#in an ideal world i would just be able to quit my job and take a break from working for a while

[ivy-saurs]

not my mum telling me to just look for a new job girl i physically do not have the energy for that when i’m this depressed

[elysiansparadise]

Hi Hi! I love your blog! The way you write speaks to me so well ✨ Any chance you could do some more 11th house planets specifically Neptune and Uranus? I noticed they're both not there and I have an 11th house stellium 🙈 totally okay if you're busy but would love your opinions on it 🩷 much love

Hello love, thank you so much for loving my blog! I have already posted that Uranus placement analysis, here it is.

Neptune in the 11th house

These natives are very intuitive and empathetic in their social relationships of all kinds, deeply feeling the emotions and needs of their friends or members of any group to which they belong, often offering emotional support and understanding. It is because of this that their friends tend to see them as reliable and empathetic advisors. They may have deep spiritual connections with their friends, they may even feel karmic bonds or predestined relationships quite often. These people have a strong sense of friendship, enormous devotion and respect for those who give them this title. It is likely that at some point in their life they will make the mistake of trusting someone they shouldn't, and may feel that they took advantage of their trust. They seek deep and meaningful connections with their friends and groups, since they do not settle for superficial relationships and seek to share transformative and meaningful experiences. These people have the ease to solve issues of other people, however, they may struggle with handling their own. Many times their friends can see them as people who have supported and guided them on a path towards a better mindset or life in general, since these natives not only will seek to encourage, support and make their friends feel accepted and loved just as they are, but they will make them see in themselves someone capable of achieving big things by making them turn their dreams in something tangible and real.

These natives stand out for being idea machines, with this placement their creativity increases by mixing it with originality, giving them the ability to create amazing things. They dream big and really love to fantasize about the future, they can even spend a lot of time daydreaming. It is very likely that they have artistic interests and hobbies and, in addition to that, enormous talent regarding them. They choose to experiment, try new ways of doing things and above all, not have a scheme or demand too much of themselves. Here we find people who hate tension in any form, choosing to prefer environments where they feel tranquility and peace from doing the things they like most. They reject unnecessary conflict and will easily walk away from anything that brings chaos and discomfort into their lives. These natives dream of a better world, some may decide to have a job in which they help others or contribute positively to society, many others have the way of thinking that, although they cannot completely change the world, they can contribute even a little, and they will do it without hesitation.

These people have a knack for inspiring others, an effect that can lead them to attract people who admire them either for a trait or talent. It is very likely that people place high expectations on them or idealize them in some way. They value working for a cause and a purpose, they will never be in a job for which they do not feel that passion and dedication. Many of them, despite being great friends, may prefer to take refuge from issues or problems by isolating themselves. They are those types of people who try to be reliable for others but hardly feel that there are people who are reliable for them. They may enjoy spending a lot of time on social networks or doing their hobbies, losing track of time. They may be able to earn money through jobs or projects that involve humanitarian, spiritual, charitable causes, creative or artistic activities. These natives have no difficulty working as a team and will always seek to help and support other members. They are very sensitive to the energies of others and can easily feel the vibrations of the environments they are in, so it is normal that after a while socializing they need a moment alone to recharge their batteries.

-> Go back to the masterlist

[justagirlfr]

Just One More Tear to Cry

summary: Noah Diaz x f!reader where reader gets into a fight with him about staying.

a/n: I was originally going to make this longer and end it with a reader pov, but I decided that would probably be better if I made an entirely new part instead with it.

——————————————————

"If you hate me, leave me like you've always left before." The statement stung, and you could see its edge burrowing its way into Noah Diaz's heart.

"That's not fair," he says, slowly unclenching his fists. Tears brimming his beautiful eyes now, and you feel a pang of guilt knowing that you were the cause. 

"Yes it is, you left me when you accepted that government job all those weeks ago, and when you finally come back you tell me you need to leave again. Do you know how hard it is knowing the kind of danger you put yourself in, and never being able to feel relieved when you come back? You leave just as soon as you return and it's killing me- it's ripping me apart and I can't do this anymore. I love you, Noah, but I won't love this." You gesture between the two of you, seeing him crumble further. It breaks your heart, but it ruins you to know the kind of danger he constantly puts himself in. 

"I know- I know it's hard, and I know it's not ideal, and all I want to do is be with you, I just want to hold you and I want to make sure that you're okay, but there are battles I have to fight and I need to fight them for you! For us! For my family, don't you understand?" He's shouting now, and it's deafening. It radiates off the walls of his garage, and you can see Mirage in the corner getting worried. He was just about to transform into his alt form to drive Noah to get his passport renewed when you intervened. "I care so, so deeply for you and that's why I have to do this."

You're left there, in your own puddle of tears, just staring at him. This man- this man who is yours, who is so kind, caring, and sweet- he carries the world on his shoulders and all you want to do is sweep it off of him. 

"I can't lose you too," you sniffle. You're trying so hard to keep the tears back but it's getting so, so difficult. You can hear Mirage's engine shut off. He probably knows this isn't going to be a quick thing. "You know how much I've lost Noah, and I don't want to keep having to lose anymore. I'm so tired of it. I love you but I'm tired of loving you, if this is what it means to be together." Tears stream elegantly down your cheeks and with frustration you wipe them away quickly. 


"No, this is not how this was supposed to go-" Noah is looking at you with a pleading expression, reaching out into the nothingness in front of him. The gap between the two of you has never been this large before. "I was supposed to get my passport and then you were supposed to kiss me goodbye, tell me good luck, tell me you already missed me, don't walk out on me! I need you!" He shouts at you. 

Scared, you start to recoil away from him. "Yeah? Well I don't need this." You sniffle and quickly wipe away any remaining tears with your sleeve. You try to push him aside so you can leave the garage, but you feel his strong hands on your forearm pulling you back. He whips you around so that you're both chest to chest. 

"I can't," he sobs, "I can't lose you." 

His grip on you is softer now, and he gently places his forehead to yours while he cries. "I'll quit, I'll tell them to stop sending me away, if that's what it takes. I'll find something else to do, I promise. Anything. I just- I can't-"

You bring your soft, delicate hands up to hold his face. "Noah," you whisper. "I'm not going to leave you. I'm just- I was scared. I am scared. But I know that shouldn't get in the way of what you need to do. It would be selfish for me to stop you from that." You caress his face, and as you touch noses, you feel the wet residue of tears. 

His sobs became quieter as you embraced him fully. "So let me come with you."

He pulls away immediately and looks at you with a shocked expression. "No, absolutely not."

"You want to put yourself in danger? Fine, but let me at least be there for you when you do it," you take steps closer to him and put your hands on his arms to soothe him. "You know they still want me to take that job as your partner. Maybe it's time to stop being scared, and do what really matters for the people that matter."

You swear, he has never looked at you with that much admiration in his life. His eyes are so blurry with tears, and he blinks them away so he can see you more clearly. He leans in and gives you one of the gentlest kisses. His lips are soft, slightly wet, but warm against yours. You have to stand on your tip-toes in order to fully reciprocate, and when you do, it feels just as good as the first time. When you pull apart for a second, you're still close enough to brush your lips against each other. 

"I love you," he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration and meaning of his words against your top lip. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

—

That's the memory Noah Diaz recalls when he first learns of your status as a hostage in the Terrorcons' grasp. He pleads with Optimus, begging that he's been told a lie, and that you're really just playing a huge prank on him. When he doesn't get what he wants, he throws a fit, banging his fists against Optimus's shin. He becomes so frustrated that Mirage eventually has to pull him away from the bot. 


He sits Noah down on his lap, rubbing circles along his back. "We'll get her back, alright? Don't worry man," he says hopefully, optics reassuring. 

Noah is still uncontrollably sobbing, wanting nothing more but to believe the words.

Should I do a Part 2…?

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Slice Of Life. (Waitress Au) Part 1

Doctor!Steve Harrington x Waitress!Reader.

All you wanted to do was bake your pies, but life had other plans for you. Now you find yourself pregnant with your no-good husband's baby, and worried about the direction in which your life was now heading.

Heavily based on the 2007 film, Waitress.

Warnings:Pregnancy, Billy is reader's husband (and he is not a nice guy at all),

Word Count: 2,630.

Next part ->

*divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist // Steve Harrington Masterlist.

“C’mon, just take the test, and then you’ll know one way or the other and you can take things from there.” Robin shouts from behind the bathroom stall.

You step out of the cubicle and huff out a nerve-steadying breath. Your future is quite literally in your trembling hands. Your blue and white waitressing dress suddenly feels all-too constricting and the fabric feels scratchy against your skin.

You look down at the pregnancy test in your hands, desperately hoping and waiting for a negative result.

“Please, not now, not ever, I don’t want this.” you mutter to yourself. “I don’t need any trouble and I most certainly don’t want a baby. I just want to make my pies in peace.”

“I thought you weren’t sleeping with Billy anymore?” Nancy chimed in.

“Oh you know what her husband’s like.” Robin babbled. “He played nice, took her out and got her drunk. Now look where we are.”

“I should never drink. I always do stupid shit when I drink, like sleep with my husband.”

The timer goes off and you cast your eyes downwards to the test in your hands.

“Oh fuck!” you panic “It’s positive.” 

“It’s positive?” Nancy and Robin exclaim in tandem.

A heavy fist knocks at the bathroom door.

“What’s going on in there? I’ve got a diner full of hungry customers and no waitresses on the floor!” shouts the gruff voice.

“Hold your horses will you Hopper, Y/n isn’t feeling too good.” Nancy shouts back.

“I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute, Hop.” you chime, brushing the stray strands of hair away from your face.

“Well hurry up!” he grumbles.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks, rubbing a gentle and reassuring hand over your back.

“Shhh..I’m coming up with an idea for a new pie.” 

In your mind you can see the pie so perfectly. The golden crisp shell, with all its fillings and toppings.

“It’s called ‘I don’t want Billy’s baby’ pie.

“I’m not sure that’ll fit on the lunch-board.” Robin laughs.

“Okay, then I’ll call it ‘Bad-Baby’ pie. It’s a quiche, with smoked ham and sharp cheddar.” 

The flaky pastry shell, filled with a savoury, cheesy, egg custard, pieces of salty smoked ham running through it. The sort of thing that would fly off the counters during a Sunday lunchtime rush.

Your mind was never not thinking of new and exciting flavour combinations, In a way it your way of expressing yourself. The ideas coming to you at odd times of the day. Sometimes sweet, and fruity, and sometimes tangy and savoury. No matter what pie it was that you made, it was always served with a smile, and enjoyed by the diner's patrons with an even bigger smile.

You sigh quietly as you hold your head in your hands. You were happy enough with how your life was going. You had a job that you loved, working alongside friends that you loved, and a husband who you were quite content to ignore to the best of your abilities. Two out of three ain’t so bad. 

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to get away from Billy now.” 

You sit beside Nancy and Robin on the bench outside the diner, a pie leftover from today’s dinner rush sitting wrapped up in cling-film on your lap. 

“Are you going to tell him?” Nancy asks.

“I’m not sure.” you mumble, suddenly more interested in the dirt-scuffed marks on your white tennis shoes than thinking about how to tell Billy you were pregnant with a baby that you weren’t even sure that you wanted. 

“In an ideal world I wouldn’t have to tell him. If I could get away from him somehow, he might not ever have to know.” 

“Are you absolutely sure it’s his?” Robin asks carefully, trying not to force the implication of her question.

“Unfortunately yes. I’ve never cheated on him, it absolutely couldn’t be anybody else’s.”

“Here you are; married to this handsome man, you’re pregnant with his baby, anyone else might be happy, and yet neither of us would ever want to trade places with you for a second.” Nancy says.

“No I would not.” Robin agrees. “Well maybe there is one thing I would trade.” She starts.

“What’s that Rob?” you ask, turning to your friend.

“I would love to be able to make pies as good as yours.” she smiles, nudging her shoulder against yours.

“So what if I can make a decent pie. I’m still stuck in a marriage with a husband who I should never have gotten with in the first place.” You sigh.

When you had met Billy you’d both been too young and blinded by love. He was handsome, with soft blonde curls and devastatingly piercing blue eyes. He’d sweet talk you in-between classes, and he made you feel special, made you feel seen for the first time in a long time. Things had been great for a while, and marrying him felt like the logical next step in your relationship, but after that everything changed. He was no longer the man you once knew. Once he’d tied you down to him he stopped trying, so sure that you would never leave him. His words were often cruel and manipulative. Many times you had found yourself dreading leaving work, for fear of what might be waiting for you at home.

The sight of your husband’s Camarro pulls in front of the diner, the wheels crunching over the rocky gravel drive-way, and his horn blaring obnoxiously.

“Yeah, yeah, I can hear you.” you mutter to yourself, when he continues to blare his horn, thumping his fist against the steering wheel.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Nancy nods, bidding you goodbye.

“-and if you do decide to tell hi-” Robin whispers to you, but you cut her off with a ‘shh’ as Billy’s car rolls to a stop in front of you.

“Hey,” you smile, putting on your best brave face. “See you girls tomorrow” you wave goodbye as you make your way to his car.

“You getting in or what?” Billy's clipped tone comes from the driver’s seat.

The sounds of soft rock music filter from the car’s radio as he rattles down the dusty back roads.

“You don’t look too pleased to see me.” he grumbles. “You didn’t even give me a kiss or nothing.”

“I am pleased to see you.” you answer back.

“Well, where’s my hello kiss then?” he demands, taking a hand off the wheel to point at his cheek.

You lean over the centre console to quickly peck his cheek, the harsh scruff of his stubble feeling uncomfortably coarse against the press of your lips.   

“That’s more like it.” he grins, satisfied to have gotten his way once more.

“Where’s the money you made today, huh?”

“Right here in my pocket.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Hand it over.”

You fish the notes from out of your pocket, handing them over to Billy reluctantly.

“Doesn’t feel like much there, now does it sweetheart?” His tone is snide as he takes the money from you and places it into his own shirt pocket.

“It was a slow day today, that’s all.” 

“You’ve been having a lot of slow days recently, I’m not even sure it’s worth you working there anymore.” he scoffs. “Think I might prefer it if you stayed home and cooked me pies all day.” he smirks, his teeth pulling against his bottom lip as he chuckles to himself.

The quiet between you falls once more before he speaks again.

“Aren’t ‘ya going to ask me how my day was?”

“How was your day, Billy?”

“Oh you know how it is, the boss is busting my ass as usual, tellin’ me that i’m not putting in enough effort-” Billy launches into his spiel about how his day went, but it all blends into the background noise, his voice no more than mindless chatter to you as your mind is elsewhere.

Inventing a new pie.

I hate my husband pie, Bitter-sweet dark chocolate, in a crumbly dark chocolate crust, filled with a gooey, salted caramel-

“You’re not even listening to me.” Billy shouts out, taking you out of your happy place. “You never fuckin’ listen to me anymore.” he shoves your shoulder with a free hand.

“Well, aren’t you going to apologise to me?” 

It’s pointless to argue with him. You know this. He knows it. And by god does he hold it over you every single time.  

“I’m sorry, Billy. Sorry that I didn’t listen to you when you were telling me about your day.”

“See? Was that so hard?” 

It’s late in the evening when you get back home, and both you and Billy are sitting at the kitchen table. Your hardly eaten dinner being pushed around by your fork. In contrast to the man opposite you, who hungrily forks up pieces of steak to his mouth.

You have something that you want to ask of him, but for that you know that he’s going to need sweetening up. You smile softly at him, as your hand reaches for his across the table.

“Baby, you’re always so sweet to me, you know that?” you tell him, your voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet, yet false, tone.

“You’re my girl, that’s why.” he says, the knife scratching along the china plate as he cuts himself another piece of steak.

“I was hoping I could borrow some money from you?” you ask sheepishly.

“..And my answer to that question is gonna be no.” he clips, his answer short and curt.

“There’s going to be a big pie bake-off out of state in a few months, and I really like to go.” you continue.

“I already said no.”

“The prize money is really good.” you add on, hoping the promise of bringing more money home might change his mind.

“What do you need money for, huh?” Billy barks out. “I give you everything, and you don’t want for nothing.”

“I don’t want for nothing, Billy.” you sigh. Your plan to get away from your husband starts to look bleaker by the minute.

“I mean why do you wanna go all the way across the state, when you’ve got me to take care of?”

“You’re right, Billy.” you shake your head with a sigh. “Forgive me for asking.”

Late into the night, with Billy heavily asleep in bed next to you, snoring loudly, you’re lying awake. 

Quietly as you can you tiptoe out of bed, trying your best to not disturb the man next to you, you quietly pad over to where his shirt lay discarded on the bedroom floor. 

Looking over your shoulder to where your husband lies undisturbed on the bed, you reach into his pocket to take back the money that you had earned from your shift at the diner that day. Taking the money to hide it away from him in a secure place that you hope he would never find it.

You sit nervously in the doctor’s waiting room. Another pie perched on your lap, ready to give to your doctor.

Your name is called by the receptionist and so you make your way through the door to the doctor’s surgery.

In strolls your Doctor, except, he isn’t your Doctor. This guy wasn’t Doctor Bloom. He had a bountiful bounce of shaggy brown hair that was slicked back. His tan skin peppered with a few golden freckles, a few of them clustering over the sloping bridge of his nose, and his hazel brown eyes seemed to sparkle under the cool white lights overhead. His white over-coat draped over his broad-shouldered frame as he sauntered towards you.

“Mrs. Hargrove is it?” he asks, looking over his clip-board of notes. “Oh and you’ve brought me a pie! How lovely!” he smiles, reaching to take the pie from your hands.

“This pie is for Doctor Bloom. I made it for her, it’s her favourite, peach and raspberry.” 

“Well, Doctor Bloom retired a few months ago, and so, from now on I’ll be taking her place.”

“Well I really liked and trusted Doctor Bloom.” you sigh.

“Perhaps, you could really like, and trust me too.” he says earnestly, before offering a hand out to you. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Doctor Steve Harrington.”

You shake his hand and tell him your name in return.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” he asks, his voice a calming presence as he talks to you.

“Well, I seem to be pregnant.” you say plainly.

“That’s great! Congratulations!” He smiles broadly.

“Thank you, but I’m not as happy about it as everyone probably expects me to be, so if you could be sensitive and perhaps not congratulate me, I’d really appreciate it.” 

He nods as he listens to you talk through your feelings.

“I’m having the baby,and that’s that. It’s not a party.”

“Alright, noted. Not a party.” he nods in understanding. “Okay, well then let’s do a blood test first, make sure that you really are pregnant, and then we’ll do some basic checks, diseases, hormone levels, stuff like that.” he explains.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Alright then, the nurse will be with you in a moment, so don’t go anywhere.”

 “Mrs. Hargrove, come in.” he says gesturing for you to make your way into his office. Doctor Bloom’s peach and raspberry pie is still in your hands as you step through the door.

“Y/n.” you remind him, hating the way your husband’s name tied you to him.

“Sorry about the mess, I haven’t really had the chance to tidy things up around here yet.” he offers apologetically, carefully moving a stack of papers off his cluttered desk.

“Well if you’re going to be my doctor from now on, then I guess this pie belongs to you.”

Steve graciously accepts the pie with a warm smile.

“Thank you very much.” he says, setting the pie down on the desk. “Well, uh, have a seat.”

You sit yourself down in the chair opposite him, ready to listen to what he has to tell you.

“The results of the blood test came back, and you’re definitely pregnant. So for the next eight months, I’ll be right here if you need me, any questions - I’m just a phone-call away. We’ll be monitoring your progress, keeping an eye on how things are going, making sure both you and baby are healthy. Did you have any questions for me?”

“What kind of questions?”

“Anything really, any concerns with regards to your pregnancy, some do’s and don’ts, lifestyle choices, exercise, sex..” he trails off, scribbling his pen down on a piece of paper.

“Oh well I don’t do much of either of those things.” you reply honestly.

“Okay, any diet concerns?”

You shake your head at him. 

“Not really, I mean, it’s just a lot of healthy eating, right?”

“Yeah, just try to maintain a healthy diet, be careful around certain kinds of cheese and fish, here’s a list of foods I would try to avoid,” he says handing over a small piece of paper. “..and here is a prescription for some prenatal vitamins.” 

Despite his nervous energy, something you’re putting down to meeting with a new patient for the first time, he seems sweet. Caring and attentive, and spoken with calming demeanour that immediately puts you at ease, and in the situation in which you find yourself, you are eternally grateful.

“Okay, thank you, Doctor.” 

“It was nice to meet you, Y/n. I’d like to see you again in about three weeks.”

You leave the doctor’s office with a smile tugging at your lips and your worries put at ease by the calming influence of your new, handsome, kind and caring doctor.

@penguinsandpotterheads @paybacksawitch @mrsjellymunson @seatnights @ali-r3n

[starssunsoftheinfinite]

so. I have been plagued. By thoughts.

Mainly of Loki. Loki being soft. Like,, male! Reader being so exhausted and unable to do much so. He takes care of them?? If that makes sense?

(Feel free to ignore!)

-💚

Sorry for the long wait! Stuff got pretty busy lol. This was a really fun thing to get me in the writing mood again though! There's another ask in my inbox so I'll get to that after! I just chose this one first since I knew it would be more low key (pun intended) and shorter.

I also wrote this on my phone so apologies if its a little odd looking I'm not sure if it'll translate well on laptops.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Fluff/comfort

Male reader x loki

Pet names used (sweet boy, pet, love, my darling, dear (for loki))

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your day had been overwhelmingly hard and incredibly overbearing. So much had happened at work, the job Loki insists you need not do on Midguard but you insist you do your part despite your lovers royal status securing more than enough money for the both of you. It was a retail job and while that may sound simple any mortal such as your self would know otherwise. Heimdall brings you back to Asgard and can already tell your warn out, satchel bairly handing onto your shoulder. "ah, y/n. You look well." he said in a genuine tone but it was clear by the smug look he was giving he meant to tease. You roll your eyes playfully "ha ha" you said, tilting your head to emphasise each exaggerated laugh. "Loki is waiting for you in your chambers." Heimdall says helpfully, smiling softly and giving a nod to urge you down the rainbow bridge. The walk was long and tireing, your thighs and calves hurt already, the hours of standing causing them strain, so a long walk was not ideal. Finally you pressed your palm against the cool gold doors of your shared bedroom and you throw your bag onto the armchair in the corner. "be careful you may break something" Loki teased and you roll your eyes, you've done that a lot today. You sit at your desk, planning to doodle. Nothing serious just mindless scribbles until your mind feels less like bile. You pull out the drawer and take out a pencil then go to sharpen it. Snap. The led breaks. Snap. It breaks again. Snap- "ugh!" you yell. Loki had already been keeping an eye on you, easily able to tell something was testing your patience. His eyes widen and he stands from where he lay on the bed, shutting his book. "Love? Are you quite alright?" he whispers softly, standing beside you but not too close, wanting to give you your space. "Im- mm" you barely begin the second word before your face is scrunching up and you whimper. Today had been so difficult but now you'd been pushed over the edge by something so small. Hands reach out to cup your face, crouching down a little to your sitting level "oh my sweet boy, no, don't cry. It's alright. I'm here my Darling." he cooes and you sink into his touch, whimpering and quivering. "today has been difficult hasn't it pet?" all you could do was nod. There was a comfortable silence between you two as he held you close. "up to your feet sweet boy, come to bed with me." he offers, gently helping you out of your seat and leading you to the soft sheets and comfort of bed. Loki crawls in and opens his arms, motioning you to lay against his chest and you happily do so. He runs his fingers through your hair" everything will be all right my love, everything will be alright. "he soothes and it's like his words are law. Your muscles loosen and your head grows empty, far too focused on the calming sound of his voice the gentle touch of his hands." there you are. No need to worry or fret. I am here. You are safe here. " he hummed. As the world melted away and all you could hear was Lokis voice and the comforting continuous sound of his heart beat, all you could feel was his hands on your skin and in your hair, and all you could smell was the warm scent of his lavender shampoo and black cherry soap, you felt your eyes grow heavier and heavier. "that's it sweet boy, you deserve rest. Take as much as you need. I will be right here when you wake. I promise." he hooked a finger under your jaw and tilted your head up ever so slightly. He craned his neck and pressed a kiss to your forehead, "I love you, my sweet Prince." he whispers and a small smile graces your lips "I love you too Dear.." your sentence trailed off into silence and soft breaths.

[rom-e-o]

Bess and Wolf going to a business dinner with Bob and Ethel and a couple other associates and their spouses. (I imagine this is sometime after Starry is born and the Sunflares opted out for family time.). The dinner is going well; everyone is talking friendly business and such, even Ethel, impressing the hoity-toity associates with her knowledge and savvy (because Ethel is a business badass). At least, almost everyone is talking; Bess is the most quiet one. She engages when she can, but... she doesn't understand the topics like the others. Her business savvy really only extends to a farmer's market stall, after all--nothing at all on the level this group is speaking of.

She suddenly has a call and excuses herself to take it. Once she's finished there, she heads to the ladies room where she hears the voices of the other women from their party, sans Ethel, speaking. About her. Not in the most kind way:

"Well, they've certainly made it longer than I believed they would; I had my money on them splitting after three months."

"You don't think they'll actually wed, do you? A man like Ben Scrooge with a little floozy like her? For a spell of fun and excitement, yes, but to marry? I thought he had more sense."

"Sense does not factor in for any man when young cunt is so easily and willingly at the ready."

"True, but Ben's never seemed the type to throw all intelligence to the wind indefinitely, even for such things. Neither Twin has: Look at Ebenezer. True, he also married a younger and American woman, but at least she is closer to his age and has proven to be quite an asset to the business. She turned out to be a suitable if still questionable choice. Ms. Sullivan--what could Ben possibly see in her?"

"Mmm, I agree. For all the claims of her being a nurse, she seems quite lacking in the field of mental capacity. She's hardly contributed to the conversation all evening, and any contribution she has made thus far has been positively insipid and uninspired."

"You know she only has a job as a nurse of her aunt. And even then, Euphemia was only able to get her into the worst hospital in the city. If that doesn't speak to the girl's lack of intellect, I don't know what does."

"Clearly, tonight has proven that breeding means nothing, as a farmer's daughter is able to speak with more intelligence and insight of the business world than a woman with a pedigree. No wonder Gerald and Effie never speak of her. Mr. Marley must me rolling in his grave at his daughter's lack."

"I can only imagine how disappointed Ben must be with her. He hides it well, but doubtless he's ashamed."

"Mmm. We can only hope that Shane brings him round on her before it's too late."

When the women leave the restroom, Bess hides in the curtains to keep from being noticed. The rest of the night, she's particularly quiet, though she manages to hide the pain of what she overheard well enough that no one is suspicious. But she can't help but wonder.

The next day, she stops by the Sunflares' at an hour she's sure she'll catch them both and asks them if she can get their opinions on something. She explains to them the evening prior. It's much easier to recount than she thought it would be, as long as she has an adorable baby snuggling into her arms and happily suckling away at a bottle. But her vision is still swimming by the time she finally gets around to it: "Be honest with me: Is Wolf... ashamed of me? Or even just disappointed? On some level? I know I'm not exactly... the ideal catch. Or much of a catch at all, all things considered. I definitely leave a lot to be desired."

Secretly, or not-so-secretly, Adonis and Connie are plotting a way to find out the identities of whoever they were dinner guests with. Bob and Ethel will be good informants~ There will be dirt dug up, that's for sure. In the meantime, they both listen to Bess' story. They could tell when she first rang at their flat that something was amiss. Holding Starry obviously helps, but they can see that she's still troubled.

As Bess retells the story, both listen calmly, but Adonis' brow furrows with every words, and Connie's shoulders have hiked up to her ears by the end.

And they have a nice, long chat.

"I-I beg your kindest pardon, but did you just say you're NOT a catch?" Adonis huffed in disbelief. His eyes were wide as saucers, but his brows still pinched and framing deep lines that formed on his forehead.

Bess nodded quickly, almost embarrassed, and he was on his feet a mere second later. "Elizabeth! Now, I will NOT entertain such nonsense!"

"I must agree," Constance said. She stood in tandem with her husband, but opted to drift over to the sofa and sink into the vacant spot beside Bess, her hands going to the younger woman's shoulders and giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You think Wolf would be ashamed of you? Whatever for? You're easily the most brilliant woman he's ever been with!"

"Gods, I'll toast to that," Adonis said, his voice deepening as memories of his brother's older partners drifted through his mind. "Drink to it, as well. Heartily."

Bess blinked back tears before managing a weak reply of, "I-I'm not good enough for him." Like those ladies said.

Starla let out a light burble as a warm tear from above landed upon her tiny fist.

"Love, I've seen the women who aren't good enough for him," Adonis said, lofting a hand to the sky in exclamation. "Years after years - for literal decades, I watched Charlie fall in and out of love. I watched ladies that swooned one moment then turn on a heel and leave him, insulting him and all but kicking dirt in his face on their way out the door." Connie reached over the arm of the sofa to procure a tissue packet from her nearby purse. While Bess cradled Starla as if she was a cooing teddy bear (to be fair, she filled played the role quite perfectly), Connie dabbed her eyes gently. Bess murmured a soft 'thanks', but did not make eye-contact, fearing another incriminating tear would fall.

"Not only are you beyond good enough - you're EXACTLY the kind of woman Charlie needs," Adonis continued. With his long legs, he walked to the flat's panoramic window and gazed out, his lips drawn into a thin line. Constance recognized the nervous movements. He was getting animated, and if left unchecked, it wouldn't be long before he started to raise his voice. "Anybody who can't see that has their head so far up their own arse, they see their own failings as those of others!"

"Their own failings?" Bess repeated, glancing between the two. "On me?"

"They're projecting their insecurities on you," Connie supplied softly. It was treatment that Constance had endured as well, though to a far lesser degree. London's elite ladies had taken to gossiping about the Scrooge twins and the 'Yankee fleshpots' that had ensnared their hearts. Constance had many years of experience as a socialite in New York's most stuffy and yuppie-stocked inner circles, and the metaphorical battlefield had trained her aptly in the arts of parrying crude remarks and humbling perpetrators appropriately. The last time one had dared to imply her lack of intelligence because of her nationality, Constance had engaged her in amicable discussion of recent scientific discoveries. The chat resulted in the other woman leaving in a humiliated huff with the realization that perhaps she wasn't the second coming of glory that she had thought she was, and that her well-bred British sensibilities had failed in a pathetically one-sided match with some orphan from Manhattan.

It was hard, but whatever Constance had experienced was nothing compared to the scrutiny that fell upon Bess. The trust-fund ladies and other members of gentry took joy in looking down their noses at good people like her, all while using them as a merry distraction from the troubling facts that they did not possess any practical skills of any sensible merit. Bess had knowledge of medicine and practical business dealings - whereas the ladies that mocked her couldn't get into their Swiss boarding schools without their fathers pulling strings.

"But ..."

"I venture to say that those showboating harpies have very much in common with the other ladies who tried to woo my brother," Adonis mutters, his voice more terse than it had been before. Then, when his eyes flashed to Bess, they softened again. "All bluster, and no substance. They're jealous."

"Jealous? T-That can't be right."

"I'm quite serious. Whether they'll admit it or not, you are exactly the type of lady they want to be. They want their money, but your life experience. Your stories. Your intrigue."

Constance nodded, giving her soul-sister's shoulders a firm caress.

"When a man’s brother vouches for you like that, dear, that’s a powerful endorsement. He’s seen the women that have come and gone from Charlie’s life … the ones who never connected with him. Not like you. You and him have been magnetized to each other from the day you first reconnected and locked eyes. You are a woman who possesses a key understanding for the important things in life. You are kind, charitable, gentle-hearted and wonderful with children. Plus, you're a dark-haired beauty that is often described in romance novels - long, black hair and rosy cheeks. Blue eyes. A beautiful voice that draws crowds from all across London and beyond."

Bess shook her head softly. "I just ... I feel I leave so much left to be desired. Wouldn't a man like him prefer someone more ... I don't know. And that's the problem. I don't know. I can't even find the words, whereas I'm sure those ladies in the powder room would have n-ooo trouble."

Starla stared up at Bess' tear-streaked face with wide, opaque blue eyes. She reached up and toward her visage, as if if trying to wipe away the tears that were just barely out of reach.

Adonis sighed softly. "My dear, you have been wronged by too many when it comes to understanding your worth and beauty. You respect my brother's heart and soul. You've nurtured him and have helped him heal. Before you came along, he was a mere shell of the lively, albeit maddeningly sarcastic--"

Bess chortled at that.

"--Happy man he is when he's by your side. You don't shun his emotions - you encourage him to feel them. You respond to his romantic gestures and thank him graciously. You ...and correct me if I'm wrong, but you love him HIM for WHO he is, not for what he can give you."

After a moment, Bess nodded softly. "I do."

As the words left her lips, her lips formed a soft, crescent smile. "I do love him. Very, very much."

Adonis smiled. "I know."

Unlike the others, he could see she was truthful. His brother's heart was safe with her, and her heart was safe with him in return.

Constance laid her head on her soul-sister's shoulder. "What a wonderful thing, isn't it? To possess such an enduring affection for another, and to have that affection returned?"

Bess sighed, as if a weight had been lifted. "It ... is quite wonderful, yes."

A little cry came from her lap, and she looked down to see Starla fussing with the tip of an empty bottle.

"Oh, sorry, little one," Bess said, one hand lofting to wipe away a swatch of beaded mascara. "A-All done."

Such was also true for her tears, which had mostly dried by that point.

By the time Wolf rang the doorbell an hour later to pick her up, any suspicious puffiness had long-since vanished.

After paying a quick tribute to Starla, he returned faithfully to Bess' side and looped a casual arm around her waist. He wasn't lewd about his contact, but did pull her close to him, a twinkle in his eye while he did so. "Well, while last night's dinner was perfectly decent, I think I'm ready for us to enjoy a slightly more private evening," Wolf husked softly. "How about it? I made reservations for just the two of us tonight. Dinner and dancing at that new jazz club, Leuna."

"R-Really? T-That place is exclusive. I didn't know they were taking reservations."

"I have my ways," he quipped confidently. Then, by the next breath, the timbre of his voice quieted to a tone more befitting of speaking a private vow. "I hope you'll join me."

Sincere excitement shimmered in his eyes as he issued the inquiry. Behind his masculine bravado was an air of boyish sheepishness. Despite his age and status, at the end of the day, he was a smitten man of flesh and blood laying his heart bare for his woman.

Bess, in all her eternal gentleness, handled it with care and love.

"Nothing would make me happier."

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

Ideals

My ideal submissive and feedee is smaller than me. Shorter. Not quite as heavy. Someone I can throw around or push over. She would be able to eat a lot, but I still outclass her pretty handily. I want to be her garbage disposal.

I like all manners of submission, but a sub who wants me to take care of her is really special. Planning her days by the hour, picking her clothes, her makeup, her nails, her hair, her meals, how much she eats…removing as much choice and thinking as possible. Removing as many obstacles as I can to allow her to focus on her passions, and looking pretty for me is ideal. If I can enable her to grow and flourish and bloom, then I’ve done my job.

Ideally, she loves praise and being rewarded. She loves doing things I set out for her, and she loves doing things together. She loves completing tasks, making reports, and researching. She also loves games of all kinds, expressing herself through her art(whatever it is), and is certainly a real dorky nerd. She loves eating. She simply must love eating. She must love being trained. I love training submissive a little each day, and introducing them to more and more things I know they will love, and that will maximize their pleasure. She must also love routines. There doesn’t have to be many rules, perhaps just one: listen.

I like being much bigger, 100lbs+ and a foot taller. I want my hands to be massive on her. I want her to feel small and protected, even if she’s really quite huge. I want to tower over her and be able to wrap my arms around her either because they’re so long, or she’s so squishy.

Fat girls always giggle and squeal when you can manhandle them. One of my favorite tricks to pull out of my hat. So what you weigh 300lbs+? I can fling you across the room or hold you where I need you no problem. Really get me going and I may just lift you up. Adrenaline is a powerful thing.

I want to build a space for her around me where she’s heard, celebrated, and made to feel safe. Where her dreams are reality. I want her time around me to feel like a fantasy come to life. If I can make the world revolve around her, I will. I want to spoil her rotten, and then some. I want her to feel open to experimentation, and to trying new things.

I want to completely redefine pleasure for her. Mind shattering orgasms. I want her dedication and devotion to be rewarded. Hours of playing with her until her body can’t take it and she explodes in desire. I want trust, too. If she trusts, I trust, and we go places neither of us ever have. Deep, intense sessions with all manner of new and different kinks we’ve never fully tried, or that require total abandonment of reservation. All in the pursuit of a greater pleasure, and a greater peace together. Ideally, we will be able to play each other like fiddles.

Feedism fits perfectly in this dynamic for me. Stuffing, gaining weight, and pushing limits are all common, and are mirrored in D/S dynamics in general. It also goes hand in hand with pleasure control. Eating in extreme excess simply for enjoyment fits right alongside pushing the body and the mind for maximum pleasure.

Because I like to take care of my submissive, DD/LG dynamics also work well for me. Creating a fun, relaxed, and completely cute environment where thought, choice, and even talking is totally optional and entirely not necessary is easy for me. I love gift giving and planning out activities, so it’s easy for me to create a little space for the submissive. I’m also a total sucker for extreme cuteness.

Ideally we are a 24/7 dynamic as well, and romantic partners. A deep connection made only stronger by placing each other in each other’s hands every day. I’ve only ever had a 24/7 dynamic once, and it redefined what I thought possible.

In my world with my submissive, there IS takesy backsies. Safe words, traffic lights, serious aftercare, and session logs are all regular. To go to these deep places far in our minds and hearts, there must be ways to come out of it, heal from it, or stop it. At any time I want the communication to be open. We can rewind, end, or redefine things as needed to help each other reach these new depths of pleasure. Things can be added or removed at will, and we can fix things that don’t feel right.

In my mind, my submissive is trusting me to take her to places she’s never been in her own mind, and in pleasure as a whole. She’s trusting me to take as much off her mind as possible, so she can be free. I want to do the thinking, and the planning, and the worrying so she doesn’t have to.

thanks for reading!

[doberbutts]

Hi, I recently came across a post of yours that said

"The only thing men have to lose from supporting feminism is misogyny. Feminism is not about tearing men down. It is about lifting women up."

I disagree with this assertion. Well, the first one at least, I absolutely agree with the second one.

I think men, materially speaking, do have things to lose from supporting feminism, aside from just misogyny.

Men would lose the ability to take advantage of women's labor. Either for free in the form of labor around the house, or for cheap by paying them less compared to men (this usually being achieved by relegating the majority of women in the workforce to positions that have been devalued as a result of being associated with womanhood, like teachers or nannies or housekeepers and so on).

I don't believe it's dangerous to acknowledge that oppressors dont have material reasons to cease their oppression, because after all if they they would've stopped a long time ago. Misogyny is pervasive not because of some pure ideological effort, but rather because it's a convenient excuse for the people in power to take advantage of a quite large subset of the world population (and as consequence spread as an ideology).

Of course I do think that quite a lot of men, once they understand this reality, would choose to reject the privilege being offered to them as they recognize accepting it would mean taking part in and upholding the system, but in doing so they're clearly not only giving up misogyny, but a tangible advantage in life that would make their lives easier (not to mention that, even if they did want to do this, the system is nonetheless pervasive and inescapable in its current form, so they would still benefit regardless of their intention. That's male privilege, after all)

I also do believe that men of all sorts suffer from living under the system. I reject the idea that all men equally benefit from it and that none ever feel its aftereffects. That being said, I do still think it's relevant to acknowledge that even men whose manhood is questioned by the system (either rejected or seen as a threat or any other way in which it doesn't fit the perfect idea of a wealthy abled cishet white man) and suffer as a result are rewarded for being men in the first place, even if they can't take full advantage of the benefits reserved for the ideal male archetype.

(I'm largely leaving my thoughts on how trans men fit in all this because I believe that to be a fairly complicated discussion)

I hope I don't come across as picking a fight or arguing in bad faith, and I'm open to hearing counterpoints if you feel differently from me (of course, if you even care to engage at all. Feel free to ignore this if that's not the case)

I mean I don't think you're picking a fight I just think you're dramatically misunderstanding what I'm saying, partially to the point where you're saying you disagree while repeating my logic back at me.

Men have nothing to lose from supporting feminism except misogyny. Taking advantage of women's labor is, in fact, misogyny.

Feminism is not about tearing men down but about lifting women up. Yes, by losing male privilege, one could I suppose argue that there are a lot of losses that come with that. To me, that is not a material loss, because the only thing we'd be removing is the entitlement to that privilege.

When I say feminism is not about tearing men down but about lifting women up, what I mean is this:

There is a fairly well documented pay gap, with men of most demographics being paid higher (even if marginally so) than women of equal demographic. Fixing the pay gap isn't lowering men's salaries. It's raising women's. What they have stays the same. What they lose is the ability to pay women less- the misogyny.

There is a fairly well documented disparity regarding women in the workplace vs men, especially in physical labor and in STEM. Fixing this issue does not remove jobs for men- it judges job candidates on their actual ability instead of sex or gender.

This is also what I mean when I say this contributes to a net positive for both sides: don't hire a shitty welder just because he's the only man applying. Hire any number of the experienced and proven welders that are women who also applied. Return to teaching welding in schools, get any kid interested in the trade the knowledge they need to start. This will not only improve the quality of the trade skills your specific employer has to offer, but it will also improve the quality of trade skills for the future generation that will replace you when you retire or die. Literally the only thing men have to lose in this situation is misogyny- the misogyny of keeping women out of the workforce, and the misogyny of keeping women from learning the trade in the first place. They get more qualified people working and all for the low low cost of not being a jerk to women.

Misogyny, like most oppression, is about control. It is not about making things better for just one demographic, because often time that very same demographic does suffer under that oppressive system while simultaneously benefitting from it. As said in my previous example, continuing to hire shitty welders just because they're dudes while deliberately passing up good welders just because they're women just makes things worse for everyone.

Not accepting college applicants just because they're women while taking substandard men who can't get in without daddy's money just makes things worse for everyone.

Continuously questioning the credentials of accomplished and professional women traching a class while nodding along in agreement to some jerk-off man's half-assed non-researched opinion on twitter just makes things worse for everyone.

Voting for Old White Man #736194 because his opponents with politics that align more closely with what the country wants- and needs- are women just makes things worse for everyone.

Ditch the misogyny. That's all. Level the playing field by actually bringing women up to the standard we've set for men. Feminism is about lifting women up.

[cariantha]

Talk is Cheap (1/2)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: Mentions of pregnancy Category: AU; Angst (with a happy ending) Word count: 1.5K Prompt: What would have been the outcome if Sawyer had discovered that she was pregnant whilst Ethan was in the Amazon? A/N: The theme song for this fic is “Go Get Her” by Restless Road. Part 1 of this AU follows my HC for E&S up until the unexpected event at the end. Part 2 will be posted in a couple days.

After Ethan rescinded his resignation from Edenbrook, he and Sawyer agreed to keep some distance until she was no longer an intern and he was no longer her boss. But that was easier said than done. Having crossed the line, they found it impossible to go back to their respective sides. They were able to keep up appearances at work, but after hours they spent their time together in Ethan’s apartment, hiding from the world.

Ethan was quick to share the exciting news with Sawyer as soon as he received the offer. He told her that he had been invited to join a team organized by the World Health Organization. The carefully selected team would be traveling to an indigenous village in the Amazon. They hoped to prevent the further spread of an unknown virus and provide much-needed medical care.

Sawyer had mixed feelings. She knew this was something he had always wanted to do, and she outwardly supported and encouraged his upcoming adventure. But inwardly, now that they were finally together, she selfishly wanted him to stay.

When Naveen announced Ethan as his replacement and appointed Sawyer to the diagnostics team, Ethan promised her that they would “figure it out.” Sawyer had no reason to believe otherwise. To date, they had successfully kept their secret under wraps. It wasn’t ideal, but if it meant they could continue to be together, why fix what wasn’t broken?

All too soon, the time came for them to say goodbye. Standing in his doorway, Ethan framed Sawyer’s face between his hands. He studied her face, committing her features to memory, before planting a final kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you in a couple months.” 

“Will you check in once you’re there and settled?” Sawyer asked hopefully.

Ethan gave a nod, then watched as Sawyer flashed a sad but affectionate smile before walking away.

<><><><><><><><><><>

After a week with no contact, Sawyer tried to call him. No answer. She followed up a few days later with a text message. No reply. Two weeks had passed without a single acknowledgment from Ethan. 

She gave him the benefit of doubt. He was in the jungle after all, and maybe communication with the outside world was a challenge. But as more days passed, she started to wonder if something had happened. Something that would make him shut everyone out, again. Like the time he thought he failed his mentor and quit his job.

With just a couple hours left of her shift one afternoon, Sawyer stepped onto the elevator to find Naveen dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. “Hey there, are you feeling okay?” she asked. Given his recent medical ordeal, she was immediately concerned.

“I’m fine, dear. Not to worry. I just came from outside.”

Acknowledging the unseasonably warm weather, Sawyer commiserated, “Being from Arizona, I can take the heat. But the humidity? Ugh. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” 

“It can be downright uncomfortable. Though Ethan would probably welcome it given the climate where he's currently stationed. Poor fellow. His shirt has been completely soaked both times I’ve spoken to him.” 

Sawyer felt a sudden stabbing pain in the center of her chest. Her heart slowly bleeding out, she tried to maintain her composure. “You… you’ve spoken with him?” 

Naveen, who was once the nation’s leading diagnostician, knew immediately from the change in her tone and body language that something was amiss.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened to the fifth floor. Emotions betraying her, Sawyer swept a finger along her lower lashes to catch the tears that threatened to spill. It didn’t go unnoticed. 

Naveen quickly pressed the button to close the elevator doors. “I have some tissues in my office,” he offered, reaching out to give her hand a quick squeeze. When the doors opened again, this time to the seventh floor, the chief led his personal lifesaver to his office. Once they were seated, he pushed a box of tissues toward her and asked, “When was the last time you spoke with him?”

“The night before he left town.” She told him that she had tried to call and text, but Ethan hadn’t responded. “I-I don’t understand. Things were good… we were good.”

Naveen offered consolation, sharing his disappointment in the man who had become like a son to him. “I’m sorry, Sawyer. He’s an idiot. Plain and simple. I can offer no other excuse for his behavior.”

Despite her heartbreak, she couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at his candor, grateful for the validation.

“I have heard the way he speaks about you. Seen the way he acts around you. He lights up! Do you know how rare that is? You are special to him, Sawyer,” he reassured. Then with a sigh, "One thing I've learned about Ethan is that he feels deeply, and when those feelings become overwhelming, he shuts down. If I had to hazard a guess, that's the reason he has ghosted you."

She nodded, processing the information. “I love that you know what ‘ghosting’ is,” she said with an appreciative smile. Not wanting to take up any more of his time, Sawyer stood to leave. “Thank you, Naveen. I should get back to my patients.” 

A couple minutes later, as if summoned by the universe, Ethan’s name and picture appeared on Naveen’s vibrating phone. “Were your ears ringing just now?” Naveen answered.

His protégé furrowed his brow. "Why would they be?"

“I just had a chat with the newest member of the diagnostics team. You remember Sawyer, of course?”

Ethan huffed and shook his head in frustration. 

With parent-like disappointment in his tone, Naveen asked, “What are you doing, son?”

Like an annoyed teenager, Ethan looked away from the camera. Whatever was or was not happening between him and Sawyer was none of Naveen’s business. Part of him blamed Naveen for putting them into this situation in the first place. As he gazed into the distance, carefully considering his response, Ethan missed when Naveen’s attention was momentarily diverted by a gentle rap on the door. 

Sawyer poked her head in and pointed to the desk. “Sorry, I forgot my pager,” she mouthed.

Naveen gestured for her to come in.

“How is she?”

Sawyer froze when she heard the familiar voice, her terrified eyes flicking up to Naveen’s. 

Looking back down at his phone screen, Naveen countered, “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” 

“What?” The view in Ethan’s hand blurred before finally coming into focus on Sawyer’s equally panicked expression.

The lovers-turned-strangers stared at each other for an awkward moment until Ethan finally broke the silence. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she reciprocated, voice steady despite the thundering in her chest.

Naveen handed his phone to Sawyer. “Why don’t you kids catch up? I need to check in with my assistant before she leaves for the day.”

Reluctantly taking the phone, she watched Naveen retreat. Only after the door clicked shut did she turn her attention back to the now guilt-ridden face on the screen.

"How have you been?" he asked with trepidation.

Sawyer shook her head defiantly. She didn’t care about pleasantries. She wanted answers. Fighting back the tears that she had just gotten under control, she cut to the chase.

“I thought you and I… I thought we meant something to each other… I thought we were together,” she fumbled for the right words.

“We were.”

“We were? Past tense?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Did I do something wrong? Something to upset you?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Sawyer.”

“Is there someone else?”

“No,” he said firmly with a shake of his head. “No.”

“Then why, Ethan?” she pleaded for understanding.

“For the same reasons I stopped things in Miami. I can’t be–if I am–your career is–and you mean too–”

The connection became unstable, with Sawyer only able to catch every few words that he spoke. “You keep cutting out… Ethan, you’re breaking up–” The screen suddenly turned black and the call ended. “You’re breaking up..." she repeated, the double-meaning not lost on her, “with me.” 

Falling into a chair, Sawyer covered her mouth, muting the quiet sob that she could no longer contain. “God, I’m so stupid.” After a couple minutes, she sniffed back her tears and composed herself. Cracking the door open, she found Naveen with his hip perched on his assistant’s desk. 

He couldn’t help but notice her reddened, blotchy cheeks. His questioning eyes met her bloodshot, swollen ones. Sawyer answered with a shake of her head, handed him his phone, then turned and briskly walked away.

<><><><><><><><><><>

A month later, Sawyer sat on a paper-lined exam table chewing on her thumbnail, waiting for the doctor to enter.

Knock, knock. A slightly older woman dressed in pink scrubs entered the room. “Hi Sawyer, I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Dr. Moore.”

“Hi,” Sawyer greeted. Not usually one to shy away from small talk, her anxiety made the task seem impossible.

Dr. Moore sat down on a low stool, wheeling closer to Sawyer with a tablet in hand. “I have your test results. Your pregnancy test is positive.” As the doctor spoke of conception and due dates, and suggested a quick ultrasound to confirm, a single tear fell from the corner of Sawyer’s eye.

Part Two

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @openheartforeverinmyheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin @headoverheelsforramsey @zealouscanonindeer

[pine-needle-shuffle]

im just gonna ramble about Rescued AU for a bit

Fair warning, I haven't read ToTP yet, only a synopsis, so my knowledge Tifa's experience in Midgar is a bit lacking rn. but like, this is most Tifa's side but feat. Cloud

Starting in Nibelheim, directly after Cloud throws Sephiroth into the reactor and stumbles down the stairs, Zangan arrives on scene to rescue Tifa. iirc in canon R&D would have found Cloud and Zack first? I could be misremembering. Not in this world, however.

Zangan doesn't know what had happened, but as he picks Tifa up, he notices her hand outstretch. With what little conciseness she has, Tifa recognizes Cloud on the stairs. Zangan decides to take Cloud as well, clearly he was a friend of Tifa's.

He leaves Zack.

He leaves them with the doctor in Corel, Tifa's side of things still stays pretty similar. She woke up in Midgar after a month and needed additional PT. Cloud's injury was much more substantial. He woke up shortly after Tifa, but remained bedridden for weeks. No SOLDIER healing this time.

Between their 2 treatments, the expense is massive. Tifa starts working to get it covered while Cloud's out on bed rest. He HATES not being able to help, and it takes everything from the doctor and Tifa to convince him to rest. They reason that if he gets up now, he'll hurt himself worse and will be in an even less ideal situation.

Once Cloud is out and about, he starts picking up odd jobs, fixing miscellaneous machinery, handling packages for a variety of clients, even "taxiing" on occasion. He's not fond of that last one.

With what little free time they both had, Tifa taught Cloud some of the things she'd learned from Zangan, at first to help with his recovery, but eventually morphed into other aspects of Zangan's martial arts.

They're pretty tight knit, but Tifa is really the only one getting to know other people. Tifa, quite literally, dragged Cloud into her friendship with the Avalanche trio.

Cloud mostly lurks, he's frustrated with the debt and takes on some responsibilities hunting monsters in hopes that it will pay better. Using the skills he learned from Tifa and some basic sword training he learned in the infantry, he sets off. And he does a pretty good job.

But it's tiring work, and even after 2 years since the Nibelheim Incident, Cloud's injury still leaves him limited.

By the time the game would start, Cloud has already joined Avalanche, they had his and Tifa's back while they were getting back on their feet, and Cloud certainly wasn't against getting back at Shinra.

One day, Cloud is going about his business, sees a limping figure pass by the train station. A limping SOLDIER. In an old uniform.

Zack.

Riddled with bullets, it's a miracle the man is still alive. Zack couldn't be happier to see a familiar face. After some coaxing, Cloud gets him to the bar, despite how "fine" Zack claimed he was.

And the story continues on as "normal"(it's not normal, so much gets out of wack later because Cloudhas no connection to Jenova, but someone else doessssss :3c)

[twirlybumblevee]

Pointers on how to respond to a victim trusting you with their story

After everything that's happened over the past week, I figured I'd offer something constructive and share some of the things I learned while I prepared for and then volunteered as a first responder / consultant for victims of all kind (not just sexual) for a few years. Just in case someone else here might ever be in that sort of situation, since it can be quite overwhelming.

While I do believe that what I'm writing down is quite helpful (at least from my own experience), this isn't the "full whole truth" that applies on every single situation, because - and that's sort of also my first point:

Every situation is different. No two stories are exactly the same, so never try and apply one case to another. Everyone deserves to be heard for themselves.

If anyone comes to you with their story (and I'm not exculding non-sexual violence or other traumatic events here), see it as a huge sign of trust. In the overwhelming amount of cases, to speak up about something traumatic that has happened to someone is incredibly hard and difficult, and if they open up to you, try and treat it and them with care and consideration. (It can get very overwhelming depending on the story, so remember to take care of yourself too.)

Your job is to offer understanding, empathy, and a safe space for the other person to talk about whatever they're ready to talk about, in their own words. Remember: It's not about you, it's about them. That means no pushing for details out of curiosity, no leading questions (an example for this would be "how did you feel?" instead of "did you feel scared/disgusted/uncomfortable/etc?"), and no telling them what they should do.

The thing you can do is to offer (because if they came to you, chances are they might be looking for help - or only an open ear). Depending on the situation (and also country, let's be real), that can mean a whole lot of things, small and big. Offer to be there to listen if they need it. Offer to take them to the hospital. Offer them distractions. Offer them sympathy and understanding. Even resources, if you're in place to offer them, for example a place to stay for the night. Offer them your help in finding professional help (because remember: you are not a professional. You can and should never replace the work of a legal consultant, therapist, doctor or the like.)

Again remember: Take care of your own mental health. You can only help so far. And if you (and them) turn anywhere, your first stop should always be a professional - not the internet.

In an ideal case, you will be able to get outside help. It might take a long time, for many of the reasons mentioned above, and more. Being ready to talk to you doesn't mean they're ready to talk to a therapist, or go to the police, or any of the sort, even in apparently very clear cut cases. Even if something happened years ago though, it can be worth getting active. It's definitely NEVER too late to get psychological help.

Some countries have initiatives that offer financial compensation to victims (because it is your government's duty to protect you from harm, and if they couldn't do that, they will at least compensate you - that's the idea). That can mean a number of things like paying for (mental and physical) therapy, operations, special aids for your home, and so on. People might not want to take advantage of these, because it can be a draining and mentally taxing process to apply for them. (Because of course, as the real world works, there will be a lot of questions about the hows and whys and whats.) It is good to know that these options might exist though. (This particular bit is heavily drawing reference from Germany, where I know for a fact that this government initiative exists. Pretty much any country has initiatives that offer professional help in all kinds of ways, especially for female victims.)

This is what I can think of right now. If I think of more, I might add on to this, but it's long enough as it is. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask! I hope this is a little helpful to at least some people here. :)

-- Vee

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 39: ONE FOR ALL (2007)

1. The Introduction

Hello, Citizens! I’m back at it again, reviewing Frev media! Hope you’re happy to see me again in action!

Anyway, today we have an obscure book. A book I found by accident while looking for any media featuring people of color during Frev — which is an overlooked angle in my opinion.

I found this book on Goodreads and, unfortunately, it can only be purchased through Amazon so far… so I had to make an order and wait for the shipping to arrive. Let’s see if the money and the waiting were worth it though!

This review is dedicated to @saint-jussy , @revolutionarywig , @michel-feuilly , @theorahsart and @lanterne .

2. The Summary

I had to “borrow” the summary from the Amazon page, because it includes some… INTERESTING details:

"In the bloody chaos of the French Revolution an exceptional man comes of age: Alexandre -romantic, intelligent, immensely strong, son of a slave-owning Count and his Haitian first wife.

He accidentally discovers the guilty secret of his new stepmother and her vicious brother. They conspire to destroy him. Cast out by his father, Alexandre is befriended by Chevalier de Saint-George - France's greatest swordsman, Marie-Antoinette’s lover - and falls in love with hot-tempered Marie Labouret.

When Saint-George is wounded helping the Royal Family escape, Alexandre leads the Free American Legion - 1,000 Black lancers - in a brave defence of the Republic against the invading Royalist armies. In ONE FOR ALL the most extraordinary people and amazing events are actual historical fact. Alexandre's son, world-renowned author Alexandre Dumas, found inspiration in the adventures of his father and his father's friend - the Black originals of the much loved characters Porthos and D'Artagnan in THE THREE MUSKETEERS."

I already see a few questionable choices done by the author, but let’s not judge the book too harshly just yet and proceed with the review! I do, personally, love a good swashbuckling story, so it might be a good piece of fiction despite the inaccuracies.

Just put a pin on the “inspired by true events” tidbit included on the cover. You’re going to need to remember this.

3. The Story

I do think that the book has a good prologue, showing Alexandre’s carefree childhood with his parents, where he is a typical child who pulls pranks and doesn’t want to adhere to rules yet. It does a good job of setting up the backstory of the character.

The story proper, I feel, is also doing a good job introducing the characters, especially the stepmother and the step uncle (more on them later). The pacing is also quite good, for the most part, although I really wasn’t that able to turn off my brain and ignore the numerous historical liberties taken by the authors.

Perhaps it would have been better to just make a book about fictional characters instead of the historical ones, but hey. We have what we have.

Also, I didn’t like the fact that the main two villains of the story sometimes lack motivation to do all the shit they pull in the book. As if they are Disney villains whose only trait is “evil”.

For example, the stepmother wants Alexandre cast out so his father doesn’t have him as heir. Pretty standard plotting for an “evil stepmother” type of character, but I occasionally got the feeling that she was only doing it for the evils, even when Alexandre’s father dies and she still attempts to murder her stepson, even though now she has the inheritance she wanted and technically doesn’t need to bother herself with Alexandre’s existence anymore.

But I guess villains just can’t chill out, can they?

Mostly, however, the adventures were quite interesting to follow and I did finish the book in one sitting.

4. The Characters

I do like Alexandre, although at times he seems a bit too idealized in the book. He is kind, brave and chivalrous, just trying to achieve justice and take back the inheritance that is rightfully his.

His stepmother, referred to as “the Countess” in the book, is a standard issue evil stepmother, similar to Madame de Villefort from “The Count of Monte Cristo”. Honestly, the authors do a pretty good job of portraying a vile aristo snake that you just want to see destroyed.

Her brother, de Malpas, is just as evil, and is even incestuous with his sister. As if those two weren’t gross enough. He also murders people left and right for fun, so there’s that.

Chevalier de Saint-George is a character I also liked. He is kind of like a mentor and a brother to Alexandre, and they have a sweet friendship going on!

Marie Labouret is an independent and fierce young woman, but she didn’t seem too modern for the most part.

I couldn’t care less for Alexandre’s father, though. Or rather sperm donor. When the Countess accused her stepson of unspeakable things, this ass immediately through Alexandre out and didn’t even bother to investigate the issue even AFTER the fact. Father of the Year, everybody!!!

5. The Setting

As I mentioned, there are inaccuracies and creative liberties. MANY OF THOSE. That being said, I was pleasantly surprised that the setting wasn’t too bad when it comes to portraying Frev.

There are mentions of mobs killing nobles, as usual, but it’s only mentioned by one character and so we don’t know if it’s true or not.

Also, both Alexandre and Saint-George are still republicans, despite the latter having romantic feelings for the Queen. So the authors at the very least are SOMEWHAT familiar with nuance.

6. The Writing

Sometimes the descriptions are lacking and sometimes the linguistic choices felt a bit too modern to me, but otherwise the writing was quite fine.

7. The Conclusion

All in all, this book is a hit in some ways and a miss in others. I don’t know why the authors twisted history so much when they could have made up their own characters, but the book was still a pretty enjoyable adventure and an interesting experiment.

Read at your own discretion, if you want, but I wouldn’t say I highly recommend it to everyone.

On this note, I declare the Jacobin Fiction Convention closed for now. Stay tuned for future updates!

Love,

Citizen Green Pixel

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

was thinking abt how my ideal doctor/yaz is when they love each other only sliiiightly more than they hate themselves, but then i was like, you know what might be better actually? if they dont love each other at all

i mean think about it. it's easy. they cant. they havent, like, build a life together. they never had to. love is a promise they didnt make

what passes for romantic feelings for companions in the doctor i think generally is idolisation. yaz has definitely been idolising. depending on your take the doctor might also have been the object of her first queer feelings ever. shes unattainable in like every way for yaz. theres no future to imagine here. there never was. i dont think either of them ever assumed there would be either. theyve had their eyes on the finish line since the beginning

so imagine a reunion. yaz and 14. every barrier now lifted. the doctor no longer lives a life of running from one place to the next; no more being with the doctor means neglecting home. hes suddenly emotionally available too. and they both know,,,Everything. they both know everything theyve never talked about. they reach the finish line and crash over it, into each other, no one had plans for this. a mess

so time to build, right? this is everything they wanted, right? except, is it? they only know each other in extremis. two adrenaline junkies in shared search of a fix. two people unable to stop running, forcibly grounded. yaz has five years of unspoken grievances to air. the doctor about five thousand of unspeakable memories. this is two peas in a powder keg

the doctor attaches in extremes, with abandon, yaz only cautiously, with reservation. neither of them know how to do friendship very well. theyve spent years afraid of losing each other, do you think theyre gonna be able to tolerate being apart now? even if being around each other is pressing every wrong button like a novice pilot or one who never read the manual, and inevitably leads to arguments they both know are years out of date but cant stop themselves from having anyway?

their coping mechanisms might have been malformed but now theyre taken away. dont you think theyre gonna come up with something to replace picking fights with daleks? we've got ptsd à deux and nowhere to go. if they cant be helpful at least they can keep busy. picking fights with each other. having sex with each other, because hey we got this newfound queer sexuality we should try it out, right? none of this is quite right but we're not gonna stop to think now, are we? 

should we talk about the gender thing? oh but youre a timelord, billions of years beyond this petty human obsession. but, youre not. so why not obsess a little. rather this than the other stuff. and yaz likes you as a woman. and rose gets all this trans stuff. keep weaving them in because if you stop they might just fall out. of your orbit, the world, the universe, the story. you'll never see them again and you'll be all alone. again. better keep tying knots

how long until they realise this is worse than it was? how long before they can admit it to themselves? how many people to suggest, to one or the other, that hey maybe you guys should spend some time apart? go on vacation, find a hobby, get a job, talk to other people, give yourself a break. how many people to get snapped and yelled at because what do they know? what does anyone know? nobody does, nobody gets it. ryan and graham left, dan came in too late. nobody else lived their days. nobody could possibly understand whats between them. including them

it's yaz who tries breaking up, of course. takes too long to get there, but she would get there. eventually. the doctor gets mean, all "glad to be home?", all tooth and nail and you cant leave me i leave you, all scoffs and snarls, "we're not together, yaz"

"sure, whatever you say"

but if people stop watching doctor who kills himself. the doctor doesnt say this, of course. but yaz is very proficient in all the ways the doctor does not say things

"yeah well, survived it last time, so"

she doesnt clarify who. doesnt need to. the game of chicken never ended, only changed shape. who falls first, who realises first, who admits first, who stays alive longest after the universe ends. and now, perhaps, whos gonna reach for desperate measures first

place your bets

[morg-among-the-stars]

Everything Under Control, Growing into Autistic Young Adulthood

I’m turning 20 this year, I live at home. I’m working through community college and planning to transfer to a four-year school.

It’s set quite clearly what my pathway is: get good grades, transfer, live at home until I graduate college.

Then, I can start to branch out into proper independence, maybe live on my own, or sort out living with my partner, something of the sort. It’ll be my decision.

I’m passive in discussing it all. In the loving words of my girlfriend, I don’t seem “too jazzed about it.”

And they’re right.

I’m passive for a reason, I’m letting it go on by me because what I want doesn’t make much sense, at least to my parents.

In a completely ideal world, I would work a library job and be able to write on the side, maybe free-lance or journaling, I haven’t decided.

But I can’t tell a person I’m an English major without the dreaded, “Oh, so you want to be a teacher!” talk (I’m not discrediting teachers, we need them! It’s just… always the first thing people think when anyone says they’re pursuing English, and my parents don’t help with that, necessarily).

I’m held back in redundant ways because I’m on the spectrum. I wasn’t trusted to cook until recently, just as one example. Recently. I’m going to be 20 this year.

I’m second guessed constantly, even about things I know as facts. My own interests are a big one, anything I say about my own special interests, my parents have my sister fact-check. You wouldn’t fact check a mechanic about cars, would you? Why are you fact checking my knowledge? (The ironic thing is that outside of my family, I’m completely respected in my knowledge. My good friend @turniptitaness jokingly calls me the Ambassador for The Politician, and while that title is said in a joking manner, I’m at least not second guessed in a thing I’m known for knowing a lot about. That’s only one example.)

I have to walk this line, too, this line between “too autistic” and “not autistic enough.” Which is hard, because I’m autistic no matter what. I’ve learned quickly that stimming or infodumping are frowned upon in my home, so I don’t do them. But that bites me in the ass because then I’m “barely autistic,” whatever that means. There’s a redundant measurement of my autism that’s been put on to me.

By other people. I don’t even get a say in my own autism advocacy or my own autistic joy, because in my house, autistic joy rarely exists. It’s only ever brought up as a negative. “Morgan struggles in school, she’s autistic.”

The writing achievements I’ve gained throughout school, for example, even when being about special interests, have nothing to do with autism. But they do, inherently. Writing an analytical paper about a special interest, recalling scenes from memory, was due to my intense passion.

It’s a terrible line to walk. I have to take pride in not having accommodations because it helps me to “blend in” more.

No one has considered whether I really care about blending in, appearing “normal.”

To a degree, of course I do. Of course I want to present myself in a respectful way.

But I, me, Morgan in my own mind, do not care if I get weird looks from people if I stim.

I don’t care if I “look autistic.” I am autistic. There is no look.

In myself, I’m proud of talking about it. I don’t want to hide it.

And I’m not going to lie, I have moments of sensory overload, sometimes bad sensory days in total. Where I wake up and can feel so viscerally uncomfortable in my own skin that I don’t want to get out of bed and become overwhelmed by the smallest of things.

But I can’t express that, either. When my disability, is disabling, I can’t talk about it.

Walk that fine line.

Everything under control.

A lot of it out of my control.

When it’s my life at the end of the day.

[1960z]

SOJ: Final Thoughts

So when I first played spirit of justice at 14 I remember really loving it, the new characters, the cases, just the whole vibe of the thing. however, that was towards the end of my ace attorney hyperfixation and because of that I had never revisited it. when I returned to the fandom recently, I began to realise that quite a good amount of people hold this game in relatively low regard; and while the positive feelings I had from my initial playthrough still lingered, I had to admit I didn't actually remember the game very well, and maybe there would be things about it that would bother me now that wouldn't have back then. and because of that, this was the game I was most excited to return to. and now that I have re-played it and been able to experience it with fresh eyes I can say that while I definitely have more nuanced thoughts surrounding the game, I'm happy to say most of the stuff I enjoyed about it still really holds up

one of my biggest criticisms surrounding dual destinies is that while I did enjoy almost every individual case on some level, it never really coalesced beyond the sum of its parts, leaving the overarching story unsatisfying and disjointed, not to mention uninteresting thematically. I did not have that same problem here! my theory for what happened with DD is that takeshi yamazaki attempted to mimic the style of pacing shu takumi employs more closely in a way that just didn’t really work, meanwhile in soj, I think the pacing is much more in line with what we see in the investigations games where everything takes place over a few days (or in soj, the better half of a month) and connects unlike other main series games that often have months long gaps between cases. characters and scenarios set up in the first case are deeply connected to the fifth and each case barring perhaps case 4 is quite focused on setting up everything that’s about to happen in turnabout revolution.

and turnabout revolution is an absolute monster of a case. its scope is extreme and its twists are insane and honestly I doubt it would have worked if the rest of the game didn’t dedicate as much time as it did to building up to it, but because it did, the payoff felt amazing. I understand that if you zoom out and look from the perspective of the whole series a lot of it may feel like a lot and out of left field and I get why that’s off putting to some people - but taking the game in its own singular context I actually think it does an amazing job of making each twist feel earned. like for example are they basically rebuilding apollo’s backstory from the ground up? yes. does it work well with what was previously established in aa4? no not at all lol. does it work within the confines of spirit of justice? I actually think in that context it works extremely well.

my love for nahyuta is pretty obvious but honestly I think the character that captures the true heart of this game is rayfa. seeing this naïve, sheltered kid go through the process of realising that basically everything she took for granted about her world, even who her parents were, was a lie, and having to deal with that was truly captivating to watch. her entire world being shattered and then still doing everything in her power to make sure the truth came to light, no matter how much it hurt her I think exemplifies a lot of ace attorney’s themes and ideals and I think having a young girl be the centre of that is really cool. my favourite character in aa is franziska and while you will NEVER catch me calling her underdeveloped, because the series does actually give you a lot of insight into her if you want to engage with it, what I WILL admit is that I don’t think she ever got as much narrative focus as the other characters. and to me, rayfa feels very much like what we could have gotten if the narrative had chosen to focus on franziska more.

as I’ve said before also I really theoretically love khura’in. I found myself getting genuinely quite invested in the people and culture and politics of this world that the writers had created. especially since spirit channelling has been a huge part of the aa world since the first game, it was cool to inhabit a legal system that just accepted it unconditionally. it feels like the opinion of the japanifornia courts’ opinion on channelling is that there is something to it but the logic of arguments can’t rely on it definitely existing too heavily and if it does, proving channelling can happen is part of said argument. and god forbid testimony of someone being channelled is used as evidence because of what happened in DL-6. none of these factors exist in khura’in. in case 3 for the first time we get testimony from a victim through channelling and it’s a huge part of the case and case 5 of course relies on channelling massively to explain its events as well and getting to explore these possibilities without having to worry about narrative justification as to why a court of law would accept this was a treat.

I think aa’s format also just lends itself to… for a lack of a better word isekai stories?? like learning about the rules of a world through how said rules can be manipulated for crime is an extremely interesting way to learn about and engage in a fictional world. you see this with plvspw and even fan made projects like that mlp-aa crossover from years ago. and while khura’in does exist in “our” world, obviously there are still a lot of supernatural elements that khura’in takes for granted that wouldn’t be in other places.

but this is were we have to address the elephant in the room and soj’s huge glaring flaw. the thing that went completely over my little 14 year-old-head but looking back now I go "holy shit, that is bad." and that is how soj treats khura’in as a country and the irl political implications of said treatment. from the get-go, khura’in is shown in a very othered and orientalist lens. their way of doing things is depicted as being “spiritual” and “folksy” at the best of times and “backwards” at the worst; and the plot centres around our leads, most of who are not from khura’in, showing the khura’inese people the “right” and “just” way of doing things. in the version of the story I assume most of us are familiar with the characters are american, in the original version they’re japanese, neither country has a good track record with imperialism. this is a colonialist narrative. and while it’s tempting to say that because khura’in is fictional, the implications while problematic still exist more in a vacuum, I think it is important to point out that khura'in borrows a lot of aesthetics from real life cultures such as tibet and india, and when you create a fictional country that is like khurai'n, one that is portrayed as spiritual but unenlightened, one that has a lot of distinctly asian but not distinctly japanese (sans the magatama) aesthetics, you are in fact reinforcing negative, orientalist stereotypes surrounding the real cultures said aesthetics come from which deserves to be called out.

and while yes, there are khura'inese characters who still very much engage in their culture while also fighting for revolution... when combined with the context of dd's overarching narrative that, imo was basically "there are no systemic problems with the legal system, the dark age of the law is simply a result of bad actors" it very much feels like there's this attitude of "revolution for thee but not for me." as if they're only comfortable with telling this story about revolutionaries that are often framed by their own government as terrorists if it takes place within a fictional country that players can paternalistically look down upon. I think this definitely undercuts the rest of the story and I can totally understand why this could all really fuck with a person's ability to engage with and enjoy the game.

in closing, I genuinely think there's a lot to love within soj, it fixed a lot of problems I had with dd. I love each case, I adore the characters, I was thrilled by a lot of the mystery and political intrigue it created. with that being said I absolutely believe reinforcement of colonialist ideas in the text needs to be called out. it didn't ruin the game for me but if it did for someone else, I couldn't blame them. despite all its flaws, I found the closure it provided for these characters both old and new very satisfying. it will always have a place in my heart.

[aita-blorbos]

Am I The- oh, well, language like that is really quite excessive- am I… in the wrong for taking a job opportunity at the expense of someone very dear to me?

I (an older gentleman) have worked for an… agency for most of my existence. Essentially, I represent my agency in various locations around the world and ensure that our goals are being pursued. However, there is a rival agency (they were originally part of my agency, but broke off a very long time ago due to differences in ideology), with their own representative (my age, usually male) whose job it was to do the same for his side. We were often sent to the same places by our bosses, and as such interacted frequently. He didn’t much care for his job, and helped me to realize that I didn’t much care for mine either. Our respective agencies are deeply corrupt and care more about defeating each other than actually doing what they were founded for. Plus, with both of us in the same places, we often cancelled each other’s work out. He eventually convinced me to agree to a deal: when we both had work to do in the same area, one of us would do both jobs and the other would get some free time. It was far more efficient, and our bosses didn’t care so long as the work was done (although we knew they wouldn’t like it if they knew we were working together.) Through this arrangement and over many years, we became quite good friends.

A few years ago, our respective agencies had a shared goal for the first time in… well, ever. However, if their plans were to come to fruition, almost everything that my friend and I held dear would be lost. In order to prevent this, we attempted to subtly sabotage their plans. We- well, it’s hard to put it lightly- we were quite incompetent at this, and so while we were able to prevent our bosses’ goals from being met, they knew it was our fault, and also that we had been corresponding with each other. We were promptly fired and sent out of our agencies as traitors. Neither of us minded this much (although my friend certainly handled the change better than I did), and we’ve been spending the past few years without having to hide from anybody. It really has been a lovely time.

Recently, both of our former bosses quit their jobs (well, mine was apparently fired first, but I don’t know the full story) because they had fallen in love, and they ran off together. It really was quite sweet, although the irony of it was not lost on me. Shortly after this, my former boss’ boss (the second highest up in the agency) met up with me and gave me an incredible offer: he told me that he thought I was the best possible replacement for the position, and even offered to allow my friend to join and work alongside me in my agency again, just like he had before the rival agency split off. I would be in charge of almost the entire agency, and my friend would be 2nd in command. I didn’t know what to say, so he encouraged me to go share the news with my friend. I quickly found him to do just that, and, due to the weight of this offer, spoke first when he informed me he also had something to say. When I told him, though, he was… less than pleased. He had assumed I would say no and was upset that I hadn’t. Then, he told me what he had planned to say.

I suppose our former bosses running off together had emboldened him, because he (quite bravely, might I add,) spoke about us, and what we were. He said we were pretending not to be what we truly were, and that if our bosses could go off and be together, so could we. If it weren’t for the timing, it would have been deeply touching. I tried to remind him that we could be together if we both worked for my agency- if I were in charge with him at my side, then surely we could reform the agency’s ideals, and make it what it should have been all along. He disagreed with me. We argued, and I believe we both said things we shouldn’t have. At the height of our argument, he… he kissed me. It was not gentle, nor was it romantic. It was angry and cruel. When he broke away I was upset- how couldn’t I be, when he had just done that to me- but I’ve always prided myself on being the bigger person. I told him I forgave him. He stormed away, and my soon-to-be boss returned. He began to walk me towards the… offices, when he informed me of the agency’s current plans: it was the same thing my friend and I had thwarted years ago, only executed differently. I stopped and turned around, only to see my friend standing there, watching, for whatever reason I do not know. Perhaps to torture me. I couldn’t just go back to him, especially knowing what my agency had planned, so I turned back around and followed my new boss to headquarters.

Now I’m here, and, God help me, I don’t know if I’ve made the right choice. I’m utterly miserable. But reform is the only way to ensure that my agency (and most likely the rival agency) will not be able to destroy everything I’ve ever held dear. I feel horrible for leaving my only true companion behind, but I refuse to run away from what can be fixed, and if I have to sacrifice his friendship- er, well, “friendship” isn’t the proper word for it, I suppose- in order to keep him and everything else safe, then so be it. Or, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself, but I just feel so conflicted. Because I cannot trust my own judgement and I certainly cannot trust holy judgement at this time, I believe human judgement is my best option. So, members of this internet community, I ask you, do you believe I’ve made a mistake?