#but it’s a necessity to live yadda yadda i know

[alphacrone]

me: i could totally be a hunter in the leftist queer commune i’d be so great at it

me as a teenager: nearly threw up catching one fish and releasing it

[sodacowboy]

apparently my mom’s been seriously considering moving us to canada if shit goes further south here in the states…

[offscreendeath]

I finally watched Across the Spiderverse after months of putting it off and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

There's few movies, in my opinion, that live up to their hype and this is one of them. I'm not going to bother comparing it to the first in the series -- there's already plenty of that going on. But beyond the appealing art direction, score, humor and easter eggs, one of the things that really stuck out in my mind was the theme of "acceptance", in so many words.

In the film, we are treated to the classic Spider-Man themes of great power = great responsibility, having to balance home life and a superhero career, yadda yadda, we know the drill, been there, done that, nothing we haven't seen before.

What I didn't expect was to see this theme turned on its head. Sometimes that responsibility is incredibly unfair, and we often don't have enough power to deal with it on our own, at least through conventional, socially acceptable means.

The big speech Rio gives Miles isn't like the rest of the other speeches we've seen various Spider-Men being given. Rio affirms that Miles is loved and cherished, that he belongs where he is, that his presence isn't, as Miguel later states, "a mistake". This resonated with me, as I'm sure it did other people, particularly younger black kids. I'll explain why.

Miles is from New York City, Brooklyn to be exact -- an area that has rapidly become gentrified over the course of a generation, but particularly in the last few decades.

This means, among other things, higher prices for housing and other necessities, displacement of historic residents of the community and homeless populations, as well as a cultural clash between wealthy yuppies and natives.

None of this is explicitly explored in the film, which takes place in a fictional version of NYC, but it is relevant context nonetheless. Black youth are routinely criminalized, brutalized, surveilled and killed by law enforcement, and made scapegoats for "crime" by racist "concerned citizens" and vigilantes.

When everything from hostile urban infrastructure and officers from abusive, corrupt institutions (and ninja vampire spider-men) are telling you that you "don't belong", someone telling you that you're accepted and matter, can make a huge difference and go a long way in helping to build your self-esteem. It's this expression of unconditional love that, I believe, gives Miles the confidence to finally confess and reveal his hidden identity to (a version of) Rio towards the movie's finale, regardless of the warnings Gwen gave prior to this happening.

The difference between Miles & Gwen is that Gwen's father discovered her secret totally by accident. She was forced to reveal her identity rather than voluntarily offering that information. Before she had a chance to explain her motivations for keeping this hidden life to herself, it was too late. Miles, on the other hand, at least has a chance to come clean -- though it remains to be seen whether The Spot will interfere with this.

The Spot also craves acceptance, in his own way -- feeling that he's a joke, he's desperate to gain enough power to prove that he's a formidable opponent. His conditions has left him unable to easily re-assimilate into society -- permanently disfigured and incapable of living a "normal" life, he doesn't have the family that Miles has, nor a society of others with similar experiences to provide mentorship or community. He is totally alone, angry, sad, and probably scared.

Like Miles, Spot was in the wrong place at the right time. The accident leading to Spot's new body only granted him great power -- but no responsibility except to himself. It's hard to not feel sympathetic to Spot. Like most villains on Spider-Man's roster, his story is a tragic one. Perhaps if there were someone in his life like Rio, who could've told him that he's not a "mistake", he wouldn't feel so rejected and alone. Also like Miles, Spot is himself a scientist, not lacking in any brilliance -- only healthy, loving relationships and the respect that comes with it.

Miles is also actively undergoing puberty, a process that involves physical change as much as social and psychological ones. It is an awkward time for most, and with the additional stress of having to go to school and be the city's only Spider-Man, the struggle is definitely real and palpable.

Dealing with the weight of his parent's expectations, and the expectations of a city in need, as well as a whole multiverse of other Spider-People, it makes sense that Miles would feel constantly out of place, outclassed and overwhelmed by the many changes in his life, desperately attempting to spin multiple plates at once. Rio's words offer comfort and reassurance, but it is Gwen, Hobie, and Peter whose actions ultimately prove that he doesn't have to endure this struggle alone.

Managing to outwit and evade the entirety of Spider-Society with no outside help, Miles has proven he has the technical skill and experience to be Spider-Man. He's far from an amateur, regardless of Miguel's scathing, callous criticism. Miguel's insults are brushed off as Miles once again slips through his fingers and defies his orders to merely stand by as his father dies.

It is perhaps true, though, that Miles is naive to the threat of the canon being broken, that he is ignorant of the scale of the problem and that the risk is simply too high to alter the timeline, but it is not in his character to refuse a call to action, especially when it is someone he loves who is in danger.

Miguel seems to be using Miles' existence as a scapegoat for his internalized anger and grief regarding his own mistake in breaking the canon and its consequences. Losing everyone he once loved, as well as condemning the rest of the universe to erasure in the process, Miguel isn't wrong to worry about what Miles' actions could mean for everyone unless he is stopped. Rather than work with Miles to find a solution, he instead opts to prevent him from having even the opportunity to explore solutions to the problem.

Even with amazing futuristic technology and an entire veritable army of superpowered beings (mostly, with the exception of Hobie,) at his command, I think it's bizarre that Miguel isn't even willing to hear out Miles' concerns and desires. Instead, his first instinct is to capture him while his father dies alone, in an entirely different dimension than his own.

Perhaps Miguel is like Spot -- desperately needing someone to reassure him that his mistake was honest in nature, albeit a bit selfish, but that doesn't mean he should suffer with the resulting trauma and mental anguish indefinitely for it.

Everyone, save for a few, seem scared of Miguel, and for good reason. He has great power, for certain, but perhaps bears too much responsibility, which has warped his morals and led to him becoming a dogmatic quasi-authoritarian -- or, in Hobie's words, a "self-mythologizing, narcissistic autocrat!" Miguel is fully aware that he isn't the only Spider-Man who has dealt with the pain of losing loved ones, but he has made it his duty to lead a team dedicated to making sure that this collective trauma unfolds without a hitch. Though this doesn't make him a villain, necessarily, he is certainly an antagonist.

Upon my first of many viewings, I was certain that Gwen's father, Ex-Captain Stacy, would become another antagonist. Willing to draw a gun on and consider arresting his own daughter, I didn't have much faith in his development as a character, until it was revealed that he quit -- choosing his relationship with Gwen above his responsibilities as a cop. Perhaps Miguel could learn something from him, specifically that our futures are perhaps not written in stone, or at least that we have some degree of control over our fates, even if it isn't total control.

Finally accepted and free of the burden of concealing her secret, Gwen's relationship with her father is restored. Though initially hostile and obviously shaken by the realization, Gwen's father proves that parents and other authority figures still have an opportunity to grow, learning to accept others for who they are, provided they have enough time and self-reflection, and perhaps a few well-crafted persuasive words.

Ex-Captain Stacy is not alone. Earlier in the film, Jeff questions his merit as a father and worries about his changing relationship with Miles, fearing that he's become too distant or has somehow failed Miles in a crucial way. Perhaps Jeff has his own expectations he must grapple with.

Miles and Jeff don't have much in the way of a heartfelt speech together. Miles misses Jeff's speech at the party celebrating his promotion. The talk they do have together happens without Jeff's knowledge, though his respect for Spider-Man obviously has an impression on him, with Jeff suggesting to Rio later in the film that they should take his advice in dealing with Miles (aka, himself), giving him more space and trust as he matures into a young adult.

Though I want to work out how Hobie's character fits into this theme, this post has already gotten too lengthy and he deserves a post of his own -- not to mention we don't really get much of a serious exploration into his background or character to draw many conclusions from.

Suffice it to say, however, Hobie's ethos and actions would suggest that it's not only possible, but desirable and good to carve a niche for yourself, and seeming out of place or being underestimated can actually work to our advantage. Throughout the film Hobie constantly questions the actions and motivations of others, particularly Miles. This isn't done to make Miles insecure, only to encourage him to act on his own authority and be a free thinker, an essential component to being Spider-Man, not to mention an adult.

Well true believers, that's it for now. Thanks for reading. Until next time.

To be continued...

(By the way, why is "marvel mcu" a hashtag? the "M" stands for Marvel! You wouldn't say "DC Comics".

[tirfpikachu]

i just saw an endearingly old post of one of my earliest peaking takes. i was frustrated at how little the left cared about detransitioners.

i do want to reinstate that caring about detransitioners and the growing number of (non-transphobia-related) detransitions doesn't mean that all transition is done to escape something. for some, it truly is in their best interests in the end, yadda yadda. you can care about more than one issue. and this issue actually affects you too.

even for those who are explicitly transitioning to escape the patriarchal abuse on female/afab folks and gnc people, who am i to feel anything other than bittersweetness at being left behind as a gnc woman? and perhaps a faint feeling of unnervement in my own self-perception, same as when i see any other major body modification a female person does around me…?

what i truly want is happiness under the patriarchy for those traumatized by it. i want female happiness, gnc happiness. i just... worry. i worry, because you have no idea the concerning amount of detrans folks in my askbox and my DMs and my server. something is wrong. something is genuinely, truly wrong. we need to increase our speed in fighting the patriarchy, because more and more stories like my own keep piling up. this is bad news for everybody struggling under the patriarchy. it means we now have an exit door. for many, it's a necessity. for others, like myself, and many others, it was self-harm, repression, and fulfilled the never-satisfied need i have to surgically alter my face because i know i'd have it easier mentally and socially. it sucks when it's just a fact of life. i know that in some countries, like korea, plastic surgery is almost a badge of womanhood and is offered as a kind-hearted gift to women and gnc people around you. what if this is the future of transition for female/afab folks and gnc individuals? what if it becomes the deliciously tempting little exit door that just glows anytime you suffer misogyny irl or online? what if those little trans jokes people make, those egg jokes, lead to more detransitioners? which not only can be traumatic, but also harm trans people in actual need of transition; the only point that usually actually reaches non-detrans people's hearts. detransition fucking sucks. dysphoria utterly blows. reverse dysphoria? it also blows. imagine thinking this will be your deliverance and bam, you're hit with waves of opposite dysphoria. imagine the light at the end of the tunnel leading to a high cliff. imagine everything you thought you ever knew about yourself was ripped away from you and you had to rebuild yourself all over again.

dysphoria can be unpredictable. but i think we can do better. education is key. cis gnc manhood & womanhood being represented in non-sexist ways in the mainstream - including assuming it means they're gay or trans - is essential. authentic trans experiences being represented in addition to those is also key. but you must understand that i am living proof that dysphoria can heal in some cases, and that dysphoria can involve social contagion. if i had been surrounded by badass masc feminists irl alongside my cool trans friends i 10000% promise you i'd have found myself way sooner, and probably never transitioned or gotten reverse dysphoria. and i wouldn't have needed to trigger any uncomfortable feelings in trans friends when i detransitioned. it would've been better for everyone. but first and foremost for me, someone struggling with a severe dysphoric disorder that took over my life for 13+ years. marginalized folks need to handle these issues in complex, gentle ways. we aren't approaching these things the right way. we so easily celebrate people who only just start questioning being lgbt. we lock them into an identity, like my online trans friends unconsciously did with me, by not making every lgbt (or non-lgbt gnc) choice seem equally valid and wonderful. we take them at their most mentally vulnerable and we don't handle it with enough sensitivity and tact. we need more proper, healthy lgbt & gnc community support. this cannot keep happening. something needs to change, and it needs to change fast.

[starryoak]

No but like genuinely Spot is clearly just some weird fucked up lunatic, but in like. Some sort of weird, teetering between harmless and totally fucking bonkers way. Like. He obviously worked for a company run by a supervillain and was close friends with one himself, and the guy did kinda go distressingly quickly to “well, time to murder a 15 year old’s father and potentially him as well!”…

…but it was also only after a year and a half of total and complete social isolation, unknown and horrifying biological changes including losing all sensory organs and normal orifices, and gaining an unknown quantity of new ones, and also another round of horrifying unknown biological and possibly fundamental metaphysical changes just in the last day of his life. But then you turn to the fact that he only ever turned to actual crime after a year and a half of total and complete social isolation, etc, yadda yadda yadda, and then you look at how that crime was stealing from an ATM machine, quite evidently IMO because he would feel guilty if he was stealing from a person, given I can’t help but feel like he wouldn’t have justified his crime that way if he hadn’t at least thought about it that way before… it’s complex! He’s not a good guy, but like… how much of a bad guy is he?

He’s had to deal with the social isolation, invisibility and criminalization of being homeless in NYC, or at least viewed as homeless, with the bonus of the social isolation of being an abomination against nature that looks like a freak in a skin suit. He is just literally physically incapable of reasonably living a normal life in polite society anymore. I feel like that’d fuck anybody up, lmao.

And, yeah, he wasn’t that cautious about throwing himself into dangerous and shitty situations from what we see! Sure, he seems to have a plan by the end, or it comes across that way, but I’m not sure he really does, and is he really in his right mind at all in the state we see him by the end of the movie? He’s literally splitting apart at the seams, and seems to be undergoing mitosis at the extremities and like. Yes, it’s just for dramatic visual effects for the audience, but like. What does that say about or do to his mental state that his body itself is such a swirling, amorphous mess? What does it mean mentally when a man’s voice has undertones of unearthly screaming echoes?

Thinking more on that, it’s not morally ok or anything, but it’s very understandable, IMO, how he’s clung to this idea of being Miles’ nemesis, like. This is a world where Superheroes and Supervillains exist. This is an established route for people with deep seated mental illness to take in this world. Of course the guy’s gonna cling to supervillains as a crutch. I mean, the big villains even almost win sometimes, right? It’s gotta be better than living like this, right? On the fringes of society, either pitied or horrified looks all he’d get, scrounging for basic necessities… at least if you’re a Villain, you’ve got attention and respect, right? So of course he’s so fucking crushed by being treated as comedic even when he’s trying to be a Villain. It’s a rejection of the only lifeline and justification he has to live anymore. We see this in the deleted scenes about the supervillain bar, that this is his only identity he feels he has left to go to!

He obviously dislikes Spiderman, and I’m sure he’d say he hates him, but it’s not. Like. He doesn’t hate Miles, up until that collider seems to give him some sort of psychic connection to the kid, he barely even knows Miles. Yeah, he’s intrinsically connected, ‘they created each other’, whatever. He doesn’t even know Miles! He hates the idea of Miles. Or more accurately, he wants to feel that way.

He wants to be this nemesis, this ultimate bad guy, Spidey’s Nemesis, capitalized, he wants to be a recurrent Saturday Morning Cartoon sort of villain, he didn’t seem to want to hurt the kid. He just wants an identity that he can live with that isn’t acknowledging that there wasn’t any meaning to what happened and that it was just a freak accident nobody meant to cause that disfigured him for life.

Like I either see most reactions to him be like “haha funny pathetic meow meow holes guy” or “sexy eldritch abomination guy” and while like… yeah, true, god knows I’m not above simping for a man undergoing mitosis, but like. I can’t look at him without going “That is A Mentally Ill Homeless Man In Dire Need of Help.” Like, I get he’s a funny haha character, but like, he’s just so deeply pathetic and miserable at the start of the movie and nobody notices and it just hurts so bad, lmao! I’m just crying out for this shit, like, this exact kind of fic, of someone going “Dude, You Are Like, Seriously In Need of Mental Help.” because, like, he is!

Maybe it’s the setting, what with being NYC, and his getup in the ATM robbery, but I just can’t not think about it when he’s talking about how he’s lost everything and how his family won’t look at him, that like. That’s just a homeless person. He’s literally just your average homeless person except even more horribly disfigured than any human can be in reality. And just. The invisibility of being homeless is just one of the worst things any one person can experience; being seen by others and deliberately ignored, acknowledged with looks but treated as an unperson. And add onto that the visible deformity that makes him look like some mentally ill street performer, except he can never take it off. It just sits with me, those feelings.

And on his honesty, that’s just part of what’s so fucked up about it. He’s actively crying for help from anyone who will listen, and nobody is! Again, this visible invisibility, of being heard but not listened to, to be seen but not treated as a human, it’s just so fucked up and tragic that no one just fucking listened to him. And the sad thing is, of course Miles doesn’t recognize he’s a man lashing out at society in a desparate attempt to be seen! Not only is he 15, Spot literally leads Miles to that conclusion deliberately in an attempt to be respected, and yet he fails so utterly that Miles both fails to see him as a threat, yet can’t recognize how damn miserable the man is!

Like!!! Yeah!!! Because he’s weird and creepy and is haha funny pathetic, people just fundamentally cannot respect him, and, man, as an autistic person, it hits me right there! He’s crying out for help in the only way he feels he has left, it’s literally proven that if people cannot get positive attention, people will seek out negative attention just to fill the void, and that’s just so blatantly what’s happening with him it hurts!

And like. What hurts about it IS that part when, when is a cry for help valid? How much of a ‘Villain’ do you have to be to not get sympathy? Miles at the end of the movie talks to Uncle Aaron about how he’s just a good person forced through circumstances to become a bad one, and it’s like. It hurts that he can recognize that about Aaron and never did about Spot.

Not that, again, it doesn’t make sense, but it’s like. All of this could have been prevented if someone had just. Realized that sometimes people in desperate mental (and physical, technically) health crises lash out at others and helped the guy.

And beyond that… there’s this subtle real life subtext where supervillains are basically a superhero universe version of terrorists/mass shooters, people who feel, for various reasons, valid or otherwise, abandoned by society, and ultimately represent a failure on every level to support people in desparate situations.

Could Jonathan even go to a soup kitchen looking like that? Does he need to eat? What would it be like if he didn’t have to? And then we cycle back to like. What the fuck is it like to be turned into a mass of abstract scribbles in the shape of a human man that regularly begins to split apart and turn in two? Like, sorry to suddenly bring it up out of nowhere but like. He’s a dude in a skin suit now, biologically. That’s all there is down there. That’s an important thing to lose! Not to dance around the subject, but it’s a pretty integral body part to a person’s identity to lose, with a lot of psychological implications!

All of it fucks with me so much! Everything about poor Johnathan’s life now is just so much! And it’s all intrinsically tied to his disabilities!

The Spot and Disability

It's very interesting to me how ATSV told Spot's story. At a start he's handled as a joke in the movie. Even Miles and the audience with him laughed at the new villain in his introduction. I was personally disgusted when the bread goes across him. Also, the guy isn't good at being bad and stealing an ATM, so he can be considered as a joke.

But it's hard to admit that we as an audience, and Miles did wrong laughing at his face about his new condition. We often mock him when it comes to the bagel joke, but he clearly suffered a lot, and lost it all after the accident. He was being mocked, rejected by everyone, even by his own friends and relatives. He evidently couldn't do anything without any of his holes getting in the way (which is the thing that makes him disabled), he lost his job and was forced to do illegal stuff in order to survive. That left an irreparable emotional damage that shaped him permanently. These are actual motivations for a person to take the wrong path, and even more when you discover you have a power that could give you some advantage over the others.

All of his story is clearly similar to what many disabled people live on a daily basis. "Unfortunately for me and you, this is skin." Sounds familiar? Reminds me of people that have vitiligo, which isn't exactly an illness and it isn't contagious, but common people think it is, and they fear, avoid and reject anyone who has it. Even in these modern days, where society supposedly is for everyone and everyone matters, disabled people are still rejected and disrespected, victims of bullying, mockery and exclusion. They don't get a chance to adapt to this world, not meant for them, and they miss so many opportunities of having a job, to form a family and go places adapted to their unique conditions. This world still needs to educate its people on respecting the disabled. That doesn't mean that disabled people are doomed to become villains, no! That would expand more the prejudices towards them. But what most of Marvel villains, and more, Spider-Man villains, have in common is having an accident that left them disabled: Flint falling on a sand dispenser, Max on a pool of eels, affecting their entire lives. (Not to mention that Doctor Connors was already disabled when he recurred to a not so ethic way to recover his arm, turning him into a lizard-like humanoid)

And yeah, every Spider-Man has a similar (canon) event, they're bitten by a radioactive spider. But rather to turn them onto something horrible, they hit the jackpot instead isn't it? They get attractively buffed, they get cool super powers, they become popular and loved by most people. But the others are treated as villains, and it's true, Spider-Man has to combat crime, and in the end, he shows mercy towards them. But in the end, most of the time their condition is treated as menacing and villanious. That's why No Way Home, brings a fresh vision on helping the villains to get cured or at least treated. (Although, that's not always realistically possible for disabled people, and most of them don't need to be cured or treated like their condition is bad for them)

But the movie leaves it clear it was a mistake to not take Spot's situation seriously. The man might've taken it chill at a start, but the more he was mistreated, the more he got resentful especially with Miles, wrongly considering him the source of all his disgraces, and more when the Super-Hero laughed at him. His power grew at the same time as his anger, and by the end of the movie, Miles admits it, he's his nemesis, they're mutual enemies now, and he's dangerous. If Spot was treated better from the start, with dignity and if he was given a second opportunity, support and optimum laboral conditions, maybe Spot would be now an ally.

How wrong we were, by taking him for granted...

[bumblebaubles]

the taylor swift vs billionares should not exist debate is actually quite compelling

while i get most people have a surface level understanding of 

- billionares usually only make that musch profit off of not paying the people who work with them enough

-general wealth inequality sucking away resources from people who need them

its remiss to not acknowledge billionares who run conglomerates that have a monopoly over a resource people need are not the same as billionares who have extreme buying power over a luxury that is not a necessity to life. 

considering so much of the fodder around this recent news is her making this much money off of music as her main revenue i started mulling it over in my head and started to remember just how shit the music industry treats artists in general. if she were to accomplish this i hate to say it, it would be a real feat. artists are usually the LAST people to make money off of their music. the music industry is so inherently exploitive towards artists its genuinely compelling seeing as to how she made so much off of music. so naturally i have questions. 

even though taylor has been well off for a while the as far as ive read the money she makes off of albums and streams is still split between publishing, manufacturing, production yadda yadda. Not to mention she was able to do something few artists are able to do, which is being able to profit of of her intellectual property with trademarks etc. while shes faced backlash for being too money hungry for demanding streaming services like apple music take less money off of artists streams and “excessive” trademarking of her ideas thats also a huge chunk of her money and i dont think ive seen a compelling (what she did with apple music and trademarking really can be seen as fair considering an artist should own their work and make a liveable earning fro.m it) argument for these streams of revenue being exploitative. if the music industry were fair, more artists would be able to live off of their music. taylors in a very rare but good position in this aspect. ((not to mention she doesnt even own her masters. her remaking her old albums is an expensive,,, expensive endeavor but the sales came through))

we dont know exactly how much the people she works with get paid either? im not sure if theres info on how much the people she writes with or how much her producers make off the songs they release with her. Industry standard would be considered exploitive because like i stated before m o s t money off of streams and album sales dont go to the creators it goes to the publishers and whoever has the licensing. then the singer, writers and producers are the last to get paid off of the music they create. so is the distribution of those profits equal? cant say.

ive seen but havent confirmed that her merchandise is made in china which would be a red flag if i can confirm it. Artists usually make most of their profit off of merchandising and touring. BUT i’ll stop myself here because we dont know how the profits for the tour will be split yet.  

if anyone has any extra info to fill in the gaps pls let me know im scratching my head rn

[saintorchid]

Smells Like Home

___________________

A/N: Yeah this is pure fluff baby. One of my mutuals informed me that there is bath and body works candle that smells exactly like Nanami. And you know what I did? I wrote a fic. Enjoy!

Warnings: none/I don't own bath and body works pls don't sue me

(bath and body works if you see this please think of it as free advertising please and thank you)

___________________

Two months ago at a shopping center, you and Nanami decided to pick up some necessities and maybe indulge a little.

Of course, going anywhere with your boyfriend Nanami requires some organization. Before leaving the house, you and Nanami created a list of the stores you planned to visit and things that the two of you needed to buy. If you know one thing about Nanami, he hates being in public. He instead stays at home with you, cuddled on the couch while you play with his golden hair. But now he’s in public with you holding your hand while you hum a song that’s been stuck in your head since last week.

Nanami looks at you while you checked the list you two made before leaving the house. He sees you muttering under your breath, “Okay, we picked up the new curtains, got some cleaning supplies yadda yadda yadda.”

You looked at the list to double-check that you two bought all the stuff you needed before heading home and cooking dinner. Nanami knows that you like to indulge yourself whenever you go out in public. You’ll sometimes buy under-eye masks for him and a new lipstick for yourself or a unique floral blanket. After living with you, he knows about your blanket obsession. Due to your obsession with soft fluffy blankets, you have a designated closet for blankets. He doesn’t mind. He likes to see you happy.

He smiles at the thought that crossed his mind and looked at you, still focused on the list. He breaks your train of thought.

Nanami speaks in a soft voice only reserved for you to hear, “Dear, is there any other store you would like to visit before we leave?”

You looked at the man with a gentle expression on his face. You spoke, “Actually, yes. Can we go to bath and body works? I’m running out of my favorite lotion.”

Nanami replies to you, “Of course we can go.” He could never say no to you. He’ll do anything for you to see a smile on your face. Both of you walked into the fragrant store, greeted by the salesperson.

You ask the salesperson where you could find your lotion, and she takes you to the lotion display. Before Nanami could join you, he received a call from his work. He stops you in your tracks.

“Hey honey, I have to take this call. It’s from work. It might take some time, depending on the situation. I’ll wait outside until you’re done.”

You reply, “Okay, sounds good, love.”

You and the salesperson resume on your journey to buy your lotion; after looking and finding your lotion, you come across a new candle display. Intrigued, you picked up the candle called “mahogany teakwood high intensity.” You smelled the candle and immediately thought it smelled just like Nanami. You didn’t even notice, but you headed to the register with the lotion and candle in hand. You paid for the items and headed out of the store. You found your boyfriend waiting for you with his hand held out. You grasp his hand, feeling how rough and calloused it is but always so gentle with you.

-Present Day-

Nanami yells at you from across the house, “Hey honey, have you seen my tie?” While he yelled at you, you were preparing his lunch for his business trip. Lately, business trips have frequently been happening. You understood that it was apart of his job, but still, you missed him dearly.

As you were chopping some fruit, you replied, “Did you check in your dress pocket? You tend to put them there when you prepare your suits!”

Nanami reached into his dress pocket, feeling the silk material between his fingers. He yells back a thank you. As he finished preparing his materials for the business meeting, he heads downstairs to put on his shoes and kiss you goodbye. You handed him his lunch, wishing him to come back soon and to be careful.

He kisses you goodbye, but before he turns his head, you grab him by his tie and kiss him harshly. Surprised by the sudden action, he kisses you once more.

“Honey, I have to go, or I’ll be late. You know how I like to be punctual.”

“One more,” You held his face with your hands.

“One more, what?” Nanami whispers. He knows that you get embarrassed when you ask for kisses. Seeing you get flustered makes his heart race.

“Kiss me one more time before you leave, please,” You look into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilate. You would do anything to have him stay a second more, but his job is important.

He grins and pours every single drop of love he has for you into a single kiss.

The two of you stand embracing each other. Nanami can be a minute or two late.

“How long will you be gone again?” You said into his chest.

“Four days and three nights,” Nanami kissed your forehead.

He lets go putting on his shoes and double-checking if he has everything. Once he’s sure, he says goodbye, and he’ll text you when he arrives at his destination.

The two of you exchanged ‘I love you's, and Nanami closed the door. It does hurt him to leave you, but he always brings you a souvenir from his trip to make it up to you.

——————

For the next two days, you did some chores around the house, read the book you have been putting off, and looked for recipes for future dinners. On the coffee table of your living room, you lit the candle you bought two months ago. It smells just like Nanami. You used this candle every time Nanami went on a business trip. It was used to compensate for him not being with you. The scent of the candle does feel like he’s right next to you. You yearned for him, but his trip was going to be over soon, which you were thankful for.

The third day rolls around. You headed out to the grocery store to buy some ingredients for today's dinner. After grocery shopping, you went to your local cafe ordering a drink and some pastries for you and Nanami to try.

You arrived at your empty home. Like a ritual, you put away the groceries and put the pastries on the table. You took a bath and put on a new set of clothes consisting of a pair of leggings and Nanami’s sweater. It was about six pm when you decided to continue to read your book. As always, you lit the candle on the coffee table. Its scent started to fill the room. As you read for an hour, you decided to start on today's dinner.

You put on your apron and washed the vegetables that you were going to use in your soup. You got into a rhythm: chop, toss the vegetables into the pot, stir, and clean.

Since you fell into a rhythm, you didn’t notice Nanami leaning against the island in the kitchen. Nanami’s business trip ended much quicker than he expected. Everyone on his team was super efficient and was very progressive on the current project they were working on, which made him more grateful.

You stopped chopping and put the rest of the ingredients into the pot string gently. It didn’t register in your mind that Nanami's two arms wrapped around your waist. Your body immediately recognizes his presence. You turn your head to see a man with a content smile on his face. Before you could say anything, he says, “I’m home.”

You stopped stirring and lowered the heat on the stove, letting the soup simmer for thirty minutes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He picks you up and carries you to the living room sofa.

You ask him how his trip was while stroking his face. He softly rubs circles on your hand that cupped his face. He tells you that the business trip ended early due to everything running so smoothly. You were so happy that you embraced him, knocking the two of you back onto the sofa.

The two of you laugh, enjoying each other's presence. Nanami strokes your hair. In the corner of his eye, he notices the candle. “Hey honey, what’s that?” He asks you.

“Oh, the candle? I bought it two months ago when we went shopping. It smells just like you, so I bought it. I light it every time you leave for a business trip. It makes me feel like you are still here with me.” You see his cheeks dusted in a faint pink.

Nanami feels so guilty about how any trips that he had to go on these past few months, leaving you all alone in the house. He speaks, telling you not to worry because, luckily for him, this would be his last business trip until the new year rolls around.

You were beyond ecstatic. You peppered his face with kisses while saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you between each kiss.

“I guess you won’t be needing that candle for quite some time, huh?”

You roll your eyes at his remark smiling bashfully. It’s been thirty minutes, and the soup was ready.

“C’mon, let's have dinner,” You said while grabbing Nanami’s hand heading towards the kitchen table.

The two of you eat, enjoying dinner. After dinner, Nanami washed the dishes while you prepared some tea for the pastries you bought earlier.

The two of you tried each other's pastry, critiquing the taste and presentation. Having Nanami be home felt like you were whole again. Little did you know he felt the same way.

[dmclemblems]

also to sum up earlier, I do still love Claude - I just don’t agree with the direction the writers took him in for Hopes because it feels too strongly like a 180 to the Claude I know in Houses. it doesn’t mean I think 100 percent of the writing itself is bad (it’s not, though some of it really is questionable). while I’d like to see a darker side of him, I don’t mean like... a whole lotta killing, or unnecessary killing to boot.

the problems he’s dealing with regarding Faerghus could’ve been solved very very easily though with a simple “hey can we meet up somewhere safe” letter to Dimitri so they could talk through it, seeing as Claude literally stampedes through Faerghus, weapons in hand, to reach Dimitri, to... ...talk??? I mean BRUH lmao WHAT.

like yeah I like to make my dmcl jokes about it because he acts obsessed with Dimitri sometimes but also bruh, just send a letter instead of charging through his country and killing his soldiers first. might have had a better result rather than Dimitri not wanting anything to do with you now that you’ve been murdering his people just to talk to him about the Church and your plans.

he says he doesn’t wanna take Faerghus down, but he still attacks instead of just... trying diplomacy. he admits he doesn’t know what’s going on in Dimitri’s head, so like... why... not just... make the attempt with a letter and see what happens??? my guy???

and also deciding to declare war on all of Fodlan despite NOT having talked to Dimitri yet (who was literally waiting for him to talk to him originally after the first attack on Faerghus. Claude had to turn back and leave bc of TWS but ffs Dimitri was still ready to talk to him even after ALL THAT) was a really dumb thing to do.

when it comes to the side of him that’s less trusting and more combative, I get that in the writing’s sense. I just don’t like what he’s doing, and he’s still guilty of aggression. no amount of “it’s for a better cause” is a good excuse to me, but less so when it’s just not part of who he is. I’ve seen the argument that Claude just came to the decision that he had to use the war and kill some people and yadda yadda, but it still doesn’t excuse anything regarding Faerghus. he could have come to that conclusion with Randolph’s army (as the Empire was the aggressor against Leicester to begin with), but there was no good reasoning whatsoever with Faerghus if Claude was still written with his core beliefs and values in mind. he could have sent a letter and asked to meet with Dimitri because if he never wanted to take any lives and only did it out of necessity, there was absolutely zero reason to attack Faerghus in the first place.

and I shit you not, it got to the point where in SB’s secret interlude chapter (the Arval chapter), Dimitri said he would stop running from Claude if Claude would just leave him be. CLAUDE THEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO BE LIKE YOU GOT YOURSELF INTO THIS SITUATION LIKE??? I’M HOWLIN MY DUDES IM HOWLIN i ain’t never wanted to punch this beautiful man’s beautiful face so much in my life

jimmy von riegan please return claude von riegan to us

[to-fu]

not gonna lie, i've been curious about your version of erin beaker for some time now. would you ever want to talk about it? 👀

oh wow i don’t know if you saw me mentioning having a specific interpretation of erin somewhere in the server (if i did?) or if this is just random but you sure are in luck because i have a lot to say! get ready for lukewarm takes and my inability to keep things short without going off five tangents, let’s go under the readmore

first off, i want to mention that i am quite the 'canon purist' for most things in ts2 lore because i feel like there's so much left open to interpretation that i’d rather be grounded by the few canon elements present in the storylines. but when it comes to characters that are less fleshed out (like any of the singles) i think it's easier to get away with more.

with erin specifically, i like looking at the context around her (her living situation, her relationship with her brother, her ts3 family etc) as much as possible to determine what to make of her. of course she has some type of correlation to two of my favorite premades in ts2, so i found myself thinking about her more often with time, trying to determine what to make of these connections too while i was at it.

let's start with how erin is perceived by the community. i’m gonna be generalizing here so i hope this doesn’t come off as if i’m pointing accusing fingers at anyone. i’m just gonna describe dynamics i usually see around, at the end of the day the best part of the sims is that every storyline is different yadda yadda. erin is usually characterized as an airhead of sorts, sometimes dense sometimes not depending on who’s writing her, a goody two shoes, either really interested in distancing herself from whatever loki & circe have going on at the castle, or getting as involved as possible with the sole purpose of saving nervous (and usually ending up in a relationship with him) as his personal guardian angel (i could get into the several reasons why i don't like nervous and erin together but that's not what this is about so we'll just move on)

something to think about to understand my reasoning is erin’s childhood. the beaker family (bjorn, gundrun, loki and erin) is implied to be moderately rich right from ts3; in ts2 both loki and erin have memories of growing up well, being taught their toddler skills by both parents, and in general there doesn't seem to be any imbalance between the two in terms of what their parents provided for them. so when we compare that similar background to how they ended up as adults, it creates a pretty stark contrast.

i remember for quite some time i had this idea of the singles living together not out of necessity, but erin actually owning whatever house the player assigned to them, and the other three just being renters (also because neither of the available houses they can afford look like perfect fits for four adults so i just think it's more likely that erin just winged it for extra money and put some rooms up for rent), because to me it's hard to believe bjorn and gundrun left loki a castle and nothing to erin. unless of course loki bought it with part of his money but it still leaves us with the question, what about erin's part of the inheritance, considering the memories don't really imply them having a greatly favored child? so i just think it's more realistic to think they'd manage to get each a house, except loki is extra like that and settled on a castle.

now, in terms of personality, i talked about childhood because i feel like it's unlikely that she's that far off from loki. i know the problem child (loki) trope is common and all but i don’t think this is the case. for sure, she's more bubbly, less mean in the "i will get out of my way to hurt people regardless if they've done something to me or not" sense, but i still think there must be some type of "i'm better than everyone else in the room" genes to her.

nothing in her bio implies she's "the complete opposite of her brother" or anything like that, which would have made my points completely invalid, her personality points are not as extreme in any direction, so personally speaking i see her more as a petty type, rather than villainy like her brother. she strikes me a lot as, loosely, a regina george kind of woman, and one who thrives off drama. unlike kristen, who i believe is a more toned down individual in this aspect, erin actually responds to chloe's mean streak towards them just as viciously. erin is ultimately nice to the sims who are on her good side, but the moment they cross her, it only takes a minor, trivial thing to start planning petty vendettas against them to execute two weeks later after everyone else has moved on. she's someone who likes being at the center of attention way too much (popularity aspiration + thinking she's psychic + having loki as a brother) and is ready to do anything to get things to go her way. she gets along with kristen and lola mostly for the fact that the both of them are ambitious career-wise but much more laid-back in casual, mundane scenarios, and they're both nicer than she is so they don't want any unnecessary drama out of her. the fact that she doesn't know circe i think was unintentional on the devs' part, because no way loki wouldn't invite literally everyone at their wedding to flex, so i chose to interpret it in a few different ways because they all make sense to me, from "mutually despising each other'' to "getting along as acquaintances only to endearingly shit on loki".

of course, take everything i’ve said with a grain of salt, this is just my attempt to make her a bit more interesting in my head, and something i’ve been toying around for my own enjoyment.

to finish this off, i think this video pretty much encapsulates everything i've said much better than my ten paragraphs will ever do. cheers!

[drops-of-moonlights]

What are your issues with S3 of Winx Club?

Okay, so. I am going to get long and ranty and annoyed overall on this post. I shouldn’t even have to preface this, half of the people that follow me have critical thinking skills I hope, but you can have whatever opinion on S3 and all the things I’m gonna touch on this post, I do not care and you should not either, live your life however the fuck you want yadda yadda yadda. Now:

The first thing that comes to mind is the pacing, and just how fucking terrible it is. Every single event takes so long and its so slow for the first 18-or-so episodes (a lot of situations really did not require two episodes), only to be suddenly kicked into high gear and have 7 different “final” battles one after another. It felt like it was just happening to end the season already and so they could keep working on SOTLK, and like I get you’re working on both and all but you COULD have afforded to at least PRETEND you gave a shit, Rainbow.

Next topic is Valtor, who is my absolute least favorite villain in the series, and yes, I am including the S5-S7 villains on this. This is where it’s not much a fault of the character itself (well. not ENTIRELY a fault of the character), but a fault of both the narrative and (and for this I am petty) the fanbase. Valtor, to me, is the most generic villain in the franchise, a different flavor than Darkar but by no means less bland - Valtor is your standard “hot” prettyboy villain who tries to charm the protagonist to his side with the empty promise of answers, and THAT COULD HAVE BEEN INTERESTING... if the show ever bothered to do anything with it other than Valtor creeping on a senior highschool student for 26 episodes. Because it’s all a farce, there’s not an actual connection between them outside of Valtor feeding her lies about her retconned parent’s backstory (we’ll talk about this more later) and both of them having God’s power inside them. My second point on Valtor is that he singlehandedly ruined the Trix’s characterization to simply be your standard evil henchwomen that thirst after Valtor’s dick because truly they all have terrible taste in men, and nothing else, and it’s annoying as all fuck, ESPECIALLY when you compare the Trix as Darkar’s lackeys a season earlier, where they stayed mostly the same personality-wise and only allied with the Phoenix out of necessity and survival. And the worst part? Valtor doesn’t do shit in the season! Like, at all! He only ever gets Chimera, Cassandra and Diaspro on his side, blinds Aisha and that’s literally it as far as confrontations with the Winx go - outside of fighting them when they get the Water Stars and the three last battles, he spends most of the show’s time fucking around random planets getting weird magic and sitting broodily on a chair, and apparently this makes him a good villain???? Okay, sure.

And since I mentioned them, let’s get on the Water Stars for a bit, and while yes, this is the one part everyone agrees on that was weak as fuck, it still brings attention because WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. All this time there was this antithetical force to the Dragon’s Flame, super-mega-ultra powerful little thingies that could douse the Flame’s power almost permanently, AND YOU ONLY BRING THEM TO ATTENTION NOW AGAINST VAMPIRE AESTHETIC. Do you have any idea how fucking useful they could have been against the Trix in S1???? If they had gotten the little squishy motherfuckers two seasons earlier the War of Magix would have been over quicker. And it’s not like Bloom would have been in much risk, she barely had any Flame left in her.

In a similar situation, we have Enchantix, which is my second most-hated form after Tynix for similar reasons. One, where in the fuck were all the Enchantix fairies during S1? Fairy Dust is supposed to be this OP magic, and could have also been very useful against the Army of Decay. Two, the way to earn Enchantix, for what is retroactively just the final base fairy form, is far too obtuse and complicated for the average fairy, not to mention incredibly limiting - you just have to hope someone from your realm is in a dangerous situation so you can fling yourself into danger and probably die, and all you get for it are some opera gloves and a pair of barefoot sandals. Like sure a super powerful magic upgrade also happens but still, it’s such a specific situation to find yourself in that it’s no wonder no one ever graduates Alfea, it’s literally borderline impossible unless you like traveling. My last point on the transformation, and this one is a bit YMMV, 3 of the 6 Winx did not actually earn Enchantix. Bloom counts for this, but it’s an actual plot point (though it was terribly handled) so I let it slide most of the time, but Musa and Tecna? Musa didn’t even get to sacrifice anything, she just suddenly got the form and that’s it, GALATEA was doing more of a sacrifice to let everyone leave the burning library without her than Musa was. Tecna also got Enchantix without saving anyone from Zenith, and before you even type it out, no, it was never said Tecna saved the entire universe by closing the Omega Portal. None of the three English dubs nor the original Italian ever say this. That’s entirely just fanon. I have headcanonned it away as “some of the prisoners were Zenithian” to justify it for myself, but overall it was very obviously just shoehorned in because as always, the writers don’t know what to do with Tecna.

“But Drops! What about Nabu???” I can already hear you type, and no, I do not like Nabu. I don’t hate him either, outside of the fact I reject the idea of Aisha being into men in any way, shape or form, but he is very much worshipped as the Golden Child in the fandom and I’m tired of it. You can see a better description on my feelings about Nabu (as well as how the fandom loves to demonize Sky for the shit he pulled in S1 but hold nothing against either Brandon or Nabu, who pulled the same shit) here.

There *is* a part of S3 I like, that being the Solaria Usurpation arc, but it’s the one sole thing that I legitimately enjoy in the season and I’m not gonna stick around the fuckton of episodes that interrupt the arc just for that.

But what I hate the most about S3, above all this, is how goddamn irrelevant it is. Outside of getting the Winx Enchantix, NOTHING about the season is remotely relevant lore-wise or plot-wise, and the show itself acknowledges this! Even SOTLK pretends S3 never happened and the girls just got Enchantix somehow! Because of the drive Rainbow had to end the franchise’s original arc with fancy shitty CGI, they ended up making the original last season of the show, what was supposed to be the best thing before the movie, into the biggest waste of time instead. You can really just watch the episodes each girl gets Enchantix and then the final episode and you wouldn’t miss anything at all.

So the TL;DR for all this is “I hate S3 because Valtor sucks, Enchantix sucks, the pacing is garbage and there’s really nothing nice in it outside of like 3 episodes”, and I refuse to rewatch it ever again.

[auckie]

I’m rly just ignorant so I’m sorry if I used incorrect words but where would someone look for a simple introduction to Judaism if they were trying to convert? and is that okay to do if I’m white?

so to be frank, i may not be the best person to answer this because despite having been raised jewish, and considering myself culturally and ethnically jewish, i have all but converted to a different religion myself! but i still practice, for my own various reasons, and I also know a handfull of converts.  if you dont mind me asking, which denomination are you looking at, bc while i assume its reform, well you never know! and since Judaism isn’t generally about winning over converts like some other religious practices put an emphasis on, i am curious what caught your interest? with this in mind, the correct answer is ‘talk to your local rabbi’, but maybe you don’t know one! maybe your intimidated about picking the right synagogue and going in blind, with whatever amount of knowledge you have. the above question is one your typical rabbi will ask, and go more in depth with. don’t be nervous tho, it’s not a quiz! but, be warned, judaism is. there’s a lot. especially the more orthodox you go! for instance, theres a lot of ashkenazim in the US (where i live), and so most religion follows in that cultural background-- knowing hebrew is not a necessity, but it definitely will become a facet of your life. A lot of important words are in yiddish, or straight up hebrew, and you’ll wind up learning the tiniest bit by proxy as a result. formal conversion can be a long process, and orthodoxy likes to focus on matrilineal ancestry. more reformist forms of judaism focus more on personal identity...so, again if you have no idea whether or not you come from jewish ancestry, if you’re not converting bc of a partner or spouse or parents or children or whatever! not to push reform but...well, it’s easier. https://www.chabad.org/ and https://www.myjewishlearning.com/ are very good resources for learning about judaism, but they’re only supplemental to the source meat! https://www.sefaria.org/ sefaria is a GREAT app to have, it’s free and has the torah, talmud, tanakh, everything! and it shows you where to start, which is like. so necessary. oh https://www.jewfaq.org/613.htm is good too, bc like with this page you’ll see it says ‘advanced’ lol! which is to say, save that shit for later ig. anyways, i dont have any podcast reccs but im sure that’s another great way of learning more, and bare in mind you don’t really have to do any of this technically, bc in the ideal you would be learning along side real ppl in a temple! there are conversion classes, but again that necessitates talking to a rabbi and going to schul yadda yadda. probably cant do that rn due to corona, so maybe try and find one near you and check out online class availability? or just check out if they televise worship or you can email someone or whatever. 

anyways disclaimer again i really only practice high holiday and aside from my attachment to my culture, be definition i am no longer a jew! so. yeah.

[beyondflashpoint]

Prologue 2: Homeward Bound :

“I don’t understand the detour, Todd. We could have made port directly in Gotham bay and gone directly to father. Your palaver with the addict in Steel city cost us days. Hours at best.”

Jason rolled his eyes. He could sense the kid’s unease even without glancing at him in the rearview. A slight vocalization from the passenger seat indicated that Cassie agreed with the kid.

“First, the ‘addict’ has a name. Roy is an old friend. Second, that pal-whatever got us this car, so we aren’t walking. Third, the League would be expecting us to make landfall in Gotham, and I feel like an extended ninja fight would waste more time than my plan and also draw a lot more unwanted attention. Relax Damian. We’ll have you playing catch with daddy-dearest soon enough.”

“Smart.” Cassie said from beside him, her voice low and gravely from underuse. He couldn’t be sure, but Jason thought she sounded surprised. At least she was talking now, even if it was only one or two words every few days. The constant charades made his head hurt.

Damian clicked his tongue in that annoying way he did and prepared to retort, but Jason nipped that in the bud.

“Bruce has a bunker in Blüdhaven where we can swipe some equipment and feel out the situation in Gotham. According to Roy, Lady Shiva has been spotted in G-town, and there haven’t been any killings that fit her m.o., so it’s safe to assume the League dispatched her to catch us. So caution is the word.”

Cassie shifted uncomfortably at her mother’s name. They had never been close, but they had left things especially messy, as in duel to the death, excommunication messy. Shiva would kill Cassie on sight, and Jason probably not long after. Returning Damian al’Ghul to the Demon’s side was priority one. If he had to guess, Shiva would have deployed with a full attachment, foot soldiers and four other heavy hitters. A full Demon’s Fist, as the League called it. That could be very bad for G-town. Jason was by no means eager to put on tights again, but Bruce’s uniforms offered much better protection than swiped tourist threads, and he needed all the extra time he could get to figure out exactly how this reunion was going to go.

‘Hi Bruce, I’m not dead anymore. Ras dunked me in the Lazarus Pit. Also, I kinda kidnapped your son from Talia because Ras was planning on having him kill you. Also, you have a son. In case you didn’t know. Also this is Lady Shiva’s daughter, but she’s cool. She kicks ass and has decided to leave the League. Also the League is after us.’

Bruce would have a stroke. Maybe he should lead with the son thing.

Jason merged as they approached the exit he wanted.

Come to think of it, there were probably a few of his old friends running the streets of his old stomping grounds. Probably most of them were dead or incarcerated, but one or two of them had to be out and about. He could use eyes on the streets, and slum kids saw things that even the big bad bat didn’t. He’d look into it.

Five years changed things. Roy was a big indication of that. Before Jason’s temporary vacation from the mortal coil, Roy Harper had been a Titan, and Jason’s top guy in the team. Finding out that he’d dropped the mask game had been shocking enough, but the fact that he had been hooked on H AND working out rehab really opened his eyes. Roy had stayed in touch with Dick, as an unofficial sponsor, but he’d completely cut off Olly and the rest of the Star City crew. And now he was running a garage, just a few hours out of the Haven. Jason shuddered to think how the Batfam had changed. And now that he thought about it, five years may as well be fifty on the streets, especially in the Haven.

When Bruce had taken him in, the Red Hood gang had mostly run the Haven, and the less formal Hoodz had sprung up to replace the smaller crews and cliques that permeated Blüdhaven. Time served with the Hoodz could lead to an opportunity at the big leagues with the real Red Hood Gang. That had been Jason’s plan, which had put him in the alley where the batmobile had been parked, which had made him hungry enough for the cred that would come from boosting the tires from the Bat’s whip, which had led him to getting caught by the big bad bat, yadda-yadda, Robin, mother, Clown, crowbar.

But the Hoodz had already been on their way out even back then, with the Black Mask Gang snatching turf on the outskirts. Jason couldn’t begin to imagine who was running the Haven now.

They rode in silence until Jason finally parked in the alley. The sharpness and clarity of memory had to be a result of his dip in the pit. He’d only been to this bunker once, and it had been in the frantic haze of searching for his mother, the first stop on his way out of Gotham for the last time in his old life. Now it was his last stop on his way back to Gotham for the first time in his new life. Ka is a wheel, to quote Mr Stephen King.

He shook these thoughts off as he scanned the street, making sure their entry would go unnoticed, then opened the secret panel and typed the old code into the hidden keypad. The section of wall slid back, and opened to a flight of stairs and the blessed buzz of ac.

“Alright gang, to the bat-bunker.”

He started in without waiting for a reply. Lights buzzed to life as the trio descended the steps and were deposited into the armory. According to Roy, Dick had lived here until he’d gotten on his feet after splitting from Bruce. He still used it as a backup base/crash pad, and Jason could tell from the ratty couch and scattering of clothes. But Grayson was running with Titans 3.0 at the moment, looking into the evil tech dealer called H.I.V.E. so they would have the run of the place for now.

True to fashion, though Dick’s personal possessions were a mess, the armory itself was perfectly organized and orderly. Jason could barely suppress a scoff at the tube containing one of Barbara’s spare batsuits. Vintage black and yellow. He always suspected the two were hooking up. He and Dick didn’t agree on much, but both were of one mind when it came to red heads in tights. It was a shame Roy had let himself go recently. Before he could get too lost in that thought, he realized Damian and Cassandra were both staring at him expectantly.

“Right. We have a few hours of daylight left. I don’t want to move on Gotham till nightfall. Till then, I want you two taking inventory of the gear we have available to us. While you do that, I’ll grab us some food, and scope out the situation street side.”

“If I never have to eat any more of that greasy slop you call fast food, it will be too soon.” Damian said as he made close study of a wall of weapons Grayson had no doubt thought were cool as hell.

“Now you listen here, boy. Big Belly Burger is a staple of American fine dining, and I will not have you blaspheme against it like that in my presence. Besides, you and Cassie order and eat twice as much as I do every time we stop there.”

“TT.”

Cassandra grabbed his shoulder and shared a look that said her next words would be of the utmost importance.

“Milkshake. Strawberry.” She managed without any of the usual false starts.

“Actually, since we’re in the Haven, I thought I’d treat you two to the height of fine dining. Bibbo’s Diner is only a few blocks from here, and you haven’t lived until you’ve had his chicken and waffles.”

Alarm flashed in Cassandra’s eyes, but before it could settle, Jason reassured her.

“And Bibbo’s happens to be the home of the world famous Robin shake. Strawberry, chocolate and banana. It’ll be right up your alley Cassie. And their homemade peach cobbler is out of this world.”

She looked as if she was about to argue, then considered, and acquiesced, lulled into acceptance by the promise of a new sweet treat. The poor girl had been practically made to starve as part of her training. Combined with the laundry list of other abuses she’d faced, Jason had no problem shelling out the extra cash to keep her quickly developing sweet tooth satisfied. Besides, it wasn’t really his money.

It had been quite the adventure so far, and while Bruce would halve balked at Jason’s decision to loot scumbags they’d encountered along the six month journey from Nanda Parbat, Damian and Cassandra saw the necessity of it. Jason had found his people.

“Pull that suit on under your clothes Cass, it’s Kevlar microfiber woven over a layer of high density impact gel. Might not look like it, but it can stop a bullet. There might be an old Robin suit around here somewhere. You’ll know it if you see it. That might fit Damian. Gear up, stretch out, and be ready to move as soon as I get back. If something goes down while I’m gone, find the tallest building in town and wait for me on the roof.” As he talked, he scooped up a spare utility belt from the shelves and clipped it on his waist. A cursory search rewarded him with a tank top sporting the blue bird Dick used as a logo these days (because of corse Dick fucking Grayson bought his own merch), a flannel Jason could tie around his hips to hide the belt, a Gotham Knights cap, and a wad of cash Dick no doubt kept for emergencies.

This qualified, Jason rationalized as he stuffed the bills into a pouch on his belt. Satisfied with his civilian disguise, Jason returned his focus to the duo studying the tools laid out before them. Damian had slipped a samurai sword into his belt at some point and was now testing the weight of the stylized throwing stars (Wingdings?) laid out on the shelves. Cassandra was running through forms with a pair of batons, and was mildly startled by the arc of electricity that cracked between them when she happened upon the triggers. Shock turned to awe, turned to a pleased smirk. They’d be fine for a few hours. Probably.

He tried not to think too hard about the many ways they could kill, explode, or otherwise maim each other in his absence.

They’d be fine.

It took him an hour of scoping the usual hangs to get anything useful. The Row kids had relocated to an orphanage in G-town. The Brown girl and the kid that followed her like a lost puppy were m.i.a., Rome was in Blackgate, Garcia was dead, Diego dead, Carter dead, Crock m.i.a., Philippe jail, Jessie jail, dead, jail, jail, jail, dead, dead, Morales was working the youth center after a stint in Blackgate, which was good to hear. Finally he happened upon a decent lead, almost by accident.

One of his old crew from the Hoodz days was still out and about, and running a little cluster of the Hoodz.

Jason entered the ratty apartment Sasha shared with her father Nico though the fire escape. It was just as messy as he remembered. On the table beside the couch was a glass bowl, packed but untouched. It was tempting, but Jason hadn’t gotten high since his Robin days. The siren song of the crumpled pack of full flavored cigarettes, however, was irresistible. He plucked one free and lit it as he dropped into the tattered leather recliner across from the couch where Sasha snoozed. That first draw was harsh, and started him coughing. Five years had robbed him of his experienced smoker status.

Sasha groaned groggily, stirred by his hacking and sat up slowly, blindly groping for a cig herself.

“Told you to stop snatching my smokes if you can’t handle ‘em old man.” She chastised drowsily.

“Just out of practice Sash. Haven’t had one since the last time we talked.”

It took a moment for the strange voice to register, but when it did, her hand flew under her pillow. Before it came back out, Jason freed a birdarang (wingding?) and sent the glock flying.

“Fuck!”

“Shit, Sash, you pack now? I must’a missed a lot.”

Her eyes darted from her hand, which would be bruised for the next few days, and Jason, who chanced a longer drag from the stolen cigarette and pulled off his hat. This one went down smoothly.

“Jay-bird?” She stuttered as the pieces came together. Even without the shoot of white hair and the scars crisscrossing his face, five years was a lot of growing room.

“Nah. Nah, man. You died.” He leaned over the table, plucked another cig from the pack and offered it to her. She took it and let him light it.

“Didn’t take.”

“Dude, you definitely died. Me and the crew crashed the funeral, had to cause daddy Warbucks wouldn’t let no street rats in. News said you bought it in a skiing accident in the Alps or some shit.”

“I ain’t here for that Sash. I just want some info.”

She dropped the cigarette half smoked into an open beer can, opting to wake-and-bake instead. Jason couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t often you woke up to a ghost chilling in your living room. She took a few hits and offered him the pipe and lighter.

“Another time Sash. I got shit to do.”

“Right, and you need little Sasha to tell you what’s what. But little Sasha wants some info too, Jay-bird. Like where you been for five, and why you look like rough road.”

“I got blown up, and ninja’s in the Middle East brought me back to life and taught me ninja shit. My turn. Anyone strange running jobs in the Haven, or is it all Loco shit?”

“Hold up, ninjas? The fuck man?”

“Sash.” She hesitated, then took another hit from the bowl.

“Okay. Since you been gone, the Hoodz and the Black Masks called a truce to push out the Riddler gang. Falcone’s kid made a comeback, and is trying to take the whole Haven. Masks and Hoodz are gonna push him out too. His boys mostly run the Narrows. Then there’s this new guy my dad is running supplies for. Very strange. Outsider type. Fuckin spooky. He wears a pig mask and steals kids. The Masks are scared he’s gonna bring the Bat down on us. I’m not gonna lie, I kinda hope the Bat does come for him. I only seen him once and he freaked me out. Lucky you dropped in when you did. Dad’s talking about splitting soon. He don’t like Pig-face either.”

Jason listened intently. By the time she’d finished talking, he’d finished his cigarette. Paying attention was hard in that woozy high that came from the sudden influx of nicotine, but he’d gathered what he needed. The League wasn’t moving in Blüdhaven.

“You filled out good Jay-bird. I’d almost believe you were hanging with ninjas.”

Jarred from his thoughts, Jason stood, swiping another cigarette from the pack.

“I’d get out of town if I were you Sash. And out of gang-life.” He paused and scooped up the stylized ski-mask that marked members of the Hoodz. “I’d rather not have to crash your funeral.” She watched him make his way to the window, but said nothing.

With daylight to burn, Jason began his trek back to the bunker, taking a detour by Bibbo’s to acquire the promised delicacies.

He was not prepared for what his triumphant return to the bunker brought him.

Silence hung eerily over the now dark headquarters. The space had been tidied thoroughly, Dick’s discarded clothing organized, folded, and neatly stacked. Pinned to the chair in front of the large Bat Computer doppelgänger with a batarang (wingding?) was a note written in neat, curling scrawl which Jason instantly recognized as belonging to Damian.

“Todd,

In your absence I have determined that your course of action is actually strategically sound. After overcoming the computer’s laughable attempt at security, I have ascertained that there is a criminal element operating in this city which might draw,” the word father was struck through with two neat lines, “Batman, and potentially ruin any attempt at stealth. I believe we must handle the meeting between ourselves and Batman delicately, and on our own terms. Because of this I have determined the best course of action is to deal with this so-called ‘Professor Pyg’ with haste.

Should you return before we have settled matters, and wish to join us on this mission, you may find all the relevant information pertaining to Pyg (alias to one Lazlo Valentin) by pressing the large rectangular key which reads enter. I’m sure Cain and I would benefit from your expertises in these matters.”

Jason hadn’t believed it was possible to convey sarcasm through the written word. Until today.

“Ps. If you are determined to acquire sustenance before returning, I still do not like ketchup. Mushrooms are okay. Cain requests extra fries.

Pps. In keeping with the traditions laid out in your tales of the Batman’s adventures, Cain and I have decided to wear masks. If you do decide to join us, you might not recognize us, but we have agreed not to harm you.

Sincerely,

Damian al’Ghul, Grandson of the Demon, Heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Jason crumpled the note. The Batgirl uniform was gone, as well as a reasonable chunk of the armory. He’d have to move quickly.

-

The decision to pursue and subdue Valentin had been mostly motivated by three things. The first he had laid out in his letter to Todd. The second he had shared with Cain, boredom. The third he would reveal to no one, on pain of death. In the years since he had regained his memory, Todd had recounted every story he knew pertaining to Batman. Those stories had motivated him to come to Gotham and meet his father, leaving behind his mother and grandfather, possibly abandoning his great destiny. Those stories had told him more about his father as a man than his mother or grandfather ever had. They painted Bruce Wayne as a titan among men, a pillar of strength and will, and a paragon of virtue and honor. In all honesty, Damian was intimidated by that man. But he was also inspired. The third reason he had decided to pursue and subdue Valentin was to feel connected with his father.

Locating “Pyg” was a simple enough matter. First he plotted out all of the kidnappings that matched Pyg’s M.O. it would seem that Batman had been keeping an eye on Pyg, because he was the chief suspect in the manufacture and distribution of a drug gangs were using to pacify prostitutes. But he’d overlooked the kidnappings. By mapping those, cross referencing places that stored or manufactured components for the drug, Damian was able to triangulate possible hideouts this Pyg could be using. Of the three possibilities, only one was currently unused, an so Damian had settled on the abandoned theme park, ignoring how horribly cliched it was.

Cain had followed Todd’s instructions and donned the Batgirl uniform, but had decided against layering civilian clothes over it. He couldn’t blame her, with the summer heat stifling as it was. Damian had opted for the League’s stealth uniform which he’d carried across half the world. Then the two had gone at the veritable armory like children in a candy shop. Few of Todd’s stories included Grayson, and those that did made him out to be asinine and annoying. But his selection of toys was impressive by all accounts. Smoke bombs, flash-bangs, teargas, plastic explosives, acetylene torches, inferred flashlights, air powered line launchers, and many of the oddly shaped throwing stars Todd had called “batarangs.” The belts which Damian had crisscrossed his chest like bandoliers were jam packed with more of these tools than Damian had imagined was possible, as well as a first-aid kit and handcuffs.

Once they were outfitted and armed, Damian led them to the car Todd had conned out of the addict. The drive to their location was in silence, both mentally preparing for whatever they might encounter along the way. They passed the location several times, marking potential hiding places, paths of retreat and places that could host an ambush.

Once Damian was satisfied he parked the car a block away and they took to the rooftops to preform reconnaissance from above. The park was dilapidated, derelict, and most likely overflowing with vermin. But for the most part it seemed structurally sound. After brief deliberation, the duo decided they were adequately prepared for whatever they may encounter, and thus began their assault.

There is an old proverb that Damian would often think back on when remembering this first act of vigilantism.

“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”

He thought he was ready for anything, but he was wrong.

-

Dick Grayson had apparently undergone a biker phase, which was good for Jason, because Roy’s car was gone. The modified superbike flew through the streets and cut between traffic like a dream. Jason had intended to return everything he’d stolen from Dick, but with every hairpin turn he grew more and more inclined to keep the bike. And maybe the jacket too. It matched the mask he’d swiped from Sash. And it was way too badass for Richard John Grayson.

He’d rushed out of the bunker with a stomach full of rage and fear, blended poorly so an acrid burn stung at the back of his throat. He imagined this was how Bruce must have felt every time he did something reckless. The dynamic dumbasses hadn’t even taken communicators with them.

He briefly wished he’d inventoried his belt before stepping out, but Dick had always been anal about his gear. So had he, now that he though about it. Bruce had drilled him on it relentlessly, having him empty and refill his belt over and over for hours until Jason knew exactly how much of what was in each pouch, and could find anything blindfolded or in the heat of battle. Thinking about it brought back the sharpened calm that came with patrols and missions. It was like the emotions were compressed and pushed back into a compartment on his brain’s utility belt. Not gone, just stored away. He twisted the throttle as far as it would go.

Once upon a time, he’d have cased the joint before getting close. Once upon a time, he’d have come from above, all stealth and shadows, and only dropped in once he had a clear vision of what was happening inside. Today he barreled through a hole in the fence at almost two hundred miles per hour with the engine screaming and fishtailed to a stop as close to the park’s rotting funhouse as he could without transforming himself into a pancake.

Kickstand dropped, and feet pounded against dry rotted wood. Jason had almost made it to the door before his ears registered the sounds of a struggle from within. He cursed his favorite curse as he filled his hand with smoke pellets and prepared to join the fray. With his free hand he pulled the line-launcher and took aim. He was topside in a heartbeat, and could practically hear the cape flutter that would have accompanied the motion in his Robin days. With practiced proficiency he located a skylight and paused to survey the scene from above.

Damian and Cass were surrounded. As if that wasn’t bad enough, their attackers were the aforementioned legion of League foot soldiers Jason had been eager to avoid. They seemed to be holding their own well enough for now, but outside their field of view Shiva was preparing to join the battle. Also moving in were the rest of the Demon’s Fist. Bronze Tiger, Cheshire, Ubu, and Mara al’Ghul. Things were well on their way to getting messy. Jason cursed again. Ubu was the meanest and the ugliest. Also the closest.

“Fuck it. Prison rules.”

He tossed the fistful I’d smoke pellets and dropped in as the cloud spread over the crowd.

Ubu was a hulking brute, and made a piss poor cushion, but he was a big enough target that Jason had no fear of missing. The sound the giant’s head made when Jason’s knee made contact with it was something like a watermelon falling off a truck at fifty, and was nostalgically comedic combined with the guttural grunt he released before flopping onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. But Jason couldn’t say if he laughed or not. All of his attention was on hurling wingdings (wingdings) into the smoke at the predicted positions of his foes. There were more than a few grunts, and a couple of clatters as weapons were dropped from struck hands. But not nearly enough, and the disorientation didn’t last long. This was League tactics, after all, and only slightly modified by Batman. Cass and Damian also got back to business, and everything was chaos once more.

Jason registered a shift in the cloud with barely enough time to dodge, and one of Shiva’s twin swords cut through the haze only millimeters from his chin. It was quickly followed by the other, this time arching towards his chest. Robin loosed a volley of wingdings in rapid succession, but the clash of metal on metal told him how effective that tactic was. Gripping one of the larger tools like a set of knuckle dusters, he advanced.

In his day the birdarangs had focused more on reducing weight than on durability, and it seemed that was still the case. Robin had only redirected a few glancing blows, and he could already feel the thing cracking. The smoke was fading quickly, and he could mostly see Shiva now. Which meant she could see him too. After blocking yet another strike which came way to close to opening his throat Robin stepped back and loosed one of the explosive discs that had been his favorites. Shiva was an expert, and had her swords prepared to swat it aside when it detonated, and the small explosion sent her blades flying.

Pressing the advantage Robin moved in. Hand-to-hand odds not in his favor either. Better than unarmed against swords. No cape to distract or disorient. Fight dirty.

Dodge high, block low. Opening when she kicks high, knock her off her feet.

It was alarming how quickly he fell back into his training. Batman had taught him a lot, and years of street fights had taught him more. Then there was his time playing amnesiac with the League. Jason winning.

Shiva was on her feet again before anything more than her shoulders touched the ground, and at some point she’d regained her swords, but Jason was ready, and before she realized what was happening, he clapped her ears. The pressure of the strike would have been disorienting on its own, but coupled with the detonation of the micro-flash-bangs cupped in Jason’s hands, Shiva crumpled like a rag doll.

The cloud had completely dissolved now, and Jason easily dodged the sai Cheshire flung at him. Of course this put him in excellent position to catch Bronze Tiger’s shin with his whole stomach. Breathless and airborne, he could do nothing about the pinwheel kick Cheshire dropped on his rib cage. The familiar crunch told him that two were cracked before the pain started up.

Jason landed hard, and Cheshire straddled his waist the second he had. Her other sai raised in both hands, prepared to fall into his throat.

“Enough.”

Silence fell in place of the killing blow. Cheshire looks to her left and Jason followed suit.

The few League grunts that remained standing parted as Talia al’Ghul strode across the battle field to Damian, who still held his blade in a ready position with eyes glued to his cousin. She hadn’t lowered her weapons either. The two had been bitter rivals from the day they’d met.

“Mother.” Damian said with all the tenderness of a freezer burned pork chop.

Without another word she dropped to her knees and embraced him.

After a brief awkward silence, she turned his face towards hers.“What is the reason for this foolishness, son?”

Damian freed himself from her grip. “Is it foolish for a boy to seek his father?”

Talia clicked her tongue in the same fashion that Damian was so fond of, and rose to her feet.

“I would have taken you to meet him in time, Damian. When I decided you were ready.”

“Taken me to kill him. Todd told me everything.” Talia turned her gaze to Jason, who waved awkwardly.

“Let him up, Cheshire.” The masked assassin complied quickly, and even gave Jason a hand standing.

“So this was your doing Ibn al Xu’ffasch?”

‘Son of the Bat.’ The name they had given him at the dawn of his second life. Jason pulled off the mask which was apparently doing him no good, and shrugged.

“Tt” Talia turned her attention to Cassandra, who had frozen in place with her baton less than an inch from a grunt’s nose. There was a circle of (probably) unconscious goons at her feet.

“I’d suspected you’d finally had your fill of your mother’s poor treatment and taken the boys hostage.” She turned back to Jason. “When did you regain your memory?”

“Midway through my second year with you all.” Talia nodded as if she’d expected as much, then turned back to Damian.

“I assume that you are serious about meeting your father, yes? Even if I were to drag you back, you’d simply escape again, isn’t that right?”

“Yes mother.” Talia nodded again. Then produced a sealed envelope from within her jumpsuit.

“I expected as much you are at that age where you think you know everything. This letter will explain everything. Deliver it directly to your father, and no one else. Understand?” Damian took the envelope cautiously, as if expecting it to bite him. Once he had it in hand she knelt again, placing her hands on his shoulders tenderly. “I would never send you to kill your father. Nor you Ibn al Xu’ffasch. My father would do no such thing either.”

“But Todd said-“

“Do not misunderstand me, I do not claim Ibn al Xu’ffasch lied. There are those within the League that believe Ras al’Ghul has been too long the Demon’s Head. There are whispers of a coupe. I do not doubt such plans involve removing my beloved from play. I intended to see you in his care soon enough.” She turned to look over the assassins. “We return to Nanda Parbat. None shall further impede these three, by my word, or face my wrath. My will is the Demon’s will.”

The assassins snapped as one into a bow, and set about gathering the wounded. She moved through the crowd to stand in front of Jason and cupped his face, smiling gently.

“Father swore to make no move on Gotham for as long as my beloved draws breath. He made this oath before the whole of the League of Assassins, and forbade any of them to move on Gotham in his name, on pain of death. This was his penance for your death. His sole intent was to return the son he’d taken from my beloved.”

“Uh, okay?”

“I have enjoyed having you in my home Ibn al Xu’ffasch. You have been as a brother to my son, and a son to me. Look after him, Ibn, for he is too much like his father for his own good.”

“If he’s anything like Bruce, I won’t have to.” Talia chuckled, pat his shoulder, and turned to Cassandra, who seemed to materialize at Jason’s side.

“Cassandra, you are welcome to return with us. You have my word that you will have no trouble.” Cass shook her head.

“They die without me.” She said, patting Jason’s shoulder. His jaw dropped, he’d never heard Cass say so much at one time. Talia had never heard her speak period, but to her credit she only cocked an eyebrow.

“Quite.” She said then returned to Damian.

“When all is well once more, I will send for you, my son. Learn what you can from your father. He is a great man.” Damian nodded, and Talia only lingered for a moment before following the last of the assassins out of the building.

The trio stood in silence for a time, until Jason realized they were waiting for him to tell them what to do next.

“Well. That was fun. Who wants soggy chicken and waffles?” Damian narrowed his eyes, but Cass’s hand shot up. “What? So I picked up food. I wasn’t expecting you two to run off for some daring-do and stumble into an obvious trap.” Damian’s eyes narrowed further. “Okay, after we eat we’ll go straight to the Batcave, no detours, no shenanigans, scouts honor.”

Damian rolled his eyes and started for the exit. “I’ll drive.” He stated as Jason and Cass fell in behind him.

“My turn.” Cass retorted.

“Do you even know how?” Damian probed, eyeing her doubtfully.

“You’re mighty talkative today Cass.” Jason quipped. Cassandra replied by sticking her tongue out. He understood her good mood. Their six month misadventure was almost over. As they stepped out into the summer night Jason looked to the sky, and pulled the pair to a stop. From this side of Blüdhaven you could see it clearly enough. For the first time in five years Jason looked up at the Bat-Signal, and pointed it out to the others.

He couldn’t hold back the smile brought on by the wonder he saw in his companion’s faces.

Homeward bound.

-END

Author’s Notes: this chapter is long, and maybe a bit rambling, but mostly because there’s room for two whole multichapter fics in here. Seriously, I was half tempted to start writing a Damian Cass and Jason cross country road trip full of shenanigans and hilarity. For those wondering, this takes place five years after prologue 1. It took me longer than I thought it would to edit, between baking cheesecake, doing some bag work, and feeling out crafting with worbla. That being said, the next prologue will take even longer (unfortunately(?)) because I want to make sure my events make sense and everything is lined up perfectly and ready for the series proper to begin immediately after.

Feel free to comment, complain, keysmash, or just like and reblog. I THRIVE on your reactions.

Till next time!

[hopeamarsu]

Baby! Hope you're having a lovely evening 🤗 May I ask for Cinderella and Mowgli for the Disney asks? Love you ❤️❤️❤️

Jay honey! ❤️ My evening is really good so far, I hope your day is wonderful too (that pool looked a-amazing!) 🤗

Cinderella -  What's your biggest dream in life?

Uuuh, this is a big one, my ultimate fantasy dream: 

I want to sing, on stage, or put out an album. Realistically I know this is a long shot in so many ways (I’m not that good of a singer, I don’t fit the stereotype, too shy, yadda yadda yadda) but it’s been a dream of mine for so long. I’ve performed in front of crowds before (not a good idea when you have stage fright) but those were done as a joke or as a part of a group, doing something “funny”.

A more realistic dream is to become a lighting technician. I dabble in it at a festival twice a year but I’d love to learn the craft more and actually make it a career.  

Mowgli -  what are your bare necessities?

I cannot live without lip balm. I have at least three tubes in my person at all times. I am also addicted to my phone, that blasted thing holds my entire life hostage and I cannot be without it. Thank heavens for unlimited data 😆 I also feel pretty naked without my rings. 

I love you ❤️ ❤️

[near-seth-experience]

This is a long, personal, 3 in the morning kind of ramble. Writing as if I'm explaining things to others tends to help me get my feelings out. Don't feel obligated to read this, but you're welcome to. I'm mostly just thinking out loud here. I'm on mobile, so sorry if this gets long. I don't know if Keep Reading cuts are possible on the app, and if they are I havent learned how to insert them. I'll probably delete this later so whatevs.

I think this topic could apply to a lot of selfless people out there, so I think putting some things into words might be helpful to others.

Anyways, I've thought about this before, and I'm not sure if I've ever talked about it, but I'm pretty sure I've pinpointed a pretty massive reason why I feel lonely and incredibly dissatisfied all the time:

I've always felt that I was considerate to a fault. I'd never put my needs ahead of the needs of others. To this day, I still have lots of difficulty when it comes to looking after numero uno. I learned early on that I needed to keep others appeased in order to feel safe. My siblings frequently butted heads growing up, and one of them often had these big fights with my dad. Lots of tears, yelling, a rare hole in the wall, that kinda thing. It fell on me to keep tempers from flaring. Ultimately, I became the kid my dad always called when he needed help with yardwork. I became the kid who would hand my mom a soda after a heated phone call with a high-maintenance sibling, and I'd sit and let her vent to me. I became the kid who would unload the dishwasher or take out the trash without being asked to do so. Whenever things got heated, I would shift into the role of family de-escalator. Point is, I've always lived for others, and no, this isnt one of those posts talking about living for yourself, yadda yadda yadda. I'm thinking in a different direction, but it'll wrap back around.

Recently I've been trying to think of this in a positive light. As shitty as things might have been, I've grown up to be incredibly considerate. It's one of my better qualities, the beginning and end of my list of good things I can confidently say about myself as a person. It was always out of necessity or fear. It was always pretty damn unappreciated. It always kind of felt like I was everyone's bitch. But it was good of me all the same.

Now that I'm my own person, I've realized two things. Firstly, I love helping out. I love knowing that someone is better off for having me by their side. It's kind of why I loved proofreading in my college English courses. I loved being thanked and feeling valued and wanted for my efforts. I loved the gratification of knowing that someone's story or essay received better marks thanks in very small part to my help. I love knowing I made a mark in someone's life for the better in some way. My personal golden rule is essentially to ask yourself at every turn if there's some little thing you can do to ease another person's burden. If the answer is yes, and the means are within reason and your comfort zone, do it.

The second thing I realized was something that is said a lot: relationships flow both ways. Nobody in my life— not my 2 or 3 superficial friends, not my family, literally nobody— has deserved the amount of effort I have spent for their sakes. I'm burnt out. I'm dissatisfied with my life because everything I do for the sake of another person feels like a chore. I am constantly taken for granted, and the only reason I still bother is because it's even tougher to go against my nature and do nothing. It's not like I'm asking for recognition, but just once I'd like to hear sincerity when someone thanks me. Even better, I'd like someone to legitimately care enough to look into my eyes for a change, see how not-okay I am, and ask themselves if theres anything they could do.

I can only think of one time that has ever happened, and the circumstances are still a trigger of mine so I'm gonna keep the story brief.

(TW Death & Animal Death. Skip this next paragraph if you need to)

My senior year of high school, a freshman was found dead in the school swimming pool. No foul play suspected, people just didn't see him go under during or between gym class. Real tragic. So the school goes on lockdown while they look into things, and then they cancel the rest of the day. I go home, and I find my dog dead. She was old and losing vision, and she fell into our backyard swimming pool. It was partially drained for the winter, so she didnt drown, we think falling down four or five feet onto the concrete of the shallow end while blind may have just been a massive shock. Heart attack, or she hit her head or something. Who knows. Anyways, my mind connected the two events. Two pool-related deaths on the same day. For the first class on the following day, my teacher arranged the desks in a big circle and it was honestly a really good hour-long discussion about loss and grief, but it hit me so hard that people thought I knew the freshman student. The teacher, and a friend of mine both came up to me after class, I told them what happened, got a hug from the friend, and sent home for the day by the teacher.

(/End TW)

That was the only time in memory where someone has ever looked at me and knew I wasn't alright, and I imagine it must have been very obviously written on my face. Now, back to the point. The amount of times I've seen the troubled faces and heard the troubled voices of those I care about and did any little thing to help is severely disproportionate to the amount of reciprocation. It's like I actively look to see if people need me, but they never even care enough to consider looking if I need them.

So, here are my takeaways:

I'm dissatisfied with life because I'm tired of bending over backwards for people who don't even deserve to have me, and that's basically all I'm doing with my life.

I'm lonely because that covers literally everyone I know personally.

So fuck 'em.

I feel like I have some kind of void inside me, and don't think I'll ever have true fulfillment in this regard unless life throws me a cheesy series of events that results in me finding my soulmate or at least something mutual. (Lmao, yeah right. Press X to doubt).

People often say "live for yourself" or "you dont need others to be whole" in regards to this kind of thing. While that's generally sound advice, people do have different natures. Living for others is how I live. There's no way around that, it's who I am, so my interpretation of "living for myself" is choosing for myself who to live for.

[argumate]

something I keep coming back to is the fact that coercion can be indirect, allowing someone to take advantage of you while claiming not to be coercive.

for example if your plane crashes and you are lost in the desert and I happen to be passing by I might offer you some water and a ride to the nearest town in exchange for all your worldly possessions or a lifetime of servitude or some other clearly unreasonable condition that is only being levied because I know you’re in a state where you cannot refuse.

and yet I’m not coercing you or constraining you, in fact I’m expanding the range of actions that you can choose from! before you had the choice of dying of thirst, now you have the choice of dying of thirst or becoming my slave in a voluntary trade that you enter into freely, a strictly superior situation.

this is closely related to the fresh water scenario, where I have purchased all the fresh water in your area to fill my pool, leaving you with none left to drink.

again, buying water is not coercion, nor is someone refusing to sell you water, and yet in a matter of hours or days you face death as humans require hydration in order to survive.

I could delay filling my pool in order to quench your thirst and in exchange I would merely ask for all of your yadda yadda yadda.

(the water scenario is more common than the lost in the desert scenario and affects far more people in the real world, given that dams exist, rivers are often diverted or polluted, and cities containing millions of people typically depend on water from reservoirs many miles away).

now it’s noteworthy that neither of these scenarios would be possible in the idealised world where the market is infinitely wide and infinitely deep and there is perfect information and transaction costs are zero etc.

if you were lost in the desert, finding you would be an opportunity for profit, and in an infinite perfect market the fee would be instantly bargained down to the cost it took to rescue you plus the smallest possible epsilon of profit.

if you lacked fresh water, that’s another opportunity for profit, and the infinite perfect market would swing into action and provide you with water at cost of delivery plus epsilon profit.

(you might still not be able to afford it, in which case the market takes no further interest in you, but at least if you could afford it you wouldn’t be getting gouged).

however the world we live in is not infinite, transaction costs are not zero, we don’t have perfect information, and the market can stay irrational longer than you can stay dehydrated (dying from an absence of liquidity, so to speak).

you can compensate for these problems by postulating additional entities: maybe you took out an insurance policy to cover plane crashes and interruptions to the water supply, maybe you have a mutual assistance agreement with many other people in your community who are obliged to help you out, maybe if taxes still exist in this world you have a basic income guarantee that automatically scales to cover the cost of a basket of necessities essential to life.

(famines caused by spikes in food prices or inflationary hoarding are also common, as again the human need for food must be satisfied on a shorter timescale than speculative bubbles and market irrationality).

there’s just no getting around the fact that physics is coercing all of us every day, and it’s easy to take advantage of that coercion of others and heighten it for your own advantage without technically throwing any punches or doing violence against them, so basing your society on the idea that violence is outlawed (a truly worthy thing!) is insufficient to deliver a world free from coercion.

[ledenews]

Memories on Skates

On New Year’s Eve, I was fixing dinner when I heard sirens. I didn’t think much about it because it’s a common occurrence to hear them around these parts. Then my Facebook notifications started blowing up. When I logged on, my entire feed was posts and photos of the Exposition Hall, aka the Wheeling Island Roller Rink, was on fire and expected to be a total loss. My heart sank. This fire literally hurt my heart. But at the same time, it also brought back a flood of memories, both of skating there and my childhood in general. I was trying to remember the first time I skated at the rink on Wheeling Island. I’m pretty sure it was a birthday party and I was 11 or 12. Then, for reasons I don’t really remember, we started going there every weekend, and I spent a couple of hours most weekends there for the next five or six years. But before that ...

The dome under which thousands of roller skaters circle the rink on weekend evenings was completely destroyed.

A Need to Roll

I started roller skating on a regular basis out of necessity. It started when my bike broke and my parents wouldn’t buy me a new one. Something about being irresponsible and needing to learn how to take care of things ... yadda yadda ... I don’t know, I just knew it was summer and I was hoofin’ it and not thrilled about the idea. The year before, my girlfriends and I all got roller skates. Not sure why we all did it at once, but we all got the same pair of skates from Pickway Shoes in Benwood. Our skates were white with these new rubber-like wheels that came in all sorts of colors with matching stoppers. I had sets in red and purple, and two sets of laces, white and rainbow. Anyway, I decided that I would skate all summer instead of walking everywhere. Now, this was 1980, and a show called “The Facts of Life” was really popular. One of the characters was a young black girl named Tootie. She roller skated everywhere. I was the Tootie of Warwood. Ironically, that’s the one nickname I could have lived with that no one tried to pin on me. I roller skated all over Warwood, uphill, downhill, up and down flights of stairs … I developed some skills. I got a new bike for Christmas and the skates stayed in the closet until we started hanging at the rink. A lot of stuff went down in that building and some of it even involved skating. I had my first couples’ skate there. It was to “Into the Night” by Benny Mardones. Couldn’t tell you the name of the guy I was skating with, though.

The basement of the roller rink was damaged by the water used to extinguish the flames.

Networking

I kept up with friends, ones who had moved away, there at the rink. We might live in Warwood, Elm Grove and Bridgeport, but we could hang out at the rink on the Island. I had my first “date” at the rink. His name was Donny and he was a friend of my cousin’s. My parents thought my cousin and I were hanging out. It was safer to let them think that. We were 13. I had my first couples’ fight at the rink. Donny and I had been dating for about three months. He was skating with some other girl so I started skating with another guy. He didn’t like that. I didn’t care. We “broke up” that night. Several friends got engaged at the rink. When I was an older teen, our church group started going to the rink every Saturday night. There were two groups, my teen group and then a group of 20-somethings that came along to “chaperone” us. In actuality, we were chaperoning them since several of them were dating and it was forbidden for them to go on individual dates. Several of them ended up getting married. By my late teens, the skating rink became the place I told my parents I was going when I was actually off doing other things with guys who were too cool to be at a skating rink. I mean, why skate with a bunch of kids when you could sneak into a bar and watch your boyfriend’s band? As my teens waned so did my desire to skate. Even now, now that I’m at the “skate and you might break your hip” age, I still think back on those years and all the memories, and smile. And now that the rink is gone, I’m glad I have them. What Remains of the Island Expo Hall Read the full article