kindness and a good support system, and honestly, the biggest things she needs are people to keep her memories together and herself present, and influences to protect her from being manipulated and controlled now that she’s so suggestible and easy to hurt, and she’s got that. I am 100% certain that while some things—the scatteredness, the ease of slipping into other moods especially deep sadness, the different way of thinking altogether—never leave her, she gets better in the most important ways and is truly happy and quite functional and what she wants to be. While there’s no way (yet anyway lol. Cybernetics that good when?) to give her new eyes since the Entity ripped hers out, and she’s blind now, and can’t be changed, her seeing eye dog does a great job for her, and she’s very happy and adjusts well. She has a lot of friends to be her eyes, and learns to lean into what she can do and has a quite fulfilling and blissful life outside the realm in ILM.

Also: thanks for the recs! I’m going on a run soon, and I’ll add those to my iPod and give ‘em a listen if I can. Hope this answered what you wanted to know! ^u^

[miss-choco-chips]

Teaching you, teaching me

Four times mother and son learned from and about each other, and one time Tim used his knowledge for evil good.

(Warning: Tim is older in some and younger in others, without order)

(For my babes @the-quiet-carrotcake and @animemangasoul who cheered me up when I was feeling bad, hope this makes you happy as well! 

Also, hon tagged me on a ‘five word prompt generator’ thing and I lost the post, so this is my contribution, five words that inspired each part)

Animal

When Jack died, it was sad but they were prepared. He’d been in a coma for two months by then, and Janet had practically been readying both herself and her son for the outcome. Tim had been sad, but it was more because of a possible future lost (he’d never given up the hope of his father changing one day, of Jack wanting to stay and being more present in his life), than genuine sorrow. Or so had the therapist told her.

Janet hadn’t felt bad, not really. Her relationship with her late husband had been cold long before his death, ruined by years of neglecting their son and being absent of their lives, but she suffered for her son, with his too big heart, who didn’t hesitate on wasting his tears on a father that never deserved them, the second she told him the news. 

Still, she held his hand through the entire funeral, surprised by the way he held his head on high. When he threw an arm over her shoulders to guide her away, after the service was over, she realized he was trying to be strong for her. The thirteen year old, heart breaking inside his small chest, was puffing it out to make himself seem bigger, more reliable, to comfort a mother that didn’t really need it.

Her beautiful, kind son.

Max’s death, a short two months after, was nothing like that.

The dog had been part of their household for nine, almost ten years now. Bought shortly after the circus tragedy, in a desperate attempt at soothing her son’s nightmares with the company of something fluffy and loveable, Max had grown up next to Tim, been there for any sad or happy moment, comforting him or sharing his joy by turns. The golden retriever had seem made specifically of love, giving all of it to the kid he’d been gifted to, and for that alone Janet had gone all out on his medical treatments, desperate to make him live as long as possible for a dog. 

Still, he was gone too soon, taking with him Tim’s smile and leaving ample space for tears. Tim had stayed by his side from the moment the veterinarian informed them of his chronic condition, to the tragic end of it, petting him softly and speaking in low, comforting tones.

Max’s last act before dying had been to lick Tim’s hand, the only thing he could reach from where he was lying on the dog bed, and wag his tail once. Even at death’s door, he’d showed Tim more love than his father ever had. Just for that, Janet would Max more than she did Jack.

It also baffled her, when Tim rejected her offer to bring home another dog a week after the small funeral they held in the backyard, softly closing the book on his lap to give her his full attention.

-You love getting new pets -she felt compelled to point out, because it felt like the obvious course of action.

-I do, but I also know why you are suggesting it now, and it won’t work. You can’t make me forget my sadness over losing Max by getting me a puppy, mom. 

-It’ll fill the void -she insists. Almost desperately. 

(She can’t stand to hear her child cry by himself at night, his despair breaking her heart worse than anything else ever could)

-It won’t -he says, shifting in the window seat he always choose when deep in thought or in a contemplative mood-. I loved Max, not because he was a dog, but because he was Max. Even if you buy me a hundred puppies, I’ll love them because they’d be them. It won’t make me forget my pain over Max’s death. 

She wanted to fight him on it, offer more, whatever it took to wipe the dim and far away look from his eyes, but he glanced up at her, so softly and fond, and she felt her tongue glueing itself to the top of her mouth. 

She thought, weirdly enough, of Wayne. Of how, when his first son went away, how he took another boy in. Despite loving Jason, he never stopped missing Dick. She thinks she understands, a little, where Tim was coming from.

(Tim would throw his book at her, if he knew she was comparing the Waynes to dogs, but, if the shoe fits…)

Demonstration

They say watching was the best form of learning, and Tim took it to heart. He analyzed people, going to work, hanging out with friends, buying groceries, fighting, laughing, crying… he saw, and he learned.

The one he watched the most was his mother, though.

How she smiled oh-so-politely at parties, how she ruthlessly destroyed the person speaking to her with short, well informed facts and dirty laundry. How she did both at the same time.

He went with her to DI, and took notice of the way her hips swayed with each step whenever she needed the room’s attention on her, or made her heels click extra hard against the porcelain floor when she wanted averted eyes.

She waved sweetly to her secretary, and frostily glared at the board member sitting three seats away from her.

She clenched her teeth during a phone call with someone she hated, but kept her voice perfectly smooth, warm even, as if speaking to an old friend.

He knew he would inherit the company one day. And, small as DI had been in the past, it had flourished under Janet Drake’s tender and constant care, blooming into the powerhouse it was today, on par with Wayne Enterprises. It was intimidating, to imagine all that power, all that responsibility, on his shoulders. 

Mother, Aunt Nicole, Uncle Lex, Uncle Bruce, Dick, Jay… they all said it, that Tim was too kind, too soft. He would give his hand to someone down without a thought, rather than see if they had a weapon first. Sweet, they called him, and made him blush, because he liked it. Liked that, to all that ruthless, sharp, for moments cruel people, he was a warm presence. A safe, comfortable place to lay worries to rest and smile. He liked being their sweet Timmy.

But he also despised it, because he was a gothamite, and this city ate sweet people whole for dessert, just after finishing with the foolish and naive ones that made for it’s lunch. There was no place for tender people, because that was the best kind to sink teeth into, and Gotham feeds on them. And he can’t die, because who is going to make sure mom and Nicole don’t go off the deep end? Who’s going to help Lex understand and bond with his son, with Conner? Who’s going to make sure the Waynes are getting along, when Alfred himself decides to leave them to their terrible life choices?

So he watches his mom, because she’s a prime example of someone not to be fucked with. Someone who is going to survive this wreck of a city until her drawn out, bitter end, and when that comes, she’ll go kicking and screaming and suing people to the ends of the earth. She doesn’t fear Gotham, and while sure as fuck Gotham doesn’t fear her either, it at least respects her. 

So he watches, and memorizes, and adapts behaviours and gestures into his own, tries to mimic the look in her eyes that send people flinching back and laughing nervously.

And, since he’s watching, he notices that she knows. How she’d look over her shoulder, straight into his eyes, as if saying ‘pay attention, I’m only showing you this once’ before she does something particularly tricky. Demonstrates her way of surviving, and lets him learn from it to make his own.

Tim, eleven years old, so tender and soft he’s like a warm, eatable bunny in everyone’s opinion, closes his eyes and breathes in, deeply. When he opens them, the icy blue of his gaze is enough to send the closest board member stumbling back and mumbling an apology (for what, who knows) before scurrying out of the room. 

Mom looks back to the rest of the board, but Tim knows (because he watches her all the time, he’s learned her to the smallest detail) that she’s smiling. 

She’s proud.

Galaxy

It’s late, and she feels sick and wants nothing more than to go to sleep. She’d basically lived at the office this last week, because of some stupid mistake Jack had made with the one piece of paperwork she needed him to sign (how he manages to screw up from all the way across the world, she can’t quite understand; it surely requires talent), and feels about ready to collapse on her bed.

But, because it’s been a while since she saw him, something in her gut tells her to go look for her son. Tim’s probably asleep right now, it’s almost four a.m, but if she’s silent enough, she could sneak a quick peek through the door, make sure he’s fine, and then go to bed completely unburdened.

Except, when she gets there, she’s treated to the sight of her son, her eight year old son, getting back into his room from God knows where by climbing through his window. Which, by the way, was located on the third floor.

Janet pressed a hand to her chest, as if to make sure her heart was still beating. It was, but the speed couldn't be normal.

Was this a heart attack? 

Hidden by the shadows on the hallway, she noticed how he removed his tiny sneakers, that she had completely forgot he even owned, and thrusted them under the bed. They were worn out, full of grim, obviously used often for activities like sneaking out at night and climbing the house. 

Yes, she was having a heart attack. And an aneurysm. Simultaneously.

The camera around his neck, she did remember. The one gift he had asked for his last birthday, the only thing he ever begged her for. She hadn’t understand his passion for owning one, but since he never had looked so earnest (and wanting to make up for Jack missing the day) she conceded.

Was it a mistake? Watching the little boy making himself comfortable in his bed, going through the photos in the camera with the most delighted expression ever, she felt like ‘fuck yes’ wasn’t a strong enough answer.

Her first impulse, to jump inside the room and demand answers, was squashed down almost as soon as it hitted her. If she did, Tim would clam up and deny everything. Instead, she breathed in deeply and tapped her knuckles against the doorframe.

Tim almost jumped straight out of his skin, looking at her like a thief caught red handed. It’d be almost funny, if her heartbeat wasn’t still off the charts.

-Timothy, it’s quite late. Why are you awake at this hour? And with your camera? -she made a show of scanning his clothing, as if she wasn’t aware of the jeans and hoodie- Why aren’t you on your pajamas?

She could almost hear him thinking, brilliant mind kicking into overdrive as her prodigious son searched for an answer that would satisfy his mother and keep him out of trouble. Shame no such answer existed.

-I… was outside, mama -he mumbled; calling her like that, amping up the cuteness, was almost overdoing it, but she supposed the situation called for big guns- Taking pictures of the sky. I-I know it’s dark, and polluted, but I heard today was going to be extra-starry, and I thought maybe I could photograph the stars for you?

He was good, she ought to give him that. But years too young to even try to lie to her.

-I see -she answers, calmly walking closer to him. Her face betrayed nothing, and she could see how that was getting into him by the way he was fondling with the camera, almost carelessly compared to his earlier reverent touch.

He flinched when she sat by his side.

-M-mom?

-Well? -an arched eyebrow- Aren’t you going to show me? You did something incredibly dangerous, climbing down your window- no, don’t even try to lie, I saw you climbing back in. Don’t think we won’t be talking about that in the morning. But you did something truly reckless, for those pictures for me. The least I can do is see them.

Quick, trembling hands fumbled a bit with the buttons. Janet was honestly surprised when he turned the camera around, showing actual sky pictures to her. She believed it a bluff. Maybe preventive measures, in case he got caught? She was sure he was lying, because even if they were sky pictures, it wasn’t a particularly nice view, all foggy and polluted Gotham landscape.

She also noticed (though pretended not to) how those angles weren't ones he could achieve from their backyard, which upped her panic levels a few notches. Her baby had been alone, at night, away from home, in this shithole of a city.

-What a pity -she says, instead, giving back the camera, despite her burning desire to search for older pictures to get an idea of her son’s true activities-, those look like the usual sky. I would have loved to see the stars. Well, not your fault, this place is just ugly. Maybe we should move to Metropolis, I’m sure there are stars there.

-Mom…!

-Hush, now, go to sleep. We are talking about sneaking out and bedtimes tomorrow, I’m too tired right now.

She could see his anxiety (at moving away? Why did he love this place so much?), but he must have realized he’d push his luck too far if he insisted, so he kissed her cheek and let her tuck him in. 

Despite her bone-deep tiredness, Janet couldn't get a single second of shut eye at all. By six a.m and truly out of ideas, she picked up the phone. Too respectful of Nicole’s boundaries to bother her at that hour (or at least, not desperate enough; had the situation been a little more urgent, she wouldn’t have hesitated to drag her to the manor kicking and screaming), she called Lex.

At the fifth ring, her old friend's voice answered- I have a conference with the president in a few hours and need rest, this better be important.

-Please, your sleep schedule is even worse than mine. I need an opinion.

-And is Al Ghul unavailable? Why are you bothering me, when you two usually ignore my advice and go to each other?

-Don’t be jealous, green isn’t your color. Lavender isn’t either, but well, I guess you can’t win all your battles…

-Bold words for someone asking for help.

-Who said anything about help? I just need a new perspective. And I’m already regretting going to you for it.

-Well, I’m awake now, so might as well. Mercy -Luthor’s voice sounded a little muffled, probably covering the receiver while he addressed his bodyguard slash buttler- I’ll be in the study, bring me coffee.

She gave him a few minutes, twirling one of her dark locks in her pointer finger. Laying in bed, unmade by all the tossing and turning she did for the last hours, she looked the picture of unrest. Luthor would laugh himself sick if he saw her now.

-Alright, I have coffee now. What happened?

-I caught Tim coming back home  after sneaking out last night. It looked like he did it before, multiple times; he had specific shoes for it that he hid, and even got some backup-plan photographs to make it look like he was just in the backyard photograpying the sky.

She heard the squeaking sound his chair made as he sat straighter, floored by her confession. 

-You should oil that chair. Is unbecoming for your image if it makes that kind of sounds everytime you move on it.

-Sorry, I can’t answer properly to the last part because I’m still reeling for the opening bit.

-Weak.

He ignored her (rude), muttering under his breath- Tim what? No, he wouldn’t… well, he does have Janet’s genes, so maybe…

-So -she cut him off, because if he kept that line of thinking, she would hang up and he still hadn’t given her any advice-, your thoughts?

-Get a bodyguard on him 24-7 who’ll keep him from going out at night -he answered quick as a wip, not even needing to think it through. She huffed.

-If it were that easy, I wouldn't need your opinion, you fool. This is my son we are talking about. Guilt and duty might keep him from going out, if I appeal to those, but brute force and shackles? He’s smart, smarter than you, maybe even than me. If he really wants to go, and finds no moral obstacles, he’ll find a way. 

-So, do what you said, attack his conscience. 

-I want to keep him safe, not emotionally destroy him.

-Forbid him from going? Like you said, he’s a dutiful son, and very well behaved.

-Which means he’ll make sure I think he’s obeying, but no guarantees he’ll actually do it. Think harder.

A few minutes went by, before the man sighed.

-You said it yourself, if he really wants to go, there’s little you can do, short of locking him up like a prince in a tower. Maybe speak to him, tell him your reasons to worry… and get him some martial arts teacher, to give him a fighting chance if he ends up disobeying anyway.

----.----

After speaking to Luthor and a quick call to Nicole for a favor (namely, get Lady Shiva to accept a work as a sensei for Tim), Janet slept for a solid nine hours. Eating, overseeing some papers and phoning her secretary to clean her schedule for the rest of the week, and she was ready to face her son after having dinner together. 

They sat on Tim’s bed, and she held his hand as she spoke to him. About how cold it was, how easy it was, before he was born. How life was do this, think about that, conquer here, throw something away there. Act, consequence, simple as that. Clinical as that.

It was different, she said, when he came to her life, to her arms. Because it was warm, and difficult, and so, so scary. She’d never been so afraid of the butterfly effect before. Now, consequences of a misstep could come to bite her in twenty years, a simple act  now could make Tim despise her in the future.

“I’ve never been so afraid in my life”, she told him, baring her soul for the first time in her life. “But I’ve also never been happier, and it’s all because of you.”

“I love you”, she told him, giving her heart away for the first time in her life. “And I can’t lose you.”

Those words were the hardest for her to say. She did it, anyway. Because he needed to hear them, and because they might be enough to keep him from pulling last night’s stunt again.

By the time she was done, Tim’s face was a mess of tears and snot. He hadn’t uttered a single word, holding onto her hand like a lifeline, but his smile was the brightest, prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

-I’ll be careful, Mom -he promised, between wrecked sobs. It had truly affected him, to hear her heart thoughts so bluntly. She ought to do this more often, if he treasured it so much- I.. I won’t go out at night alone, not until I’m someone not even the Rogues can mess with. I promise -he looks at his bedside table, where the camera sits, and looks regretful but determined at the same time. She knows he means it. Whatever feeling he got from sneaking out to take pictures, it evidently wasn’t as strong as what he felt now, holding his mom’s hand and shaking from such strong emotions.

-Thank you -she breathed in deeply, relaxing for the first time since the night before, letting go of his hand to hug his shoulders, pressing him into her side.

After a few seconds of silence, he weaseled out of her hold, raising a hand to halt her when she tried to follow his example and get up- Stay there a minute, Mom, I have something to show you.

With that, he sprinted to the light switch, and turned them off. But a slight, greenish glow remained in the room, and then she noticed the glow in the dark stars sticking to the ceiling.

There were… a lot of them.

Tim came back and sat once again next to her, hand quickly snatching hers.

-You said… you said you wanted to see the stars, so I made you a little galaxy. Whenever you want to see them, you can come here… You’ll also know, that way, that I’m here and not sneaking out.

Thanking people wasn’t something Janet did often. But she had said ‘I love you’ today, and that one was a first, so this wasn’t too far fetched for her.

-Thank you, Tim.

Feedback

A week after showing his mother his multiple closets full of disguises and aliases’ clothing, he was called into her office. 

He had expected some questions, maybe even feedback or advice in how to perfect his portrayal of other people.

He hadn’t expected this.

-..and I know I’m not as… adapted to the ever changing times as younger people like you. Me, Lex, sometimes Nicole, we are too set on our ways, but. 

She cleared her throat. Tim still wasn’t sure he wasn’t having some kind of fever dream.

-But. It’s important for you to know that I… I won’t ever judge you for something you are. I might judge your actions, like when you accept Todd’s offers for a ride downtown, or Grayson’s requests for a dance, or when you are too dumb/ kind, too kind, towards other people… But I’ll never judge you for something you didn’t choose. Like this.

In the midst of this confusing speech, Tim still couldn't quiet comprehend why mom was gesturing towards the shoes on the desk. They were simple, red heels, not even that high, belongings of Caroline Hill, one of his more successful aliases. It was a wonder how people on the Alley’s clinic hadn’t catched on that their favorite voluntary nurse slash doctor in training was a fifteen year old kid instead of the nineteen year old shy girl they thought, but it was an ego boost when they called him Miss Hill, and a boost to his medical skills when they taught him something new.

-I understand this is an… -a quick glance to the papers in her desk. Had mom… wrote this down beforehand? What…?- age of changes, yes, an age of changes for you. And you are… discovering- no, learning yourself. And I’m honored that you trusted me enough to show me that, and came to me in this… confusing times.

Tim opened his mouth to speak. Mom seemed to panic, as much as mom ever did anyways, quickly sorting through her sheets of… Information? Pointers?

-Not that I think you are confused! I trust that you know yourself the best, and I trust whatever you say to me are your honest feelings on the matter. 

-I… I am confused -he managed to blurt out. 

Mom winced, and searched among her papers some more. When she seemed to find whatever it was, she pulled it above the others, gave them a quick glance, and kept going- It’s okay if you don’t know it yet, too. There’s more than just… male or female. According to my research, there’s a ‘neither’, ‘both’ and ‘sometimes one, sometimes the other’ option.

Janet seemed lost at her own words. Tim could relate. He wasn’t even sure they were talking about his aliases anymore.

-What I mean to say is -she breathed in deeply, letting the papers fall to the desk and meeting his eyes head on-, I love you. You are my son, daughter, neither, both, whatever you feel, but still mine. My child, and nothing you do about your… identity or sexuality can change that. I’ll always accept you, as you are. And if anyone ever gives you trouble about it, you can always come to me and I’ll set their minds straight, or remove them from the picture.

Tim felt fondness surging in his chest, even as his mind came to an abrupt halt when he finally understood what this was all about.

-You might have to be patient with me, or explain some concepts, as I learn about this, because its all new information to me. But I promise you I’ll always love you no matter what, and I’m willing and ready to do my best to/

-Mom -he finally choked up, torn between embarrassment and profound love- I’m not… I’m a boy. I really, really appreciate all this, but you don’t need to… I mean, the shoes and clothes? It’s because I’m making aliases, so I can learn different things and meet people without it being traced back to me. Like, tools. Caroline Hill, the shoes owner, for example, is a tool to learn about medicine, and practice the way of women in case I ever need to disguise myself as one. Not… not actual representations of Tim Drake.

There was a minute of silence.

-Well, this is… unexpected.

-But -he continued, cheeks warm but hurting from smiling so hard- you are the best mom ever, and this learning you are doing? It’s great, even if not applicable to me, because it… it’s good, for people to understand and accept other people like that. It makes you a better person, and I’m really proud of you.

He got up from his seat and walked around the desk, sitting in the floor by his mom’s chair like he did when he was a toddler, and rested his head in her lap, hugging her legs, eyes going to hers with wonder and happiness. She seemed utterly relieved, both at not having fucked up their chat, and at him not being mad at the misunderstanding.

-Aliases, huh. I can help with that. We can talk about it over dinner, and I’ll give you some suggestions.

-Thanks, mom. And, hum, since you brought up the whole gender and sexuality stuff… this might be a good moment to let you know I’m bi.

Long, sharp nails scratched his scalp softly, his eyes closing almost on instinct. Her laugh ringed in his ears.

-It doesn’t matter to me, Timothy. Boy, girl… whoever you bring home, I’ll…

He smiled, expectant.

-... never accept them. No one, no matter their genders, is good enough for my son.

Ah, there she was, the mother he knew and loved.

Movie

Tim, sitting in his study, didn’t even raise his eyes from the paperwork mom had assigned him (to help make him accustomed to dealing with it for when he’ll have a more central role in DI)  when the door opened and closed with a bang. He continued signing contracts with one hand, while the other patted his desk for his phone, shooting a quick text to the butler without looking.

-Can you believe it? -his intruder clamored, walking back and forth in front of Tim’s desk, hands messing through long locks of black hair.

-No -he replied, eyes still not leaving his work- It's amazing, how the stock market dropped on Wayne Enterprises. What is Bruce thinking, with the neon knights? He can’t do that and then go gallivanting around the world alone again, the stockholders won’t stand for such a big inversion without the logical follow up. I need to phone Damian about this, maybe he can ask his brothers to pose as Bruce and/

-I’m not talking about your precious Waynes!

-I know -he replied, hand finishing the last stroke of his signature, raising his eyes to his godmother just as the door opened and the butler brought a tea (and coffee) set, placing it by the little table in the corner of the study-, but I needed a few minutes to finish this before paying attention to you, Aunt. Now, a cup of tea? I’ll be having coffee, but it might not be the best for your frayed nerves.

-My nerves aren’t frayed, you little brat. Show some respect. Where is my cute little angel of a godson? -she complained, sitting as elegantly as ever in the plus couch by the little table. Tim sat opposite her.

-He hasn't slept in three days -and is being asked to meddle into adult’s problems, but he didn’t voice that part, merely mixing ingredients in the steaming cup-, It’s natural to be bitter. Now, tea?

She didn’t answer, but accepted the offered drink, already prepared to her tastes perfectly. Despite her anger, she smiled. Two sugars, no milk, a little lemon, the smallest hint of vodka. Her godson knew her so well.

A few seconds went by as Tim readied his own coffee and downed half. The butler topped the cup for him, and then left just as quietly as he had came.

-Now, want to tell me what has you so mad?

He already knew, but playing innocent was one of his strengths. Bruce still blamed Dick for the incident on the music room of the manor, despite the fact that Tim had been there at the moment and his eldest far away on a secret mission civilian Tim wasn't supposed to know about. That was the true power of a goodie two shoes.

-Your mother, she… You know we were planning on going to the movies today, and she…!

-Ah -he nodded, as if only catching up then- She went with Dana, right?

Nicole gritted her teeth, downing her cup in one long glup to calm herself. Tim merely took the teapot and filled it again.

-Janet doesn’t even like the movies! She hates being around other people. The only reason she goes is to humor me, and now… That woman…

-Dana is a good person -he intervened, because he genuinely liked her. Dana Winters had been in charge of taking care of his comatose dad until his death, and they had spent some time together during his visits to Jack. A lot of his alias Caroline Hill had been based on her. And right now, she...

-Too good -Nicole muttered, which Tim suspects, was the root of the problem.

-Shouldn't you be glad? -he asked, head tilted in his best show of naivety- That mom is trying to get someone kind to be by her side? Dad wasn’t… dad wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t as nice to mom as he could have been. I, for one, want her to be happy.

-Janet doesn’t do nice.

It took everything in him to not answer ‘well, she might tonight’, because that would ruin his innocent image, and he was afraid Nicole might actually stab Dana. Really, refraining himself like that was almost painful. Mom better appreciate his sacrifice.

-The nicest thing she could ever stand was you -she continued, ignorant to her godson’s internal struggle-, and you are her baby.

-I’m fifteen -he felt compelled to inform her, but was promptly shushed.

-To us, you never grew past your chubby stage.

-I didn’t have a chubby stage, and you can’t prove otherwise -he’d know. He was the one who got rid of the evidence.

-Back to the point… Dana is no good fit for your mom. She’d end up tearing off her own hair in frustration in less than a month after countless discussions of morality and ‘doing the right thing’. She can barely resist when it’s you doing the nagging and, again, you are the exception to all of Janet’s rules.

Tim hummed, thinking distractedly how someone as smart as Nicole couldn’t see that Dana’s good heart wasn’t the problem here. Oh well, he needed to be a little more direct.

-And who do you think would be a good match for mom? Someone distant, like dad? Or easily manipulated?

A growling almost came out of Nicole’s mouth. Tim refilled his coffee cup again.

-Neither… those make for good tools, but not partners. Janet needs someone who understands her, who couldn’t judge, who likes her as rotten and twisted as she is.

Should he protest? This was his mother they were talking about. Not that she was wrong, but… still.

Deciding against it, because he needed to get back to work and this conversation was already exhausting, he nodded- Mm, but plenty of people in high society adore her... 

-Those fools either don’t know of her true nature, or are too scared of it. None would make for a good life companion.

-So, someone who isn’t scared of her, knows her inside out, isn’t morally upright…

-They should also have similar objectives in life -Nicole interjected, empty cup clattering against the plater when she placed it there-, otherwise Janet might feel the need to remove them to keep them off her way.

-Objectives, like…?

-Staying on top of the food chain of the corporate world, for example. And keeping loved ones safe. Like you, for her.

“And Damian, for you”, he didn’t say. Finally, they seemed to be reaching the end of the discussion. Just a few more lines...

-And they should be strong -she kept on, digging her own grave for Tim’s convenience-, because Janet is, too, which means her enemies are as well, and she needs someone to have her back if she ever needs it.

-I don’t think -he wondered, finger tapping his chin in childlike confusion- that such a person exists. Someone as morally compromised as mom, strong enough to help her achieve her objectives, who knows her and loves her. I never met someone like that… I mean, besides you.

Time seemed to stop for Nicole, who dropped the scon she had halfway through her mouth. Tim knew what having a romantic realization felt like, so he let her deal with it while he finished his coffee. After a few minutes letting her stew, he force a look of curiosity and concern on his face- Aunt Nicole? Are you alright? You went really quiet…

Nicole wasn’t sitting in front of him any longer. Okay, he’ll forgive the rudeness, in the spirit of love and all that. Picking up his phone, he sent Dana a quick text, warning her to make herself scarce.

“Everything going according to plan on my end”

“Ah, okay. I’ll thank Janet for accompanying me, and ask her to just be friends. Then I’ll catch a taxi :) “

“Yeah, let me know once you are back on your house, it’s getting pretty late”

“Aw, you’re such a gentleman. Me and your mom spent all afternoon talking about you, you know. And Nicole”

“You buttered her up to the idea?”

“She seemed to be considering ending this ‘date’ early as well to go looking for her, so I’m guessing I did ;) “

“Thank you again, Dana “

“Make sure they invite me to the wedding, and we’re even!”

“If they don’t elope, that’s it”

“They won’t. That would mean missing the chance to make Uncle Lex miserable by asking him to plan the whole ceremony”

Smiling despite himself, he put his coffee cup down and went back to his desk. Better to get work out of the way before Mom and Nicole came back and informed him of the good news. 

Shocked face number three might do.

[dogbearinggifts]

“He Made Me What I Am Today”: Thoughts on Pogo and Complicity

It’s taken me a while to understand this fandom’s hatred of Pogo. 

He’s never been a favorite character of mine, but I’ve always liked him. In the show and in the comics, he serves as a sort of surrogate father figure, providing the siblings with much-needed level-headed advice and guidance free from abuse. In the show especially, he’s stern yet kind, intelligent and understanding of the children’s limitations. This is precisely the sort of parent the Hargreeves siblings needed. 

So you can imagine my surprise when I found fans expressing disgust toward his character—some going so far as to cheer his gruesome death at Vanya’s hand. 

Vanya, it seems, is at the center of fandom’s disdain for Pogo. Many arguments as to why he allegedly deserved what he got center on his actions the day Reginald had Allison Rumor her into forgetting her powers, and on the fact he never told her the truth. These arguments tend to treat Pogo as the only truly rational adult in that house since he lacked Grace’s manipulative programming and Reginald’s sadism. Because he was the only one who saw Reginald for what he was, he had a responsibility to stand up to him and put an end to the abuse. According to this view, Pogo chose to be complicit in Vanya’s abuse. He chose not to stop it, he chose not to undo it, and it is this choice that makes him irredeemable. 

What it fails to account for, though, is that Pogo isn’t the only clear-headed adult in that house. To say he chose to go along with Reginald’s orders is a drastic oversimplification. Because, like Grace, Pogo too was programmed to never disagree with Reginald. Like the children he cared for, he was abused into compliance; and like Vanya, he was made to forget the power he possessed. 

Pogo Is a Product of Abuse

In the comics we get a moment where Five, having donned Reginald’s monocle, sees Pogo as an apparently ordinary chimp suffering in a lab*. The show implies Pogo’s origin with a single line: “In all respects, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today.” 

I want you to ponder that for a moment. Pogo wasn’t born with human intelligence or a human personality. He was born as an ordinary chimp with no more intellect or insight into the universe than other chimps possess. Then, one day, he’s taken captive. His captor torments him. He hurts him. He leaves at night and returns in the morning to hurt him again, and again, for hours and hours and he doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what’s happening, he only knows it hurts and he hurts and he wants it to be over but it’s not over—

And then one day it is. 

It’s over. The pain ends. The ongoing fear and despair comes to a halt as Pogo understands more than he ever thought possible. 

Reginald could have explained every step of the process to Pogo, once he had the intellect to comprehend it. Or he could have kept the details somewhat vague, but made the link between Pogo’s newfound sapience and the horrors he endured clear. Whatever the case, it stuck with Pogo for the rest of his life. 

Everything Pogo has—every word he speaks, every thought in his head—is the result of those experiments. Every aspect of his life exists because he was held in that lab for perhaps months on end, dragged from cage to table and back again, pricked with needles and cut with scalpels. Without the horror Reginald inflicted on him, Pogo would still be an average chimp living in a jungle somewhere, unable to comprehend things we humans take for granted. 

No one is more aware of this than Pogo. 

His Attitude Toward Abuse is Fundamentally Broken 

Reginald didn’t need to abuse his kids. This fact is so apparent it almost need not be said, and I only say it because by the end of the first season, all seven of those kids either know this or are in the process of learning it. Exclusion from the family dynamic, exile to the Moon, being locked in a tomb with the dead—none of these things were necessary, and the people who suffered them are aware of this. 

But in these cases, it’s obvious that the methods used did boundless harm and negligible good. Vanya’s exclusion left her depressed and bitter, with few social skills and no friends to speak of. Luther’s exile sent him spiraling deep into suicidal depression, led him to self-harm, and robbed him of whatever ease with social graces he might have possessed. Klaus’ stints in the mausoleum left him with untreated PTSD and a crippling fear of the dead, leading him to cope through drugs and alcohol. Each of those kids can tell a similar story: Reginald put them through hell to try and make them stronger, and instead they were broken almost beyond repair. 

Pogo’s abuse, on the other hand, worked as intended. Reginald planned for it to give him sapience and high intelligence (in the comics he’s referred to as Dr. Pogo) and that is what it did. 

I’m certain that, given a little time and a conscience, Reginald could have devised a way to grant Pogo his intelligence without the need for experiments or persistent cruelty. A man who can grant humanlike intelligence to an ordinary chimp is a man who can refine his methods to make them as painless and noninvasive as possible, but for whatever reason Reginald chose the most sadistic method. The abuse was not necessary, but it’s a part of Pogo’s origin story and a part of his past. 

The horrific abuse Pogo suffered resulted in a clear, tangible benefit for him. If that sounds twisted, it’s because it is. Pogo’s abuse is twisted, and his story is twisted. Rather than backfiring as it did in the cases of the Hargreeves siblings—and in real cases where parents resort to abuse to make their children stronger—it did precisely what it was meant to. It made Pogo stronger. It improved his mind. It gave him everything he never knew he wanted. 

So when he sees Vanya being locked in a soundproofed room or watches Luther depart for the Moon on a pointless mission, his thoughts are almost certainly not on what sort of awful man would visit those horrors upon his own children. Chances are, they’re on how some good must come of this. While he suffered in that lab, he couldn’t have known he would wake from those horrific, invasive, degrading experiments stronger than he ever thought possible. Surely Luther and Vanya and all the other children will emerge from their own suffering stronger than before. 

He Doesn’t See Reginald the Same Way the Siblings Do

It’s rarely addressed in fandom, but Pogo and the Hargreeves siblings come into Reginald’s care in markedly different ways, and they are intended for markedly different roles. The children are adopted as infants, presented to the world as Reginald’s children, and brought to the dining room table each meal. They’re given rooms in the upper stories of the Academy and, while not treated in any way resembling decent or humane, are at least granted the status that comes with being the child of a reclusive billionaire. 

Pogo, on the other hand, began as a science experiment. When the torture he endures attains its goal, he is never treated as anything more than a butler. His room is sparse and in what appears to be the servants’ quarters, and he is never shown seated at the table with the rest of the family. When speaking to the very children who seem to regard him as a secondary father figure, he calls them Master and Miss—deferential even as he exerts authority. 

To the siblings, Reginald Hargreeves is Dad. He’s cruel and unreasonable, sadistic and uncaring even when it would behoove him to show a modicum of kindness. Under his roof, his authority is absolute—but that authority extends only to the outer walls of the Academy. If Reginald had never adopted them, Klaus would still be Klaus and Vanya would still be Vanya—hopefully with more confidence and less trauma, but they would still be the same people. Their personalities and intelligence would have remained constant regardless of who raised them. 

Without Reginald, Pogo as we know him would not exist. Philosophy and physics, morality and mathematics would have remained foreign to him. Even if he had lived and died as content as a chimp can be, he would have gone to his grave without enjoying a good book or understanding why people seek out music that makes them cry. Reginald might be Dad to the siblings; but to Pogo, he’s God—reaching down from on high, plucking Pogo out of the dust and demanding his will be done. 

It’s an understatement to say that Pogo knows Reginald is smarter than he is. His intelligence and personality exist because Reginald possesses the capacity to grant intelligence and personality to animals like him; and if he has the power to bring animals up to a human level, then his intelligence must far outstrip even the smartest human. He’s brought Pogo to a level on par with the children he cares for, but he hasn’t brought Pogo up to his level, because that level is so far beyond that of an ordinary human that it’s impossible to conceive. As far as Pogo knows, Reginald Hargreeves can see in nine dimensions and remembers every point in human history. 

The programming instilled through religious abuse can be overcome. Those raised to see their deity as an all-powerful version of Reginald Hargreeves—harsh and demanding, quick to find fault and quicker to mete out punishment—can and have conquered this view and managed to either renounce faith entirely or define it on their own terms. It can be done. But it’s also extremely difficult. The abusive deity survivors are raised to worship is all too often made out to be a deity with humanity’s best interests at heart, whose abuse will eventually bring about humanity’s good. 

From all the evidence we’re presented with, it appears something very similar has happened with Pogo. It’s doubtful Pogo worships the man, but it is clear he not only reveres him, but trusts him—and trusts that the crimes he perpetuates against his own children will ultimately benefit them. 

He Tries to Mitigate the Abuse 

He doesn’t step in and try to stop it. We see him assisting Reginald at several points—pointing Allison toward the security footage, withholding the truth of his Moon mission and Reginald’s suicide from Luther, holding the door as Reginald ushers Vanya into that soundproofed chamber. He’s never enthusiastic about this support—in Vanya’s case, he is clearly pained by what he’s enabling—but he doesn’t put his foot down and refuse to do as he’s told, either. But he doesn’t treat the children as Reginald does. If anything, he strives to be Reginald’s opposite in as many ways as he feels he is able. 

If later seasons reveal that Reginald rose each morning and made a list of ways to make Vanya feel unwelcome in her own home, I would not be surprised. He places her at the end of the table; he makes her stay upstairs while her siblings get tattoos; he refuses to let her be in the family photo. All of his actions toward her, large and small, made it clear that she was inadequate and that he barely considered her part of the family. Yet when she returns to the Academy for Reginald’s memorial service, Pogo greets her warmly, addresses her with the same honorific he uses for Allison, and tells her “This is your home, and it always will be.” Reginald may have treated Vanya as unworthy of his approval, but Pogo treats her as her siblings’ equal. 

From the quick temper he displays at Five’s insistence he be allowed to time travel and the obvious fear the other siblings have of him, it seems clear Reginald’s punishments were anything but fair. Discipline, it seems, was a chance for Reginald to vent his anger on whichever child displeased him, rather than a means to correct bad behavior. But when Klaus steals the box and throws the journal away, Pogo doesn’t fly into a rage and toss Klaus out on the street—or do something even more twisted—as Reginald might have. Instead, he confronts Klaus, informs him of the error and why it matters, and gives him a chance to correct his mistake. Reginald’s discipline was likely capricious and disproportionate; but if this example is anything to go by, Pogo’s approach is stern, yet consistent and restrained. 

Pogo does deliberately withhold information from Luther and, to a lesser extent, Allison. He places Allison in a room where she’s sure to find the relevant tape, effectively sending her and Luther off on a wild goose chase. When Luther discovers his Moon mission was a sham, Pogo’s attempt at comfort can sound an awful lot like damage control. However, these deceptions are undercut with a subtle layer of kindness. He lures Allison to the relevant tape with footage of herself and her siblings as children—footage that includes her deceased brother, which is comforting and cheering to her. He is quick to refute Luther’s assumption that he was sent to the Moon for his own personal failures; while his reasoning that “After your accident, he wanted to give you purpose” has the ring of an excuse (and a flimsy one at that) it’s offered when Luther is clearly spiraling and in desperate need of something to hold onto. It’s clear in this scene that Pogo isn’t simply trying to cover his own ass; he cares for Luther and wants to ease his pain. 

Pogo Probably Doesn’t Realize He Could Have Done More 

When I was a kid, I watched a show called Recess. (Late 90s and early 2000s kids probably all just cracked a grin.) If you haven’t seen it, it followed a group of fourth grade students and their adventures at school, outside of school and—mostly—at recess. There were a lot of colorful characters on that playground, and one of them was Ms. Finster, an assistant teacher who monitored the kids at recess and served as a recurring villain, relishing each and every chance she got to foil lovable troublemaker TJ’s plans. 

In one episode, Ms. Finster hits on a plan that she calls The Box. She draws a box and, when TJ misbehaves, makes him stand inside. It’s just four chalk lines on asphalt, but it triggers something in TJ’s brain. When he stands in The Box, he sees the asphalt rising up to hem him in, pulling him further and further underground as his panic rises. He isn’t imprisoned. He can leave at any time, and to an outsider this much is painfully—even comically—obvious. But to TJ, he’s trapped. 

Pogo could have stood up to Reginald. He could have done it when Vanya’s powers were taken away, or he could have done it on a random Thursday. He could have taken Luther aside and told him the truth of Reginald’s death or he could have sat everyone down and explained Vanya’s powers before shit hit the fan. I’ve said elsewhere that the characters in this show are responsible for their actions, but Pogo is responsible for his inaction.

Yet this inaction is not the result of a moral failing on Pogo’s part. He didn’t sit back and choose not to tell Luther or Vanya the truth or remain complicit in their abuse because he wanted to see them suffer. “I had no choice” is what he tells Luther. To us, it’s obvious that Luther’s response—“There’s always choice”—is correct. 

But it isn’t obvious to Pogo, because Pogo is trapped in a Box of his own. It’s a Box made of abuse both physical and mental, of a twisted gratitude toward the man who tormented him, of a lack of faith in his own conscience. Pogo is complicit in the siblings’ abuse, make no mistake. Of all the people living in the Academy, Pogo probably stood the greatest chance of overthrowing Reginald and getting those kids into a more positive environment. He wielded the most power in that situation, and Reginald knew this. And so, as with Vanya, Reginald made Pogo forget his power. It took longer. It involved more pain, more mental manipulation than direct mind control. But in the end, what Reginald did to Pogo was far more effective—and arguably more sinister—than what he did to Vanya. 

Her powers, after all, could be reinstated simply by removing her medication. Removing barriers around your own mind meant to keep you dependent and doubtful, with no physical evidence to prove those barriers are gone? That can take a lifetime. 

*********

*It’s been a while since I’ve read the comics, but I do remember that chimps with human intelligence are just kind of a Thing in that world. I don’t remember if Pogo’s sapience is made out to be a product of experimentation or if the experiments he endured are separate from that. However, since Pogo is apparently the only superintelligent primate butler in the show’s ‘verse, it seems the implication is that he gained his intelligence from Reginald’s experiments. 

[citialiin]

@zhrets​ sent a signal: 10, 38, 35

10. What’s the most challenging thing about writing replies for you? consistency. sometimes i feel like my writing iz bland, to the point and entirely boring and other times i feel like it’s excessively frilly.  when im tired i dont have da brainpower to think of nice poetics ... and when im in the mood to write my poeticz get out of hand.  i just feel like my ideas are usually pretty good, and i have the basis of what i want to write, but when i try 2 write it it sounds clunky or the transitions don’t work.  so less da ideas ... more the act of writing itself fux w mi

35. How many ships do you have? How would you describe them?  ziggy x kirei, obviously.  kirei grabs his head and twists until his neck rips in half like an overcooked piece of asparagus.  and while this clearly is the only ship i actually care about, maybe i have some other ones too    - ziggy x thomas (blossomingbeelzebug) ; the only two aliens in this neighborhood.  its a lot about being completely opposites in every regard but having the common thread of being 1. an alien hiding in plain site on earth 2. trying to understand one’s own individuality using humanity as a guide.  but other than that, even the way they’re designed is completely different; thomas is from a primitive planet and he’s more like some animal given freak sentience, no one is alike because they’re all made from ramshackle pieces sewn together. blood and guts and eating each other is the norm. ziggy is from a jetsons planet where everything is tidy and shiny and chrome and clean, his race is so genetically identical they’re starting to look like clones of each other and he has a complex about standing out.  theyre so beyond violence or even conflict in general that ziggy passes out if he sees blood.  thomas had the shittiest life on earth possible and he still tries to make the best of it.  he stole his “human” name from someone.  ziggy has a very nice life on earth and he’s a spoiled little cunt who thinks he deserves even more, his name was given to him by others.  thomas is shy and soft spoken and is afraid of attention, he thinks the universe is nothing more than random entropy, ziggy is loud and abrasive and is obsessed with getting people’s attention and being praised, he has this delusion that the universe has a destiny for him.  a whole lot. they are a fun scifi couple.      - ziggy x jonathan (gothsic) isnt really a ship, it’s more like ... unrequited feelings?  ziggy has this weird delusion that he’s jonathan’s muse and they’re both tortured artists and only jonathan can understand me waaah and whatever, jonathan’s the scruffy sarcastic goth moon to his dazzling perfect glittery sun.  jonathan is a puzzle and he is the key.  but jonathan is like ... oh man ... he’s going to make me employed and i really need money even though i hate this son of a bitch so much i hate him i hate him i hate him. j knows how to string z along and he probably also enjoys the attention of someone arguably famouser than he is (even if he’d rather die than reciprocate)      - ziggy x annie (also gothsic) is the flip side because annie is an NPC in jonathan’s story. she’s ... the girl jonathans’s stalking ... and she keeps really good tabs on jonathan because it’s kind of what she Does.  so when she found out that z was his new employer she felt like she had to at least tell z that jonathan was a Nutjob.  and clearly z isnt listening, but he thinks she’s ... c-cute ... and he keeps spending more time around her ... something mesmerizing about cute girl in glasses ... she’s just a welcome reprieve from the self-obsessed dickwads he spends most of his time with.  and annie usually kind of feels like she fades into the background or she’s not special and partners have historically treated her kind of poorly but ... z is actually bizarrely nice and respectful and chipper and he’s also ... really famous! so his attention is worth at least 2x more than the attention of a rando. there are a ton of other platonic ships but then this list would be too long and it’s already too long.

38. Do you have a wishlist? Can you share what’s on it? also already answered. but if i could wish for a thread for us, i just want kirei to either Kill him or just mess with his head and make him Sad.  it’s pretty easy to do.

[marshmallow-phd]

Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: Soon after your second birthday, your parents were killed and you were adopted by your father’s best friend, taken away to their home country where you lived your life in peaceful ignorance. As far a as you knew, your parents simply left you large fortune to be released to you once you reached your twenty-third birthday. At least, that’s all you thought you were inheriting. When a famously ruthless mafia boss discovers your existence, you are left at his mercy. While under his roof, you learn more about your father than you ever wished you had, including the part of your inheritance that made you the most valuable person in the underworld. Hidden in a bank in New York City were files that held the darkest secrets of the mafia families and everyone in their pocket. With another terrifying leader’s eyes trained on you, you’ll learn to watch your back… and guard your heart, before your father’s past becomes your doom.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13  I 14 I 15 I 16 I Final

**

Junmyeon’s solution was almost too good to be true. Granted, you didn’t know exactly how well it would work. This entire trip could be pointless, but at least you would get to see them. When Junmyeon had told you about his idea, you’d burst into sobs. Never had it occurred to you that you might be able to hug your family again.

You were nearing tears again the closer the vehicle got to the old apartment building you used to call home.

The idea was for you to talk to Taegun and Hyunmin personally and let them know that Junmyeon’s men were there to protect them. The prejudices they held against him would be hard to fight through, but you believed you could do it, especially when they saw that you were okay with their own eyes.

For the first time, you saw Junmyeon get behind the wheel. He thought it best if it was just the two of you who went, although he would stay behind in the car to give you some privacy with your family. He stopped the car in front of the building, pulling into a street parking spot.

“I’ll be down here,” he sighed as he turned to look at you. “Do you have your cell phone just in case?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll try not to be too long.”

“Take your time.”

With one last smile, you pushed open the door and went inside, taking the elevator to that familiar floor. After knocking on the apartment door - being keyless since you hadn’t been able to take them with you when you left - you waited, trying to remain calm and stoic. The door squeaked open, only letting a few centimeters be exposed.

“Who is it?”

You swallowed back tears. “It’s me, Mom. It’s (y/n).”

The door swung open the rest of the way and Hyunmin threw her arms around you and pulled you back into the apartment.

“(y/n)!”

Another pair of arms joined the reunion. Taegun sobbed in your ear, his hand gripping your shirt with such force you thought he might rip the fabric. Hyunmin pulled away just a bit and took your face in her hands.

“What are you doing here?”

You leaned into her touch, smiling at her. “Junmyeon brought me so I could make sure you were okay.”

Taegun scoffed at the mention of your fiancé and stomped over to the kitchen table, scraping the chair against the tile and sitting down.

Following quietly, you sat adjacent from him, grabbing his hand in yours. “Papa, it wasn’t Junmyeon who did this.” That just made him laugh humorlessly. Hyunmin sat on your other side, wrapping her fingers around your forearm. “I know he didn’t. His men that have been following you have been trying to protect you. Both of you. It was Junko’s men who found you and attacked you.”

Hyunmin gasped and Taegun stiffened as soon as you said Junko’s name.

You sighed. “You know who that is, don’t you?”

Taegun nodded. “His father and yours were close. He was also your father’s biggest client. Junko was the one you were originally promised to.”

“So I’ve been told,” you said bitterly. “I’ve met him. And he threatened to harm you if I didn’t break it off with Junmyeon and go to him. I told him no. With the… contract I can’t just break it off like a normal engagement. I have to keep that obligation.” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding their eyes for the moment. “Even so, I don’t mind where I’m at and I woulnd’t want to go to Junko anyway.”

Turning to Hyunmin, you met her gaze. She looked at you with studying eyes, trying to read something in your face.

“You have to let Junmyeon protect you,” you urged, getting back on track. “He promised me he would make sure this didn’t happen again and I trust him. I know you think it would be better for them to just stay away, but who knows how many times others have come after you just to be scared off by Junmyeon’s men?”

Five times, actually. According to the reports he let you read last night, anyway.

“How has he been treating you?” Hyunmin asked hesitantly.

“With nothing but respect,” you answered truthfully. “We’ve butted heads a few times, but things have gotten better. I don’t mind being there, actually.” You bit your tongue before you could admit that you liked being there, given the circumstances. While you missed your family every day, considering what could have been your future, you counted yourself lucky. Very lucky, indeed. “He’s promised to take me traveling like I’ve always wanted to do. I like talking to him, when he’s around.”

“You seem–” Hyunmin bit her bottom lip, furrowing her eyebrows. “You seem happy.”

You cleared your throat and scratched the back of your head nervously. “Well, I mean, I’m not unhappy there. I’ve kind of made friends with the guys that take turns watching over me.”

“They are not your friends!” Taegun snapped, pounding his fist against the table, causing the trinkets in the center to rattle. “They are killers and criminals. Do not let them fool you into thinking they are normal people. They may be there to protect you from Junko, but you should never let your guard down!”

“You don’t even know them!” you yelled back, jumping to your feet in the process. “I know what they do! I know what they are, but they are still people! They’re not animals that just snarl and bite anything that looks in their direction! They laugh, they make stupid jokes, and they watch out for each other. Sometimes they seem more like a family than I’ve ever had.”

Taegun’s eyes widened and Hyunmin went still.

You, too, were horrified at what you had just said. You’d never once complained about your circumstances. You loved your adoptive family. But your siblings were never around anymore nor did they care too much to spend time with you as you all had gotten older. Hyunmin kept you close, but Taegun - well after you’d hit puberty, he stopped taking you out for treats and spending time with you one-on-one. The last time you went out on a family vacation with everyone together, you’d barely entered high school.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. The hurt in their eyes made you want to cover up you slip. “I don’t know where that came from. I know you’ve only ever tried your best to make me feel like one of your own. I didn’t mean that.”

“We know, sweetheart,” Hyunmin hummed. “You were just upset. But, (y/n), I can’t help but notice….” She gently pulled your chin to have you looking at her. “Honey, there’s something in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Are you – well, are you in love him?”

You jerked back. “What? No! I still barely know him.”

“Yes, but you’ve always been one to have your head in the clouds. You never gave any boys at school the time of day because they were too ordinary, too simple for you.”

“I didn’t talk to any of them because they were too busy chasing after girls like Minah,” you corrected her. “They never wanted me.” Only in movies did the girls like you get any sort of attention from boys.

“You forget that I would get together with several other mothers,” Hyunmin patted your head. Perhaps it was because she was you mother, but you didn’t quite like it when she did that, making you feel like a child again. Not like when Junmyeon did it. “A few of the boys had a small crush on you, but you never looked up from your books.”

“I’ve had boyfriends before, Mom,” you argued. Why was this even a conversation you were having right now? “And none of them were members of an organized crime ring, if I recall.”

“But just now... it just seems, you are protective of him.”

“That’s just because he’s been nice to me even though he could just ignore me or lock me in my room,” you insisted.

You’d tried so hard not to go down that road. Allowed yourself to be a little attracted? Sure. Did you flirt with him? Well, you weren’t exactly good at batting you eyelashes, but you would do things to make him smile because watching him light up as the corners of his eyes crinkled gave you a small bit of warmth inside.

But in love with Junmyeon? Not possible. Hyunmin was right, your head usually wasn’t firmly planted on the ground, but you weren’t completely unrealistic. You refused to be the one to fold first. You would not fall in love with Junmyeon. Because, no matter how many flattering words or sultry eyes he threw your way, you knew, deep down, he would never actually fall in love with you. He was too hardened by the years of being in this business. Besides, you weren’t that special to make him turn one-eighty like that.

“Junmyeon and I get along because you two signed a contract for me to marry him so he can have access to the files when the time comes. We came to the conclusion that getting along and not fighting each other is the best way to get through this. It’ll make life easier in the long run. That is it. End of story.” Maybe if you said it out loud enough times, it would actually be true. On your part, at least.

Hyunmin’s face gave off the impression that she didn’t believe you, but Taegun seemed satisfied.

“Good,” Taegun grunted. “You deserved better. Perhaps, in a few years, he’ll let you go and you can marry someone much more suited for you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I shrugged. “We could always hope.”

**

Junmyeon turned off the volume, unable to keep listening.

Kyungsoo had inserted a bug into your phone along with the GPS tracker. It was all for your safety, but Junmyeon couldn’t resist turning on the Bluetooth and listening in on what you were telling your adoptive parents. You seemed to be able to convince them that he really was trying to protect them, but they still hated him.

Things like this didn’t bother Junmyeon in the past. He didn’t care if insignificant people – or even those higher up than him – liked him or not. However, hearing the venom in Taegun’s voice stung a bit. But that was nothing compared to listening to you insist that you felt nothing for him.

He thought the two of you were making progress. You hugged him when he did things for you - like the phone and freedom to leave the apartment - and gave him smiles willingly now. You didn’t fight to the point of sore throats with acidic words tossed carelessly around. But while peace had come around the penthouse, you still didn’t feel strongly towards him. You simply wanted to “get along” in order to make cohabitation more bearable.

Junmyeon banged a fist against the steering wheel, your words agreeing with Taegun that you could leave him in the future and be with someone else once Junmyeon got what he wanted – what he’d originally went into this agreement for – haunted him.

None of this was ever about money. The original plan – before he found out about you – was to just give that damn CEO a warning and then give him some time to come up with a different way to pay off the debt. Junmyeon didn’t care; there were others who owed him more. But then Jung mentioned that he knew where the Closer’s daughter was. That caught his attention. It was the leg up Junmyeon needed on Junko. Everyone in the underworld had lost track of you years ago, thinking you were still in the States. With a little research from Baekhyun, they had you.

But Junmyeon’s expectation was of a spoiled, bratty girl who only cared about the materialistic joys in life. Going from one corporate lawyer to another as a father that just seemed the natural way your personality would go. Then he started following you from work and other places you visited, trying to figure out how to get to you and to the files before they came to the marriage agreement in the negotiations.

Little did you know that originally footnote that was Taegun’s stipulation.

Junmyeon simply wanted to keep you in his penthouse until your birthday to make sure you didn’t disappear again. After that, he would take you to New York once the sealed will revealed the name of the bank, have you retrieve the files, and then let you go your own way. But Taegun knew that was putting a target on your back, a side effect that Junmyeon didn’t really care about. It didn’t affect him and it was obvious that he wasn’t giving an afterthought to your wellbeing. So, Taegun had insisted in giving you the best protection possible. Junmyeon was resistant at first, trying any other method to come to an agreement, but Taegun held his ground. And now here he was, acting like his arm had been twisted into the final contract. His wife didn’t even know the truth. Just so he could remain the good guy in this situation.

Leaning forward, Junmyeon ran his hands through his hair, letting out a long breath as he tried to control his temper.

Would he ever let you go?

Yes.

Once he knew you were safe, he’d let you leave. Once he’d dismantled Junko’s empire and destroyed that family’s power, you’d be safe. It just might kill him, but if you wished to go, he’d put you on the plane himself.

A knock on the passenger window brought him back to the present, making his hand for the gun in the middle console. It was just you, waiting patiently outside for him to unlock the car. Relieved, he let go of the gun, thankful that he never actually pulled it out, and unlocked the door for you.

“Are you okay?” you asked as soon as you sat down. A harsh line formed just above your nose, conveying your concern.

He gave you a small smile, fascinated how easily you could read him and how you were always quick to try and comfort him if something was wrong. Could he really believe what you had said upstairs?

“Perfectly fine,” he lied. The frown on your mouth said you didn’t completely believe him, but you didn’t push.

“Okay.” You put on your seatbelt without further inquiry.

Junmyeon almost laughed, remembering you yelling at him to do the same before coming here.

“They’re going to cooperate now,” you told him, “just so you know. They understand that you’re trying to protect them and that Junko is the one threatening them. They also agreed to call me if they think anything suspicious is going on.”

Starting the car, Junmyeon pulled out into the street. “Good. Did you talk about anything else?”

For a moment you didn’t answer. You licked your lips and sucked them in. Then you shrugged. “We just caught up. Taegun found a better job, pays more and the CEO supposedly isn’t a giant jerk. I let them know that I wasn’t being held in a dark dungeon and that I was being well taken care of. They, um….” you swallowed.

Were you about to tell him about the conversation? Would you really bring that up?

“They’re still concerned, but they’re just being parents. I promised to keep them updated. They do want to have dinner for my birthday. Before we, you know, go.”

Junmyeon said nothing, simply nodding to the arrangement.

Of course he had no problem going to dinner, although Chanyeol would be a nightmare getting the security taken care of for it. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, almost expecting something. When you didn’t get any reply, you sighed and stared out the window, watching the people and the street lights go by.

Feeling a bit brave and with his hand itching to touch you again, Junmyeon reached out with his right hand and grasped your left one that was resting on your leg. You jumped at the sudden contact but didn’t pull away, letting him continue to hold on.

Why he was doing this, he wasn’t sure. Was it to prove something to himself? To you?

As far as he knew, you didn’t have feelings for him. So, then, why weren’t you pulling away?

His thumb rubbed your knuckles absentmindedly and, he was sure, if anyone were able to look in on them through the tinted, bulletproof glass, they would seem like any other couple just out and about on an ordinary Saturday. But they never would be. No matter how much Junmyeon wanted it.

**

Neither of you spoke as Junmyeon drove home. You were thankful for the silence so you could think, but with Junmyeon’s hand in yours, having his skin on yours, giving off its warmth and comfort, hardly any thoughts were connecting.

Hyunmin’s comment plagued your mind. You fiercely denied it, but the repudiation came too easily, like a shield. Your heart was pumping at a hundred miles an hour almost bringing a pain to your chest.

Focusing on breathing, you leaned your head against the cold glass of the window, frustrated as your breath fogged up the glass. This was your body’s reaction to a simple handhold. The pounding in your ears increased as different images danced across your closed eyelids.

They were scenarios that you’d read over and over again, but never had experienced. Now, you let your imagination take over, heat rising to your face as you wondered about life with Junmyeon.

You’re standing in the kitchen, getting dinner put together, a smile creeping up on your face as you hear the door open. A pair of arms snake around your waist while another pair of lips caress your neck, whispering hello just for you to hear. You ask him how his day was and he just shrugs. You eat dinner together, laughing and smiling. He says something that makes you blush. Once the dishes are clean, he leads you back to your shared bedroom and shows you how much he cares. Afterwards you just lie there, like that first night, your head resting on his chest until you both drifted off to sleep.

Junmyeon slammed on the breaks, pulling you out of the fantasy. The seat belt tightened on que, digging into your neck as it kept you from flying forward. The car in front of you had stopped suddenly, although there was no one else present on the street. Your hand was suddenly empty as Junmyeon threw the car in reverse and turned around, sending smoke in the air as the tires squealed against the asphalt. The driver of the vehicle stepped out and simply stared after you. He was unmoving as you watched him in the passenger’s side mirror. Two other vehicles appeared out the sides streets and stopped by the first car, but nothing else.

“Who was that?” you gasped as you turned around to try and get a better look at the man or the cars.

“Sit down!” Junmyeon growled, pushing down on your shoulder with force.

You did as you were told, shocked. It’d been a while since he’d snapped at you like that. You were practically cowering in your seat, clutching the belt in your fists as you stared out the window.

Junmyeon let out a hefty sigh. “I’m sorry.”

You just nodded, not looking back at him.

No one spoke again as he pulled into the garage and parked the obnoxious sports car at the end of his long line of vehicles. You followed him closely into the penthouse and then just stood on the outset of the entrance to the living room. Chen jumped up when he saw you enter, taking in your posture, arms around yourself to make yourself as small as possible.

“What happened?” he asked, looking between you and Junmyeon.

“Someone tried to pull a snatch and grab,” Junmyeon huffed. Chanyeol walked in from the kitchen holding a glass of water with Kyungsoo behind him. “D.O., I need you to access the black box in the Lexus and see if you can read the plate number on the car. Or better yet, identify the man who got out. I’d bet everything that it was one of Junko’s men.”

Kyungsoo nodded and left the penthouse. Chen walked up to you and looped an arm around your back, ushering you towards the kitchen.

“Chen,” Junmyeon hissed, his voice giving off some kind of warning.

The usual peppy informant threw a nasty look in his leader’s direction. Junmyeon’s face was a mixture of shock and irritation. Chen didn’t care though as he guided you out the tension filled room. He sat you down at the island and poured way too much red wine into a glass meant for something non-alcoholic.

“Drink up,” he ordered. “It’ll help.”

Frowning, you took several sips, cringing at the sour, dry taste. “You know, alcohol doesn’t fix everything.”

Chen smirked. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’re a regular saint, but indulge me.”

You rolled your eyes, continuing to slowly down the wine, not wanting to get tipsy on top of your already shaky state.

Chanyeol crept into the kitchen, barely sticking his head in. “Um, Jo- Chen. Junmyeon wants to see you in his office.”

Shaking his head, Chen sighed. “Fine. Call Yixing and tell him to get here fast and make sure that (y/n)’s okay.”

Chanyeol nodded, his red hair flopping against the movement. Then you were left alone.

**

Junmyeon was eerily calm as he stood in his office, his hands behind his back. The lights were dimmed and no other sound echoed off the walls except for Jongdae’s footsteps as he got closer. The knock signaled his arrival and Junmyeon called out for him to enter.

“You wanted to see me.” It came out straight, none of his usual sarcasm or charm present.

Leaning against his desk, Junmyeon crossed his arms. “You know the rules, Jongdae.”

“Yeah, I do,” he scoffed. The vanguard was never one to sugarcoat things or hide his actual feelings, so this attitude was expected. “But I chose to ignore them because you were too busy spouting out orders to notice that your fiancé was shivering worse than a Chihuahua behind you.”

Junmyeon rolled his eyes. “Nothing actually happened. I got us out of there before any real danger occurred.”

Jongdae’s hands were in shaking fists, his jaw set. “To you! To you, nothing happened. But (y/n) didn’t grow up in this! I thought after spending time with her, you’d grown to be more sympathetic to her. In fact, I thought that you actually–”

“No!” Junmyeon snapped. He didn’t want it said out loud. After the indirect rejection he just endured, he didn’t want it acknowledged that he’d let himself go down that road. Even holding your hand in the car had been a mistake, he just wanted to see if it had any effect on you. Apparently, it hadn’t.

And now they tried to go after you directly this time. They saw the two of you together. Junmyeon had created the weakness that he’d sworn he would never have. He couldn’t let this go any further. He needed to stay the disconnected mafia leader that he was.

“Do not mistake anything that I am doing,” he growled. “Everything I do is to get us closer to our end goal, to get us out on top. That is it.”

Jongdae’ face said that he didn’t believe a word of it, but then again, that was his job. “Then why be so upset that I simply helped her? Huh? Why care if she seemed so happy dancing with Yixing? Or that Kyungsoo makes her meals? Or that Jongin lets her sleep on his lap on the couch? Kind of pointless, don’t you think?”

The images of each scenario he just described burned in Junmyeon’s mind, fueling his anger. It took all the discipline he had not to grab the closest object off his desk and throw it across the room. That would be giving in, admitting that it was true.

“I have my reasons,” he growled. “One of them being that I don’t need rumors going around about my men getting too close to my fiancé. How do you think that would look to the other leaders?”

Shaking his head, Jongdae said in a low voice, “You’re despicable. I mean, none of us are saints. We injure, we steal, we blackmail, but ultimately, it’s all with people who chose this life. But you’re just toying with her, using her like a pawn just to get to Junko. She was so close to being free and you caged her up.”

“I didn’t want to marry her in the first place. It was Taegun who made the condition.”

Jongdae’s eyes widened in surprise at the new development. Junmyeon hadn’t told anyone but Minseok, who was there during the signing as a witness, about how exactly the negotiations went down.

“You really think I wanted this?” he threw at Jongdae. “Settling down was never in the plan. I never wanted a chink in my armor. That’s all a wife is: a weakness that others can exploit. Negotiations not going well? Threaten the wife. Want a new piece of territory without having to fight for it? Kidnap the wife and hold her hostage. Affections like that just make you vulnerable. That’s why I never brought back the same girl twice. Show an attachment and your enemies will exploit it with all they’ve got. (Y/n) is a means to an end. If that means I have to be nice to get those files, then I’ll play nice. That is it.”

Jongdae nodded. There was still a defiance in his eyes, but the fight was gone. “Was there anything else you needed?”

“No,” Junmyeon replied, satisfied. “You’re dismissed.”

With slumped shoulders, Jongdae shuffled over to the door and opened it, but froze when the hallway was revealed.

It was you standing there, leaning with your back against the wall, your arms folded in front of you. A tear was leaving a watery trail down your cheek as you stared down at the floor. It didn’t take a genius to conclude that you’d heard everything.

Chanyeol came running down the hall, huffing. Afraid of being reprimanded, he grabbed your upper arm and gently tugged you away, apologizing profusely for not keeping you away. You didn’t fight against Chanyeol’s grip, simply meeting Junmyeon’s eye before walking away.

[ambitionsource]

001 for Maggie!! About Rucas!

werk werk werk lets go lets go lets gooooo!

Riley & Lucas James

When I started shipping it if I did: okay so like… technically I cannot answer this question because I… like… made the show so fkdsjhgkjdfgd BUT. interestingly enough i’ve actually said before that if I were a viewer of AAA and not the creator, i would be very cautious about RL. like i think it would take me a while to warm up to the possibility of them (as well as lucas, bc i think the “seemingly broody snarker with a heart of gold and is secretly soft” can be HORRIBLY done), but i think around 103 i would start to change my opinion about lucas (and then would be definitive about him after 105 from the way he is with isa), and then i think i’d really lock into RL at the end of 107 with their convo in the aud where she’s like “maybe you don’t have to do everything alone” and hes like “… no maybe not.” that’s my genuine honest feeling on how i’d approach it as a viewer

My thoughts: many thoughts… many thoughts head empty… i guess like the entire show are my thoughts FJDSKLGFDG but i will say i’m very excited for the rest of S2 for them, as well as going into the next season. it’s gonna be really fun to see y’alls reactions and hopefully we’ll come out on the other side together ✊🏻

What makes me happy about them: oh so much… how riley is so skilled at catching lucas off guard and seeing through his defenses from like day 1 (and evidenced early on i.e. the way she just plops down at their lunch table and he literally stops eating gkfdhgkjdsfh), how deeply they respect one another and see the other for what they are capable of rather than how they view themselves with all these imperfections and limitations, how lucas encourages riley to stand up for herself and be empowered and not downplay herself, and conversely how riley is slowly but surely changing lucas’s perspective on the world and what he deserves from it and that romance can be real, touch can be soft and non-threatening, love isn’t inherently a weakness to be taken advantage of but something delicate and lovely and a source of power (i.e., i think that lucas’s growth and interactions with riley also influence how he reevaluates his friendships with like dasher and stuff like that – something you’ll definitely see evidence of in 209)… could go on probably

What makes me sad about them: oh well like. how self-destructive lucas is at this point and how he literally cannot fathom that people care about him – let alone romantically that’s like a whole other ballpark. how their own insecurities allowed external opinions to detour their dynamic, although understandable. the trickiness that exists currently where riley, just being a generally forgiving and optimistic person, is constantly being told that she needs to give up on lucas and that there is a sort of question she and probably us as viewers start to wonder of like… is it even worth it? whether lucas deserves riley’s devotion is certainly up for debate, and it’ll be interesting to see if he addresses the mess of the last few months moving forward… but then it’s tricky too, because much like the position dylan was put in, i think in some ways riley does need to still have faith in lucas, because if she doesn’t then who will, and it’s kind of like… very complex. very messy, much to analyze and pick apart and perhaps account for at the end of the day… but that’s the kind of complexity i love in relationships (provided steps are taken to amend them to the best of their ability and respect always remains intact), so it’s no surprise they have all this fkdshkfjdhgkjdfshdh. 

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: well obvious fanfic doesn’t really exist, but i’ve been in fandom long enough to be able to say EXACTLY what would happen if ambition were a huge fandom like tw, glee, etc. the first thing that would annoy me the most would be an exaggeration of rl’s worst traits to make them like a pairing that they aren’t – key being making lucas more aggressive, dominant, and like genuinely disrespectful, and then making riley like an innocent wallflower pure goody two shoes or whatever. like that kind of characterization really strips down their complexity as characters (and is also like just wrong FDJSKFDSLG like one thing i’m excited for in S3 is the chance to really explore what they’re actually LIKE when like… depression isn’t warping their personalities FJDSKFLDSGJ and also how they bring out certain traits in one another). i also feel like any sort of like… overt tooth-rotting romanticism would feel really ooc for them; they are quite romantic in how they treat one another and see one another, but both of their personalities in a relationship together i think create a romance built more on realism and appreciation and a sort of grounded display of love than anything even remotely Cheesy. that’s one thing that really changes about riley from The Former Source Material to AAA is that she’s far more grounded given how her parents have… spun out let’s say

Things I look for in fanfic: i do think often about how nice it would be to just go on ao3 and scroll the ambition tags… find a good rl zc or da fic to peruse… oh there’d be garbage undoubtedly but the good fics… i would like to see it 😔anyway lmao i think if i were looking for rl fics in aaa i would look for ones that a) retain their core character traits and b) strike that perfect balance of grounded yet uniquely soft in the way rl are with each other that they aren’t with anyone else – i wouldn’t want to see their integrity thrown for the sake of being uber fluffy. but that’s like just a complete personal pref.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: hmm… obviously this is all conjecture, but in terms of CANON, i cannot see lucas ending up with anyone else. like i just do not think it’s on his radar at all – it wasn’t before riley showed up, and if she floated away, he’d go back to just forgoing it entirely (it’s not entirely a joke when we joke around that lucas is rileysexual fkjdhsgk). riley i think like, zay would treat her nicely if they were ever to go past best friends. fanon wise just going by dynamics and personalities, i have a really special place in my heart for lucas x charlie (oh, and how fun it will be to share that dynamic with y’all in the future bc reading that rn i’m sure y’all are like HUH JFGDKLJGFLKSJHKLDSJHLJFDHL valid!!). could also probably enjoy a riley x isa fic or two. i also love digging into the relationship between lucas and asher (especially given that asher was lucas’s first crush… he he he) but as for them actually being a relationship i couldn’t because i’m 10000% sure they’d kill each other. even dylucasher wouldn’t work romantically, because as nice as it all is if lucasher didn’t kill each other, dylan would end up killing them both after mentally Snapping from playing mediator one heckin time too many. so. yes. fDSJKGLDFKLHFKLDH

My happily ever after for them: i can’t really say specifically because spoilies!! but i just want them to feel… settled. they’re constantly in worlds of turbulence right now, and i can’t wait for the day that they can just be together and get away from the city (because i firmly believe lucas hates living in the city) and just. start a life on their terms. that will be so beautiful :’)

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: i’m inclined to say lucas is the big spoon, but i don’t think it’s set in stone at all. like you know, if there’s a particularly rough day and lucas really needs that Comfort, then riley will by all means be the big spoon and hug him real tight. it’s what they both deserve!!

What is their favorite non-sexual activity: i love that this question specifies non-sexual specifically FDJSKFDKLSGJFLDKH like are there couples who truly enjoy sex with one another above all else…………. but i will say i think one thing that is nice about RL is the most important thing to them is just being together. like i think they’ll happily spend hours in the booth together not like, actively doing anything and focused on their own things (homework, production work, what have you) but just the other person’s presence there with them is comforting. you kind of see this in 109 when riley takes refuge in the booth, and i think this is core to their relationship. they don’t need to be talking or actively doing much – just maybe like, riley is tapping her foot against his knee absentmindedly or has her feet up in his lap. if they’re sitting closer, lucas is rubbing her knee with his thumb. you know what i mean? presence and the knowledge that they’re together is more important than any sort of sense of Action if that makes sense. but some others to list would be getting out of the city and going exploring in the Fresh Air away from… everything and everyone else lmao, and going to the animal shelter!!

send some winter hiatus asks !! :)

[plague-of-insomnia]

“Circus” AU Drabble #2: Seb meets Lau

Here's another drabble set in the world of my AU tentatively called Circus! In this scene, Sebastian visits Lau to threaten him, only to be threatened in return.

If you enjoy, please reblog, comment, and like!

Note: This scene does not have any nudity or sex, but it does feature some graphic language.

It's not necessary to enjoy this drabble, but you may want to read the first one I posted, in which Seb and Ciel talk over dinner, and which temporarly will probably come before this scene below.

I’m hoping to post these weekly on Sundays (no promises), and next week I’ll likely post at least part of a Sebciel sex scene I’ve been working on.

This story really should be my last priority atm but it’s been taking over my inspiration...

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Sebastian sat stiffly in a gaudily decorated room on the second floor of what, from the outside, appeared to be a rather unassuming shopping center in Chinatown filled with massage parlors, restaurants, and small grocery stores. The room he’d been led into was filled with kitschy faux Chinese antiques, including a large golden dragon Sebastian was almost certain was made out of molded resin. He longed to explore, to ascertain if the door he’d been led through was the only exit, but a buff man, likely one of Lau’s bodyguards, had positioned himself so that his beady eyes watched every move Sebastian made. Occasionally the man would murmur something gruffly in Mandarin with a smile Sebastian assumed was intended to be menacing as he apparently enjoyed the thought of the tall foreigner being “devoured by the dragon.”

      Sebastian barely contained a snarky retort; it would be better to keep his cards as close to his chest as possible, and if everyone but Lau assumed Sebastian was a clueless, typically monolingual American, it would give him an advantage if things turned ugly. Of course, it would still be just him, armed with only the small knives the guards hadn’t found in the heels of his boots against a veritable army of automatic and semi-automatic weapons, but he had been taking a careful survey of his surroundings, filing away any potential cover or objects that might be sturdy enough to use as spur-of-the-moment weapons should the need arise. He felt like he’d had worse odds. Besides, it wasn’t his intention to start something here and now, no matter how much he wanted to kill Lau. And Lau wasn’t the kind to draw undue attention to himself: bad for business.

      Sebastian briefly entertained the idea of sticking his hand in his pants and putting on a very vocal maturbatory show to make the guard uncomfortable, but he immediately dismissed it. The idea of touching himself anywhere remotely near that slimy son of a bitch Lau made Sebastian’s stomach turn.

      A soft knock sounded at the door, and the guard whispered in Mandarin to whoever was on the other side, speaking too softly for Sebastian to make anything out. A moment later the man stepped aside and a half dozen too-young looking Asian girls entered. They wore tiny, form-fitted qípáo with skirts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Between them, they carried all the trappings for tea and authentic Chinese sweets. While it wasn’t uncommon for Asian girls to appear younger than they actually were, Sebastian doubted any of them were older than fourteen, and he inwardly seethed, keeping his outward composure as he watched the girls arrange everything on the coffee table in front of him, all of them kneeling and not a one making eye contact. It was impossible for Sebastian to tell if that was cultural, out of respect to him as a guest of their—it made Sebastian ill to think of Lau that way—master, or if they’d merely been beaten into submission. He suspected likely a combo of both, as the girls—as beautiful as they all were, their hair and makeup flawless—seemed broken. Sebastian could recognize that anywhere.

      A moment later, Lau emerged from behind a curtain in the opposite end of the room from the door, with another girl on his arm, this one definitely Chinese, and she looked of age. She was dressed similarly to the tea-serving girls, but her dress and hair accessories were of finer quality, and she held herself with a composed and calm air, her eyes scanning the room. Sebastian decided it would be best for him not to underestimate her. It would be just like Lau to have a female as his personal bodyguard.

      Although middle aged now, Lau had apparently changed little in the years since Sebastian had last seen him. He still wore a long chángpáo as was his custom, his hands hidden in the voluminous sleeves. This was no cosplay costume; even at a distance Sebastian could appreciate the quality of the silk and the embroidery on the outer coat, a deep emerald offset by dancing gold dragons. Undoubtedly a reference to his appellation of “The Green Dragon,” as the leader of Qīng Bāng, aka “the Green Gang,” a fearsome criminal syndicate that operated both in the US and Asia. The outfit made Sebastian roll his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

      Lau took his seat across from Sebastian, acting like an emperor arriving at court. The woman bodyguard took her place beside him, and all but one of the girls shuffled so they were kneeling around Lau, some of them leaning against his legs, while others received absent head pats as if they were pets rather than people.

      Lau began speaking in Mandarin, his voice soft and light as it almost always was, his eyes nearly closed, his affect totally opposite the tension the younger man was feeling. The woman beside him translated, “It is good to see you looking so well after so long apart, Li Xiǎo Guǐ. This is Ran Mao.” So that was the woman’s name. Two surnames? Perhaps it was an alias. “Have my chǒng wù been treating you well?” So the girls really were his “pets,” as Lau used the same word used for an animal, rather than a favorite person.

      Sebastian snarled, but otherwise kept his anger in check. “I’m called Sebastian now,” he bit back in Mandarin.

      Ran Mao seemed unphased that Sebastian could speak Chinese. In fact, her face was expressionless.

      Lau, on the other hand, chuckled as he accepted a cup of tea from the chǒng wù serving them. “Yes. I know, Mr. Michaelis,” Lau said the name like a curse. “But you’ll always be my little demon,” Lau continued, switching to perfect English, his voice soft and lilting and beguilingly soothing. Normally a nickname for a troublesome child, because of his ink-black hair and unusual red eyes, Sebastian had been given the name Xiǎo Guǐ, one he hadn’t heard used since he’d fled Lau years ago. “Your Mandarin is a little rusty, Xiǎo Guǐ. Have you been living apart from me so long that you’ve forgotten to call me father? Or speak to me with the proper respect?”

      Sebastian scoffed. Lau was not his biological father, although who that man was was unknown. All Sebastian knew was he was mixed, a son of one of Lau’s underage whores, which made him even more of a demon in Lau’s eyes, although his beauty had made Sebastian a useful commodity. “A man like you deserves no respect,” he replied, switching back to Mandarin because English wouldn’t convey the level of insult nearly as effectively.

      The chǒng wù gasped, and Ran Mao stiffened, but Lau simply laughed and held up a hand to signal it was fine. “You haven’t changed, Xiǎo Guǐ. And you’re still beautiful. How old are you now? Nearly thirty? And yet you appear younger. I imagine you must be a valuable asset to Joker. Especially with how deadly you are.” Lau’s smile was feral, even if he still barely opened his eyes, sipping his tea calmly.

      Anxiety creeped in on the edge of Sebastian’s brain. How much did Lau know about his life? Was it true that he could never truly escape the dragon’s talons?

      “By the way, how is that little blue-eyed boy you stole from me? Does he still look underage? Is that why you enjoy fucking him so much?” Lau’s expression was placid, as if he were merely chatting about the weather, rather than doling out one veiled threat after another.

      Sebastian growled and jumped up from his seat, his fists clenched, not even thinking clearly enough to yank his knives from his boot heels. “You son of a bitch. Stay away from Ciel.”

      Ran Mao stepped between the two men, pulling knives of her own from holsters strapped to her thighs, normally hidden by her dress, bracing herself to launch herself toward Sebastian.

      But Lau merely chuckled, murmuring in Mandarin for Ran Mao to stand down before addressing Sebastian again in English, “I’ll do as I please. You both belong to me, and I’m very possessive of my property, as you well know.” Lau handed his cup to one of the girls and rose. “You used to be dangerous because you had nothing to lose, but you do now, don’t you? What do you think some of my clients would do to a beautiful white boy like Ciel? Ah, but you do know. From personal experience.” Lau opened his eyes, revealing a cold, menacing glint that said more than his even tone suggested. “Interfere with my business, Xiǎo Guǐ, and I interfere with yours. Consider it a courtesy that I’m letting you leave today.” Lau issued commands to his guards in Mandarin, and without a further word, he and Ran Mao departed the way they came, leaving Sebastian still standing, heart pounding, hands trembling.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I’ve been trying to take a lunch hour just to get away from work.  I usually just walk away from my office as far as possible.  Things these days are beyond claustrophobic with little explanation or respect for my feelings or emotions.  This is the city let alone the world at this point in my eyes.   After spending so much time away from America it feels like the problem is the country at large.  This isn’t to say that I’m not exposed to a lot of different cultures here.  There is a rather large uptick in the diversity I see every day which is inspiring.  But I still feel like I have become a fixture in the background  much like a billboard.  A service for people to point to as a sort of beacon but won’t acknowledge or give credit for existing.  A light switch to flick on and off.  A manufactured piece of consent paraded in front of people as the good guy though nobody knows my superhero name, my powers or what I even do.  I guess this is what I get for wearing so many fonts and statement shirts.   On my lunch break I passed a man being followed by a real live pigeon.  It came to my attention that pigeons seem to communicate better than most Americans.  I said that out loud.  The man made a howling sound that was at once laughter and at once judgement.  Those kind of interactions are fun sometimes.  But it was a very real sentiment.  I wake up every morning to two feral cats on my doorstep.  The other morning my neighbor ran into me feeding them on the porch.  It was a friendly interaction but they seemed hesitant to proceed up the stairs.  My neighbor asked if they would bite.  My landlord has asked this too.  I never really assumed anyone would be afraid of cats but it’s a valid safety issue.  I wonder why these cats aren’t afraid of me when historically everyone seems to make me out as the monster behind my back.  I used to be afraid of dogs when I was small.  The thing I love about animals is that they communicate their emotions very intelligently.  You get back what you give.  While science might explain away domestication of cats as emotionless manipulation of humans for food it doesn’t explain how humans treat each other for capitalism over money and power.  In a city where for years people have been afraid to accept that I have dreams, desires, and needs I’ve become a Frankenstein like figure.  The one thing I can agree with the current trends in America for social justice and cancel culture is that it is confusing, isolating, and divisive at times.  But serving these societal needs sometimes is not as satisfying as you would like it to be.  We resist and protest in America to change things.  Change requires organization, planning and strategy.  Also an endgame that results in either compromise or complete destruction apparently.  And when you are the only one with a plan three years running, you start to think maybe you need a new plan or a new life entirely.  Because everyone wins at the cost of you losing year after year.

I was listening to Chomsky instead of the debates the other day.  He had remarked that you can predict the outcome of an election with scary accuracy just by looking at the funding.  And it is true that in America you are mostly free if you have the money to justify the air you breathe.  But America also has a history of taking freedom away for the benefit of others.  In liberal circles this is called “sharing power.”  Sometimes this is justified depending on the lens you view it through.  Is it fair?  For all the shit we talk about capitalism and how it is evil how is it any different?  It’s not concerned with a balanced budget or being fair.  It’s about profiting at any cost and our country depends on it regardless if someone else’s freedom. life, liberty or pursuit of happiness is at stake.  The same can be said about human capital.  If I’m the one doing all the work shouldn’t I be the one who profits?  I believe you shouldn’t profit at the expense of others.  This is why I generally work a non profit job.  Dj’ing is also a non profit job in my experience along with making music since it makes no money.  People pretend they’re worth gold because of it.  It may return some sort of social capital for people.  But my entire legacy of social capital is null and void these days.  All I can really rely on is the fact that I have a stable enough job and lifestyle to pay my bills and stay healthy.  I’m not the kind of person who is viewed as successful but I’m the person everyone always needs.  I have no social support network other than what I’ve built here anymore.  I’ve had the luxury of opening up about my experiences here and had people read from all over the world.  Maybe people who value me more than anyone possibly could in my home town.  But as far as how people view me in my own city it’s perverse and disappointing at best.  People point to me as some sort of example that nobody wants to make the sacrifices to become.  And people laugh at me because of it year after year and call me crazy.  I just sit here alone at my kitchen table thinking how hopeless it’s all become.  People in America love to shout from the mountains that they have freedom of speech but they never listen to anyone but themselves.  Or worse they surround themselves with people who constantly validate them and never make any sort of criticism.  Art school is full of critique.  I saw a flyer on the wall for critique in Chinese.  I thought that was amazing.  I’ve been the subject of English critique for over two decades and look where that got me.  Everybody’s favorite water cooler topic to bully and make fun of.  It’s like I’m the mascot.  Charlie Brown with hair.  Or Edward Norton overlayed in CGI green.  You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

I’ve given up on so much shit this last year.  Nobody really cares how much I’ve sacrificed or how it’s made me feel.  At least not on the surface.  But imagine an entire life of having to walk the streets with your ear scraping the ground every moment of the day.  Just to know people’s intentions about why they feel the need to interact or acknowledge you.  There’s people who see me on the street and think it’s my problem that I don’t recognize them.  Like nobody understands that largely for years other people have caused more problems for me demanding my interaction.  Chicago has a very forced sense of community.  It goes far back to the days of shady politics that still haunt our city.  People with money and power who intimidate you in and out of situations.  I have been hurt tremendously over the years sticking my neck out for people who don’t care if I live or die.  The minute you stop is the minute people have an opinion about it.  Like my services to people moved way past good Samaritan mode.  Now it’s an expectation that I bend over backwards for everyone while I suffer in obscurity.  I don’t often try to argue any of this.  I’ve almost nearly just shut up and down completely.  I don’t leave my house much other than to travel an hour on public transit to mow my mom’s lawn.  And even then people are always trying to get to know you and start some trouble.  Use you as a prop or an example then call you a hermit behind your back.  For years that is really what I have become.  A prop in the background to manipulate.  An urban legend that has no form and thus no real need to appease with anything material.  Unlike a Chupacabra I do have physical form.  I don’t have a personal life.  It’s been bludgeoned to death by abstractions and expectations from greedy people.  To this day nobody ever really addresses me like a human other than maybe cats on my doorstep at five in the morning.  I’ll never be good enough or successful enough to break free of my landlord.  I’m always negotiating my right to frown about my situation.  My privilege is checked at the door when I leave only to be greeted by a city that swings it’s own clout around in my face.  And then there’s the people on the internet who would rather argue about it like it’s a dirty secret.  I am that secret.  I am the one suffering in ways you could never imagine.  And everybody is just ok with it.  Nobody has any sort of emotion at all.  There is no closure.  It’s just me week after week typing into a void hoping that somebody is listening that knows how much it all hurts.  And generally if I take a deep breath and a sip of coffee I know this to be true.  Just like I know the world is bigger than America and it’s view of profit before people.  Just like I know the universe is vast and the planet is small.  In another month I’ll be back in New York.  And a couple of months after that.  And so on and so on until it clicks.  I’m worth more than this.  The trick is believing it enough to save yourself and wait for something that actually appreciates it.   That’s what intimacy is all about.   Save all the abuse, psychological manipulation and anger for the stand up routines.  They don’t call it the Second City for nothing.  I deserve to live in a world that puts me first after all this.  <3 Tim