#i could ramble about this stuff all day. i had to cut down my thesis so much on the character front bc i had so MUCH to say

[capn-twitchery]

sometimes oc refining is bad notes, s curves, and drawing them very small, and very silly

[anothersoulless]

Red Windows - Matt Murdock X Reader (Soulmate AU)

Another Day writing your Soulmate thesis for work, nothing else. That's what you thought. When the Morning dawns and a Devil ends up in your apartment, the same song stuck in both of your heads - what could go wrong? When your Soulmate ends up being a vigilante, the answer is easy to find: everything.

Set in a world, where even after Electra's Death and Daredevils partial hearing loss, Nelson & Murdock & Page are still together and never departed. This is partially due to my own stupidity and confusing the lore, but also simply because of I love the plotline but goddamn, I just want them to stay together.

Proof Read? Yeah, no.

Warnings: None. This does say Matt Murdock X Reader,can however also be seen in a platonic way. Also, maybe like Part 1? Idk, not sure tbf. Hate the ending, but here goes nothing. No use of Y/N or any placeholder

Soulmates. A thing everyone was talking about, sometimes singing so their Soulmate could hear it. Talking to someone else, one didn't know, someone far away, somewhere on this world. Or universe you guessed, considering the recent outing of a bunch of aliens, gods and more. Someone had to be their Soulmate, you guessed.

A lot of people thought Soulmates meant something romantic and were disappointed whenever they found out it was usually a platonic relationship. You should know. After all, you were studying philosophy with a focus on Soulmates. It was a topic that had interested you for a long time now and the older you had gotten, the more you had been fascinated by the mechanics of Soulmates and what the existence of these even implied. You would have preferred to go into the science field of things, however, since progress has been stagnating it was cut out of a lot of universities. So philosophy it was.

You had turned 29 a while ago, yet, had never heard your soulmate sing. Maybe whoever it was just wasn't that into it? Sometimes you sang a little tune to them, to this day to no avail. You were currently working on a thesis about Soulmates and the indications of the inevitability of future and choices and consequences, barely being able to write down all the rapidly passing thoughts on your sheet, when your best friend barged in. "It's Break Time for you and for me. Pack your things. We have an hour and I will not stand being in this office building for longer than five more minutes!"

You laughed slightly, grabbing your stuff and leaving the building right after them. They didn't wait until they started rambling to you, but you were content to listen. "So I met this girl yesterday, she was like, really cute. Short hair, ripped jeans, a flannel? Undeniably incredible taste in fashion. Also, the way she verbally decimated those guys? Absolute slay. The Guys were like trying to hit on a girl or something and wouldn't leave her alone, a real shame to be honest. She was really cute, asked her out." You smiled "That's nice, what did she say?" "That she already has a girlfriend. God, why must all the good Partners always be taken? It's so unfair!" You smiled lightly "Wouldn't know about it" Your friend gasped. "Exactly! I can't understand it, how no one sees you and wants to go out with you! Like, none of the good ones that is. I would totally try." You laughed. "Oh I would as well" "Dating yourself?" You looked at her "not my point, but totally yes."

The Break was over faster than you expected, but the work even longer. You sighed, when you looked at the clock, finally being allowed to get off. You closed your Laptop and said goodbye to the man behind the counter, who had just arrived and wished him a good and peaceful workday. Hell's Kitchen hasn't been the same for a while now, after Daredevil disappeared, the crime rate skyrocketed again, and a lot more Mutants were involved in it as well. You guessed because they didn't feel like they fit in, you couldn't blame them. The glass doors swung close behind you, the cool air of the evening of approaching fall nearly sending shivers down your spine, only nearly though. You fished out you phone and earphones out of your pocket, plugging them in and putting only one on. It was way too dangerous to walk around nearly deaf. You resumed the playlist you were listening, enjoying the song that came next, one of your all time favourites.

Take me to a light show before we go

Chemicals inside us line our bones

Your steps echoed through the street, the dark orange sky darkening slowly but surely fading into blue. The Bus station wasn't far away, and since your workplace didn't provide you with a parking spot, you took the bus. It roughly took the same time anyways.

Everybody's wasted, on their phones

Digits on the dancefloor, then our clothes

Next to the bus station there was a bakery, which you went to all the time while waiting for your bus. It wouldn't arrive for another 15 minutes, plenty enough time to buy yourself whatever you wanted. You usually opted for the same, but sometimes you felt like switching it up, like today. You asked for your order, waiting for the kind cashier to pack it.

Even if it blinds us

I'm reaching for the light within the fever

I'm reaching for your hand

You payed the cashier, taking your order and going back to the bus station.

The space between our fingers

Sparks, I feel them linger on

The bus arrived and after scanning your monthly ticket you sat down, thanking your work for not letting you get off in the middle of rush hour. The drive was quiet and you arrived home safely, deciding to get out of your work clothes and make yourself comfortable. You relaxed a bit, before deciding to head to bed, humming the melody of the song stuck in your head.

Next time let it go

Break my skin, Red Windows

So I'll know

.................…⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

It wasn't morning when you woke up, and it wasn't your alarm that woke you. The crashing of a window, heavy breathing and pained groans. Despite yourself, you stood up after you heard another crash - glass, maybe your table or a glass you just hadn't put in your dishwasher yet. You armed yourself with the first thing you could find - a belt - and stalked to your living room. The man had stopped trashing around, leaning heavily on a counter, shattered glass on the floor. He was still panting, but definitely trying to hide it. It was Daredevil. Daredevil stood in your apartment. Sure. yeah. Just a normal Tuesday Night. Not to mentioned he was supposedly gone.

You didn't know what came over you, but the only thing your brain was able to scamper together was a breathy "Hi" to the Vigilante. A pained smile graced his features "Hey." You stood there for a second, before remembering that he was leaning on a counter, just shattered a glass and was probably in a lot of pain. "Oh my god, wait, let me-" You vanished to get the Frist aid kit from the bathroom, returning to him in a matter of two minutes. You never thought you'd really have to use it, you didn't really expect a crime fighting Devil to appear injured in your living room. You hadn't seen any blood in the darkness, but you were sure to turn the lights on to take care of the man.

"Alright, just sit in the couch and I'll prepare... I don't know, what do you have? Bulletwounds? Were you stabbed, slashed?" The man laughed slightly but didn't move an inch. "Do you even know how to treat wounds?" "No, but that doesn't mean you can't guide me, you must me very well versed in this field." He still didn't move. "You gonna come over here?" He hesitated but pushed himself off the counter and waddled towards you, totally not noticing the couch and swaying harshly against it. He cursed under his breath and felt along the backside until he found the seating part. "Damn, you must be really out of it, not seeing the couch like that." He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, rough night" "Did you get hit in the head?" "No" Phew, thank god. One least thing to worry about. "Okay, could you like, get rid of the suit?" "Want to see a Vigilante naked so you can give it to the press?", He joked, you laughed. "No, but maybe I want to be able to keep a secret just for myself"

He got rid of the suit, wearing a thin black shirt and pants underneath, they reminded you of those that ice-skaters wore while training sometimes. His left leg was soaked, and not in sweat or water - in blood. You bunched the thin Leggings over the injury and came face to face with a red leg and a white structure, that looked way too much like a bone to be anything else, exiting his skin. "Fuck." "Yeah" "You walked with that?" "I did more with that then walk." "And you're human? Not just Thor in disguise or something?" "Pretty sur einem, yes" "That's wild. Okay, anything else?" I got shot and stabbed in the side, don't know how they got through the suit." "Alright, alright. Yeah, sure, we can.. we can work something out. I think" He laughed again, a charming laugh, you noted. "What do I do?" "Is the bullet still inside?" You pulled him forward from his leaning position, pulling up his shirt and seeing a matching hole in the back. "No" "Okay, that's good. Now you'll have to-"

You got more comfortable with him guiding you, knowing and feeling that he knew what he was doing. Sometimes he needed to help you a bit and in the end, you were done and he was still lying on your couch, his pantleg was still bunched up and his shirt was off - it had just been easier than him needing to hold it up while also guiding and helping you. While he was putting his shirt back on and sipping on some water you had brought him, you were already cleaning up the mess. You couldn't help yourself humming that song, calming yourself down why you did so, passing by Daredevil to clean the table and floor, the couch was something to worry about later. You weren't gonna throw an injured man off of your couch just to clean his blood. "My Soulmate sings that song all the time." You looked up from the puddle of blood, mixed with water and bleach you were scrubbing at and observed the man. He had a small smile on the lips that were visible. "Your Soulmate?" He nodded "Yes, she keeps singing this song, always at the same time on weekdays. I guess she gets off of work then." "Why are you telling me this? I could use this against you." "Doubt it. You would've called an ambulance or police if you would go against me" "Maybe I'm building trust to betray you."

"Why do you want me to distrust you so badly?" You stayed silent. "It's not about me", you started after a while, "it's about you. You need to be careful. Not all are as friendly as I am" "That, I only know too well." Silence. "My Soulmate doesn't sing. Never." "Never?" "No. Not even humming. Or jingles, absolutely nothing. I heard him once, back a few years ago. He was drunk, singing something very badly. He was practically screaming." "That must have been exhausting." "It wasn't. I was absolutely ecstatic. I had heard him for the first and only time that night, while he hears me on a daily basis. Sometimes I wonder if I am bothering him, because he doesn't sing at all, or if he died. I just hope he is a good man." "I am sure he is." Before Silence could settle in again, you spoke up "When your Soulmate sings Red Windows a lot, it shouldn't be hard to find them. Only round about 200 people listened to the original on YouTube, where it came from. 200 people in the entire world, shouldn't be hard to find. Not only that, but some of these probably don't even like the song." "Could you play it for me?" You were startled. "What?" "I couldn't find the song. Could you play it for me?" "Uhh" you stood up, washed your hands thoroughly with soap and got your Phone. "Sure." You typed in the name of the song, letting it play and setting the phone down on a clean surface.

In Time let it show

Feel that scarlet Undertow

As it flows

You hummed with the song, swaying a bit to the beat and going back to cleaning. The stranger on your couch watched you.

Even if our bodies start to burn

And our passion starts to turn

I don't want our night, the night, tonight to end

So

Daredevil shifted on the couch, getting up while mainly using his uninjured leg and grabbing another cloth to help you clean the blood, sitting on the floor instead of kneeling like you were.

Next time let it go,

Break my skin, Red Windows

To my soul

So I'll know.

He grabbed your wrist mid-cleaning. "You should go to bed. This is my mess, I'll clean it. You have work tomorrow, so you should definitely get enough sleep" "But you need to rest as well" "I've had worse, you should really go to sleep. I will sleep in a bit as well." "You can stay as long as you need to. And you need to rest. Leave the cleaning to me." "Of course."

After waking up, you understood that that was a stupid request from you, seeing that he cleared the shattered glass, and that every surface was clean - the Couch still had some stains but it was mostly clean. There was breakfast on the table and a man, back turned to you, helmet off, sitting and eating. "Good Morning. I see you didn't rest like I told you." "And you did" He didn't turn his head and you didn't look at his face, when he pulled his mask over his head again, hiding his black hair. "Don't you have work to attend as well?" "I.. I do." "Then you should take a cab to work and get a coworker or friend to help you." You sat down and started to eat - scrambled egg with bacon pieces mixed together with some herb you had lying around. You didn't know what it was, your mother had brought it over when you had moved - but he seemed to know. "Shame about your window" You looked at the pieces of cloth and wood (where did he get that stuff from anyways?) covering the busted window. "Yeah, that's not gonna sit well with my wallet, I'm afraid. A shame, indeed" After the Breakfast was finished, and he was back in his superhero suit, he looked back, before walking out the fire escape. "Go to a Lawyer named Matt Murdock, he will help you" "Don't think I have money, big guy" "He doesn't take money. He takes whatever you are willing to give"

And just like that, you sat at work, sitting over a half-finished sentence in your thesis and pondering about this being a dream. The Fact you had been so unfazed probably was a sign of - no. You didn't believe you'd think his, and that this was the reason that convinced you, that it had all happened. You don't even remember what you did with the belt you were holding, it seemed like a big blurr, the moment you had seen him. You clearly remembered patching him up and all that, but God damn did you want to tell someone. And tell someone you did. Your new lawyer for a case that wasn't even a case. You didn't even know why exactly you looked him up and called him, but oh well.

"Matt Murdock, Attorney at Law. What is the reason for your call?" You gave him your name, hesitating before continuing. "This may sound weird, but Daredevil crashed into my window yesterday evening and told me to call you to get that situation sorted out." The Lawyer chuckled. A familiar voice, a familiar chuckle, you realised. It was slightly different, but you couldn't shake the feeling as if you were talking to Daredevil again. Stupid Vigilante crashing into your window and your mind. You desired emotional compensation, even though he had no negative effect on you. The Lawyer chuckling was having a lot more negative impact on your mood. Of course he wouldn't take you seriously. "Do you happen to have insurance?" You nodded, then sighed, remembering you were on the phone. "Yes, but I don't think it covers crashed window because of a Vigilante type of Damage" Another laugh "Come in with your contract and I'll see what I can do" "What about Payment?" "You don't need to pay me, if you have no money. I am only here to help" Damn. So it really was whatever you were ready to give, sure.

Since a Memory is locked in tight

Even in our dreams we'd never find

Any hidden Details, not one sign

Not even your dial tone, if not mine

Making your way to the lawyer's office, your trusty Google Maps as your guide, you silently sing the song to yourself. You took off one of your earphones when you reached the building,riding the elevator a few levels up to the designated one. There was a door with a metal tag on it. In bold, pretending letters it read Nelson & Murdock & Page. You knocked beside the tag.

But I heard it in surround sound

In a private space between that only we found

Like a feeling we can't shake

They are watching through the keyholes

Wishing they could be this close

When a blonde woman opened the door, you completely took off your headphones, stopping your music effectively. She seemed surprised. "Didn't think we'd get someone today, come on in!" You entered, slightly confused. "Uhm, I called earlier, and I was told to come in whenever I can in business hours." The Woman nodded. "Who did you speak with?" "I think it was uh... A man, Murdock, I think?" She lit up. "Ah, yes, let me just check with him really quick!" She disappeared in one of the doors, the one to the left, and reappeared a few second later. "Sorry I didn't think of you, I was on break so Matt took your call, if you could wait a minute, he will call you in." You thanked her and sat down on one of the free chairs.

You were singing under your breath, just loud enough for your ears only, when you heard you name being called by a very familiar voice, a man standing in the door that was previously unoccupied, a small, smug smile on his lips. You stood up, noticing his red tainted glasses. Unusual, you noted. "Good Day, Mister Murdock, thank you for seeing me" "I just want to help, come on in." You followed him into his office, noticing how he kept one of his hands on a surface at all times, making his way to sit at his table, a bunch of thick books laying in one corner, and - you noticed - Sheets of Paper with bumps on them. Braille. You sat down at the chair in front of the desk, while he set up a recorder. "Would it be alright if I record the conversation?" "Yes, of course." "Okay good. Then, let's start." He pressed play. "Please state your name and the reason you are here." You gave him your name again, before elaborating "Yesterday night or this morning, i didn't look at the clock, but I had already gone to bed, I was woken up by a crashing sound. I went to investigate and found the Vigilante Daredevil had crashed through my window, severely injured. I helped him and just before I went to bed he told me to call this office." "About your insurance?" "Yes." "Okay, do you happen to have the contract with you?" You affirmed once again. "What kind of contract?" "It's an Appartment I had to take because of my workplace, so it's an insurance contract with them, they pay for round-about normal insurance. Don't think those cover Superhero or Vigilante Damages"

You ended up reading the entire thing to him, not even understanding half of the stuff you were reading. He did though, obviously. You ended up staying well past opening hours, tomorrow was your free day so it was fine for you - and apparently also for the lawyer. Karen Page had left around half an hour ago, so you volunteered to find the kitchen and make some coffee and a small snack, while he worked through some of his Texts in Braille, saying something to the recorder from time to time to keep it on his mind. Quietly singing the song to yourself while searching in the small kitchen for the coffee beans.

Next time, let it go,

You found the coffe beans and put them in the grinder, positioning the first cup underneath and letting the coffee run.

Break my skin, Red Windows

After that one was done, you did the same with the second cup. Bringing the two cups back, you stopped singing under your breath right in front of the office. You opened the door with your elbow and sat down the two cups p, settling back into the chair.

"You really like that song" You didn't think he'd heard you, so you were slightly surprised. "Oh, sorry if I was too loud" Matt Murdock smiled "It doesn't really matter how loud you are, it's a good song, I've heard it on loop thelastfew days" Oh, so he already knew the song, weird coincidence, considering how unknown it was. "I have been too, it's a wonderful song." "Well, I didn't really have a choice, but definitely better than other songs I had to listen to." He didn't have a choice? "Has your Soulmate been singing it?" He didn't answer, instead sipping on his coffee, giving you a fairly cheeky smile and focusing back on his work. A few Minutes passed, when you heard him hum. You heard him hum twice.

One was in you head and the other was, well, right in front of you. You were baffled. "What?" He stopped, his eyes shielded behind the red glasses, still looking straight ahead. He gave a questioning hum. "Uh... Sorry, i just had a thought" "About us being Soulmates?" You faltered. "What? How did you know?" "Because I knew since you came in. He went to take of his red glasses, unfocused eyes looking in your direction, but feeling like they still looked past you. "I didn't want to rush, but I admit, it was a pleasant discovery." "Huh".

You eyes fell to the red tainted glasses, like Red Windows.

To my soul

[yerbamansa]

I have too many feelings about Our Flag Means Death not to post them on Tumblr

So in the last week I’ve watched all ten episodes of the single season of Our Flag Means Death four times. It’s about five hours of screen time per binge, but still, that’s… a lot, right? I am fucking fixated on this shit. It’s a rabbit hole of joy and fandom brain rot (as the kids say).

On my fourth viewing, I took a pen–pink, a color I rarely use except for contrast–and wrote down quotes and notes. I filled 18½ pages. My hand hurts; gripping a pen and applying pressure to get a clean stroke hurts after a short while. Getting old, I guess. But I treated it like I was doing research for a grad school project, like I was trying to identify a thesis, a reason for my sudden and swift obsession. Like, I love TV–I rewatch favorites repeatedly and follow new shows pretty regularly. Things like Star Trek are often on my mind and I love to talk about them and look at memes. But only once before can I recall falling into a proverbial k-hole of focus on a show and every goddamn thing about and around it I can consume. That show, of course, was Schitt’s Creek, and I had four seasons of material to go on by then, but I got really into the then-smallish fandom and wrote fic and cosplayed and joined chats and watched every thing I could track down with Dan Levy. Oh, and I came out as nonbinary, at least to some people.

The rest I'll put under a cut because I rambled all day.

My ardor for that series has waned somewhat (David’s ultimate path didn’t resonate, which I know is nigh-sacrilege for the wedding-focused fandom, and for ~*personal reasons*~ I really wanted Stevie to explore a queer romance, alas) but so many people I know still associate me with being a fan. I mean, sure, I literally named my rabbit after David Rose and gave them an Instagram account, but I’ve moved on. (You can still DM me with your Schitt’s stuff, though. It makes me happy to know you’re thinking of me and enjoying something I hoped you’d enjoy.) At any rate, I wasn’t expecting another obsession to hit like that; maybe it was a fluke. Then I watched the gay pirate romcom.

Romantic comedies are not, strictly speaking, my jam. I don’t really enjoy romances. Most romcoms lack in the “comedy” department for my taste. And pirates? I mean, as a narrative setting, meh, it’s fine. (I WILL go back and finish watching Black Sails eventually, I promise, but generally…) The “gay” part, well, sure, I appreciate representational media. It can be a mixed bag. But if you’ve read this far, you either already know or can guess that none of these objections fit OFMD. In terms of comedy, it’s a goddamn powerhouse of international comedy legends. Romance? It’s sweet and lovely without being cloying or obsessed with marriage et cetera (that’s just…a thing I get really bored with…). And it’s not too sweet to totally skimp on the horrific reality of piracy, at least as much as one can to fit the romcom tone. Also basically every on-screen relationship bar one is queer in some way, and there’s a nonbinary pirate played by a nonbinary actor, just for bonus points.

But why the everloving fuck did I get obsessed with it??? The conclusion I’ve come to is that the show somehow let me experience gender euphoria by proxy. Not just because of Jim Jimenez–that’s a nice affinity, and I’ve enjoyed Vico Ortiz in other stuff, so it’s a freakin’ delight to see them in something with such an active, engaged fanbase; their social media is on fire–but for reasons that, as close as I can figure, are the same as something that made me super obsessed with Schitt’s Creek before: the portrayal of masculinity.

As an AFAB nonbinary person who didn’t figure out such labels could apply until their late 30s, I’ve got my own view of masculinity and femininity. (As anyone who’s ever explored gender should.) For me, it’s not so much that I want to be more masculine (shit���s scary, societally speaking) but read as less feminine. That’s just my body. Bodies without hips and large breasts and the things they can convey with their fashion are just…not what I can do. At least not with my budget. “Feminine” touches with menswear cuts, and so on. When I see folks with a style I covet, it transfixes me a bit. I’d love to be able to wear a dress and paint my nails in a boyish way. Rock an impeccable suit with color and pattern and a little jewelry. That’d just be neat. So somewhere between fashion icon David Rose’s enviable wardrobe of black and white couture knits and these funny gay pirates I’ve got feelings I wanna live in for as long as I can since I can’t try on the real thing. (Or, well. A longer thought there is the point of an entirely different ramble.)

I’m just gonna write up thoughts on our key players. What a segue. Anyway, spoilers abound.

Stede Bonnet: The Gentleman Pirate

For all his childhood trauma, a joyless arranged marriage, and clear naivete, Stede is a man who strikes me as surprisingly secure in himself. He may not be able to articulate exactly what he wants, but he knows the world he comes from wasn’t made for him, and he actively takes the pieces that work for him and rejects the rest. He loves the finer things–his library, suite decor, and secret auxiliary closet serve as ample evidence of that–and doesn’t become a pirate to collect everyone else’s finery. He’s in it for adventure, which is a fucking wild, privileged reason to do anything. What he takes from his old life is a comfort and, he hopes, a launching pad. People in his aristocratic world didn’t take him seriously, but he did. And he wants to share it, but there’s a mismatch between what he’s got to offer and the things the people he meets in the pirate life need. This does not deter him.

What happens to Stede over the course of the season reflects his growth–in confidence, in love, and in himself–but not a fundamental change in who Stede is. He can relinquish some of the finery when he’s finally figured out what he wants, but we know it’s still part of him. (My god, when he gets back to the Revenge and confronts what’s been thrown overboard (and what’s maybe been kept), it’s gonna be a moment.) He can add and remove identity accessories without losing that sense of self.

I find this guy confusingly relatable. I’m not a drama queen with an outfit for every occasion, but I am more likely to retreat than engage when off-putting chaos swirls around me. I would also very likely find myself “uncomfortable in a married state.” I like being in charge, even though I’m not always good at it. I’m easily haunted by my own failures. And I, too, am more than a little mesmerized at the sight of Taika Waititi in a salt-and-pepper wig and beard and aging rockstar leather getup. (Whomst among us…)

Edward Teach: Blackbeard the Pirate

Born on a beach, became the Kraken. Watching this disaster wrestle with his fragmented personas was a roller coaster. Young Edward was drawn to the finer things that, as his mother tells him, aren’t for people like him–God says. So when he meets the Gentleman Pirate, “God’s perfect little rich boy” as an enemy later describes Stede, someone who chose this life, who chose to share his finery, he’s into it. Despite himself. 

When Stede asks him if he “works for Blackbeard,” he has to consider it. It’s not that everything about him is a facade, but “Blackbeard” is ultimately a constructed brand for pirating. Ed Teach has a tendency to become the person he needs to be for the moment, for the people that surround him. He’s Blackbeard for Izzy; Blackie for Calico Jack (a nickname as gross as their relationship tbh), a jovial (if occasionally menacing) Co-captain to the crew, and Ed to Stede. Izzy might call him by his name and his title interchangeably, but over time, even he can see they are not the same. Stede gets to know Edward, someone maybe no one else has ever known, and he finds that he really likes being Edward, or at least being Edward with Stede. That Edward isn’t putting on a mask. Maybe he’s not even sure why, but he seems to trust Stede implicitly, and that trust only builds and builds until it collapses.

Everyone knows who Blackbeard is, except Blackbeard. The Blackbeard he presents to the crew of the Revenge is seemingly not the same one his own crew is used to. It’s not the same Ed Stede knows, but it isn’t exactly a terrifying pirate persona, either. Co-captain Blackbeard is affable, sometimes almost whimsical; a storyteller, prankster. Any grumpiness is easily explained away as the too-cool veneer of a man who’s all too aware of his profile (Lucian even calls him on it when they’re on Stede’s ill-fated treasure hunt). When his mental state crumbles after he returns to the ship sans Stede, the veneer is dropped entirely. He tells the crew to call him Edward, celebrates their talent and artistry, and babbles about giving up piracy altogether. Both Izzy and Lucian can tell he’s not OK, but the ways they try to help are diametrically opposed. To everyone else, he’s just having fun. The chaos, I think, is Ed not even knowing (or caring) anymore who he is and who he has to be for others.

 When he becomes the Kraken, it’s for himself–to protect himself from the pain of being known. Known by Stede, who left him at that dock, and by the crew with whom he’s grown far too informal. Of anyone knowing that he’s always been the Kraken, in his own mind and mythology. In this persona, Izzy sees his Blackbeard, but he probably doesn’t see the man behind the mask sobbing at the sight of a lighthouse painting. Ed knows better than to let anyone see that, now. The Kraken might be a self-loathing monster, but no one gets to hurt him anymore. The Kraken is appropriately terrifying, but he also makes me so fuckin’ sad, and not just because Stede is free and coming back to him.

I don’t know that Stede ever recognized these shifting personas within Ed. I think Ed was only becoming aware of them himself, through his ennui and through getting to know Stede. Stede’s sense of self is stable enough that he might not be able to conceive of the vulnerability Ed’s shown him. He hasn’t got a frame of reference for it. To him, Ed is Blackbeard and Blackbeard is Ed. When he gets hints of it–like when he sees Ed’s shaved face for the first time, and Ed tells him Blackbeard is old news–he’s worried, maybe, that Ed’s losing himself and it’s all Stede’s fault. He can’t have another regret weighing on him like that.

Jim Jimenez fka Bonifacia

The only people confused about Jim’s identity are the other crew of the Revenge who argue about whether or not “Jim” is a girl’s name and if women attract demons. They get over it. Jim is the Inigo Montoya of OFMD, except they also get a boyfriend. I love this journey for them.

Death as a Metaphor and a Promise

The crew of the Revenge creates flags to advertise the promise of future suffering and death for any who might cross their path. Everyone fears death at the hands of Blackbeard (even if, as he admits to Stede, he hasn’t personally killed anyone since he murdered his own father in the Kraken origin story). But these are literal deaths. The story mainly concerns metaphorical deaths; transitions from one identity to another, from one persona to another.

Stede’s marriage begins with the specter of death (the gravestones as a wedding gift), one he eschews only to die another way, by being responsible for the death of another man. (One of his childhood bullies, in fact. A fact that is never lost on him, even if he fixates on the man’s death and his part in it rather than the torture he lived through to get there.) But he didn’t escape the original specter until he returned home to resolve it–with his own faked death, in concert with his wife, her lover, and their children. Now he’s finally free.

Ed initially sees Stede as a way for Blackbeard to die–an opportunity to steal the Gentleman Pirate’s identity and fuck off with his purloined finery, just for kicks. He’s bored of this persona he built for himself but feels stuck in it, so why not “die”? Later, he very nearly accomplishes killing Blackbeard for good when he submits himself alongside Stede for an Act of Grace pardon. When he tells Stede he’s happy just to be with him and suggests they create new identities and run away together, he suggests he hopes that death is permanent, but Stede, unfortunately, has his own death to attend to first. The Kraken, then, and its flag with the demon harpooning a heart, promises a death to others that he couldn’t give himself.

The focus on metaphorical deaths is a bit funny, considering I expect any future seasons will not strictly adhere to the literal death timelines of these characters.

OK But What About Your Feelings?

There is absolutely no way anyone reading this diatribe had this thought.

But since I’m asking… fuck. So like, I’m on the low end of middle age. That feeling of wanting something more, of is that all there is, is real. Especially with regard to how I’m performing gender and such. To being comfortable with being out more. To doing…something about that, whatever the fuck that means. To some kind of new adventure. It’s not as exciting as life on the high seas during the Golden Age of Piracy, and I’m not half as funny as these people, but I am trying to understand what exactly it was about something that, yes, is already the kind of show I’d just enjoy the hell out of, but it wormed its way into my tired little brain and fucked me up for a solid week, maybe more.

[scripts4dreamers]

And Stuff

AN: When you decided on a life of academia, you’d never expected to meet someone like Spencer Reid 

Characters: Spencer Reid Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

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

You hated this stupid paper, you really really did. You stared blankly at your screen, reading and rereading the same two paragraphs in the vain hope that something would stick, but it was all gibberish.

“Hey, there’s my favorite PhD student,” a familiar voice called, collapsing into the seat beside you, “coffee?”

“Please,” you sighed gratefully, wrapping your hands around the disposable cup and taking a deep sip. It was perfect, just warm enough to shock some life back into you, “I owe you one, Prof. Reid.”

Spencer wrinkled his nose distastefully, and you laughed.

“I told you I hate that,” he said.

“And we both know that’s a lie,” you teased back, “you love being called Professor.”

“By my students,” he admitted, “not by you. How’s the thesis outline coming along?”

You sighed, “it’s not.”

“Can I take a look?” Spencer asked, reaching out towards you.

“Noooooo way,” you said, closing your laptop quickly, “not until it’s done.”

“But, Y/N-“

“No, Spence! It’s terrible.”

Spencer stuck his tongue out at you but didn’t press the issue as he pulled a stack of unmarked essays out of his satchel. You and Spencer had met a few years ago, when you’d both started a BA in philosophy. It was your third undergraduate degree, but like Spencer’s hundredth, and you’d bonded over your love of academia almost instantly. By now, meeting in one of the common areas to study and work together was almost a ritual, twice a week at least, every week of the semester. You loved it, you relied on it really. Without Spencer you were sure you’d have lost your mind years ago.

Spencer couldn’t always stay long, after all he was still a hot shot FBI agent, but even just the little bit of time you did have together was like a breath of fresh air. You both looked forward to the chance to talk about something other than your jobs for once.

“I’m sure it’s not, Y/N/N,” Spencer assured.

“Mhhm,” you said unconvincingly, “what about you? Did you get your epistemology paper in on time?”

“Oh yeah. I’m not sure anything I wrote technically qualifies as an argument, but it’s done.” Spencer replied, his eyes tracing the papers in front of him at lightning speed and marking as he went

You could see the signs of exhaustion on his face and your stomach pinched with concern. Spencer was a genius, you knew that better than anyone, but even he wasn’t immune to the stresses of university life. He was always burning the candle at both ends, taking on more than any reasonable person could ever hope to accomplish, and that was before he started teaching an intro to criminology class. It worried you.

“Spence?”

He looked up, his eyes still glassy and faraway, the hint of a smile on his lips, “Mmhmm?”

You frowned, “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

Spencer nodded, “Did you know that some studies have shown that an adult man can actually survive on as little as two hours of sleep a night without showing outwards signs of exhaustion?” He rambled, gesturing at nothing with his hands, “Sleep deprivation will, of course, affect your mental capabilities over time, but the amount of time that process actually takes is fairly individual. In my case-“ he looked over, noticed you raising your eyebrows at him, and laughed, obviously realising just how tired he was. “Yeah I’m a little tired,” he admitted, “it’s just been a long week that’s all. I was up for a few days for a case,,” he nudged your shoulder with his, “you know if you took me up on my offer I’d probably have more time to sleep.”

“Me? Join the FBI?” You scoffed, shaking your head, “No way. I’ve never even held a gun.”

“Neither had I before I joined.”

“Yeah but you’re-“ you gestured in his general direction, “you know.”

“I’m what?”

“You know,” you huffed, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment, “strong. And brave. And stuff.”

Spencer laughed but he looked pleased with himself nonetheless, “you think I’m strong and brave?”

“And stuff,” you clarified, “I’m an academic. I’m perfectly happy in a dark room with my dusty books and manuscripts, thank you very much.”

Spencer nodded, stealing a sip of your coffee and grimacing at the taste, “is there any sugar in this at all?”

“You tell me,” You answered, “you bought it.”

“Well there’s obviously not enough, you can still taste the actual coffee,” he said, just as his phone started to beep frantically.

Spencer took it out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. Your heart sunk a little but, when Spencer looked up at you apologetically, you shot him a small smile.

“Duty calls,” you said simply.

Spencer nodded, packing his stack of papers back into his satchel, “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. I’ll see you back here on Friday?”

“Sure,” you agreed, “if you’re back by then.”

“And you’ll send me your thesis outline when you’re finished with it?”

“Of course.”

Spencer wrapped one arm around your shoulder, giving you a quick hug, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Enjoy your day.”

“Good luck, Professor,” you smiled, waving him off, “and thanks for the coffee!”

He waved back at you, half jogging and already on the phone as he vanished into the incoming crowds. You watched him go, sighing sadly as you turned back to your unfinished outline.

“Okay, Y/N, you can do this. Spencer’s written like three of these, let’s go.” You muttered, “The psychological implications of linguistic progression, think.”

You threw yourself back into your research, losing yourself in the methodical nature of your work. The coffee next to you got cold.

————————

Spencer was flushed by the time he made it into the office, his cheeks hurting with the effort of suppressing his smile. Time with you always did that to him, no matter how drained he was when he first arrived.

You were like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise very gloomy day, and ten minutes with you was better for his mental health than a whole weekend’s worth of sleep. You were sweet, and funny, and you let him ramble about whatever he wanted to and even pretended to listen. Meeting you for coffee every week had become more than an act of friendship, it was an act of self care, a thin thread holding what was left of his sanity together.

His phone chimed and he smiled down at the message, a picture of you sipping your coffee and giving the cameras a big thumbs up:

Go kick some bad guy ass, Wise Guy!

He started typing up a reply but, before he could, someone interrupted.

“Good date, Pretty Boy?” Morgan greeted.

“It’s not a date, Morgan, you know that,” Spencer replied, fondly, “it’s just coffee with a friend.”

“Oh yeah it’s totally not a date, just a biweekly coffee hangout with someone you’ve been in love with since forever.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he smiled.

“But it did go well, then?” He retorted with a knowing smile.

Spencer smiled and nodded, “She thinks I’m strong and brave and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“And stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Prentiss interjected.

Spencer froze, “I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Does she know you’re not dating?” Prentiss asked.

“What? Yes of course! Or-maybe? I don’t know we haven’t exactly talked about it.” Spencer replied.

“No, she doesn’t know,” Morgan clarified.

Spencer opened his mouth to argue but, before he could, Garcia cut in.

“Okay my little geniuses, it’s a weird one today. Let’s get briefed,” Garcia called.

“When do we get to meet her?” Prentiss whispered as they took their seats.

“Never,” Spencer replied.

Emily pouted, “you’re no fun.”

Spencer smiled but, as the briefing went on and the picture of their newest case got clearer and clearer, so did something else; they couldn’t do this alone. They needed help, very very specific help. His heart sunk. As they headed to the jet, Spencer pulled out his phone, wishing to God he didn’t have to.

“Hey, Y/N, remember how you said you owed me one?”

—————————-

This had to be some sort of nightmare, you thought to yourself as you stepped off the jet. When Spencer had first called you, you’d laughed, told him to stop joking around and tell you what he actually wanted but, as it turned out, he was serious. They had a case, he’d said, one that required a certain set of expertise, one that only you had. And you couldn’t really say no could you? Not to Spencer.

And now you’d solved it. It was over. Your hands were shaking and you’d never been this tired in your life, but it was over. You felt a hand on your shoulder and jumped.

“Hey, it’s alright, kid,” Derek Morgan assured you, “you’re okay.”

You nodded, even though it wasn’t a question and gave him a small smile.

“I know.”

Derek nodded, his dark eyes boring into you in that way only members of the BAU could, like they were looking into you and not at you, so you tried to look brave.

“You did good work on this case,” Derek said, walking back to the building with you, “without you I’m not sure we would’ve caught the guy.”

You shook your head, “Spen-Reid would have figured it out eventually.”

Derek pressed his lips together, “Probably, but even he said it would’ve taken him days to reconstruct the language from scratch, even without adding the psychology behind it. In that time who knows how many people our UnSub would have been able to get.”

You looked over your shoulder to where Spencer was standing at the base of the jet’s stairs, looking everywhere but at you. He’d been acting distant for a while now, ever since Hotch had decided to strap you into a bulletproof vest and send you in to talk a maniac off a ledge. The UnSub had been having some sort of psychotic break, he’d forgotten how to speak English and communicated exclusively in a language he’d created himself, a combination of several that pointed to details about his personal life. It was fascinating, in the worst way possible, a real life application of the theory you’d been working on for years. It would make your thesis a piece of cake to finish.

The thought made you feel nauseous.

“Is he-“ you asked Derek, pressing your lips together nervously, “is he angry at me or something?”

He frowned, “Reid? No. He’s crazy about you, he looks forward to those coffee dates with you every week for days.”

You flushed, “They're not dates, Derek.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he replied, sarcastically, “slip of the tongue.” He ruffled your hair fondly, “Go on, talk to him, I’ll call you a cab when you’re done.”

You nodded and hung back, letting Derek’s hulking form vanish into the FBI building as you made your way slowly back toward the jet. Spencer was staring up at the moon, looking pensive and beautiful and painfully sad.

“Hey, there’s my favorite profiler,” you greeted gently, “you alright?”

“Hey,” he replied, still looking up at the moon, “why didn’t you go inside with everyone else?”

“I was waiting for you,” you explained, “I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“If I’m okay?” He laughed incredulously, meeting your eye, “Y/N, I’m out here because I’m trying to figure out what I could possibly say to make up for what I just put you through.” He explained, “This...this stuff-it’s my world, not yours. I should never have brought you into it.”

“Spencer you needed me, your team needed an expert and, no offense, but your social circle isn’t big enough to have two experts in linguistic psychology.” You teased gently.

Spencer chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest.

You stepped forward, resting a hand gently on his bicep, “You made the right decision, Spence. I’m glad you called, I’m-“ you paused, “I’m glad you let me help you.”

Spencer snorted, “And it nearly got you killed.”

“It didn’t nearly get me killed-“

“Yes. It did,” he insisted, “the UnSub was psychotic, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t have killed you on sight. Hotch should never have let you-I should never have let you go in there.”

“But I wanted to and I’m fine. The case is over, Spence, we’re in the clear.” You assured him, “Things can go back to normal now.”

“No, they can’t!” Spencer practically shouted, turning to face you, his eyes red and puffy. You instinctively stepped back and Spencer pressed his lips together, looking guilty, “Y/N, I-knowing you were in danger and that there was nothing I could do about it...it killed me. You were never meant to know about any of this, you were meant to be safe! I was meant to keep you safe!” He explained, running a hand through his hair, “You were the one thing in my life that this stuff couldn’t touch and now-“ he breathed, “now everytime you look at me you’re gonna think about this, and him, and everything I put you through and-“ he met your eye, “and things will be weird and you’ll stop wanting to talk to me. Things won’t be the same, Y/N.”

You flushed and stepped forward, “You're worried that I’m not gonna talk to you anymore?” You asked. Spencer didn’t answer, but the way he avoided your eye and worked his jaw seemed like answer enough, “Spence,” you smiled, “you’re like...my favorite person in the world. This stuff,” you gestured around, “what you do, it doesn’t change that. In fact I think it’s kind of incredible. You guys tracked down a serial killer based on nothing but some muddled letters, who does that?” You laughed.

Spencer didn’t respond, but the edges of his lips twitched, like he wanted to smile. You watched him for a moment, the way he held his head, the way his eyes darted up to yours. He was just as beautiful as he’d always been, but there was something more now. He was vulnerable, you realized, really vulnerable for the first time since you’d known him. No matter what he said, Spencer was reaching out to you.

“Your world is messed up, Spencer,” you continued, stepping forward and taking his hand, “but you aren’t. We aren’t, and I’m glad I got to be there when you needed me. We’re good, okay?”

“Do you promise?” He asked, his voice small.

You squeezed his hand, “I promise.”

Spencer nodded, squeezing back, and let you slowly pull him back towards the FBI building.

“Besides,” you continued, “you still owe me a look at my thesis.”

Spencer snorted, “That’ll literally take me 3 seconds.”

“Show off.”

“What? It’s true.” He laughed.

You suddenly realized that Spencer was still holding your hand and, when he saw you looking and tried to pull away, you held on tighter. Spencer smiled nervously, and you felt a rush of something warm and promising flow through you.

“Hey, Y/N?” He started nervously.

“Yes, Spencer?”

“Are we dating?” He asked.

“After today? We’d better be. I’m expecting at least a dinner after almost getting shot for you.” You teased, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“That’s so not funny,” Spencer replied, but he was smiling when he said it.

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“Fine,” Spencer agreed, stopping in his tracks and pulling you towards him, “it’s a little bit funny.”

And that’s when he pulled you in, cupping your face with his hands and pressing his lips to yours. Just like that, the weariness of the day melted away, disappearing into a kiss that tasted like burnt coffee and sugar and the best champagne you’d ever had. Spencer was strong and sure. He kissed you like it was the only chance he’d ever get, like he wanted to burn the memory of you into that brilliant mind of his forever. When you broke apart it felt like the earth had shifted beneath you and you stared at one another, breathless and smiling like teenagers caught making out beneath the bleachers.

“Oh yeah,” you laughed, “yeah you definitely owe me dinner.”

“Woohoo!” Morgan cheered.

“Ooooo, Y/N and Reid sitting in a tree,” Prentiss sang, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Go get ‘em, Lover Boy,” Garcia joined in.

Spencer laughed, letting his head fall down onto your shoulder, humming when you threaded your finger through his hair.

“Can we-um-can we maybe continue this at a later date?” Spencer asked, “Like maybe at dinner? Or,” he checked his watch, “breakfast, maybe?”

You looked back at Spencer’s team and felt, with a sudden rush of clarity, that you were looking at a group of people who would soon be staples of your life.

“Let’s go get coffee with the others,” you answered, “and then after that,” you tilted his head up and kissed him softly, “you can take me to breakfast.”

taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​ 

[blindedbythedarkness]

Josh,

Sometimes it's really fucking difficult to not believe that the universe is personally biased against me. And I know that's kind of rich coming from the one of us that didn't get driven to suicide. But I just, I know you of all people would understand. I wish I had you to really talk to right now.

I'm gonna ramble because I just need someone to listen. But where to fucking start? Life right now is just spinning plates. On one day this week I found out a critical hospital referral I was relying on had never been made; I was rejected by yet another landlord for a house next year that I'd really been betting on; my supervisor met with and bullied me for a solid two hours and my one social event of the week got cancelled. So, that's about when it all started to get too much.

The doctor I've been seeing has been incompetent from the start and made so much work for me in the 6 months I've been in her care. Despite diagnosing my Potentially Life Threatening connective tissue disease, she never even named it in our appointments, leaving me to discover the true horrors of my body through playing detective with my blood results. Long story short, to be confident that I can go on a treatment for it without bleeding out, I need to see a geneticist. But despite agreeing that I should see one, she's refusing to refer me to one directly. Instead, she's referring me to a pain rehab clinic at a separate hospital and saying they can internally refer me to genetics. The wait on the pain rehab clinic? At least two years. Plus, of course none of this information was forthcoming and required weeks of emailing back and forth. So now I'm angry, anxious and stressed about my health. I want to make a formal complaint but I don't know when I'll find the time.

That wasn't even the worst thing, though. The worst thing was uni reminding me just one last time that it truly doesn't give a shit about its students and why I hate it to its very core. The final piece of work I have left to hand in is a research project that I've been working on all year. However, my supervisor is an utter cunt, and I don't say that lightly. He's incredibly narcissistic and rude for a start. For a presentation I had to do, he forced me to use his own slides without ever looking at mine. He once ended an online meeting because I misspoke when explaining a figure, telling me to call him back when I knew what I was on about because he "never forgets what he sees and doesn't want his brain soiled with incorrect information." Given he never remembers what we've spoken about from one meeting to the next, I call bullshit. Oh and this week? He asked me to explain a figure to him and when he said he didn't understand I asked him if he was looking at my screen share. He said no. I just despair!

To make matters worse, he's never fucking happy with me. He's made me start my work from scratch 3 times now and had a different problem each time. We're rapidly approaching the deadline now, so to get all the work done for the 3rd time I've been working 9am-5pm 6 days a week. Not that he cares. The results don't fit his hypothesis, so I must simply be incompetent. He even once had the audacity to suggest that I "didn't want to do the work" while looking through a 70 page document of my results, because I couldn't explain the findings of a figure I'd made a month ago off the top of my head.

In this weeks meeting, he again gave me an extortionate list of new tasks to do, while berating me at every turn. With a month left submit my thesis and my write up not started, I tried to explain to him that I wouldn't have time to complete the list. He just shrugged and said, "Well I think you should do it." And yes, this man is aware that I have been struggling physically and mentally recently.

I didn't know what else to do to make him listen, so I contacted the course supervisor (who I'd already briefly made aware of my issues with him). She told me to "quit" and "just get on with writing my thesis"... until four hours later after she had spoken to my supervisor and completely changed her mind. She video called me to tell me to do the work and I just broke down. I don't make a habit of ugly sobbing in front of people I've only ever met twice over Microsoft Teams, but this was a particularly bad day.

"Trying to do this work is going to destroy my physical and mental health."

"I can't do this anymore."

"He never listens to me."

"I've been working 6 days a week and it's killing me."

She didn't care. She told me that since my supervisor is an experienced professional, he must know how much he's asking of me and since he insists it's quick and easy stuff, it must be. This man has never done this analysis himself. He doesn't even know how; half the stuff one of his lab workers taught me and the rest I taught myself.

"Chill out" and "calm down" she told me, "do the work and if you have any problems ask John (the lab worker)"

By the time I pressed the leave button, I could barely breathe, let alone talk. I was just choking and sobbing and had snot pouring down my face. I was just so tired. So stressed. So... ignored. I didn't know where I would find the hours in the day, but I started by cancelling the trip to see my parents this weekend. To them I am not a student, and a student with health problems at that. I am simply a machine to use for free research.

I just wanted the stress to give me a break. I just wanted a break. I was genuinely afraid that my heart was going to stop from the stress alone. I didn't know where else to turn. The counseling service put me on a waiting list. My tutor told me to "just keep trying my best". My mentor told me to talk to my course supervisor. My course supervisor told me to work. A was busy revising for an exam the next day and I didn't want to bother him. So, I turned to my unhealthy coping mechanisms instead.

I didn't mean to do it as badly as I did. I just wanted to scratch my skin enough to feel it burn and give me something else to feel instead of the huge mass in my chest. But the scissors were sharper than I thought and when I looked down there were four long cuts that had gone through the skin and fat. I knew immediately I'd fucked up. There was no way those edges were coming together on their own. Honestly, I was just mad I'd given myself something else to do. So, I covered them with gauze and tape and kept on working. Because I needed to work. I needed to get it done. I would deal with going to the hospital later but I couldn't lose these working hours.

Once the blood was dripping from the gauze I finally, begrudgingly, went to the hospital. Honestly? They were surprisingly nice. They were understanding and they listened. I was so worried that they'd think I was some cringy emo kid looking for attention. I honestly felt like a total knob going there, but I didn't have a choice. I never felt judged or like they thought I was wasting their time or that it was all my fault. Of course, I know that it was my fault and I felt like a fool. But I also don't blame myself for becoming so desperate. At one point a doctor came in with a medical student who was visibly shy and embarrassed when examining me. I told her I had a place at medical school, so not to worry as I'd be in her place soon. And again, I was shocked because they didn't once tell me not to go. I thought they were going to say "if you can't cope right now, starting medical school isn't for you!" But they never said anything like that. Instead they were shocked I'd gotten in to such a good uni and seemed incredibly genuine when they wished me well.

Oh, and the wounds? Thankfully I didn't need stitches so I got them pulled together again with steri-strips. And in case you didn't believe me that I didn't intend them to be so bad, I nearly passed out three times after looking at them. So, I truly am a fucking idiot, Josh. Lesson learnt, I suppose. Though I'm still afraid what will happen next time I run out of options.

It's finally the end of the week now, but the universe still hasn't given me a break. My mum called earlier and told me my rabbit will be crossing the rainbow bridge tomorrow as he seems to have had a stroke. I mean, it's a small mercy that he's an old bunny and he's been unwell for a long time, so it's not a shock. But it's still so sad and I'll miss him so much. What really tops it all off is that I was going to see him this weekend until I had to cancel my trip home due to the workload.

Man, I just. Why does shit stuff seem to come so easily to me? It's difficult not to feel personally victimized when shit news after shit news lines up so well. I wish good things came as thick and fast. I hope to fuck my luck changes soon because honestly I'm terrified that it's taking years off my life.

Thanks for listening, Josh,

C

[cassatine]

Hi, I sent you an ask a while ago about Ben Solo living after redemption, and I just wanted to say thanks for your in-depth thoughts. I also saw TROS and although I was disappointed/grieved, it was Rey’s story that really got to me and made me feel miserable. I wanted an atonement story, a romance, but I also didn’t want to lose our heroine on the altar of nostalgia. It all felt so status quo, “leadership” and capitalist. I’m not insecure about what I wanted from this story anymore. Fuck Disney.

Hi nonnie! Glad to see you again, although I do wish both of us had more to celebrate wrt TROS, and sorry for the late reply - I’ve been Reacting to TROS quite a bit, but tbh mostly circling the Rey & Kylo Ben arcs because it hurt me in a way other aspects of the shitty subtext and bad pacing don’t, and I’m still untangling… idk, the ways that it’s shitty because it is, and the ways that it’s shitty for me, because it hit some personal stuff and I was completely unprepared for that.

Longish rambles under cut

My thoughts on redemption and atonement haven’t changed, but it’s been on my mind a lot recently so I’m taking the occasion to air some more here.

I wrote this in your first ask (I think it’s the one)

I’m not even that much of a fan of redemption arcs on a personal level, but these arcs, whether they’re about the nitty-gritty of redemption and the difficult process of realizing, admitting and then acting on the fact that you fucked up, that you were wrong, that you did wrong, whether they’re fantastic and exaggerated and written in blood across the stars - they’re about people’s capacity to change for the better, to come back from the worst version of themselves. They’re about the fact that however far you might err, you can change paths; it’s never too late. What’s not to like in that? It’s some of the best humanity has to offer, the very capacity to grow and learn and admit wrongs and become better for it.

TROS sure didn’t change my mind on that - in fact I’ve seen enough people saying Kylo Ben Deserved Death and read enough Terrio/Abrams interviews by now that I’m feeling it more than ever. I kind of want to talk about in terms of different views of justice, restorative vs. punitive, but what I really can’t stop thinking about is that one definition of redemption, “deliverance from sin.” I’m not religious, but I bathed in enough catholicism growing up that this does mean something to me - I’m not hot on the whole notion of sin, but deliverance? God cares about sinners is what it means; it’s the whole fucking point. God forgives, and doesn’t yeet you in a fucking pit when you finally decide to get your act on straight.

Ahem. I’m talking in religious terms because I’ve been seeing a lot of reactions couched in a very different view of sin, which posits that once you’ve been tainted, whatever the circumstances, it’s done and over, you’re bad forever. To the pit you go. It’s not something I find a lot of beauty in (a euphemism for the ages). It’s not the same view of God, and it’s not the same view of human nature.

Which circles back to justice, restorative vs punitive - there’s a wide array of positions, of course, but fundamentally if you’re inclined to believe tainted once tainted forever, that this is human nature, you’re much more likely to go for punitive justice, and with a depressing regularity on socmed, as far as ‘actually I can totes cast the first stone’. And you kinda need to believe humans can grow better to go for restorative justice, or to at least to want it to be true.

I’ve been thinking about how I don’t particularly care for redemption arcs myself; I like them fine, but I’m not… enthusiastic? about them. I compare that to people to whom these stories matter deeply, and I don’t want to overgeneralize because there are plenty of reasons to be drawn to redemption stories, personal or otherwise, but I’m coming to think a big reason why I don’t respond much to redemption arcs (unless they titillate my id for another reason) is basically that I don’t need the affirmation that people/me can grow better and come back from the worst version of themselves. It’s A Given that’s pretty much been drilled in my head and that I’ve never seen reason to undrill, even at my most misanthropic (and that was A Lot). 

This was a lot of rambling but what I’m saying is yeah holy fuck we need redemption stories that delve in the process of atonement and where do we go from there. No one fucking misinterpret me on this, but fiction does have an impact - a story’s never just a story: it comes with its creator(s)’ views and questions and beliefs, it makes points consciously or unconsciously. As audience we can challenge ourselves with stories that challenge our own mindset. Or do the opposite, find affirmation in stories - and both are good! some things do need to be affirmed (like people’s capacity to grow better), although I’m also veeery dubious of points like happy endings are better or those be the rules here is the template a story must follow; I enjoy escapism as much as anyone and I don’t particularly want to challenge my views with every piece of fiction I consume nor do I think anyone should do that, but I’m wary of any position that boils down to “fiction should be comfortable” because - and again! I like escapism! it’s kinda like asking for the bread & games back but without the bread. 

Anyway, I’m really oversimplifying but basically, imo the most impactful thing fiction can do is challenge people’s views and all that jazz, and I’m all for challenging the kind of bullshit TROS served us and the whole notion that sin doesn’t wash off eveeeer and that at best redemption is death in sacrifice.

I’m not even going in the Good Child / Bad Child vibes in TROS. I should, because it makes the whole thing even less palatable, but honestly, I just can’t.

Okay. I think I’m done with that. 

Going back to your actual ask -

I also saw TROS and although I was disappointed/grieved, it was Rey’s story that really got to me and made me feel miserable. I wanted an atonement story, a romance, but I also didn’t want to lose our heroine on the altar of nostalgia. It all felt so status quo, “leadership” and capitalist. I’m not insecure about what I wanted from this story anymore. Fuck Disney.

tbh foregoing my own preferences the main reason TROS sucks *that bad* is… well you more or less said it. It’s a film that feels like it’s been designed by a marketing team trying to reach the widest possible audience by having something in it for everyone at a purely cosmetic level. I’ve mentioned the shitty subtext (and it’s A Lot, like the core thesis of the film imo is [this], pretty much every woman’s done dirty [thread], Poe’s background is fucking racist and Space Orientalism is in full form, and here’s for [Finn & troopers & agency], and [my fears aging like fine wine], just for a top-five-or-so of Things That Set Me Off), but the shitty subtext is there because it’s a soulless, incoherent void of a film that can’t commit to anything. 

It is… *drumrolls* A Product. As disappointing as TROS was, at the end of the day there’s really no reason to expect stories produced by fucking disney to truly commit to pushing narratives that criticize the status quo they thrive on. “SW is about fighting fascism” my whole ass, SW is about American nostalgia for nicely black and white conflicts and under the surface it’s always been reactionary af. It could always be read in different ways, and R1 & TLJ let us glimpse a version of the franchise that could grow beyond, and maybe there’ll be more of that, but I’m not gonna hold my hopes up personally. 

Sorry I wish I had more positive things to say - I’m glad you don’t feel insecure about what you wanted from the story anymore though because like… why would you? All of us are invested and we want the story to resonate with us on a personal level. Nothing wrong with wanting romance and atonement or a heroine that’s not done dirty.

[milesgonzalomorales]

1-50 for studyblr (all or nothing motherfucker ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

I owe you my life anon I wanted to answer these 

What year are you?Third-year as of summer 2018

What’s your major/what do you think you want to major in?Double major in Political Science and History

If applicable, what is your thesis about?                                                        n/a

Do you think you picked the right major?                                                      For sure. At first I was uncertain in my choice bc I switched quite a bit in my first/second year bw English and History, but then I realized that English classes were making me dislike my relationship w/ literature. I love my poli sci and history classes 

Ultimate educational goals?                                                                                 Getting my PhD in International Relations but i have no job to pay for it 

Career goals?                                                                                                         Working with an international organization like the UN or the IMF

Do you think your goals are realistic?                                                                 Certainly. They may be difficult to reach, but they are within my grasp so long as I keep working towards them. 

What classes are you taking right now?                                                             Canadian government/politics, introductory political theory and a comparative history class on race relations in the US and SA                                      

Favorite class out of everything you’ve ever taken and why?                          Introduction to international relations parts 1 and 2, I took them both in my second year back to back (one in the fall, the other in the winter) while I was still in the political science minor. I loved this class for several reasons. First, the content was so interesting that reading the textbook was never a chore and I was always in the first row of the lecture hall ready 15 minutes before classes even started. Another reason I liked this class was bc I had a really good experience with the ta who was my tut. leader in both semesters - there is only one other ta that I’ve had who has been that phenomenal in their teaching. This ta along with another prof have been really influential in my learning and I don’t think thank you will ever be enough for what they both did.  It was actually through these classes that I decided to major in poli sci bc I loved it so much. 

Least favorite class ever and why?                                                                       An Ancient Greek history class bc it was at night and the prof had us read exclusively from a sourebook and his slides sucked.                                

Current favorite class and why?                                                                          Canadian government, I’m learning a lot of cool stuff about my country that high-school teachers never did justice to. Also the prof is really enthusiastic and it’s contagious. 

Current least favorite class and why?                                                                 Political theory… it’s not that I hate it, but some of the texts are really difficult to read at times. Lectures are fun though, the prof really knows how to keep an audience engaged.                                                                                   

Favorite STEM field?                                                                                            I took an anthropology class in first year and loved it, the tutorials were really interesting bc we actually got to handle bone material!! It was nothing like humanities tutorials where you discuss and debate. A fun experience overall and I loved learning about the science parts too even if it was a little complicated sometimes…                      

Favorite humanities subject?                                                                               Political science, hands down. 

Class that you’ve always wanted to take but never had the chance?              I want to take a class on ethnic conflict and security, but it’s a 4th year class and i don’t have the prereqs (yet!) 

Do you use caffeine and if so how much daily?                                                 Never, unless Coffee Crisp counts 

What’s your preferred method of taking in caffeine?                                         ^ see above answer                                                                          

Have you ever tried study drugs?                                                                        Nope, not a huge fan of supplements like that.  

Are you a homework-in-the-morning kind of person?                                       Homework whenever I can type of person                         

Do you listen to music while you study?                                                            Used to, but now it distracts more than anything so I’ll put on some ambient noises or just work silently. 

Crowded area or quiet place?                                                                               Quiet place, but one that has people in it so I feel obligated to work 

What’s your preferred writing implement?                                                          bic gelocity 0.7 black and blue pens. i cannot write w/o them but they run out so fast.                         

Do you need to work out before you can study well?                                        work out??? haven’t heard that term in years 

Describe your perfect study environment.                                                          Idk the specifics, but good lighting, nice temperature, a rolling chair and a high desk i guess? 

Are you procrastinating right now?                                                                     Not really, I have time before assignment deadlines roll in. 

What was the last thing you procrastinated?                                                     Reading Thomas Hobbes Leviathan, the language was too complex and I shied away from it 

Are you a perfectionist?                                                                                        Not really, you make a mistake and you move on, I find that studyblr aesthetic notes are counterproductive 

Do you like easy classes or do you feel bad if you’re not working hard?       I don’t think there is such thing as ‘easy’ classes, it depends on what an individual’s strengths and weaknesses are. That being said, I had a light course load for a first year class where the prof felt bad for assigning us 10 pages of reading a week when another prof was assigning 80-100.    

Are you a good test taker?                                                                                    Most of the time, but with essays, I need to write outlines or I lose my train of thought and get frustrated and anxious about the time and my argument. 

What are you the proudest of out of all the assignments you’ve ever had?   A paper I did for my critical writing for history class 2 semesters ago, I contacted that professor regularly and was in her office all the time working with her to keep making it better and when I saw my final grade of 38/40, I cried with happiness. 

Do you talk to your teachers/professors a lot?                                                  Oh yeah, I’m that student who stays after class, spends half the time at office hours, asks questions during class, you name it. Professors are people too, just really accomplished people. Also they’re pretty cool and they want to see you succeed. 

Describe your favorite teacher/professor and why you like them.                   Okay again not a prof, but this person is training to become a prof and i truly hope he’s successful for several reasons. He has a lot of cool book recs both academic/non-academic, calls out the bullcrap that is academic writing, genuinely goes above the paygrade to make sure that students succeed and most importantly, is enthusiastic about the content himself. (press f to pay respects) 

Describe your least favorite teacher/professor and why you dislike them.     Hnghhhh there was these 2 profs who taught intro ir part 1 and one of those guys was an absolute loser, he constantly made holocaust jokes and other tasteless comments and when i went to talk to him about my final paper, he told me that i’d look like someone who might like to write mine about is/s like ://. never told that prof anything about my academic interests so shut your mouth 

Have you ever thought about becoming a teacher/professor?                         A few times, but I don’t think I could do it. I’d be one of those rambling profs who never end up finishing their scheduled content. 

Most profound thing ever said to you by a teacher/professor?                         Not a prof, but a ta once said that my ideas were worthy of respect and that i shouldn’t feel the need to apologize for contributions (ta: you are valid me: holy fuck i’d die for you) 

Best feedback you’ve ever gotten on something academic?                            Best feedback I’ve ever gotten was on a paper I wrote for my ir class in the first semester where i had a lot of pitfalls in my argumentation style so when i wrote one the next semester w/ the same ta marking it, i got a better mark bc i incorporated that feedback. 

Worst study habit and how are you working on it?                                            My worst habit is lacking discipline and I’m working on it by trying to stick to schedules so I can fall back into routine and ultimately be on top of things 

Are you an in-class fidgeter?                                                                                moment of silence for all the pens i’ve dropped while twirling them/taking them apart. 

How’s your handwriting?                                                                                      pretty neat, not to brag. but apparently my f’s are jumping off the lines practically. 

Write “the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” and post a photo.         sorry, too late for that I’m headed to sleep soon. 

Neat or messy notes?                                                                                            A weird combo?? Like messy enough that you have arrows sticking out from all corners and sometimes things are disorganized, but the writing itself is usually very neat unless i’m tired. 

A lot of notes or the bare minimum?                                                                   A lot, for me, the slides are the skeleton and the meat comes from the prof’s mouth. 

Post a photo/scan of your notes from your favorite class.                               I think I uploaded them to my side blog?? anyway it’s late now so can’t do that 

Are you a doodler?                                                                                                I used to be, but I cut the habit bc sometimes I miss key info if I’m not paying attention. 

Post a photo of your doodles if you have any.                                                    lol i used to post a lot under the tag naailah draws 

Do you have pre-test rituals and what are they?                                                Making sure I have more pens than I’ll ever need and checking the ink refills to ensure there’s enough. 

Are you a tangent-question asker?                                                                      Yup, there’s no such thing as a dumb question. Unless it’s answered on the syllabus. That’s a dumb q. 

Do you make jokes in class?                                                                                Sometimes. I’ve cracked some awful puns in my comparative poli class once and the prof’s mic picked up on it bc i sit at the front so you have a room of 200 or so students hearing me laugh about poverty and i swear it sounds bad but it was not as bad w/ context. 

How many hours do you spend on academics per day?                                   A lot… most of my time is spent on studying/procrastinating on it 

What’s something more important to you than school?                                    Life after school and making a real impact in the world, whether it’s small-scale or large. 

[thetrueoverlordbear]

I’ll be honest: 2018 felt like a long year for me, and I realized that as I looked back at all the MTPAU posts I made for the past months of that year. Updates have been less frequent, and I hadn’t posted anything else during February. Still, it’s not like nothing good came out of all of that, so yeah, praise and thanks be to God Almighty very much because of that, then.

And speaking of good stuff, I should continue counting my blessings, and perhaps this sort of post can be quite a good way to do better~

But first, I’d like to get December 2018’s list of posts out of the way:

two reblogs: a Penman article about the UP Fighting Maroons, and a Beneath the Tangles Christmas post (written by Medieval Otaku) involving Gintama

Tobby’s Freestyle Rap Practice Compilation 11

“That Feeling of Falling That Jolts You Awake,” a KagePro fanfic inspired by “Additional Memory”

this year’s Christmas reflection

Now, back to what I was going to talk more about: blessings. I think I’ve said something like this before in my Christmas reflection this year, but anyway, blessings are stuff to count more than lack, and of course, it’s more difficult to do than counting zero and repeating zero over and over and over. I mean, really, think about the difficulty of going “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten” and so on compared to just saying “Zero” over and over and over again. Zero counting’s too easy for me, and I’ve been getting bored of it, though at the same time, it becomes tempting when the difficulty in counting gets higher and higher.

Zero counting becomes particularly tempting, though, when I try to count how many blessings I alone have brought upon myself:

Get it?

Now, as much as it can be real nice to feel like I can sing Drake’s “All Me” with confidence, that is something I can only achieve by lying to myself. Okay, so what does that leave me with? Self-deprecation like we usually do these days, especially online? What does that make all my growth, then? And what does that make all your growth? Social constructs created by the lying minds and hearts of humanity? If so, then why the freaking nuts are we still here, then?

Thus, I find myself seeing more and more sense in giving praise and thanks to God Almighty very much every single day. Oh, and I’m now an officially committed member of my university’s Christ’s Youth in Action. I’m quite surprised by how fast it took for me to get there, really…and I thought I was being lazy the whole time, going to all those gatherings because I felt the pressures of free time and parental guidance! God Almighty has been blessing a fool, indeed! Then again, Saint Paul already had a written note about that before in 1 Corinthians 4:10, so yeah, way ahead of me in the discovery there, yo…and that’s not even the first time it’s been proven that God’s been blessing fools.

And I could just refuse all those blessings and say “God, please let me prove myself by myself alone,” but as I have learned so many times before, that is simply an exercise in futility, for I’d be like the dumb preachers in Flannery O’Connor’s fiction pieces if I insist on doing that. Well, that, and God Almighty loves us as much as we ask Him to, and we can only prove ourselves when God lets us. Really, where does all the goodness in the universe come from, anyway? The void? Huh, no wonder I still find myself dumb and self-hating whenever I try to believe in me, myself, and I alone in living, then. Better not go tell others “Believe in yourself” without enough grounding, too. Does that make all the grinding we do pointless and unnecessary, though? Well, of course not, because we still have to teach each other about how to better count our blessings…and a bunch of us still don’t even know how to count blessings! I mean, really, just look at Our Lord Jesus Christ:

He is carrying a blessing, and He’s gonna be nailed to that blessing. Sound like nonsense? Well, think of the Cross like it’s work, dear. It’s real difficult to carry, and we get better benefits by being nailed to it.

Seriously, with how we complain about work every single day, we might as well call it the most humiliating thing in life, all because of how tedious it can be and how empty it can make us feel with all the painful routine for shining rewards that easily slip away from us. Nailing ourselves to it would also make us more of a laughingstock to our fellow fools, then. I certainly felt something like that (mostly from myself, considering how things usually go for me) as I thought about how I was cutting down on my Tobbywork time and changing up the activities there for the sake of more important stuff. But remember: Crucifixion was the most humiliating way to go in Jesus’ time and society on earth, yet God Almighty the Son accepted such a fate for our sake. He let us treat Him like a slave so that He could get closer to us and show that He understands how much we feel like slaves too. Hard to imagine slave owners doing that, no? That, and it would make the prideful catch feelings, even if said prideful were also a slave trying to break free. I should know, ’cause I’ve had times when I considered any good non-existent as long as it were surrounded by evil…and thinking about it some more now, that’s quite a dangerous and cynical way to think about things, no?

And hey, the fact that we can do good is proof that we can relate to God Almighty! He’s Perfection, after all, and if He looks shady, then that’s just us foolish humans making Him look so. That, and if we’re nothing without God, then the fact that we can do good has to come from somewhere, nah?

Now, what the freaking nuts is all that religious rambling I’ve been doing? Well, it’s something I’ve been doing more and more of with the help of my lovely girlfriend (We’re now one year into our relationship, OH YEAH!) as well during the past year, helping me practice and express my faith better and better, especially as she stays with me despite how hurtful, stupid, and saddening I can be a bunch of times. I’ve been doing that rambling more through voice chats than through writing before, though, and now, thanks to all that help, I have gained more confidence in being more religious in public. Huh, and I guess CYA (and a lot more instruments of God Almighty) has been helping me more than I thought. Praise and thanks be to God Almighty very much yet again, then!

Okay, now I should really go down to more ordinary levels and come out of the UFO I have been booming all my talk in. Like, I have been getting a lot of feedback, especially from school, about how my writing lately has been very…alienating.

See what I mean?

And speaking of school, I’ve been doing okay…well, unless you count how I’m trying to catch up for my thesis, which caught me not taking it seriously enough, no matter how much I believed I was. Like, I’m still stuck in whipping up a decent proposal portfolio for the prerequisite Poetics class, and that state was also caused by how ignorant and ungrateful I was towards my education, particularly my university (Seriously, I have this strong feeling that I pissed off my Poetics Professor real hard). Bad news is that I may need to extend for another semester past the upcoming one and pay for that extension (and the boarding house unit rent and more), good news is that I only have one other lecture class to accomplish in my curriculum. In other words, I have to take this more seriously and make something freaking awesome with all this time I’m taking, and freaking nuts, I know I can, especially with God Almighty around! I gotta count my blessings and teach others how to count theirs as well! And really, thinking about it some more, isn’t that how research is supposed to go? Like, we have to look back at all the good things humanity has done before, and then we go build something better out of all that! It’s not an exercise in envy, but an exercise in growth. If we’re gonna note mistakes, failures, weaknesses, and voids and all that, then they’re for us to fill, fix, and improve…but that’s easier said than done. Again, zero counting can be quite tempting with its crazy easy, especially while going through struggle. Still, at the very least, we can do better, and God Almighty certainly understands how we need to struggle to do so! I mean, really, take another look at Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Praise and thanks be to Him very much again, yo!

Now, although I found a potentially better idea for my thesis recently, I’d like to take it easy right now and set it aside for after vacation. Again, I struggle with rushing stuff, and all that rushing makes me wanna be more complacent. That, and with how older I’m growing now, I gotta remember to learn and do chores and relaxation better. And thankfully, my family isn’t overdemanding, and if they are, then at the very least, they really strive well towards understanding us better. Otherwise, they’d probably be doing things like going all stingy on me about paying for the boarding house unit I have right now. And man, I think I’m realizing how more about how stupid I’ve been to them because of how I ask them not to bug me during my free time for my enjoyment, all while asking them at times to bug me hard during my free time to prevent excess, as if I don’t have any bit of ability to do so. I guess I really shouldn’t complain so much when they go hard on me, then. I mean, sure, they’re not perfect, but still, they know better than me, and I gotta know what I gotta work with and how to work it well before I go learn about how to work it better.

And as for my siblings, I really should give them more credit. One brother has more street smarts than me, my sister has better fashion, makeup, and sports sense, and the youngest brother is learning how to socialize and live better than we all thought! And I really should cut my remaining living grandparents some slack, since they’re peeps who taught my mother a lot about how to give it all for loved ones, and along with that, my parents will be as old as them one day, and I’ll be as old as my parents as well. If I don’t have faith in them, I might as well have no faith in myself and the rest of humanity. Good thing God’s here to help us out in our strive and struggle, then!

And now, it’s time to remember what I have to deal with in my chores…and even relaxation as well.

So yeah, now I have to remember how much I good have with me as I work up stuff. I mean, why pretend to be from somewhere lower? Yes, even in rapping, which I’ve been doing more of during 2018. And yes, I now feel like I don’t need to pretend to be from some neighborhood that seems more impoverished than it actually is, especially after all the schooling I had to go through in many ways…Besides, if being rich and popular means being a clown, then hey, at least I got a decent job. Really, the world needs some better clowns too, yo!

Just look at one of my inspirations right here. I really wanna outdo him, y’know? And I know I can. I look up to Saint John Bosco as well, yo!

Besides, there’s no need to be scared of going religious while being a clown too, especially since being real means being weirder than fiction! Them big rappers out there are complaining about getting their styles bitten, too, so yeah, I really should help them out with that! And hey, I guess God’s telling me something, considering how I have a leader bro in CYA who has some nice appreciation for rap as well! Praise and thanks be to Him very much again, then!

Oh, and speaking of music, I’ve been making and posting song covers and other music stuff with a pace closer to that of the pace my faves usually take with their work. So far, my girlfriend’s getting more and more impressed, so I guess I’m going somewhere better! Praise and thanks be to God Almighty very much again, then! Also, I’d like some more and continued help with slowing down and being more careful with my work pace in general…Maybe I can even make and strengthen more friends through my work that way, too!

And speaking of friends, well, I’ve been feeling like I have really weird friends, maybe even alienating just like me, especially considering how I see cynicism and craziness prominent in a lot of them…or maybe they’re just doing a good job at exposing how cynical and crazy I myself have been. Or both…though the latter’s more likely. I got friends like Medieval Otaku, friends I consider wiser than me when it comes to the ways of God and the world. I got friends like silverbug28, friends I feel like debating with as well. And I got friends like PastorThomasNelson, friends I wanna go crazy with. Oh, and there’s also friends like Biwa/Kisaragi and YUuuu/Roa., who feel like really nice people to talk with, so nice that I feel shy and find myself struggling with self-loathing again, though at the same time, I wanna talk and work with them more.

You know what, I really shouldn’t be scared if I have friends who really are like this guy here…because I’m the same, yo!

Alright, I should just love myself, and at the same time (not one before the other, yo), love others and God Almighty. With that, it’s time to understand, acknowledge, and improve! Praise and thanks be to God Almighty very much yet again!

Now, is there anything else I consider worth talking about for this announcement/reflection/update post…? Writing? Like, fiction and poetry I made and posted as Tobby? Well, I consider “The Most Beautiful Challenge” my favorite original fiction piece I posted during 2018 (though I made it during the year before it), while “The Empress and Her Guard” is my favorite poem I posted during 2018 (and I also made it during 2017, I think). I also find my 2018 progress for my Fate Series fanfic Crawling to the Dawn impressive. And I also made one comic during 2018, and along with that are a new bunch of practice drawings, which also got me learning from a CYA bro that I need to work on my foundations (e.g. circles and lines and all that for figures and stuff), thus getting me motivated to some practice drawings for that:

You know what, I’ll throw in one more drawing I haven’t posted yet:

Note: This was made before the foundation practice drawings.

And with that…well, I’m back to zero again. Guess it’s time to end this post, then.

So yeah, that’s pretty much what 2018 got me, I think. I feel like I missed something, but I guess I’ll leave that to y’all readers of mine. I can’t just sit here thinking and typing about this forever, y’know! That, and I can and should make blog post writing less on-the-spot (e.g. setting an upload date and writing the post for a set number of days before that date). Besides, considering what I’ve learned, the best works of art are well-planned surprises, so yeah…and man, doesn’t that sound like something God Almighty’s real good at?

Praise and thanks be to God very much yet again, then. And hey, Happy New Year to all of you, too! God keep on blessing you all!

I upped my meme powahz for this one. And hey, Happy New Year, y'all. I'll be honest: 2018 felt like a long year for me, and I realized that as I looked back at all the MTPAU posts I made for the past months of that year.

[myselfinserts]

Underneath that laid back attitude, her’s really controlling and bossy.

Regi fell back onto the bed, letting out a groan of relief as he felt his entire weight sink into the mattress. The trip had ended with relatively no issues, aside from Allard being even more aloof than usual. Fielding had been escorted via separate transportation back to the dorms to have his things cleared. As it turned out, pissing off the current top of Support Design got you a one way ticket to expulsion. 

Regi wished he felt sorry for the guy, but he ran out of sympathy when he was forced into his contacts for the rest of the trip. He already put in an order for a new set, so hopefully they’d arrive soon. In the meantime, Rosine had no time to teach her classes this week due to work, so the students would be given a substitute, who would be focused on giving them proficiency tests in coding. 

Finally, something I’m good at.

Regi took out his contacts and closed his eyes, trying to get what little rest he could before he had to start studying again. As he slowly drifted off to slumber, his mind wandered briefly to his classmates, curious as to who would get a good score on those exams. 

Maybe it’s not fair that I have a leg up on all of them, he realized. I mean...it’s not like they all have an uncle with a vast collection of coding grimoires. Kind of feels like I’m cheating a little. Wish I could share this little piece with someone...

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Regi sat up and looked around. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Especially since he didn’t really have anyone to expect. Except maybe Blanch. Or Mary. 

He really hoped it was the former. 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Cautiously, Regi got up and walked over to the door. But he didn’t open it. He didn’t have a peep hole here to check who was on the other side. Instead, he kept his hand on the knob and waited. 

“Who is it?” he called. 

“It’s...it’s Henri Didier” came a voice. “I’m here with Laplace.”

“He’s right,” Grégory added. 

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Regi said, slowly opening the door and expecting another punch to the face. To his surprise, however, the upperclassman was fidgeting in place, paper white skin looking a tad pink as his electric blue eyes darted everywhere but at Regi. Grégory stood behind him slightly off to the side. Both were dressed as though they were about to head out for the day. 

“Sorry to intrude after you just got back,” Grégory started. “I know it’s rude of us to drop by so unexpectedly, especially after a class field trip. But we thought it’d be best to stop by before we went to town for supplies.”

“That’s fine,” Regi assured. “What is it you wanted to talk about?” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Last time we spoke, you didn’t exactly seem all that keen on friendly chatter, Didier.”

Henri continued fidgeting, trying his best to avoidlooking right into his eyes. “I…I talked to my supervisor. He said myproject is still safe to continue as is. And that it could actually be good formy thesis if I could get the blueprints from you to compare to my work. Maybeeven use it in the presentation. So…Well, uh…I mean…”

Grégory let out asigh, patting Henri on the head to get him to calm down. “What my roommateis trying to do here is apologize for his behavior, and to ask a favor.”

“Y-yeah,” Henri stuttered, his movementsslowing to a halt. “I’m sorry for threatening you like I did. And takingmy stress out on you. That was…that was very out of line, and you didn’tdeserve that.”

Regi felt like he could collapse right then and there.Instead, he managed a smile. “Water under the bridge.”

Henri looked at him in shock. “Seriously? Just likethat? I fucking tried to scare you into dropping out.”

“No use in picking fallen petals off the ground.You can’t put them back on the plant, so it’s better to let new flowersbloom.” He lightly tugged on his ponytail. “I’m afraid I can’t giveyou the blueprints since I made it enraged and on the fly, but I could talk toMadame about giving you the fishing rod to analyze, if that would work. We’rekeeping it at her offices right now.”

“That…that would be great, actually. Thankyou.”

“No problem. Anything for a friend.”

“We’re not-”

“Ahem.” Grégory shot him a warning stare.“Henri.”

Henri chuckled nervously, starting to finally relax.“Okay. Sure. Friends or whatever.” He gave a slight shrug. “Why not? Not like I got many anyway...”

Regi couldn’t stop smiling. A friend. Finally, a friend in the same field. Someone he could talk to about inventions and the latest in design. It might not last long, given Henri would be graduating sooner than himself. But even then, for just a little while, he’d have someone he could call a friend in tech. That made at least three people he could count as friends here in Paris. Four if he counted Lisette, but he hadn’t seen her since their first meeting. He hoped he could count her too.

“Anyway,” Grégory said. “We’ll be heading out soon. You have my number, so just text me when you want to get together with Henri, okay? We’re still trying to get him a new phone.”

Henri gave a pout. “Not my fault that they don’t make phones that are quirk resistant.” He let out a tired sigh. “Some people don’t understand lasers.”

“Wait, lasers?!” Regi’s eyes went wide in excitement. “Do you have something like laser vision or laser fingers or something?”

“Uh...y-yeah. Laser eyes.” Henri’s face burned pinker. “Pretty weak though. Small, I mean. It’s only really good for smaller and more precise cuts on most materials. Even diamonds and the toughest metals. Not good for hero jobs but...perfect for this line of work.” 

“I can imagine! You must be amazing with it! I’d love to see it in action sometime!”

“Well...once I get a phone, I guess...I can call you when I’m working on stuff. Nothing major just...small stuff.”

Grégory put an arm around both their shoulders, giving both boys a loving squeeze. “It’s nice to see you both enjoying yourselves. It’ll be nice to spend time together more often. We should all get together for afternoon tea sometime.”

Regi nodded. “I’d like that a lot.” His eyes lit up. “Or how about dinner? My treat?”

Henri let out a groan. “Dinner sounds so good, but these errands will take all day.”

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going to the hardware stores around town,” explained Grégory. “The dorm father wants us to go get supplies to put in new doors with peep holes and stronger bolts. We’re ahead on our work, so we offered to go do the shopping while he finishes the paperwork.”

“He...is?” Regi felt his stomach flip. “Why the sudden change?”

“Some red-headed weirdo in horror movie tees,” Henri groaned. “Keeps looking for you and gets really damn bossy and annoying when we want her to leave.”

“Mary...” He let out a grumble, pulling away and lightly smacking his head on the door frame. “I’m sorry about my girlfriend. Normally she’s more laid back than this...”

“Well, it seems like underneath that laid back attitude, she’s really controlling and bossy.” Henri’s brow furrowed tightly. “You gonna be okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. And I better just go find the dorm father and get my chewing out over with.”

Grégory gave him a pat on the head, letting his quirk soothe Regi’s mind. “Want us to wait for you and then you come with us?”

Regi smiled, slowly feeling calmer than before. “I’ll be okay. You two go on ahead. Sooner we anti-Mary this place, the better.”

“If you ask me,” Henri grumbled, “you should just break up with the stalker already and get a restraining order.”

“I have considered it,” Regi admitted. “But...hero politics back home complicate matters.” 

“That’s rough, man.”

The three finished their conversation and, after taking a bit to clean up, Regi made his way downstairs to the main office to speak with Monsieur l'Oie about his girlfriend’s behavior. No one liked a lecture from the goose man, but it was better to endure twenty minutes of honking rambles than to get kicked out of his only place of residence. He’d gladly be chased by a thousand of l’Oie if it meant Mary didn’t cause him to end up on the street.

Mary was another problem altogether. There was no way Regi could approach this subject with her. The moment he attempted it, he knew she’d cry and hold him tightly and force a kiss on him. And lately, all of her kisses tasted sour. He did not want that taste again. 

But as he continued to wander aimlessly around campus, he knew he had to take some steps now. It’d get worse otherwise. 

Why is this so hard?

Slowly, he took out his phone. 

> Hey, I’m back. And we need to talk.

> REGI! OMG, where have you been?!

> School stuff. Listen, you can’t come around my dorm anymore. The dorm father said he’d kick me out and report us both to the EHA if you keep showing up there.

> Oh god. I’m so sorry, Regi, I never meant to cause that much trouble. 

> I know. Look, can we talk about it later this week? I have some tests to do and need to focus on those. After that, you and me, a long talk about stuff. Okay?

> Okay. Oh! I forgot to give you the address of where I’m staying. Here, come by my room when you have time.

Regi let out a sigh, knowing full well Mary would probably only stop coming to the dorms. No doubt she’d still come by campus and bother him. He’d have to find someplace quiet to hide and study if he ever left his room. There was still a lot of information in his grimoires he’d have to study with no disturbances. 

Maybe I should ask Blanche if she’d let me study at her place or something... No, Mary would just follow me there. Last thing I want. 

Ping!

Regi looked back at his phone, smiling. “Speak of the devil. Or angel, rather.” He opened up the text from Blanche. 

Only to feel a punch in the gut. 

> Little bird told me you got hurt on the trip and didn’t tell the teacher. Made him really grumpy on the trip too. Naughty boy, that’s too reckless. Are you okay?

For some reason, Regi wasn’t too surprised. A little, perhaps. But not much. 

> Long story short, mostly okay. Wanna meet up for coffee tomorrow after class? Seeing you smile would make me feel better. 

> Your treat?

> Yep.

> Sounds good. Same spot as usual. 

“Good,” he whispered. “A nice coffee talk with Blanche will do the ol’ Renegade some good.”

Ping!

“Huh? Another one?” Regi opened the newest text, surprised it came from Tanith. “Oh right. Wasn’t she picking up her penpal yesterday?” He read over the message, eyes wide as he saw the photo attached. 

Tanith had taken a selfie, showing her with her new friend and Uncle Elbert sitting at the kitchen table. Marianne was pouring tea while Luci served some cookies, and by the looks of things, Elbert was in complete and utter shock. The young girl, who he could only assume was the visiting friend, was smiling coyly, her eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Shogi tiles were seemed to be no longer moving. 

> Uncle Elbert’s no longer the family undefeated shogi champ! Can you believe it? L’s really amazing!

“Thank god she stayed.” Regi replied back quickly that he was so happy for her. And to wish everyone well for him. He stared at the photo for a little while longer, taking in the smiles and joy radiating from the image. 

Slowly, however, his stomach began churning again. 

Mary...really should be there with them right now, like she’d promised. Not here chasing me as usual. And I don’t...I don’t think I want her chasing me anymore.

Do I really want to break up with her or...?

Regi shook his head. He needed to focus on one thing at a time. First, studying. Then the Mary problem. With a beat against his chest filled of determination, he turned back toward his dorm room and prepared to take on the proficiency tests. 

There’s no way I’m not getting the top score this week.