#cause otherwise I would call bullshit

[strideofpride]

Jughead surviving rabies makes him one of only two people in human history to have done so. Okay medical marvel 🫡

[moongothic]

Crocodile having such an explosive debut in his early 20s and such deep trust issues could also point to him having an even EARLIER start a la Shanks as an apprentice or something to an older pirate and their crew as a child/teenager — doubling down on the humiliation factor from facing off whitebeard as also a failure to “come of age” and broader sense of betrayal in watching eager encouragement fickly turn to “what did you THINK would happen”s like the kid who gets egged on by their peers into doing something dangerous and then immediately abandoned when they hurt themselves

Can't say if he did have like an early start for sure, since we really don't know anything about Crocodile's early childhood

But simply considdering how Oda typically layers backstories, I absolutely agree, I do think it's more than likely he has somekind of pre-Whitebeard trauma, be it either unrelated childhood trauma or early-pirating-life trauma (or something else)

Like the way Oda structures backstories, although we always remember like The Big Life-Changing Tragedy that happens at the end of the flashback, more often than not the flashback already begins with something horrible to indicate the character's already had a rough life

Robin was already alone, abused and rejected by most of Ohara even before the Buster Call Incident (followed by a life of running in fear for decades)

Franky had already been abandoned by his family before he lost Tom and got ran over by a train

Law had already lost his entire family before Doffy killed Rosi

Etc etc. Like not all the flashbacks are entirely like this, especially the East Blue-saga ones, but the backstories have been growing in complexity and structure, adding layers to the tragedies (like 🧅 onions 🧅) as the story has gone on

And with Kuma, his backstory doesn't end at two layers of tragedy. Like there's the early childhood tragedy of slavery, then there's the tragedy of losing his loved one in the most cruel, inhumane way possible, and we know there's at least one more gut-punch of a tragedy coming in the next two chapters to finish it all off

So with Crocodile especially I feel like... Like yes, possibly getting betrayed once in his life and having his dreams crushed by Whitebeard could break the man's psyche. But considdering just how seemingly broken his psyche might be, I do absolutely believe there's more layers here. Like his trust must've been broken more than once for him to end up the way he has.

Which alone gives Crocodad a bit more plausibility in my mind, because being rejected by the person you loved and trusted the most would most certainly break your heart (even if it was understandable why). And that really would make for a fine Final Nail on the Coffin for Crocodile's ability to have faith in others

But to really get that broken trust to be an on-going theme in his life that just happens again and again.... yeah it needs to start earlier

Personally, I think some kind of early childhood trauma would make the most sense, at least to me, not just because it could help Crocodile get started "on the wrong foot", but also because Rough Childhoods is just. A General Theme in One Piece lmao. Of course, it wouldn't be The Key Life-Changing Tragedy (I think Dragon would be that), just a "bad start"

[syrinq]

thinking about the fact that i do like forgotton realms-adjecent (fantasy equivalent of star wars-sized ip) games but then i have to grab a broom and hit anyone appearing out of the shadows who goes "now play dnd (or any ttrpg) with me" extremely violently so they remain in the dark for another 5 million years

[teaboot]

Do you think that cis men feel the same way as trans men do? Like with how men get treated by society as being inherently evil and as predators?

I think maybe both cis and trans men experience these issues but it's easier for a trans guy to point it out because he gets to see people so quickly turn on him for being a man while transitioning

oh yeah definitely

I find "meninists" fucking obnoxious, especially as any of their VALID concerns fall under the bracket of feminism, but there does exist a presence of radfems and terfs that are scarily eager to lash out at anything resembling masculine that. Definitely needs to be addressed somehow

Like. There's a mile of middle ground between "Um yeah women have problems, whatever, but what about ME and MY FEELINGS 😢" and "I am genuinely trying my best to be thoughtful and considerate of others, and everything I do is being met with bad-faith interpretations and dismissal"

And I think the best advice I have for anyone else getting bogged down by this is that. like.

If someone is determined to see the worst in you, nothing you can do to prove otherwise will be enough. You will never change that person's mind. They don't want you to change their mind. So like... just focus on you, and keep doing your best, and learn, and know that people determined to find something nasty don't really have an issue with YOU- they have their own experiences and traumas coloring their worldview.

Someone who is determined to see you as a monster will only ever see a monster. So it's better to ask yourself, "would a monster do what I'm doing?". If the answer is yes, take steps to change that. If the answer is no, then it's not about you, and you can give yourself permission to move on.

So... yeah, I imagine cis men probably do feel the way I feel about this sorta thing sometimes.

Except, like. After a lifetime being a girl, living as a girl, fighting for equality as the only girl in a lot of men's spaces, being a feminist girl and an Eldest Daughter girl and calling out the bullshit only to later realize I'm not a girl... and that Im actually mostly a dude, still a feminist... at least when people call me a mysoginist, I know they're talking out their ass

I can kinda see where young men encounter their very first radfems calling themselves feminists and immediately become radicalized right-wing conservatives cause like. If I as a teen thought feminism meant Radfems and Terfs, I'd probably start running too

It's all just so exhausting

Any one group being wholesale grouped as "100% helpless gentle victim" or "100% selfish malevolent monster" is doomed, imo

(Now watch the notes blow up with "this is just 'not all men' rhetoric, lol)

But anyways I hate nuance I hate interpretation I hate implication and symbolism and context and I wish everything in the world was simpler so we could all blow a collective joint together and invent some new soups

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

01 / 359 words

"And why would a medic need a call sign?" Soap feigns curiosity at this (instead of you) as he leans in, the motion bringing him into your personal space.

But you're a military medic. Not much phases you. You keep at your work, gloved hands on his lacerated calf. "Someone saw fit to give me one. I didn't ask questions."

"You always do your job without asking questions?"

Your brow twitches. You've heard stories about Soap's... sense of humor. "Not when Captain Price is giving the orders."

"Aye? What about otherwise?"

"Find out."

Soap chuckles. Bit of cheek you've got there. "Ah, but every call sign has a story. Just sayin', begs the question. How'd you earn a lofty nickname like that one?"

"Nothing I could've done to earn it. It's all pretentiousness."

"Bit intense. Violent, even. Expected someone with a little more... presence than you, aye?"

The way you react to that is what Soap was looking for. When you turn your eyes on him again, he sees a glimmer in your eyes like the spark crawling up a firecracker's fuse. "Do you feed this same line of questioning to Pharoh? Or Deadly?"

"It's no' 'cause you're so much fun, that's for bloody sure." He's grinning. Lying through his teeth. He wants to push you farther, see what else you'll do. "Name like that doesn't fit you. I'd think Angel would have suited you better."

You stiffen, leveling a scowl at him. "You'd better not clutter up the comm lines with this bullshit."

Soap snorts. There it is. You'll certainly fit in. "Wouldnae embarrass you like that. Be a shame if the team heard about your delicate sensibilities, aye?"

"You keep it up and I'll make you meet God, MacTavish."

You're serious, but the threat catches him just right and sends him into stitches. You huff, unceremoniously spearing your needle and thread around his gash one more time (he grunts in pain, but keeps laughing) before packing it up with the rest of your things into your bag. You stalk off, leaving his hyena ass there to make trouble on his own time. You've got shit to do.

...

more Soap / masterlist tag

[mamuzzy]

My unpublished HP fanfictions don't even follow canon but it would be still considered transphobic and racist act to publish it to any place, eventhough most of my OCs are queer, diverse from many countries, and often not even humans. I don't even use canon characters or ships.

I can try and leave out the conservative british empire elements, even changing the worldbuilding entirely, it would still be considered transphobic and racist.

See how crazy this is?

Not because Harry Potter story is shit, it's because the author is doing horrible things to real people.

JK Rowling really ruined it for all of us. For those who are actually affected by her. For those who only just wanted a safe place to hide from reality.

Good people can make good art.

Good people can make shitty art.

Shitty people can make good art.

Shitty people can make shitty art.

People have got to get more comfortable with the fact that people with despicable moral values can create good art

"But Harry Potter was always shit-"

No. No it wasn't. It may have had its flaws, but people liked it for a reason. It was popular for a reason.

So many times people find out that the creator of something they liked was awful and then they go and claim that it was never good in the first place.

I think it's pretty dangerous to get into the mindset of horrible people can't create good things, because then you can't spot those people, or then you can use the fact that they obviously created something wonderful to deny that they've done anything wrong.

It's reductive. And it's dangerous.

[petew21-blog]

Workout routine

My best friend from school, Emily, married last summer while still being at university with me. She is still young, but claimed that her boyfriend truly loves her. Bullshit if you ask me, he never respected here and treated here like a trophy wife since the beginning. Yeah I hated him. He was a homophobic asshole and acting like some fuckin' alpha male. Why Emily dated him I never understood

One day we were on their garden studying for an upcoming exam. I was nervous most of the time cause James was working outside fixing stuff and eyed me like a prey. Emily went to get us some snacks and drinks.

He came up to me and started some homophobic talk how I could choose this path of sin and so on. I couldn't look up at him. Cause he was very close to me, very shritless and VERY sexy. Way too much. If I looked up even for a second, I would immediately get hard.

"You gays are the worst thing about this generation. You can't even work, y'all do your artsy useless shit and nothing usefull"

"Can you just let me live and go on about your life? I don't want to listen to this."

"Well you're on my property so you'll listen to whatever I have to tell you"

A call from inside the house. Emilly called him

"You're lucky. If it weren't for her you'd be already on the ground biting dust"

What an idiot. I was raging. I think I'll just leave and go home. I can't calm myself down and I don't want to cause any drama with Emily. Even if I think her husband is horrible, I don't want ot loose her a s a friend"

Emily came out of the house, smiling. She brought the snacks and water. She looked at me "Sorry for... taking so long. I had to sort something that couldn't wait. Now drink up, you haven't drank for hours. I should have brought drinks sooner."

I took the glass and took a sip. But then I felt really nauseaous. My vision was blurry now and I felt like vomiting. All I could make out of Emily's face was that she was smiling.

Then my vision started getting clearer again. But it was strange, I wasn't outside anymore. I was in their kitchen, holding a glass. "How did I get here?" went through in my head. As I looked for the nearest surface to put down the glass I noticed that I was shirtless.

Wait, what?!? This isn't my body!!!

I let go off the glass destroying it. But nothing could have prepared me for being this ripped in the matter of seconds. This is something I always wished for, but never thought I would get. I was always the skinny twink trying to build more muscles, but couldn't. And now, I have massive muscles.

I found a mirror in the hall. No, this can't be happening. I am James. I can't be him. He is an asshole. A homophobic asshole.

But his body thought otherwise. His dick got hard. And it isn't small. Which might be cool to play with, but now I was still angry everytime I looked at the mirror.

"Enjoying yourself?" Emily asked as she entered the house

"What have you done, Ems?"

"I gave you a new body. The one you have been lusting for. And as a side effect I got myself an improvement for a boyfriend. I loved him before, but I was blind and deaf to all the things he said on your account and to all the things he commented about me. Never appreciated me. But you are the best man I ever knew. And I wanted to be with you even if I wasn't your type. But now, I think I might be" she said as she placed her hand on my new crotch.

I thought I wouldn't like this, cause I was gay for my entire life, but James's body is still straight. But in my mind I could even picture myself with a dude and not be disgusted

"Ems, I think you didn't turn me straight as you wished for. I think I'm bi, actually"

"Whatever is best for both of us. I got a cute gay friend who you might like and who would love to explore your body, with me. But I think there might be some emotions involved, you know. Cause of the previous ownership and so on." she said and laughed out loud.

I took her up and put her on the kitchen table. Embracing her and going for a kiss.

"Ems, you are the best friend I could have ever wanted. I love you and I will love you now as your husband"

We could hear a scream outside coming from the garden. We could only smile at each other as we knew what was coming

Two months later:

"Hey, my name is James and this is my colleague Robert. Robert is a small gay dude friend from my wife. We are going on a road trip to get to know each other better with the permission from my wife. So we would like a room"

"Oh, there's only double bed? That's absolutely fine with us, right Robert? Bro's will be bro's and NO HOMO. Hahaha"

A story request from Inbox: Could you do a swap with a Twink and his best friend’s bodybuilder husband?

[anima-nostrae]

TROP's Galadriel is a fucking fantastically made character

And I'm tired of pretending otherwise.

I did not watch “The Rings of Power” when it first came out. I thought about watching it back then but I, like so many others, believed in the words and warnings of popular youtubers who made their careers under the presupposition that they not only know of the art of storytelling, but they understand it: so much so, that they easily distinguish what is good storytelling, and what is not.

One of the primary reasons I didn’t care for it, apart from not being a fan of *The Lord of the Rings, (*more because of never reaching for it than because of any strong feelings against it - which, I am happy to say, has since very much changed), was because of the show’s treatment of Galadriel. I did not know The Lord of the Rings, but I did know Galadriel. This fearsome, tall woman who commanded attention by the pure force of her presence, almost divine in her likeness, was someone I always cherished - without even knowing her story. Here was the evidence of a woman existing in a story that needn’t a sword to show her strength, her power. She didn’t need any stereotypically masculine strengths to be respected by other men. She was the victory of femininity distilled.

Then, earlier this year, right about when The Rings of Power’s season 2 was coming to a close, I was convinced by the sheer amount of advertisements of the show to give it a watch. “Fine,” I thought, “I will see this flaming pile of compost for myself.”

And since then this new version of Galadriel has not only won my attention, she has won my heart. I have finally watched all the movies, I have started reading the books: something that the movies by themselves would never convince me to do. I fell in love with the Middle Earth, and in the prose of Tolkien, in this unique English fairytale.

But more than that: I have gazed upon the last two years with an old longing, one with the sense of a wasted time. I could have known about Middle Earth way sooner, I could have dreamed with it and lived with it for two years.

And that sense made me look back on its cause: the youtubers whose opinions I trusted, and particularly their treatment of Galadriel.

Guess then who I found shoveling a grand bullshit pile of poor analysis towards me?

Yes, yes you guessed it.

They called her many a word, scarcely any good ones - “Mary Sue”, “unlikeable”, “a brash, violent, unsympathetic dick”.

And it was a bunch of men who could not tell “character motivation” and “character flaw” apart from each other, who could not separate their distaste for women better than them at anything from the “political motivations” of writers, men who cannot spell “complex” but who claim they yearn for it in their protagonists.

So I sat down with what I do best: I watched season one again, I wrote out all my thoughts, I analysed the dialogue and symbolism - and came to my own conclusions, undisturbed by murmurs of insecure people. It was just the creative work itself, and my thoughts on it.

And what I found was a complex, flawed female protagonist, that I for so long had a burning ache for. A character that I suppose, if outright given a chance, a lot of people would love.

(This is a very long essay. More of it, and subsequent parts here:)

This is an almost vomit - pile - essay more than stream - of - consciousness - essay, I'd say. Sorry in advance

[letoasai]

dp x dc Chronos

An idea that’s probably been touched on before but well.. once more! 

~

It had begun with a meltdown. Being a fifteen year old was tough. High school was the time in your life where you were picking up life skills without even knowing it. Social skills, study habits, responsibilities stacked on responsibilities. It all seemed rather unfair when their brains weren’t done developing yet or… whatever Jazz had been telling him one afternoon. 

The point was, being a teenager wasn’t all making memories and messing around. It was hard. Add on dying to that work load and things got complicated. Add on a ghost portal that allowed ghosts to come and go as they pleased when you were the only one that could safely stop them and things got stressful. 

Parents that were trying to kill you…went without saying. 

Become a king of a realm by fifteen, and see how you handle the sudden workload. Danny had been holding up fine, until he wasn’t. Until a particularly loud boom in his parents lab from whatever their latest torture invention was cause a tremor of fear to shoot up his spine. In an instant, panic was sparked. He wanted to leave, he thought about it often, but how could he just leave Amity Park behind? Would it be better outside of his parents house? Could he live alone?

The fear latched onto his core, and not being able to relax in his own haunt was apparently counterproductive to a healthy, happy halfa. 

Before dying, Danny hadn’t been familiar with panic attacks, now, they weren’t entirely uncommon. One moment he would be overthinking in his bedroom, the next he’d be on his bed or the floor curled up in a ball. Tears flowing and throat clogged, he would sob under the weight of his responsibilities in silence. He doubted his parents would notice, but he hated to worry his sister. Being quiet was a must.

It was one of these episodes that had led to Clockwork appearing in his room, lifting Danny up into his arms like a child without even a weak protest. A post-it was left for Jazz so she wouldn’t worry and the king was returned to the Infinite Realm for a night. 

That was the start of Danny spending time in Clockwork’s citadel any time he was feeling overwhelmed. Being outside of time, he was given the time to relax, sleep, or study. It lessened the burdens of trying to be a normal high school student, hero, and king all at once, or at least gave him a safe place to crash. 

At least once a week, Danny made his way into Clockwork’s lair, long since allowed to enter on a whim unless expressly told otherwise for a day or two. For all Danny was king, he did his best not to interrupt Clockwork’s work and he knew beings from other dimensions popped in from time to time. 

If Clockwork didn’t want him meeting them, he was going to take his opinion to heart and make himself scarce. 

Danny wasn’t sure why he got the privilege to hide behind the ghost of time but he didn’t shun the offer. Any chance to get some sleep was a good one when he had ghosts like Skulker or Johnny waking him up at three in the morning with their bullshit. 

Danny floated over a sofa, backpack forgotten on the floor and books hovering around him. The crown that hovered above his head kept going back and forth between being covered by ice or green flame. It seemed to do what it wanted like a living creature. 

Danny had his own room in the citadel now but he was positive the sofa was put in Clockwork’s viewing room just for him. 

He slept there more often than not. 

“Hey Clockwork.” Danny called. He’d be ignored if Clockwork was deep into peering into the past for future, but would otherwise get an answer. “Can i ask you a question?” 

In the time it took Clockwork to turn to face Danny, his age had altered subtly, five or ten years younger than middle aged. 

Danny had always thought Clockwork had three ages he shifted between. His child form, middle aged adult, and old man. The longer Danny stayed in the citadel though, he learned that wasn’t the case. 

He’d seen Clockwork go from an old man, to a man about twenty. He’d slowly shift younger and younger through his teens until he stopped in his child form. Danny had seen the opposite too. Clockwork as a young preteen growing into an adult in the span of a breath. Dark circles would appear under his eyes and laugh lines etched into his face of a much older man but Danny wouldn’t have called that form elderly. 

It was fascinating. 

“What can i do for you, Majesty?” Clockwork asked, a hint of a smile already curing his lips. He likely already had the conversation they were about to have memorized. 

Danny groaned. “Can’t you just call me Danny? Majesty is so… so…” 

“Accurate?” 

“Bleh…” Danny muttered, slowly floating until he was upside, but his book turned with him so he could continue to look at it. 

Clockwork only laughed at him, that soft noise that said he was amused at Danny’s plight, but Danny was far from offended by it. 

“You’re the master of time, right, but were you the god of time too?” He pointed at his textbook, crown on top of his head doing slow flips. “Chronos?” 

“Ah,” Clockwork chuckled, arms crossing over his chest. His de-aging had abruptly stopped and he instead started growing older again. “Indeed. We are the same.” 

“Really?” Danny perked up and went back to skimming his book while rotating in the air. The edges of his wispy hair were looking like smoke. “So you were an ancient Greek god? That’s cool.” 

“Yes and no.” Clockwork said with a shrug. “Time is a funny thing. I was there, of course but more in the capacity of their stories. I predate the Greeks.” 

“Huh,” Danny hummed, growing quiet again as he read a little more but Clockwork didn’t return to his parade viewing. He instead waited for Danny to continue. “So wait, you were one of the first… titans.” he read. “Cool.” 

“Yes.” Clockwork agreed, “That was a very long time ago now.” 

Danny quirked a brow at a line in the book and glanced back at Clockwork. “‘Destructive and all-devouring’, huh?” 

“I was young.” Clockwork agreed, not bothering to deny it. “We all have that phase.” 

“Uh huh… How did this rule of yours coincide with Pariah Dark?” 

Clockwork grew older still, his beard starting to grow. He also relaxed into a floating/sitting position. “They didn’t really. Much of what you are reading is a mortal human interpretation. If you think stories in your high school become exaggerated, you should hear the true origin stories of the ancients sometime.” 

Danny was snickering. “I’d actually like that but none of them like talking about stuff like that. Did you really eat your kids?”

“Something to that effect. I’m afraid i was not a very good father. I was at a very different place in my life then.” Clockwork said. He didn’t sound particularly proud of it, but he didn’t look broken- hearted either. 

Danny didn’t quite get it. Clockwork had basically been his ghost guardian long before he’d even known that was a thing. He probably would have just assumed Clockwork would make a good dad. Then again, being a ‘present’ dad was probably tough for the god of ‘time’. 

“Hm,” Danny hummed and flipped the page while floating right side up again. He rubbed at his face, the constellation freckles across his cheeks twinkling. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Danny muttered, clearly reading through a paragraph. 

Clockwork’s shoulders were shaking with quiet laughter. It wasn’t usually this easy to coax Danny into doing his homework. 

“You died. Zeus kills you. Did Zeus kill you? Your son?” 

“Yes.” 

There was a moment where Danny’s face warped into something like grief before it disappeared, suspicion forming in it’s place. “Did you know that was gonna happen? Did you let Zeus kill you to maintain a good time line? Did you know you’d just be the ghost master of time?” 

Clockwork just smiled and shrugged. 

“Ancients!” Danny cursed. “Are you serious? You were looking that far ahead already? Even then? That’s insane.” 

“I have not confirmed or denied anything. On the other hand, we all have our talents.” Clockwork mused. “Does this knowledge entertain you?” 

“I mean, it’s cool.” Danny muttered again. Clockwork wasn’t usually so chatty but he was more likely to tell him past things opposed to future things.

He went back to reading and Clockwork went back to his viewing clocks. It was only a few minutes before Danny spoke again. 

“The Elysian Islands. Are those in the Infinity Realm?” Danny asked, “They sound familiar.” 

“Yes.” Clockwork mused. “And before you ask, Zeus didn’t actually have anything to do with them and Pandora would get huffy at the mere mention of it.” 

“Are other gods in the infinite Realm?” 

“Some, but not many of the ones in your book there.” Clockwork said, twirling the staff in his hand. Danny could tell he was doing something along the time stream but Danny had no idea what and he didn’t ask. He was not looking to get sent on another timeline errand. “There are other places where they reside. Some even living. Those in the realm however, are your subjects.” 

“Oh.” Danny muttered, getting the same sour look he got when he was reminded he was king. 

Clockwork lowered his staff, done with his chore. He hovered closer to Danny now, ruffling his hair and dislodging his crown which spun around of its own accord on top of Danny’s head. The sentient accessory very much attached to its new wearer. “If there are any in the Infinite Realm who find you lacking, you need not pay them any mind. Pandora, Fright Knight, or Frostbite would be more than happy to deal with them. You have every right to be here.” 

Danny just grunted. Peer pressure was hard enough at school. It was worse in the Infinite Realm. “I’m not looking for fights.” 

“You do not need to prove yourself. You’ve done that enough. You must merely be you to succeed. You are balance, and balance in life will find you soon enough.” 

“Awe, you haven’t said anything cryptic to me all day. I was starting to get worried.” Danny muttered, a smile tugging. 

“I would never make you go without.” Clockwork said with a fond roll of his eyes. He was so old now that his beard nearly touched the floor. 

“Ancients forbid.” Danny muttered, snagging his book out of the air. “Wait, did you say there were some living? Wait.” His mind whirled to a previous school assignment. “Isn’t Wonder Woman’s dad supposed to be Zeus. Is Wonder Woman your granddaughter?” 

Clockwork just smiled and ruffled his hair again. “Don’t you have homework to finish?” 

“Oh Ancients! She is. Classic deflecting. Holy crap.” 

He let himself drop onto the sofa, over dramatic with his realization. “You have ties to the Justice League!” 

Clockwork did sigh that time. “A charming notion, i suppose.” 

“You’ve as good as admitted it!” Danny grinned, pleased to have learned something new. Had it been anyone else, he might have thought he learned something Clockwork didn’t want him to know. Clockwork knew everything though and only let slip what he wanted to. 

“You are a hero yourself, Danny. No need to be enamored with the League.” Clockwork turned to go back to work, eyes scanning screens before him. 

“Yeah but they’re real heroes.” Danny grumbled, opening his book again. Clockwork’s lack of response meant he wasn’t going to answer that line of thinking. “Fine…” 

The two of them were left in a comfortable silence for a few minutes more until Danny broke it himself. Even though Clockwork knew it was coming, he still jumped when Danny gasped harshly from excitement. 

“Saturn! You’re Saturn! Saturn is like, one of my top three favorite planets!” It was the pure joy on Danny’s face that had Clockwork laughing this time. 

“You would have a top three.” 

“Of course i do!” 

The door had been flung open for him to now talk about space and precisely why he had so many favorite planets specifically. Clockwork let him, happy to let one of his obsessions take its course. Talks about space banished all thoughts of the Justice League and ‘real heroes’. 

Danny knew he’d have to take his history books with a grain of salt. Eaten children or no...Clockwork had always been a good guardian to him. ~~ I might add on to this...  It’s almost like Danny was reading the same wiki page on Chronos that i was... lol 

Part 2  and Part 3 

[homunculus-argument]

Come to think of it, I really like doing worldbuilding in common misconceptions caused by survivor/sample bias. I got too gleefully into infodumping about worlds I made up, so I'm going to be merciful and throw a cut-off right here:

(damn, you're still reading? Well, that's on you. Here we go.)

In The Book I Am Not Writing, the fisher folk have very strict concepts of ritual purity, being strict about seemingly arbitrary rules of cleanliness, and they simply don't do extramarital relationships. They are, however, polygamous both ways, so consulting the other spouses about introducing another wife or husband into the marriage is always an option. They also seem to have absurdly large flocks of children. Being both an unusual ethnicity who are commonly considered pretty, and also essentially completely off-limits for casual sex, they are often fetishised, and there's a myth that fisher men are so insanely good in bed that their wives simply cannot resist the temptation of their four sexy husbands even if they're otherwise absolutely done getting pregnant all the time.

The truth is a lot more complicated than that. First of all, in the multiple-spouse marriages, all children are raised between all parents and many clans consider it inappropriate to inquire which kids are biologically whose, so if one or two of the partners has fertility issues, nobody from the outside would know. And the seemingly arbitrary purity rules aren't all that random either - many of them actually ensure a higher standard of hygiene than what other cultures around them have. This, and restrictions about marrying within one's own clan to avoid inbreeding, ensure healthier children. They aren't fucking and getting pregnant more than any other peoples, they have more children because of lower infant mortality.

The Travellers are also "outsiders" living in diaspora, who are - as their name implies - itinerant and never stay in one place for long. Not by choice, though many of them will say they'd rather live this way than to ever settle down, but because almost all towns and cities have discriminatory laws explicitly prohibiting Travellers in particular from staying in the city for too long, or limiting how many of them can be allowed within the city walls at the same time. They don't call themselves Travellers, but refuse to tell outsiders what their own language's name is for their own people, out of fear that the name would be appropriated and turned into a slur. Secrecy is the only privacy that they are allowed to have.

An unusually large number of Travellers also have unusual physical traits, dysmorphic structural features, and congenital disabilities. This is used as xenophobic cannon fodder by citizens of the Empire, treated as proof that the Travellers are so morally crooked that it even deforms their bodies. This, of course, is bullshit. In truth, Travellers do not have any more disabled or deformed babies than anyone else - what they do have is a strong culture of NEVER abandoning one of their own. No matter what. So while people of the Empire associate health and beauty with moral goodness, and consider having "imperfect" babies shameful, Travellers simply don't practice the common peoples' common habit of abandoning or discreetly 'disposing' of children who aren't likely to survive into adulthood, or who will need support their entire lives. "What can be done to one of us, they will do to all of us" is how they live, so nobody gets left behind.

On the opposite end of society there are the Baronesses, the Empire's all-female army of trained magic-wielders. A military class, whose inherent magical powers do not even manifest in every child or even every generation, but when it does, it's always on girls. Daughters are trained for combat, they are the ones to carry on the family name. Since a woman does not need to be married in order to be sure that all her children are hers, sons are not particularly valued even as political tokens for arranged marriages. It is considered common knowledge that there's something in "wielder blood" that makes the male carriers of it weak just as it makes the female ones strong, and that is considered the reason why the male members of wielder families tend to be so dysfunctional, emotionally frail, rampant with substance abuse and more likely to die in the womb or in early infancy.

It is politely never questioned how downright convenient it is that it just happens to be the less wanted sex who are far, far more likely to simply perish away for no apparent reason, especially when it comes to the most harsh, highest-ranking, and most competitive wielder families.

Far across the great ocean, on the opposite corner of the map of the world that the Empire knows of, are the Northlands. Almost mythical mystical lands, that are the source of the various types of thick white pelts and some other exotic goods, commonly supposed to be populated by completely wild, savage people. Northmen are all lumped together, as most people of the Empire would find it hard to believe that the Northmen have even one civilised culture, not to speak of consisting of several cultures and creeds with their own languages and customs. The only few Northmen that the Empire has seen have been foreign sailors in port towns, or perhaps someone's unit of rare exotic bodyguards, undoubtedly a weird flex.

Northmen are considered feral, and the "civilised" ones a strange exception to a supposed rule. It is said that they are exclusively carnivores, eating only meat like tigers and drinking only alcohol. That they are nocturnal, with eyes like cats and wolves that gleam in the dark, and that sunlight hurts them. The sun never rises in their lands, so naturally the people are as pale as cave olms, just like the pelts of their animals are all white. And just like cats and wolves, their infants are all born with blind blue eyes, which either stay blue or turn yellow once they grow.

This, too, is a mishmash of myth and half-truth. Northfolk who venture this far south are more likely to eat meat than any fruit or vegetable they are offered, since they are more familiar with what goat or chicken taste like than any fruit of this strange climate. Northland alcohols are generally bitter ales and dry wines, and the sweet liquors and strong wines of Southlands are a treasured luxury for the ones who are familiar with them, and a very fast way to get shitfaced if one isn't. They aren't nocturnal at home, but having no other protection from the relentless sun, they do prefer to move at dusk to avoid getting sunburn. And The Long Night only lasts a few weeks or months, but that's difficult to explain to people whose common language doesn't have words for "snow" or "winter."

There are no Nothfolk with yellow eyes, but blue eyes are very common, and to Southland people to whom both eye colours are unnatural and associated exclusively with beasts and carnivores, they rarely notice that they've never seen a yellow-eyed one. And being born with blue eyes like wolf pups and kittens isn't a myth, that really is a thing that happens to white people.

[natalievoncatte]

On Krypton, vows had meaning. Proclamations were not made lightly, and promises were not given casually. Kara’s peers wouldn’t throw one out as a reassurance, or to settle an argument. They were a logical people. They didn’t deceive, didn’t speak words they didn’t know to be true, and didn’t give opinions that were not informed. Society was ordered and regimented, and everyone put the greater good before themselves. So if you made a promise, no matter how great or how small, you would do it.

Kara learned, later in life, that a lot of her birth culture was, to use an English word that had no equivalent in her language, bullshit. Kryptonians would, she thought, claim that they had no use for such a vulgar term for cavalier prevarication because they did not practice it. That would had been a lie.

Her parents bullshitted her. They bullshitted her about the society she was growing up in. Her world wasn’t a real of perfect logic and order, it was a hidebound, decaying ex-empire that put tradition so irrationally high on a pedestal that they let their world be destroyed and all but a handful of their people wiped out because tradition said that her uncle was wrong about the planetary core going unstable.

Nevertheless, when Kara made a promise, she meant it. When she said she’d vowed to protect her adoptive home with her life, she meant it. Those words all but signed her life away in service to the cause. She was this way in everything, from saving the world down to brining Cat Grant a precisely prepared cup of coffee. Her promises meant something.

That was why she filled herself with dread the instant a promise, given unthinkingly in the heat of the moment, tumbled out of her mouth.

I will always be your friend, and I will always protect you.

She’d dishonored herself with the promise, one broken as it was made. She held Lena tight, speaking with conviction, and promised to be a friend even as she lied, swore to protect even as she deceived. It was a promise that couldn’t be kept no matter what she did.

Kara had become human in so many ways, and it gnawed at her. Another English word that had no exact Kryptonian equivalent was freedom. A proper Kryptonian would be horrified at ideas that boiled down to “I can do what I want”; I can choose my career, my partner, my life. I can put fulfillment ahead of the role chosen for me by those who know better. Yet Kara had embraced it full throated, making choices whenever she could.

The one thing she would never give up was the value of an oath.

She was over the Pacific, thinking. She would come out here from time to time to think and clear her head when the city soundscape became overwhelming, and just let herself drift in the air. There were no texts to agonize over, no emails from Snapper, nothing but herself and the lapping of waves and the distant rumble of storms over the open ocean.

She’d been coming out here more and more of late, not to think but to avoid thinking.

Because Lena knew, and Kara knew something was wrong. She could be dense about human behavior sometimes, but she was no fool… and she had super senses. She could read Lena’s pulse and see infrared flush of her skin and spot micro-movements of her eyes. Kara wanted desperately to believe that nothing was wrong but her instincts said otherwise.

When Kara told her, Lena had gone stock still and stared at her with what Kara thought was hatred, bringing tears. She’d tried to tell her how sorry she was, but Lena had just walked right past her and only later returned to her usual self.

Almost.

Kara had thrown herself into it, going on a campaign of what Alex had called ‘peacocking’ for some reason, all but burying Lena with super-stunts like fetching fresh pastries from French patissiers. Lena had smiled and thanked her but there was something flat and distant in it, and Kara ignored it and insisted that all was well.

Out here, with just the storms and her secrets, she knew it wasn’t.

Kara fingered the crest on her chest, worrying her thumb over the crimson fabric of the El rune. This meant something. It meant both ‘hope’ and ‘stronger together’; the two ideas were inextricably linked but her cousin only understood one of the meanings, because Kryptonian pictographic language was complex, and he was not Kryptonian in any way that mattered.

That was another great failing, a promise that Kara made but didn’t keep. By her people’s standards, there was no shame in that; one did not bear the responsibility of a promise made under duress, or a promise that others demanded knowing that it couldn’t be kept.

The only one she’d kept Kryptonian was herself, deep in a secret corner of her soul that meant it if she said she’d be at your birthday party or bring you a donut. The part that treated promises like promises.

There was only one way to cleanse herself, and remove her shame. She knew what it was, but she was afraid. Kara had battled monsters and gods, faced death more than once, lost more than any person should have to lose in a dozen lifetimes, but there was one thing she feared above all others.

She feared that first honest look on Lena’s shocked face more than she feared an eternity without stars. She could live in the void between realities; a void without Lena would kill her more surely than any green poison.

Now. She had to do it now, before she lost her nerve. She flew back to the city, flew hard, slowing only to land on Lena’s balcony, softly. As she raised her hand to knock on the glass of the door, she hesitated, nearly turned back.

Lena opened it, and Kara let out a slow breath. Lena was wearing only a loose, flowing floral robe, with clearly nothing beneath it. Terror made her listen- if Lena had a guest in that state, Kara might just fling herself into the sun and be done with it.

She was alone. Lena shifted on her feet.

“Why are you all wet?”

Kara’s hair was damp with sea spray and she’d flown through a few clouds on her way back.

“I like to fly over the ocean and think.”

“Well, come in here already. Let me get you a towel. Do you want something to change into?”

Kara swallowed hard. No. She wanted the honor of her family on her chest right now. She needed it to make her brave, like her father said it would when he sent her into the void. She did take the towel.

Lena had been enjoying her tea and sad breakfast -toast with jam- before Kara arrived. She left it on the counter and sat on her couch, leaving Kara to pace.

“I can tell you’re upset,” said Lena. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Everything,” said Kara. “I have a lot to say and I don’t know how to say it. I haven’t told you the full truth and I have to. I need to. It’s eating me alive inside.”

Lena swallowed hard, her heart racing.

“Please don’t tell me you’re Batman, too.”

“Lena, this is serious.”

Kara swept across the room and knelt in front of her, and Lena’s eyes shot open wide in surprise. Kara looked at the carpet in front of her, unable to look Lena in the eye.

“A long time ago, I promised you I’d always take care of you, and I didn’t. I was lying to you when I said it and I lied to you for years after.”

“Kara…”

“Please,” desperation choked her voice, “let me finish. I owe you the full truth. I promised, and promises are sacred to Kryptonians. My soul will be stained forever unless I fulfill the oath I made.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Yes it was,” said Kara. “It was to me. It was everything to me. Please.”

Lena cleared her throat. “Okay.”

“I told you I lied to you to protect you. That was another lie. That’s not why I did it. I lied because I was weak and I put my own feelings ahead of doing what was right. I was scared. I was scared that if you knew it would change how you saw me and it would change our relationship. You were the only person I could almost be myself with and I didn’t want that to change. You were a safe person I could go to without having to be Supergirl.”

Lena was studying her, a soft hint of skepticism in her expression.

Kara stood up and paced.

“I don’t know how to do this, Lena. I may act human and look human but I’m not. I grew up on another planet with another culture and so many things about this world are just totally different from how I was raised.”

Kara took a deep breath.

“On Krypton we didn’t have queerness. People didn’t value freedom of choice. You did what society told you to do. You joined the guild you were pledge to at birth and married the person you were told to marry and had the offspring you were told to have and raised them to do the same thing. The same fucking thing.”

Lena sat up at Kara’s sudden, vehement profanity.

“I didn’t know the word freedom until I arrived here. I had no concept of it. I had no idea how fragile and precious it is. Sure, I talked about it and wrote essays about it in school, but I didn’t get it. Not until I met you.”

Kara looked at Lena.

“You are my freedom. You’re the first thing I’ve ever chosen, really chosen, in my life, besides being Supergirl. It was you that made me look Cat Grant and Alex both in the eyes and say ‘no, this is what I want, this is how it’s going to be for me and it’s my choice, not yours.’ Back home I never, ever would have even thought what I’m about to say now.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“I was afraid to tell you because I was afraid it would change our relationship. I was afraid you’d hate me because I kept the secret too long, but I was also afraid of what has to come after confessing my identity to you, Lena. The next part is even harder.”

“Kara,” Lena began.

“I have feelings for you.”

Lena went still, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“I want to be myself with you. My whole self, my real self. Not the person I think I have to be to please someone else. I want to tell you everything you want to know about my home and my people and my life and I want to know everything about you. I want to hear you laugh for me and see the look in your eyes when you’re happy to see me. I want to care for you when you’re sick and hold you when you’re sad and be the person that matters to you like you matter to me.”

Kara sucked in a deep breath.

“I used to think I was happy just being Kara with you. Not being Kara Danvers or Kara Zoe-El, just me… but I’m not me without both of those pieces and being without them isn’t good enough. I want you to know the real me. The girl from Krypton who went to high school in California.”

Lena stood up slowly, clearly forcing her breathing even. She adjusted her robe around herself, and looked at Kara for too long a time, silent.

“I hurt you when I promised I’d protect you and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“What do you want from me? To tell you it’s okay?” said Lena. “Is that what you want? Because it’s fucking not.”

Kara flinched. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

Lena had given her this courtesy and she’d give it in return.

“It wasn’t just you, Kara. I built my whole life around you and your friends and they became my friends. You gave me a normal world. I got to be a regular girl when I was with you and the others. Do you have any idea what that means to me? What you did to me when you ripped it away? Do you have any idea how you’ve torn me to shreds?”

Kara choked a little, and tried to hold back the tears, and failed.

“I killed Lex. I killed him and I hid his body, myself. I killed my brother for you. And the worst part is I’d do it again. If it was him or you I’d kill him again.”

Cold dread flooded through her.

“That was my fault. That was exactly the kind of thing that I should have protected you from, and I failed you." Kara's breath hitched as she bit back a sob. "I should go."

Lena moved quickly and grabbed her arm tight. "Don't you fucking dare leave. You can't just say those things to me and leave."

Kara's nostrils flared as she sucked in a big breath.

"Lex told me who you were as he was dying. He showed me."

Kara looked at her. "Oh."

"I started to hate you. I started to believe the things he said about you. And what happened then? You told me! You just blurted it out!"

Lena choked down a sob of her own, and something in Kara shattered. Tentatively, carefully, Kara pulled her into a gentle hug, and Lena let her.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Lena whispered into Kara's chest. "I've lost everything."

Kara held her closer, breathing the soft scent of her shower-damp hair.

"I don't know what to do either," Kara admitted. "I just knew I couldn't bear to lie to you again, even by omission. I'll go if you want."

"You're not leaving," said Lena. "I don't want you to go. Promise you won't leave me."

Kara shivered. "Lena…"

"Promise."

"I promise," Kara whispered.

[padawansuggest]

Okay so on Coruscant there are very few people that don’t actually go out into the streets (I’m thinking politicians and Jedi might be some of the few who don’t have to go outside very often if at all because the senate and the temple are both the size of a small city) which means that 1: they NEED to have vitamin D lights on the streets of Coruscant because otherwise everyone would be depressed like in the deepest winter at all times. And 2: that means I think the Jedi temple and the senate themselves also are just full of Vitamin D lights.

Also y’all need to stop writing fics where kids are afraid of ‘getting caught sneaking around after dark’ or something because the temple is literally so full of species that you have no idea of that kid is nocturnal or whatever. They very well could be. Tbh I wanna write a fic where someone catches Obi-Wan sneaking around at night to play a prank with Quin or something and he’s all ‘bruh my eyes glow in the dark I’m obviously meant to be awake at this hour’ and no one can argue with him. Stuff like that.

Also I think the temple neeeeeeeds multiple healing halls (once more. It is the size of a small city) one in the aquatic center of the temple (which canonically exists) one in the temple main (which should span over like four levels and act as it’s own building okay) and one in the creche. This is the MINIMUM amount of healing halls I think they should have.

A tram system should be inside the walls. Places in the temple that act as sideways lifts and also a subway system because believe it or not, there are species in the temple as small as one foot tall, and I’m not just talking about Grogu, I’m talking about others like Kushiban and others similar. Once more. It is the size of a small city. They should have both subway type stations (that take you certain places like the main healing halls or the biggest canteen or the supply sector of the temple things like that) because oh my god imagine how many hours the commute to your workstation could take if you didn’t have that shit. Annoying af.

They gotta have names for all the different canteens okay. Like ‘meet me in the cafeteria’ in a temple the size of a small city is bullshit cause even in the books they have multiple cafeterias.

A… let’s call it a Mall Section of the temple. A place where you can pick up groceries (the temple makes their own food and I assume most of it is cooked in careens but also not letting people cook their own food is a recipe for a Jedi starving to death on a mission lmao) but they also have a salon (skin care and hair care are very important and if you let all these babies cut their own hair they gonna turn out like me no one wants that) and a clothing ‘store’ where you can get certain size clothes and robes from, or even undercover mission clothes. There need to be Jedi in these places too!!! Imagine going to the salon with your master and having a gossip talk about your new lineage member!!! It’s important to society!!!

A Jedi movie theater where the masters send their kiddos on the weekend so they can enjoy a glass of wine and not be sneezed on for three hours.

I’ve actually seen a few mentions in fics and posts about tea salons so that is def also a thing. It’s the Jedi version of a cafe. I think people who like baking take turns working there and everyone chips in for tea selections and stuff.

Droid Ubers. They need to get somewhere but feel sick as heck and it’s not near any good lifts or the subway trams??? Call a droid Uber lmao. It shouldn’t be unusual either lol just grandmaster on his way to bother his kid while not aggravating his hip after hip surgery.

Remember that Jedi who are like 10 foot tall also exist so remember there ARE apartments in the temple that could fit Kenobi’s Dino-Horse girl Boga.

There should also be apartments with like 10 bedrooms and bathrooms (or even one giant communal bathroom) around a singular living/cooking space!!! Let Jedi live in communes!!!!

The aquatic levels of the creche are def the cutest place in the temple you can’t argue with me on the idea of water babies swimming and cuddling under water.

On another note to the fact that species like Kushiban exist???? Imagine tiny doors and corridors that used to be used by mouse droids but they became so useful to tiny Jedi so they got taken over. Just imagine that.

Bartering markets where Jedi trade things, mostly things they get on missions or are given to them as gifts, nothing goes to waste so they find a proper place for all gifts and extras here.

Cooking classes. Obi-Wan has been kicked out of all of them his cooking is so bad. Anakin claims bullshit he loves Master’s cooking! But then, he also eats worms…

Anyways. Y’all too single minded with this shit. It just be all ‘cafeteria, living quarters, healing halls and archives’ with you guys. Where is the culture. Where is the acknowledgment of multiple species all living in the same area taking place in a culture of peace and galactic exploration???? Give them a liquor store idgaf.

[steviewashere]

CW: Infertility (Coming from my own experience just...with a uterus.)

Thinking right now about Steve who wants his own family really bad, but finds out he's 100% infertile.

He only finds out after a failed marriage. His first marriage. Has a beautiful, wonderful, just absolutely incredible wife who accepts everything about his past—stuff he won't talk about and otherwise. Yet, the one thing they knew for certain was a definite in their relationship was children. However, for some reason (that I don't have), his wife rejects the idea of adopting children. So they try. They try and try and try.

Eventually, they get their eggs and sperm analyzed. Her eggs are healthy, her uterus is fine, no complications associated with her ovaries.

Steve, in his next visit, finds out he's infertile. It's not genetically caused. His parents were very fertile, just decided to have only one child. And—maybe due to some Upside Down bullshit; bat bites being untreated, injuries being too traumatic—his sperm production and his sperm vitality are completely destroyed.

He's devastated, of course he is. Brings it up to his wife. They agree to go their separate ways because this was something they both wanted, but now can't have.

And then he just floats about for a while. Quiet and disheartened.

He goes back to Hawkins and bumps into Eddie. Now, I'm thinking, personally, that this isn't some romance story. They're strictly platonic in this scenario (for now).

They get to talking and somewhere in the conversation, Steve's infertility comes up. Eddie tries to gently explain to him that there's other options to have children. "Foster care," he says, "it's where I was for a while. You can adopt from an orphanage, from a hospital. There's always the option for surrogacy, y'know. A lot of different"—

"Eds," Steve interrupts, "I appreciate this, but I...I don't want to talk about it anymore. It hurts too much to think about."

"Sorry," Eddie apologizes.

Steve just shakes his head, resigned. "It's not your fault," he murmurs, "guess I'm just upset that my body doesn't work the way it's supposed to."

"Not everybody's works the way it's supposed to, Steve."

"Yeah," he whispers, "but I was sorta hoping my own would."

There's a lull in the conversation. A long while of just silence and a cigarette being passed and the gentle rustle of trees around them. Outside, in the Forest Hills trailer park, staring down a set of rusted swings.

"How do you think I should handle this, Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"This...this body issue. What am I supposed to do about it? I'm, like...like grieving over nothing."

"You grieve, Steve," Eddie answer simply, "you get angry and you cry. That's all you can really do."

"I don't want to be angry, though. I want...I want to be happy. I want my dream to come true! I want"—he sighs and swallows and looks on ahead of him. To a place he once visited constantly when he still lived full-time in Hawkins, not just passing through. Out on a town that he once called home, a place where he couldn't be the person he wanted to be. Couldn't get what he needed.—"I want to love my kid in a way I never got."

And Eddie looks to him. To his profile. Shuffles closer, cigarette out on the porch. Arm wrapping over Steve's shoulders, tugging him in. "I know," Eddie whispers, "I'm sorry, Steve. I'm really, really sorry."

"It's not your fault, Eds."

"It's not yours either."

He keeps staring out. To a place that was hopeful. Where his dreams bared new. When things seemed reasonable and he could face everything head-on and knew exactly what he wanted for himself. A future of laughter and soft lullabies and hugs warm enough to soothe the world.

There'll be other chances. But not now. Not when he's like this.

"I know," he merely mutters, "I know."

[mochinomnoms]

OH MY GOD JAMIL WAS AN OPTION??? sorry I'm obsessed with him... snake man..... did you have any thoughts on what ptm would have been like with him...

Referring to this post

I considered Jamil for a bit cause he fit the basic plot that I wanted, but I fucking hate that bitch so—

I'm kidding, he's not my most favorite character but my "hatred" is more of a joke than anything, but since he isn't an appealing character to me I didn't feel like writing such a big fic for him when there were others I liked much more.

Similar to Vil, I think I would've written an enemies to lovers story, specifically focused on the reader never really getting over what Jamil did to them in Book 4 and him sensing that. I think for Jamil, despite knowing exactly how much you dislike him, can't help but slowly fall for you. You're...an idiot, there's no other way to put it, but he's surprisingly fond of you still, so perhaps he's also an idiot.

You're not dumb in the way he's grown to see Kalim, but you share a similar naïveté that is more endearing when it comes to you. You don't take the bullshit from others and are blunt regardless of your peers' social status. Blame it on you not being born in his world, but he wishes he could be so blunt, so open, so free like you.

It's in the way you smile at someone as intimating as Malleus, the way you speak bluntly at someone like Vil, the way you bring Kalim down to reality with your brashness. Leona even remarks at how you try to roughhouse with him, badly mind you as you'd get bruised from the play fighting.

There's just something that makes him jealous with how you treat these royals and socialites like they're just some person you know. At first, he thought he was jealous of how no one retaliated against you. Kalim wasn't surprising, but the others? They found it amusing, charming even, and were happy to let you be for the most part.

Jamil is jealous that you can be carefree with others, something that would have dreadful consequences on him and his family if he were to do the same. But the longer he watches you, and the more you soften up to him as the months pass by, the more he realizes that he's jealous of them. He's always been envious of people like Kalim, though he hates to admit it, but this is a different kind of envy.

He's not that stupid though, Jamil knows he's jealous because he wants to see you act like that with him. He wants that smile you give Malleus on him. He wants that blunt way you speak to Vil to instead fill his own ears. He wants the brashness you give Kalim to be his instead. He wants you to roughhouse with him instead of Leona, to give you those bruises instead.

Bruises that he can kiss, that he can soothe, that he can ghost his thumb over as he imagines the way you look up at him with soft reverence in your eyes. He imagines you on your knees, he imagines you underneath him, he imagines your skin meeting his lips, he imagines you uttering those three words to him, and him only—

Oh. Oh.

Jamil has an entire summer to deal with his feelings, to figure out just how he wants to go about this. When he comes back, after you've developed your telepathy, he's confused as to why you are suddenly so...shy around him. You, who used to be a bit catty, a tease, things he liked about you. Now? You can't even look him in the eye, like you know something. Your eyes darting everywhere but his face, always putting space between you two, even going so far as to ensure that you two are never alone.

What happened to his Prefect? The one who would bicker with him, the one who would stick their tongue out at him when he pasted by, the one who'd call out his sly words and joke that he really was like his namesake—a snake.

He's wanted very few things in life that he could actually have, and he wants you. So sue him if he decides to make it his mission to bring you back to how you were so that he could have the challenge of winning your heart. It won't be satisfactory otherwise, it's too bad he's unaware that even thought he has passes through your mind, making his goal much, much more difficult.

[darklinaforever]

"I will never understand why people ship them together when the Cat King is just SO nonconsensual and downright creepy towards Edwin. What are people even seeing??"

"Also his apparent idea of romance is trying to coerce Edwin and then trapping him to subject him to continual harassment like dude enough is enough"

I still remind you that without the Cat King, Edwin would probably have had no development in his feelings and his sexuality.

It is literally the fact that the Cat King blocked him in town and tried to seduce him that causes a positive development in Edwin, with his iconic confession to Charles. Without Cat King, there's none of this.

And again, in case these people forget... Edwin's punishment was literally an equivalent of what he did to a cat. The punishment was fair.

Also I call him back, but Edwin seemed very, very willing to the Cat King's advances. I even dare to say that our Cat King sabotaged himself by putting the bracelet on Edwin because otherwise, Edwin would clearly have let himself be kissed and maybe even more.

Edwin did not perceive the Cat King's advances as harassment. On the contrary, deep down, he liked them. It felt good to be desired like that. His whole body language shows he was enjoying this.

And the Cat King being visibly strongly linked to desires, and more particularly Edwin's desires in the logic of the scenario, something tells me that he must have felt it. The Cat King was content to flirt with someone he liked and who he felt liked in return.

Even when the Cat King forced Edwin to tell the truth, it may seem immoral, but it was a good thing for Edwin's character development and even just a good thing in the sense that it allowed him to unravel a weight by confessing something that visibly weighed him down. We can see him nodding very briefly and discreetly when the Cat King tells him that he shouldn't feel better after revealing this ?

I'm tired of seeing this type of person spouting their bullshit. It seems like they're purposely watching the show with their eyes closed. Either that or they don't have an education in media analysis.

I personally believe that what must annoy these people a lot is the fact that even their precious little Edwin, whose honor and physical integrity they are trying to defend at all costs, canonically has a big crush on the Cat King and was completely ready to be kissed by him during their literally first interaction which they like to describe as assault. 😂

Also, even though most of us Catwin shippers would like them to be endgame, we are well aware that it's a low probability and that Charles will surely eventually realize that he romantically loves Edwin in return. On the other hand, these people who spit on the character of the Cat King seem to simply refuse to recognize his importance in Edwin's sexual and romantic journey, trying to portray him as a disgusting abuser who would have traumatized the poor Edwin when just... no.

It's not very complicated to understand what we like about the Cat King and his relationship with Edwin. But for that, these people would already have to have the descent to understand the basis of the character. He is fully present to serve Edwin's positive emotional and sexual development. Without the Cat King, Edwin would probably never have been pushed against the wall in order to fully assume who he is. What the Cat King brings to Edwin is very beautiful and important. And for this to happen, Edwin obviously has to actually feel things for the Cat King. But these people really don't seem ready to hear that either. Basically, we like this relationship because it is well written with a goal and complex characters sharing a connection to tell it to us.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The moral injury of having your work enshittified

This Monday (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

This week, I wrote about how the Great Enshittening – in which all the digital services we rely on become unusable, extractive piles of shit – did not result from the decay of the morals of tech company leadership, but rather, from the collapse of the forces that discipline corporate wrongdoing:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

The failure to enforce competition law allowed a few companies to buy out their rivals, or sell goods below cost until their rivals collapsed, or bribe key parts of their supply chain not to allow rivals to participate:

https://www.engadget.com/google-reportedly-pays-apple-36-percent-of-ad-search-revenues-from-safari-191730783.html

The resulting concentration of the tech sector meant that the surviving firms were stupendously wealthy, and cozy enough that they could agree on a common legislative agenda. That regulatory capture has allowed tech companies to violate labor, privacy and consumer protection laws by arguing that the law doesn't apply when you use an app to violate it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But the regulatory capture isn't just about preventing regulation: it's also about creating regulation – laws that make it illegal to reverse-engineer, scrape, and otherwise mod, hack or reconfigure existing services to claw back value that has been taken away from users and business customers. This gives rise to Jay Freeman's perfectly named doctrine of "felony contempt of business-model," in which it is illegal to use your own property in ways that anger the shareholders of the company that sold it to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Undisciplined by the threat of competition, regulation, or unilateral modification by users, companies are free to enshittify their products. But what does that actually look like? I say that enshittification is always precipitated by a lost argument.

It starts when someone around a board-room table proposes doing something that's bad for users but good for the company. If the company faces the discipline of competition, regulation or self-help measures, then the workers who are disgusted by this course of action can say, "I think doing this would be gross, and what's more, it's going to make the company poorer," and so they win the argument.

But when you take away that discipline, the argument gets reduced to, "Don't do this because it would make me ashamed to work here, even though it will make the company richer." Money talks, bullshit walks. Let the enshittification begin!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

But why do workers care at all? That's where phrases like "don't be evil" come into the picture. Until very recently, tech workers participated in one of history's tightest labor markets, in which multiple companies with gigantic war-chests bid on their labor. Even low-level employees routinely fielded calls from recruiters who dangled offers of higher salaries and larger stock grants if they would jump ship for a company's rival.

Employers built "campuses" filled with lavish perks: massages, sports facilities, daycare, gourmet cafeterias. They offered workers generous benefit packages, including exotic health benefits like having your eggs frozen so you could delay fertility while offsetting the risks normally associated with conceiving at a later age.

But all of this was a transparent ruse: the business-case for free meals, gyms, dry-cleaning, catering and massages was to keep workers at their laptops for 10, 12, or even 16 hours per day. That egg-freezing perk wasn't about helping workers plan their families: it was about thumbing the scales in favor of working through your entire twenties and thirties without taking any parental leave.

In other words, tech employers valued their employees as a means to an end: they wanted to get the best geeks on the payroll and then work them like government mules. The perks and pay weren't the result of comradeship between management and labor: they were the result of the discipline of competition for labor.

This wasn't really a secret, of course. Big Tech workers are split into two camps: blue badges (salaried employees) and green badges (contractors). Whenever there is a slack labor market for a specific job or skill, it is converted from a blue badge job to a green badge job. Green badges don't get the food or the massages or the kombucha. They don't get stock or daycare. They don't get to freeze their eggs. They also work long hours, but they are incentivized by the fear of poverty.

Tech giants went to great lengths to shield blue badges from green badges – at some Google campuses, these workforces actually used different entrances and worked in different facilities or on different floors. Sometimes, green badge working hours would be staggered so that the armies of ragged clickworkers would not be lined up to badge in when their social betters swanned off the luxury bus and into their airy adult kindergartens.

But Big Tech worked hard to convince those blue badges that they were truly valued. Companies hosted regular town halls where employees could ask impertinent questions of their CEOs. They maintained freewheeling internal social media sites where techies could rail against corporate foolishness and make Dilbert references.

And they came up with mottoes.

Apple told its employees it was a sound environmental steward that cared about privacy. Apple also deliberately turned old devices into e-waste by shredding them to ensure that they wouldn't be repaired and compete with new devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

And even as they were blocking Facebook's surveillance tools, they quietly built their own nonconsensual mass surveillance program and lied to customers about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Facebook told employees they were on a "mission to connect every person in the world," but instead deliberately sowed discontent among its users and trapped them in silos that meant that anyone who left Facebook lost all their friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

And Google promised its employees that they would not "be evil" if they worked at Google. For many googlers, that mattered. They wanted to do something good with their lives, and they had a choice about who they would work for. What's more, they did make things that were good. At their high points, Google Maps, Google Mail, and of course, Google Search were incredible.

My own life was totally transformed by Maps: I have very poor spatial sense, need to actually stop and think to tell my right from my left, and I spent more of my life at least a little lost and often very lost. Google Maps is the cognitive prosthesis I needed to become someone who can go anywhere. I'm profoundly grateful to the people who built that service.

There's a name for phenomenon in which you care so much about your job that you endure poor conditions and abuse: it's called "vocational awe," as coined by Fobazi Ettarh:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Ettarh uses the term to apply to traditionally low-waged workers like librarians, teachers and nurses. In our book Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin and I talked about how it applies to artists and other creative workers, too:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

But vocational awe is also omnipresent in tech. The grandiose claims to be on a mission to make the world a better place are not just puffery – they're a vital means of motivating workers who can easily quit their jobs and find a new one to put in 16-hour days. The massages and kombucha and egg-freezing are not framed as perks, but as logistical supports, provided so that techies on an important mission can pursue a shared social goal without being distracted by their balky, inconvenient meatsuits.

Steve Jobs was a master of instilling vocational awe. He was full of aphorisms like "we're here to make a dent in the universe, otherwise why even be here?" Or his infamous line to John Sculley, whom he lured away from Pepsi: "Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?"

Vocational awe cuts both ways. If your workforce actually believes in all that high-minded stuff, if they actually sacrifice their health, family lives and self-care to further the mission, they will defend it. That brings me back to enshittification, and the argument: "If we do this bad thing to the product I work on, it will make me hate myself."

The decline in market discipline for large tech companies has been accompanied by a decline in labor discipline, as the market for technical work grew less and less competitive. Since the dotcom collapse, the ability of tech giants to starve new entrants of market oxygen has shrunk techies' dreams.

Tech workers once dreamed of working for a big, unwieldy firm for a few years before setting out on their own to topple it with a startup. Then, the dream shrank: work for that big, clumsy firm for a few years, then do a fake startup that makes a fake product that is acquihired by your old employer, as an incredibly inefficient and roundabout way to get a raise and a bonus.

Then the dream shrank again: work for a big, ugly firm for life, but get those perks, the massages and the kombucha and the stock options and the gourmet cafeteria and the egg-freezing. Then it shrank again: work for Google for a while, but then get laid off along with 12,000 co-workers, just months after the company does a stock buyback that would cover all those salaries for the next 27 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech workers' power was fundamentally individual. In a tight labor market, tech workers could personally stand up to their bosses. They got "workplace democracy" by mouthing off at town hall meetings. They didn't have a union, and they thought they didn't need one. Of course, they did need one, because there were limits to individual power, even for the most in-demand workers, especially when it came to ghastly, long-running sexual abuse from high-ranking executives:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/technology/google-sexual-harassment-andy-rubin.html

Today, atomized tech workers who are ordered to enshittify the products they take pride in are losing the argument. Workers who put in long hours, missed funerals and school plays and little league games and anniversaries and family vacations are being ordered to flush that sacrifice down the toilet to grind out a few basis points towards a KPI.

It's a form of moral injury, and it's palpable in the first-person accounts of former workers who've exited these large firms or the entire field. The viral "Reflecting on 18 years at Google," written by Ian Hixie, vibrates with it:

https://ln.hixie.ch/?start=1700627373

Hixie describes the sense of mission he brought to his job, the workplace democracy he experienced as employees' views were both solicited and heeded. He describes the positive contributions he was able to make to a commons of technical standards that rippled out beyond Google – and then, he says, "Google's culture eroded":

Decisions went from being made for the benefit of users, to the benefit of Google, to the benefit of whoever was making the decision.

In other words, techies started losing the argument. Layoffs weakened worker power – not just to defend their own interest, but to defend the users interests. Worker power is always about more than workers – think of how the 2019 LA teachers' strike won greenspace for every school, a ban on immigration sweeps of students' parents at the school gates and other community benefits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Hixie attributes the changes to a change in leadership, but I respectfully disagree. Hixie points to the original shareholder letter from the Google founders, in which they informed investors contemplating their IPO that they were retaining a controlling interest in the company's governance so that they could ignore their shareholders' priorities in favor of a vision of Google as a positive force in the world:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

Hixie says that the leadership that succeeded the founders lost sight of this vision – but the whole point of that letter is that the founders never fully ceded control to subsequent executive teams. Yes, those executive teams were accountable to the shareholders, but the largest block of voting shares were retained by the founders.

I don't think the enshittification of Google was due to a change in leadership – I think it was due to a change in discipline, the discipline imposed by competition, regulation and the threat of self-help measures. Take ads: when Google had to contend with one-click adblocker installation, it had to constantly balance the risk of making users so fed up that they googled "how do I block ads?" and then never saw another ad ever again.

But once Google seized the majority of the mobile market, it was able to funnel users into apps, and reverse-engineering an app is a felony (felony contempt of business-model) under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to install an ad-blocker.

And as Google acquired control over the browser market, it was likewise able to reduce the self-help measures available to browser users who found ads sufficiently obnoxious to trigger googling "how do I block ads?" The apotheosis of this is the yearslong campaign to block adblockers in Chrome, which the company has sworn it will finally do this coming June:

https://www.tumblr.com/tevruden/734352367416410112/you-have-until-june-to-dump-chrome

My contention here is not that Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in personnel via the promotion of managers who have shitty ideas. Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in discipline, as the negative consequences of heeding those shitty ideas were abolished thanks to monopoly.

This is bad news for people like me, who rely on services like Google Maps as cognitive prostheses. Elizabeth Laraki, one of the original Google Maps designers, has published a scorching critique of the latest GMaps design:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Laraki calls out numerous enshittificatory design-choices that have left Maps screens covered in "crud" – multiple revenue-maximizing elements that come at the expense of usability, shifting value from users to Google.

What Laraki doesn't say is that these UI elements are auctioned off to merchants, which means that the business that gives Google the most money gets the greatest prominence in Maps, even if it's not the best merchant. That's a recurring motif in enshittified tech platforms, most notoriously Amazon, which makes $31b/year auctioning off top search placement to companies whose products aren't relevant enough to your query to command that position on their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Enshittification begets enshittification. To succeed on Amazon, you must divert funds from product quality to auction placement, which means that the top results are the worst products:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

The exception is searches for Apple products: Apple and Amazon have a cozy arrangement that means that searches for Apple products are a timewarp back to the pre-enshittification Amazon, when the company worried enough about losing your business to heed the employees who objected to sacrificing search quality as part of a merchant extortion racket:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

Not every tech worker is a tech bro, in other words. Many workers care deeply about making your life better. But the microeconomics of the boardroom in a monopolized tech sector rewards the worst people and continuously promotes them. Forget the Peter Principle: tech is ruled by the Sam Principle.

As OpenAI went through four CEOs in a single week, lots of commentators remarked on Sam Altman's rise and fall and rise, but I only found one commentator who really had Altman's number. Writing in Today in Tabs, Rusty Foster nailed Altman to the wall:

https://www.todayintabs.com/p/defective-accelerationism

Altman's history goes like this: first, he founded a useless startup that raised $30m, only to be acquired and shuttered. Then Altman got a job running Y Combinator, where he somehow failed at taking huge tranches of equity from "every Stanford dropout with an idea for software to replace something Mommy used to do." After that, he founded OpenAI, a company that he claims to believe presents an existential risk to the entire human risk – which he structured so incompetently that he was then forced out of it.

His reward for this string of farcical, mounting failures? He was put back in charge of the company he mis-structured despite his claimed belief that it will destroy the human race if not properly managed.

Altman's been around for a long time. He founded his startup in 2005. There've always been Sams – of both the Bankman-Fried varietal and the Altman genus – in tech. But they didn't get to run amok. They were disciplined by their competitors, regulators, users and workers. The collapse of competition led to an across-the-board collapse in all of those forms of discipline, revealing the executives for the mediocre sociopaths they always were, and exposing tech workers' vocational awe for the shabby trick it was from the start.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification