#instead of just going 'no more (white) people will be harmed by living here so problem solved

[17yearslatewithlattes]

Okay so I’m not qualified for a really in-depth analysis of how the episode treats Native Americans—specifically the Yuchi community—but I think it’s worth making two points about the supposed improvements the Winchesters leave behind at the end of the episode:

a). It’s mentioned in passing that the government will be investigating the bones Sam and Dean dug up, with the seeming implication that this is a good or at worst neutral thing, with the potential to positively impact the Yuchi community. However, please observe that the episode gives no thought to what the Yuchi people might feel about the turn of events. For a really interesting and nuanced exploration of some of the issues challenging the blasé assumption that the US snatching up the bones would be a simple positive, check out this article by Grounds Richard A., a member of the Yuchi community and scholar of indigenous languages and anthropology. It explores a conversation spanning 1993 - 2010 between the International Human Genome Diversity Project (HGDP) and the Yuchi community, regarding whether the Yuchi would allow the HGDP to harvest and study Yuchi DNA. Spoiler alert: as of the publishing of the article, the community had not agreed to the study. (I poked around a bit but didn’t find information on whether an agreement was ever reached at a later date). 

b). The white people clearing out of the area: good. great. No new white people moving in: also excellent. But I can’t help noticing the realtor man says “I’m gonna make damn sure no one lives here again.” No one, sir? No one??? Because the way I remember it, the curse was on white people living there. And I dunno. Maybe some people. Maybe possibly? Even some specific people?? Should perhaps maybe be given the option to live there???

[doctorbeth]

Rabbit -- one of your cherished stuffed companions

Rabbit belongs to one of you dear people, and she gave me permission to share his story with you.:-) He was in the hospital about a year ago.

She initially wrote:

I live in South Florida and I am a big fan of your hospital! I have a stuffed rabbit plush animal, I believe he may have once been a Bugs Bunny plush, but to me he has always been "Rabbit" and I cannot find any leads online as to his "origins". Rabbit has been with me since I was 6 months old-- he's almost 24 years old! He's been my constant companion, and I still sleep with him and love him to this day. As you might imagine, this has led to many surgeries... 

Lately, Rabbit has had very thin fabric fur, and you can see through to the stuffing (mostly on his tummy). He's also in need of some new stuffing, as his current has gotten pretty clumpy over the years. My mom and I have talked about possibly giving him a  complete fur transplant on his tummy as we have applied patches before, but we aren't experts and don't want to cause him harm! He gets holes in his fabric very easily as he has become very delicate from love over the years... We are almost afraid to touch him with anything other than a hug! 

Now there were many photos attached to this note, and just fyi, for diagnosis the more photos the better, but you all don't need quite so many close ups... here are three critical photos from his diagnosis:

You can really see in the last two photos how thin his fabric was getting.... but he has such a cute face, and it's mostly embroidered, and I thought they may want to keep that, so.... there were many (actually 7!) options for his care. Keep in mind, he's over 2 feet long, too. Here were the treatment options (a spa could be added to any):

1) Given his style of fabric, and his artistic belly patches, and the fact that he has embroidered facial features, we could line his body with new fabric.  This reinforces his body and limbs while keeping his current appearance.  He would get all new body stuffing as part of this treatment, as the stuffing would need to come out for lining and it can't go back in.  But, a small amount of original stuffing would be preserved in a heart in his chest.  With this treatment, he could still wear, but you would see lining before stuffing.  Also, for future repairs, the lining could take the pressure of stitches away from his skin.  I would also minimize the older scarring on his side. 

2) I can do everything in option 1, plus line his head. 

3) I can do everything in option 1, plus line his head and ears. 

4) Instead of lining, we could recover just his belly and lower sides of limbs. His original skin (and old patches) would remain underneath, reinforcing the new fabric.  I would get as close as possible to his current fabric color and texture.  Perfect fabric matches are rarely possible, but if that is the case, I will send photos of him with transplant options so you can choose what you like best. I would also minimize his scars. 

5) I can recover his entire torso and limbs (leaving his head and ears as is). I would also minimize his scars.

6) I can recover his belly and lower side of limbs around his patches (keeping his artistic appearance). I would also minimize his scars.

7) I can recover his belly around his patches and recover the rest of his body and limbs. I would also minimize his scars.

His person thought about it, discussed it with her family, and ultimately decided on option 5: recover his entire torso and limbs but leave his head and ears as is. They also added a spa for Rabbit, which would treat the lumpiness of his stuffing as well as clean him.

So Rabbit flew to the hospital and began treatment with his bubble bath:

He got restuffed before recovering, so here is his heart being made and installed with a bit of his original stuffing:

I started by recovering his gray areas, leaving the white of his pawpads and tail original. At this point, I sent chubbiness approval photos and let his person decide whether she still wanted to recover the white (which was in better shape than the gray):

His person wrote: "Wow, he looks amazing!! His chubbiness looks perfect, I can't wait to hold him! I would like to recover his white patches of fur"

So Rabbit got closed up, and the white got recovered, and then he was ready to fly home!

Approved, Rabbit flew home to Florida. When he arrived back cross country, his person wrote:

Rabbit is home!! Thank you so, so much!! He looks amazing, he's soooo soft and cuddly, I can't wait to spend many many more years with my darling angel rabbit! I cannot thank you enough Doctor, you're truly an angel!! I'm so blessed to have found you and your lovely hospital!! My mom and I can't stop gushing over how soft and cuddly Rabbit is, he's like brand new! I'll continue to treasure him for the rest of my life with your help!

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Unsurprisingly, a lot of the commentary I'm seeing about this has been of the "But--but--I would do the same thing because I don't want anything bad to happen to the deer!"

Look. I love wildlife, and I love getting to see deer, coyotes, and even the occasional black bear in my neighborhood. But they are here because there is good habitat nearby with lots of natural food sources, not because I deliberately put out food for them to eat. I respect them as wild animals with whom my relationship is very different compared to the domesticated animals I take care of every day. A deer is not a sheep or a horse; a coyote is not a dog.

People who do things like try to tame deer or, worse yet, try to raise a fawn or other young wildlife like pets are robbing those wild animals of their natural existences. We've already wrought our own preferences on the landscape to a severe degree, tearing the wildness out of it to create lawns and farms and subdivisions and strip malls. When we then dismiss the wildness of these animals and impress our own desire for connection on our terms on them, we are harming them.

I've already written elsewhere about the difference between "tame" and "domesticated". No matter how docile that deer seems, it is never going to be as (relatively) safe and tractable as a domesticated sheep or goat. It will always be more unpredictable, and more likely to lash out suddenly at a person due to fear, or hormones, or protection of young.

These animals need their wild instincts to be intact if they are going to survive without being dependent on us. They need those instincts in order to find mates and keep the gene pool stirred up. Their instincts keep them safe from danger, including humans. And their instincts never totally go away, no matter how much we may try to tame them otherwise.

This is why a good wildlife rehab is going to minimize handling of the wild animals they care for, especially those that are going to be able to be released back into the wild. The less comfortable these animals are with humans, the better their chances of surviving in the wild and having fulfilling, natural lives. Wildlife that retain their wariness of humans are less likely to end up falling prey to hunting, or being killed as nuisance animals when they get too aggressive in seeking food or otherwise coming into conflict with people.

The person who painted "pet" on a fully grown white-tailed buck and put a collar around his neck may have felt like they were doing that deer a kindness, but they have likely robbed him of the chance to just live a natural life as his own, independent being out in the woods and fields. He might be out there, sure, but perhaps he won't mate because he imprinted on humans. Or maybe he will end up shot by a hunter in spite of the precautions because he's just too friendly and those antlers are worth taking the shot.

There will always be something missing from this deer's life because of the arrogance of someone who thought they could own and keep and control a wild-born animal for their own enjoyment, instead of allowing him to come and go as he pleased. Honestly, it reminds me of King Haggard from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn, whose response to seeing something beautiful was to capture it and keep it rather than simply enjoying and remembering that magical moment:

"I like to watch them. They fill me with joy. The first I felt it I thought I was going to die. I said to the Red Bull I must have them, all of them, all there are. For nothing makes me happy but their shining and their grace. So the Red Bull caught them. Each time I see the unicorns, my unicorns, it is like that morning in the woods and I am truly young, in spite of myself."

That's how I feel about people who are willing to drastically alter a wild animal's behavior for their own selfish benefit, even if they think they're being kind. I know I'm fighting a bit of an uphill battle in this, but I'm rather stubborn that way.

[violet-butterflies]

❥︎ yandere! Merman

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ sexual harassment, kidnapping ( male yandere! oc x gn reader ) Click to see part 2 and a nsfw spin-off !

It was a dark and stormy night when you first met the merman. You were a lighthouse keeper on a tiny island that was not densely populated. The people that did live on the island were mostly fishermen that lead a peaceful and simple life. However, this night was not peaceful. The storm was roaring and the tides were filled with rage.

You simply went to town to buy a few things and maybe grab a drink with the friendly residents when the storm picked up, forcing you to retreat inside a cave near the sea. You thought it was dangerous since the cave could be flooded when the tides were high but the thunder and lightning seemed even more dangerous since you were walking around the beach with no trees in sight.

You expected to be bored inside a moist and salty-smelling cave but what happened was far from what you had expected.

Inside was a beautiful and ethereal merman who stared at you with wide and scared eyes. He had long white hair that was decorated with seaweed and pearls. He had nothing on, showing off his well-toned body. The most unbelievable part was the fact that instead of legs, there was a long and shimmering silver tail that was covered in scars and a fin that looked like it had a hole in it.

You awkwardly tried to approach it, trying to not scare the merman but failing since he started to thrash in the small pool of water in the cave.

"Shh, shh, shh... I'm not gonna hurt you," you said quietly and gently. The merman must've sensed that you meant no harm as he let you come closer.

The trust only grew when you spent the night, trying to help treat his injuries with the very minimal supplies that you had.

The next few weeks, you'd come and accompany the merman inside the cave. Not only that, you'd come and bring him food and books to show him. Your days mostly consisted of nothing before sunset when your job actually starts anyways so you had plenty of time to spare. Of course, you kept his existence a secret since you didn't want to bring any harm to your new friend.

It was odd though, his wounds have long healed but he kept lingering in the cave. You were on your wits end as you didn't know what he wanted and he can't speak English. You tried teaching him but, you weren't sure if it was because he was half fish, but he was not the smartest being.

You were about to stand and leave the cave to do your job before the merman snatched your hand and pulled you into the water with him. Startled, your body froze as the merman smiled when he looked at you. He hugged you and began to kiss your neck. Not only that, he began clawing at your clothes as he gave you a passionate kiss. You eventually snapped out of it before biting the merman's tongue hard to surprise him into letting you go. You quickly swam back to land and looked at the water with wide eyes. The merman looked at you with a look of surprise and desperation as he tried to go on land to take you back into his hands.

That obviously didn't work though since you ran out before he could even begin to get his whole body out of the water.

You didn't bother coming back to the cave since you felt scared and confused at the incident.

The merman basically forced himself on you but on the other hand, he was a mermaid that probably didn't know anything about human knowledge or consent. Still, though, you felt uncomfortable and it was probably better to leave him alone so he can go back into the ocean.

You didn't expect to ever see him again until you saw a familiar figure flopping on the beach just in front of your secluded lighthouse. In an instant, your eyes went wide as you rushed out to the merman before anyone sees him.

As soon as you came into the merman's line of sight, his eyes lights up and began trying to flop faster towards you.

"What are you doing here?! You can be here!"

"I... I sorryyyy" the merman attempted to say with a slow and dragged accent. You can't help but feel surprised since you didn't expect him to remember anything you tried to teach him.

You somehow got him back into the ocean and as you turned around to go back to shore, he pulled you down into the ocean with him. Deeper and deeper until the ocean covers your senses.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Modern!Nat Being Your Dealer

summary - natasha romanoff is your dealer, and you go to collect your order, however you seem to have forgotten something important… though there is another way that you can pay for your addiction (2.1k)

warnings - 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, drug dealing, sex in place of payment, swearing

natasha romanoff works other mcu works masterlist

Everyone struggled in life, and once in a while they needed a little help. There were many ways people went about that, some people went to therapy, others enjoyed a good book, others listened to waves that had been recorded for that specific purpose. But none of those spectacles of aid made you feel any better.

And thus you had turned to substances instead of white noise, specifically one that was more common and less harmful - weed. A large majority of the population did it, and it was nothing to be ashamed about, it just made you unwind from the trauma that skulked in the darkest parts of your mind and coaxed you into a resting state of sleep.

Unbuckling your seat belt, you climbed out of your beat convertible, locking the vehicle behind yourself as you strode towards the locked hinges of your e of dealer's door. It felt suspenseful every time that you came here, knowing that it could be your last if your supplier was overturned by the forces for her illegal actions actions, and you wouldn't exactly be ignored pu so for purchasing from her.

But everything looked crisp and normal, just the way you liked it. Quickly as to not avert any attention you shot Natalia, the Russian importer a text letting her know that you had arrived to the destination where she handled business. It felt like a lifetime as you awaited for her to open the door and usher you inside, and once she unlocked the barricade of privacy you felt like you were hit by a brick.

It didn't matter how many times that you had seen the astoundingly attractive redhead, you always felt as though you were experiencing whiplash from being greeted with her appearance. It was an unruly kind of magnetism that she styled herself with, her lipstick was blurred subtly past the lines of her actual lips, her short bob was twisted with curls that she had no doubt patiently toyed with as she sat there, looming behind the frosted windows for her buyers.

And you were no more than another one of them, you had to remind yourself, even as slithered past her, both of your breasts briefly brushing as she allowed you entry before she followed your footsteps to the main room after bolting the door shut to as it had been. As usual you took a seat in the dusty and quaint living area as usual, her taking place opposite you as she disgustedly brushed specks off the fabric arm of the chair.

"I don't live here if that's what you're wondering." She smirked, making it undoubtedly clear that her tastes were too clean to permanently reside in a place like this. "So I'll take it you're picking up the usual?" It was the safe assumption on her part, there was no kindness in coaxing you to spend more on the grams of freedom that she rationed out for a price. Not to mention, with spare product there would no doubt be another soul that was prepared to take it off her hands.

"Yeah, please." A curt nod had the woman lounging her body to stretch so that she could pick up the complimentary medicine that she had self prescribed you for. The normal amount was visible through the small and clear baggy that carried the goods, and you immediately rushed to find the notes that would allow you to proceed in your pockets. But they were gone. Shit. This was the last thing that you needed after the day that you had endured with the whispers of thought that clouded your brain.

Panic settled over you, and thus with a dry mouth it was with wise decision that you chose to speak up. There was no point beating around the bush, after all this was your first slip up when it came to this, and you prayed to every ethereal being that it would be the last. "I seemed to have forgotten to put the cash in this jacket, would it be okay if i were to come by later to collect again?" It was embarrassing really, there was nothing that screamed being newer to the scene of all this mutual transaction than forgetting the payment.

"Trial and error one would say." Nat slouched back, dropping the bag mockingly in her lap so that you could see. "The problem is I'm not available for business later." So stupid, you thought to yourself, insulting yourself because she wouldn't for your blatant and misconducted dumb foolery. It certainly may have ben a mistake, but you were no doubt paying for it because you could not pay for what you had really wanted. With a gulp of apologetic waver of disregard, you stood on your two feet, eyeing the door as your escape.

You were just about to begin walking when the red headed conductor silenced all movement your body was ready to perform. "Uh, uh, uh." The noise of scolding that she proclaimed towards you made your heart beat a little faster, afraid that she was going to refuse future service to you altogether. However much you dreaded what she was going to say, you politely listened, intending to remain on her good side. "If you have time to spare, I don't mind being paid in other ways..."

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you mean." Maybe it was plain obliviousness to Nat's ultimatum of a suggestion, or perhaps you didn't quite believe your body's instinct to the prowess in her eyes that made your spine coil in a retrograde of quivering arousal, but you avertedly decided to play it dumb. She stood, and strode towards you like a vixen, her wide eyes scorning every inch of your vessel, humming contentedly to herself.

"Don't be so naive little y/n," her tongue peeked out from her mouth, swiping languidly across her plump bottom lip. "You'll still be a respectable woman, you'll just have to respect me too... in an intimate way." Thinking to yourself, the hunger that ran through your veins which yearned for the intoxicating compulsion of the confident redhead was strivingly eager, and the addictive stock that sold, was endless.

"W-what did you have in m-mind?" You wanted some clarification before you drowned yourself in an action that could exempt you from her clientele, even if she had been explicit, only leaving the details of prolific actions out from her spoken equation. The thumping of your heart beat within your ears, running through your bloodstream that was declining from a subsidised high, as you ogled curiously at the the woman with priceless leverage.

"We all have things we want y/n," she admitted vaguely before going into detail, "and I, in exchange want you to give me an orgasm." Her hands rubbed soothingly up your arms, her skin surprisingly cold upon your flesh. She could sense your nervousness, it was openly apparent as you shivered for both her touch and the calming rush that would absorb itself into your form.

"Okay." You spoke meekly, withholding how eager you were to persevere provocatively towards the mysterious woman. A coy smile weaved its route upon her defining features, causing your walls to flutter obscenely below where they were dressed. You'd always thought that you would be above soliciting yourself in exchange for anything, but it proved to show that you could never be certain on an agenda until you came to the crossroads of it.

Your tongue poked outside of your mouth, nervously grooming the indents and crevices at the corner of your lips, preparing yourself for what Natasha was expecting. It made you realise how little you truly knew about the woman before you, the name that she had given you to address her by may have all been a hoax, to conceal her identity from any enforcers whom bought the stronger stuff from ratting her out to the feds.

But in the predicament that you had stumbled obliviously into, you needed to be nothing more than acquainted, it wasn't love, it was just business derived from the figments of pleasure, and whilst you were allured by the pros and cons that weighed argumentatively in your mind, you couldn't help but give this instance a block from your overthinking mindset. "I'm glad to hear," she conveyed, causing a deep laughter within her chest to be released as she noticed how tense that you had become.

She liked to see you squirm, she had decided. And perhaps next time you would forget payment again, of course she wouldn't mind if your skills were up to her standards of course, and if they weren't, she would unshackle the bedroom nerves that you were enduring with her own set of amorous control. The air hung thick between the both of you as she strolled casually back towards the seat that she had already claimed prior to your arrival, sitting down and spreading her clothed legs wide.

"Come here, and make me cum." Her instructions were far too persuasive, and you couldn't refrain from doing as you were told, willingly you fell to your denim clad jeans, watching intently as Nat unbuttoned her own trousers. "I don't even need to tell you what to do." She verbally observed, pushing down the layers covering her bottom half, including her lace designed panties. Her actions served you with the view of her core, and the sight made you salivate.

A part of you felt dirty, but you procured it in an encouraging way, as this was exactly how she wanted to see you. The position that you were in made warmth flush between your legs, even more so when her drug dealing hand swept into your hair, pulling your face closer to her cunt with the harsh grip that she had. You glanced up to watch her lust drowning eyes, before you entangled your lips with her lower ones, tasting her juices on your tongue.

You ran your tongue up her slit a few times, testing the waters before you suctioned your lips around your clit, sucking on the nerve filled bud, her body being devoured by heavenly sensations. "Fuck me." Her breath cast the words out as her emerald irises became obliterated by the bleakness of her pupils, and in a way you were, and to fuck her further into the pleasure that was flooding her veins, you raised your dominant hand, tracing your fingers around her slick entrance.

With integral driven lust, you pushed one of your digits inside of her, her hand weaving tighter within your locks, and forcing your face further into her cunt. You were amidst in an overwhelming sense of reality, as you hollowed your cheeks so that you could put more pressure around her clit. Her mouth gaped open as she leant sporadically in her seat, her hips bucking into your jawline as her legs wrapped around the back of your head.

Pumping your fingers at a quicker pace, you could feel her walls contracting around you tighter, and her moans evoking to a higher pitch. Her sounds echoed around the room that was in need of more furniture, and you knew that she was getting close, and so you continued on with your actions, daring to enter another finger inside of her, which made her reach her breaking point. Her lips floundered in a silent scream, as she came around the fingers that you had stuffed inside of her.

You continued slowly with drawing out her orgasm, before you pulled back and allowed breath to be inhaled through your mouth, removing your fingers so that you had the opportunity to lick them clean. After a few minutes passed, she unravelled her legs from how they had been pressed around your skull, deciding to sit up straighter, as she glowered at you, returning to her formal confirmation.

Silently she slid her underwear and bottoms back up her legs, leaving her fly open as she watched you stand before her, almost desperately. She was almost convinced to return the favour, but that wasn't what it was, instead it was payment, and she had the professionalism to an extent to make that clear. "Pleasure doing business with you again. Here's what you wanted." She threw the baggy at you, and surprisingly to yourself, you had caught the clear packaging that was filled with your goods.

In all honesty you had forgotten all about the weed, you had fallen into a spiral of delightful passion, and you could still taste her on your lips. Now it felt awkward, she was awaiting for your departure without a doubt as she expectedly nodded towards the door. "Uh, thanks." You fumbled with the bag, finding yourself to forget your money again, with purpose, the next time that you visited her to collect.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I think it's super important to call out racist tropes in fanon, but I also think it's important to help provide a bit of education so other creators know how to avoid these tropes and what to do instead.

With that in mind, one of the most common things that us fans of color have been pointing out in the OFMD fandom is racist depiction of Ed's hair, so here's an intro to avoiding some of these harmful tropes and what you can do instead.

Why does Ed's hair matter so much?

For people of color like Ed, our hair isn't just hair. Our hair is also about our culture and self-expression, and taking care of our hair is a skill distinct from caring for White hair. Our hair is an expression of personal and communal identity.

Controlling and stigmatizing hairstyles is an important way that people of color have been and continue to be oppressed. Across the history of European colonization, you'll find countless stories of cruelties such as forced haircuts, and this legacy lives on today when kids of color are told they have to change their natural and cultural hairstyles to meet school dress codes. Depiction of hair matters so much because of this history.

What are some things to avoid?

Common racist depictions of Ed's hair that you will want to avoid include:

Depicting Ed's hair as dirty and unclean when he's always shown to have very neat, well-taken-care-of hair in the show

Implying that he does not know how to care for his hair

Implying that he needs a White man to help him take care of his hair (White guys are not going to know how to care for Ed's hair texture!)

Depicting him using items that aren't meant for haircare on his hair (like forks, broken tools, etc.). Ed surely knows what a hairbrush is and how to use one.

Implying that Ed does not have a hair care routine or care much about his personal hygeine. You do not get to have that much beautiful, well-groomed hair without caring about maintaining it.

Implications that Ed is unusually rough/thoughtless about his hair, such as cutting off tangled sections or leaving knots to get worse

Avoid language that implies Ed's hair is unusually unruly and unkempt, such as describing it as "matted." Personally, I even bristle hearing it described as a "mane" or "wild" because it's always very neatly-groomed.

What are some ways to talk about Ed's hair that are okay?

I recommend writers and artists considering a project involving Ed's hair do some research on their own - browsing natural hair care subreddits is a pretty easy way to learn quickly what goes into caring for our hair and some of the common everyday struggles we might have.

You don't need to depict Ed's hair as perfect all the time! On lazy days where he doesn't style his hair, he might have frizz going on, and he might be frustrated by the effort and time it takes to maintain his hair while they're on the ocean and the salt air is constantly wreaking havoc.

It's also okay to write about Stede helping Ed with his hair. Stede will need to learn how to work with Ed's hair, but there's nothing wrong with scenes where Stede helps Ed with putting his hair up into a fancy style or washes it for him just because they both want to spend time together. The issue arises when you have implications that Ed needs that help and isn't capable of caring for his hair on his own.

What are some ideas for scenes involving Ed's hair care and routines?

There are so many wonderful scenes you can write about Ed's hair care routines! They can add dimension to domestic moments and make Ed's life feel more real. Here are some ideas I love.

Stede being excited to find new hair products at the market he knows Ed will love

The men of color on the Revenge having self-care nights to help each other care for their hair and skin

Ed patiently teaching Stede about how to care for his hair and trusting him to help him wash it

Ed having fun after settling down at their inn with experimenting with fun floral scents in his hair products

Ed teaching Stede how to put his hair in an elaborate, fancy style passed down from his mother

Stede carefully writing down Ed's hair care routine, from how he likes to rinse his hair with cool freshwater after a swim in the ocean to how he uses coconut oil to minimize frizz, and Ed being touched by his obvious care

In the show, Ed's hair looks amazing even at his lowest moments, so you could make art of him finding comfort in his hair even in the darkest times

There's so much you can do! I'd love seeing the balance of fics about Ed's hair shift towards mostly loving, thoughtful, non-racist depictions, so let's make that happen!

[vynegar]

vyn 5th birthday ssr, part one

so… it has (yet again) been almost a year and a half since my last translation. honestly i didn’t expect to be back either since i’ve been taking a hiatus from reading CN server cards, so this is a surprise to me too! there were just some parts of this story i really liked and wanted to translate, so here we are. i hope you enjoy!

disclaimer (there is an extra one): this is a fan translation and i am not fluent in chinese, so keep in mind that there will be mistakes. please also note that although i’m translating this story, i don’t necessarily agree with everything that’s said in the story or with how it handles certain topics (mainly regarding the justice system and mental illness). feel free to let me know if you have questions, concerns, or comments.

do not repost without explicit permission. if you want to quote this or reference parts of the translation, credit and link back to me.

check my masterlist for more of my analysis/translations.

timestamps go along with the card video here. it’s not mine, please support the uploader ShiroNaya by liking/commenting/subscribing. also note that while the video uses the S-CN dub, the text is T-CN, so the on-screen text may have slight differences with the dub and my translation.

[PART ONE]

[0:31] Themis Law Firm

It was lunch hour, and the drowsy atmosphere spread through the office like a virus. Sunlight blurred the words on my screen until they were hard to distinguish. My thoughts were starting to wander, as the red circle I had drawn on my desktop calendar looked especially bright.

MC: (Come to think of it, it’s almost Vyn’s birthday…)

Last year we were stuck in Svart because of the Appointment Ceremony, but this year things were quiet. However, I couldn’t be sure if this was simply the quiet before the storm, or if Eirik had truly understood Vyn’s resolve after we escaped…

MC: (Either way… last year was tumultuous, but this year we should be able to peacefully celebrate Vyn’s birthday. Maybe I should ask him what his thoughts are…)

I unlocked my phone. Figuring that Vyn was probably still taking his afternoon nap, I instead started to search restaurants he might be interested in…

Kiki: Huh!? Is this real?!

The quiet office broke out into commotion; Kiki’s shout startled me so much I almost dropped my phone.

Kiki: MC, look at this.

Before I could react, my vision was completely obstructed by a phone screen Kiki reached over to show me.

???: I, Zheng Yan, have had my life ruined by false charges! My family was torn apart, and now they’re all dead! Do I really deserve all this?! Yes, I’ve made mistakes. But if this is all just karma, then where’s the karma for the people who harmed me?!

Kiki was showing me a livestream of a middle-aged man standing on a rooftop. His face was haggard, his hair was mostly white, and he made no attempt to conceal his pain and despair. The hoarse shouting was scattered to the fierce winds.

Zheng Yan: You’re all good people, but I… I just don’t want to live anymore!

MC: What?!

The man stepped over the railing. His cumbersome body seemed like he might lose his balance at any moment, causing several more people in the office to cry out in alarm.

MC: Is he livestreaming his suicide?!

Kiki: Yes. He’s only just started, but the stream already has over a million hits.

A livestreamed suicide made for a shocking headline. Before long, the law firm was filled with continuous sound of the man’s laments.

Zheng Yan: My son is just a boy, but because we didn’t have the money for his treatment, all he could do in the end was just wait at home to die. When he was in so much pain he couldn’t sleep, I was in prison. When he was on his deathbed crying out for his dad, I was still in prison! I’m despicable. I should just die! I’m sorry, Xiao Zhuo, I’m so sorry… (1)

He was crawling on the ground, weeping. I couldn’t help but frown at the sight of such a heartbroken father.

MC: What happened to him? What made him like this?

Kiki: It seems like he was wrongfully imprisoned in Svart, but he hasn’t gone into specifics.

MC: Svart?

The sobbing gradually stopped. Zheng Yan calmed himself, then looked back into the camera.

Zheng Yan: But before I die, I won’t let the person who harmed me get away with it!  I’m going to show everyone your true colors!

[flashback]

[3:39] Interrogation Room

The room was dim. With the only window facing a hallway, even the alternation of day and night had lost all meaning here. Worse still was the unrelenting rain – like hypnotic white noise, the incessant thunderstorm wore down even the most resilient of minds.

Zheng Yan didn’t know how long had passed, but based on the increasing impatience of his interrogator, Detective Jack, he figured his custody limit was almost up (2). Just hang in there a little longer, he thought. They had simply gotten the wrong guy. Soon, he would be free, and once he was out of the police station he could go home to Stellis. It was summer, which meant Xiao Zhuo’s birthday was coming up. Zheng Yan hadn’t seen his son since coming to Svart. Did his son still remember him…?

???: Ahem.

A coffee spoon clinked against the walls of the cup. The crisp sound immediately interrupted his wistful daydreams.

???: You seem distracted.

Ah yes, how could he forget. There was someone else in the room.

A young man sat across from him nonchalantly, holding a coffee mug. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance – except his unforgettable eyes. Zheng Yan had been to prison in Stellis and seen people with all sorts of looks in their eyes: those muddled with desire, those agonized by regret… but he had never seen eyes so clear that they made him feel ashamed. People had weaknesses because they had a goal, and this man seemed to have no goal.

Zheng Yan: Oh… what were we talking about…?

Although the atmosphere wasn’t tense, Zheng Yan still felt a sense of unease. The young man hadn’t revealed his name, only that he was a psychology consultant invited by the police and that he just wanted to chat with him. It didn’t sound very formal, almost as if the police were out of other options… However, it was still possible that this was just a smokescreen for something else. What had this person been thinking when Zheng Yan was lost in his own thoughts?

Young man: We were talking about how the different the weather is in Svart compared to Stellis. You are still not accustomed to it.

The young man easily brought up the trivial topic, wasting the police’s precious time.

Zheng Yan: Ah… that’s right, summer here is nothing compared to summer in Stellis! Xiao Zhuo’s mom would always make a big pot of mung bean soup around this time of year, and any leftovers we would make into mung bean popsicles. Whenever Xiao Zhuo got so hot he was sweating like a pig, he would eat one to cool off. You probably haven’t had mung bean soup before, have you? Back when I was in Stellis, it was too sweet for me, but now I miss the stuff.

Young man: I have tried making it before, but it is not as hot here as it is in Stellis. Its cooling effect was not that apparent.

Zheng Yan: Oho, sounds like you’re interested in Stellis! You’ve even tried making mung bean soup. I didn’t think people from Svart had even heard of the dish.

Young man: Is that enough to count as “interest?” Although, it is true that I would like to visit Stellis.

The man was reticent, but it was the first time he showed an emotion that Zheng Yan could not understand.

Zheng Yan: Sounds good! When you have a chance, come visit me at my home. People from Stellis are very welcoming to guests.

Young man: “Visit you at your home”… So you believe you still have a chance of leaving.

The man responded to Zheng Yan’s promise with an almost-instinctual disdain, as if he knew something that Zheng Yan didn’t. His tone wasn’t even that of a question, it was one of finality.

Zheng Yan: Why wouldn’t I? I already said, I didn’t kill anyone. And the police haven’t found any evidence – are they planning on arresting a good person?

Zheng Yan unwittingly rose his voice. Ever since he’d been detained, everyone had been acting like he would never be able to leave… Why? He hadn’t killed anyone! The police had it all wrong, and there was no way they found any evidence. Once the custody limit was up, he would be free to go. Xiao Zhuo was still waiting for his dad. Zheng Yan was certain he’d be able to go home, of course he’d be able to, he had to.

Young man: You, a good person? Perhaps Stellis and Svart have very different definitions of what it means to be a “good person.”

Zheng Yan quickly realized that getting emotional was playing right into his hands… But no matter how much he tried to control himself, the derision in the man’s words wounded him deeply. When he left Stellis, Xiao Zhuo had said the same thing – sobbing, he said that he didn’t want a bad person as his dad. Xiao Zhuo was only a child, so that undisguised loathing had stabbed Zheng Yan right in the heart. He couldn’t help but clench his fists.

Young man: I saw your Stellis criminal record. First burglary, then armed robbery… just one crime after another. Right now your child is only seven years old, but the sum of all the prison terms you have been sentenced to is longer than the time he has been alive.

Zheng Yan: I admit it, I made a lot of mistakes in the past. I lost my way. But for Xiao Zhuo’s sake, I turned over a new leaf – I’m a changed man now!

Young man: Hah…

The man snorted. His blatant ridicule provoked Zheng Yan once again, even after Zheng Yan’s effort to calm himself down.

Zheng Yan: Is something funny?!

Young man: Why of course. I would love to ask Xiao Zhuo whether he thinks someone sitting handcuffed in an interrogation room is a “changed man.” I am sure he would laugh even harder than I did.

Zheng Yan: You have the wrong guy! I didn’t kill anyone, the cops made a mistake!

That had provoked Zheng Yan. His handcuffs made a harsh sound as metal scraped metal, a reminder of how dire and helpless his current situation was.

Young man: The police would not arrest someone without a good reason. Only you and the deceased were in the office when the crime occurred, and you do not even have a proper alibi. Do you really think you can escape this?

The man’s index finger tapped the table sporadically. In contrast with Zheng Yan’s agitation, he seemed certain of his victory.

Young man: You are only this relaxed because you believe the crime occurred in a locked room. As long as the police are unable to determine how you committed the crime, you will be released once your custody limit is up. But were your efforts really that flawless? To be honest with you, your custody limit is going to be extended again. This means that the police will have more time to investigate.

Zheng Yan: You guys—!

On the verge of being consumed by rage, Zheng Yan was no longer rational enough to discern the veracity of that statement. The young man paused, suppressing his annoyance at having to waste time talking to Zheng Yan, then put on a charitable expression.

Young man: There is a difference between choosing to turn yourself in and having to confess. I am sure you understand this better than I do, considering all the experience you have.

Because he wasn’t a police officer, the young man spoke with no reservation. Each word was filled with contempt for someone with a criminal record.

Zheng Yan: How can I confess to something I haven’t done!

Young man: Stop with the useless defiance. Have you thought about how your son would feel? Maybe when you left Stellis for a fresh start, he still had a sliver of hope for you. But if he knew how much of a coward you were, how you were trying to escape the consequences of your actions, I bet he would wish he never had someone like you as his father. You see, all you fathers are like this. You claim that you have your children’s best interests at heart, but in reality you are nothing but selfish!

Zheng Yan: That’s not true!

Zheng Yan pounded the table, but nothing could stop the man’s scathing words. The young man was still speaking, but Zheng Yan could no longer hear it. Once again, he recalled Xiao Zhuo’s sobbing face.

“I don’t want a bad person like you as my dad!”

“He would wish he never had someone like you as his father.”

The two voices wove together until they seemed to come from one person, and Zheng Yan couldn’t take it any longer.

Zheng Yan: Shut up! You’re lying! There’s no way… Xiao Zhuo is my son, there’s no way he wouldn’t want his dad!

Young man: Who would acknowledge a father who brings nothing but shame?

The man’s voice seemed to get sharper and sharper. Zheng Yan wished he could cover his ears but was unable to. With tears and snot streaming down his face, he knew he looked a complete mess already, but he just wanted the man to shut up.

Zheng Yan: Shut up! Shut up!

Young man: There you go again, trying to run away. How utterly humiliating it is for a son to have a father like you!

Would confessing to the crime shut that man up? He just had to confess, and that man would shut up. Then he would confess – to the murder or to whatever other crimes, he would confess to them all.

Zheng Yan: I… I did it. I confess.

Young man: Now if only you had done that earlier.

Completely numb, Zheng Yan didn’t even know what he was saying. He mechanically pressed his thumbprint to the document with his confession, signing it. Then, as if possessed, he looked again toward the young man.

Young man: *sigh*

The man hadn’t left yet. Of course the victor would want to stay behind to examine his spoils.

Sensing Zheng Yan’s gaze, the man looked back unflinchingly.

[11:11] [screen blacks out]

Zheng Yan vaguely recalled a nature documentary he had once watched with Xiao Zhuo back in Stellis. The eyes of a cheetah were visible from where it was silently hiding. It wasn’t that it had no goal, but rather that it had already determined its plan.

[11:19] Themis Law Firm

The sun was still high in the sky, but Zheng Yan’s narrative was so expressive that I felt like I was really in that dark, damp interrogation room.

Kiki: Do you think this Zheng Yan is telling the truth?

Kiki clearly felt the same way I did, as she subconsciously rubbed her arms and shuddered.

Kiki: Our current justice system is so refined that I don’t believe a confession could be induced or coerced… but his story is just so horribly realistic. It’s hard not to believe him.

MC: Right. Even if he were coerced to confess during the interrogation… There’s still a lengthy trial afterwards, where Zheng Yan would have plenty of opportunities to retract his confession. If there were no evidence whatsoever, how could he get such a long sentence based only on some botched false charges? But still, he doesn’t seem like one of those suspects who puts on act in order to be exonerated…

As a lawyer, we had seen countless suspects who kept up the crocodile tears until they were faced with ironclad evidence, then finally confessed.  As a result, it was critical for us to learn how to distinguish those who were putting on a show from those who were sincere. But his words had even stirred experienced professionals like us, let alone the vast majority of the public in the comments. Immediately, the comments toward the person who forced the confession became vicious and hateful, the words they used downright vitriolic. 

MC: Pain and despair aren’t difficult for a criminal to feign, but fabricating other characters in a story is much harder. You can practically feel the pressure from the psychology consultant that he described. If he hadn’t personally met the man, then considering his rash personality, it would be very hard for him to describe him so vividly.

Kiki: Vivid? I didn’t really feel that way, I just thought that person sounded scary. Maybe it’s because you’re with Dr. Richter, who’s also a psychologist. You’ve seen so much of his work that the story affected you more.

Kiki was just making an offhand remark, but it had given an outlet to the discomfort I was feeling. It was impossible to ignore the connection after the mentions of Svart, psychology consults, and those comments about his father. And yet I was unable to associate my image of Vyn with that person who trampled all over someone’s mental defenses. There was no way that the Vyn I knew could be an immoral person who stereotyped others and lodged personal attacks.

MC: Maybe you’re right…

Zheng Yan was still tearfully describing what he experienced in prison and how he returned to Stellis to find both his wife and son had passed away. I could faintly hear police sirens in the background. It seemed that the police had arrived at the scene, and the situation was changing rapidly. Zheng Yan, however, was hopelessly consumed by his own fury.

Zheng Yan: At first when I got out of prison, I just wanted to forget about everything that had happened and be together with my family. But I no longer had a family. At first I just wanted to take my own life and end it all, but I never thought that… I’d come across news of that psychology consultant. I never thought that he would actually come to Stellis, and even become a famous professor at Stellis University.

As Zheng Yan recounted his enemy’s personal information, it wasn’t clear whether he could predict the waves that those details would make.

Zheng Yan: The person who harmed me is out there living a great life, and here I am, an innocent man made into a criminal! How is the world so unfair!

Each sentence crashed into me like a tidal wave. Dimly, I guessed what he was going to say next, but I felt I could no longer think.

Zheng Yan: I know that if I say his name on livestream, it might be considered slander. But I’m willing to take responsibility for everything that I say. I’ll pay the price, no matter what it is. It’s not like I have anything left to lose!

Zheng Yan paused before facing the camera head-on, as if making a declaration of war.

Zheng Yan: It took a lot of work to find out what that consultant is called nowadays.

If he hadn’t spoken out on this kind of platform, maybe the situation could still be salvaged. But here, like an arrow released from a bow, there was no turning back.

Zheng Yan: His name… is Vyn Richter!

With a “whoosh,” that arrow sliced through the air, piercing me right between my eyes.

[END PART ONE]

[PART TWO]

(1) Xiao (小) is a prefix to make a nickname out of the name Zhuo (卓)

(2) “Custody Limit” Big Data Lab entry (under Academia>Law): A custody limit is the legal time limit that an accused person can be detained while under investigation, prosecution, or trial. Under Svart law, the police can arrest a suspect for up to 48 hours. If the suspect isn’t formally charged within the time limit, they must be released. The time limit can be approved for extension, but cannot exceed 96 hours.

[homestuckreplay]

Is The Wayward Vagabond Good At Chess?

On page 721 of Homestuck, the Wayward Vagabond kills time by playing chess against himself – a ‘stiff training regimen’ (p.720) for the citizen-militia of Can Town that leads to Black checkmating White, just as it was prophesied by Nannasprite that the forces of darkness would always triumph over light. But how does WV’s chess game actually play out, and what can this tell us about them and about Sburb?

First, as @tenaciouschronicler pointed out, the board is set up incorrectly. It’s a perfect mirror of how the board should be – the bottom left and top right squares on a chessboard should always be black, but in WV’s game, they’re white. To analyze this, I transcribed the actual moves that WV makes, and flipped them all horizontally – moving a piece to a2 became h2, b3 became g3, c4 became f4, etc – at which point the game becomes correct.

Here's the game after move 6 and move 13.

And, in standard chess notation (which is surprisingly quick to learn!), the moves that got us to this point.

d4 Nf6

c4 g6

Nc3 Bg7

e4 O-O

e5 Ne8

f4 d6

Be3 c5

dxc5 Nc6

cxd6 exd6

Ne4 Bf5

Ng3 Be6

Nf3 Qc7

Qb1 dxe5

Every move WV makes is legal within standard chess, so right away, we know they’ve got a good grasp of the rules and aren’t cheating. As Black, they play the King’s Indian Defense, which allows White to control the board in the early game in hopes of a counter-attack afterwards – according to chess.com, it is a ‘risky opening’ that ‘leads to unbalanced positions where Black tries to fight for an advantage instead of equality’ and makes it ‘more difficult for White to play for a draw, which tends to lead to more decisive games’.

Black’s fifth move with the knight is uncommon, but not bad. I spoke to a chess International Master to get his thoughts on the game, and he said ‘Normally people play 4…d6 in the King’s Indian to stop the knight being pushed back like this, but what Black did is also good, and he has a comfortable position out of the opening.’ He described the King’s Indian as ‘a typical fighting opening to get White to overextend’, and White fell for the play.

Homestuck doesn’t show us the middlegame, instead returning to WV’s mayoral dreams and Tab drinking as the timer rapidly counts down – but we return to the game with White in a terrible position. Here's the game where we pick up, and with White in checkmate.

Here, White is in check with an opportunity to take the opposing queen, but instead plays the following endgame moves.

Ke2 Qxg4

Kf2 Ne4

Kf1 Qg3

Re1 Qf2

This isn’t a strategic choice, but ultimately doesn’t matter - ‘No reason at all not to take the queen, White’s move is ridiculous - but he’s completely lost in the endgame anyway, with no real drawing chances’ (Chess IM). The game ends quickly, and the IM’s overall analysis is that ‘Black plays very well, either a strong tournament player or he’s cheating :) But not enough moves to go off to decide that. White is much weaker’.

Of course, Black and White are the same player. This tells us that WV does have a strong knowledge of chess, but either only knows how to play as black, or has a strong bias towards black winning. Either is believable. As a citizen of the ominous planet where the black chess pieces live, WV would likely have spent a lot of time learning strategies for Black to play, but their only knowledge of White would be how to counter their moves. They’re also indoctrinated into loyalty to the dark kingdom royalty, and to seeing Black as the superior force in battle, fated to always triumph.

Especially notable is WV’s unwillingness to capture Black’s queen. It’s an obvious move that wouldn’t have cost them the game. On page 687, WV asserts their hatred of kings as ‘petty, bossy tyrants’ who are ‘basically awful in every way’, but says nothing about queens – I wonder if WV retains some loyalty towards the dark kingdom’s queen, leading to an internal conflict where they’re unwilling to harm even her can representation.

While the battle/chess game likely plays out differently in each iteration of Sburb, WV comes from John’s game and is recreating the battle ‘years in the future’. Can this game tell us about dark and light kingdom politics during John’s game, predicting what we’ll see next in Homestuck? If so, it seems like four white pawns – perhaps representing the four players – will be allowed to initially advance, making it appear that they’re doing well in the game. John, Rose, Dave and GG will have some successes, and might let themselves get complacent with their abilities.

But the dark kingdom will hold back their best resources, and plan for the long term. They’ll take advantage of a couple big mistakes our main characters make while fighting on the side of light, skillfully eliminate these pieces from the board, retain their own queen while destroying the light kingdom’s, and, as the title of page 721 foretells, ‘lead [their] men to victory’.

It’s not a great prophecy for John and his friends – but then again, it’s uncommon for a piece taken off the chessboard to travel to another planet and start sending commands back through time. So, maybe there’s still a chance to swing the real battle in light’s favor.

[velvetvexations]

as an autistic trans man, sometimes I feel less safe in public presenting as a man than as a woman, because, especially in certain places, man + visibly autistic tends to be more often falsely read as "dangerous and predatory" than when people read me as a woman.

Yeah, as an autistic trans woman who doesn't pass, I feel that. <3

Honestly thank you so much for what you do on this app. I'm so glad there's people who are actually willing to stand with trans men instead of pulling the "um well I have it worse so do NOT talk about your own oppression EVER or else you're a transmisogynist!" I'm so happy I found your blog and I hope you have a great week <3

I hope you have a great week as well!

Eh a long while ago Chris Fleming made a video making fun of polyamorous people which used a lot of the same hurtful stereotypes society already perpetuates against us and I’ve not paid attention since

Noted, as someone who is also poly.

i wish the queer community didnt put so much emphasis on sexuality labels like i just want to have sex why do i need to put a word to it

very valid

about the dropout “discourse”: hot take but real life people are not representation. theyre people. real people are not queerbaiting you and real people happening to not be transfem (and I have literally seen transfems in some dropout episodes theyre just not part of the main cast) is not a lack of representation. these are real people. stop* *not you, the people being shitty about it

the complaint is not in any way coming from a genuine place tbh

hey! i just wanted to let you know how much your blog means to me as a trans guy. you and your reblogs have given me hope at trans unity, and lets me know that i-- that we-- aren't alone. so thank you for everything you do, and i greatly appreciate your support and look up to you 💛

Thank you. <3

i redownloaded etsy recently and seeing all the trans stuff saved to my favorites is so sad. i used to feel happy and proud and i wanted to be open about being transmasc. but since all the discourse got worse i just. cant bring myself to feel like it matters. it makes me feel like im trans and yet i will never matter the way other trans people do.

You do matter anon, I promise. I love you, you matter, and I'm glad you're here.

As a trans guy a lot of the self-ID'd TME transmascs weird me out so much. Like why do they all sound like "I am so strong and my power to Harm Women is immense. I could do it so much and I feel the pull to the Transmisogynist Dark Side but *unsheaths sword* I will protect them instead with my big strong testosterone arms from my fellow men" like what even is that. Who is into this.

it's so incredibly obviously bad but it reinforces some people's victim complexes so it's praxis now

a trans person will joke about their experience and a trf will jump in to assume theyre a white transmasc who has never ever faced any real difficulties for being trans

every time

Out of the many, many stupid ideas in this dumb discourse, I've finally decided the one I hate the most is that underlying implication that transmascs just aren't trans enough. It's so gross seeing people imply that we aren't really trans. Our dysphoria is minimal discomfort at most, apparently. I've seen people post about and imply that transmascs will never understand not feeling like a person or being unable to live a life pre transition and that's why we have privilege, i guess - are you kidding me? It's like our experiences are a joke to these people who are clearly so wrapped up in their online discourse bubble that they're just detached from what it's like for trans people as a whole. Sorry for the vent (would rather not post this on main and I don't have anyone to talk to) but it's just the most grating part. Also it's like. Low-key transmed shit. Thought we left that behind, c'mon.

transmeds are like ants they come back every summer

i wish TRFs had a label they proudly called themselves so i could jsut go through their tags and block them, but noooooo they HAVE to frame their transphobic bullshit as Brilliant Transfeminist Theory. like atleast radfems are fucking honest about being radfems

That's part of why I made antigonism a label for anti-TRFs to call themselves~!

[alpaca-clouds]

Travel is good, tourism isn't

I said in the blog yesterday, that I think travel is good, but tourism isn't. So, let me explain this. And I will put this here first: I am going to explain it on the example of Japan, because I know the most about what is happening there in terms of travel and tourism - and what issues arise from it.

See, I do think travelling to foreign places (whatever that means for you) is a good thing. Experiencing other cultures and interacting people who due to their culture have a very different outlook on life and the world is a good thing. Not only to move away from a certain worldview (which for white people tends to be an eurocentric one, and for Americans an US-centric one), it also fosters empathy to other people.

And I think of this dramatic thing especially when it comes to Americans travelling, who due to their lacking education system often do know jack shit about the rest of the world.

However: I do both think that the thing we right now call tourism does not really help, but actually does hinder this - and is harmful in many other ways.

Right now, foreign tourists are no longer allowed in Gion, the Geisha quarter of Kyoto. The reason for it is, that too many of them were fucking disrespectful. Some made photos of the Geisha without asking, some even touched the kimono and the hair of the Geisha. Some even got angry and started arguing, when people told them to not do this.

Especially when it comes to Kyoto I can think of a variet of other examples. People have carved their names into temples. People touched things that are not supposed to be touched (like idols). People otherwise behaved inappropriately, for example towards kannushi and mikos. Folks have bathed their feet in pools meant for ritual cleansing. There are a lot of examples of this.

And I think part of this goes back to two things. For one again eurocentrism and the way, that a lot of especially white folks to not perceive other cultures as real. But also, and maybe more importantly, the mindset that: "I have paid $1500 for this trip and I get to very well do what I want." The different culture in this mindset gets treated like a themepark, not as a place filled with real people, rather than performers there to enhance the tourist's experience.

Meanwhile the tourists generally are not really interested to interact with the other culture further than that. Which is also, why they tend to flock to the same few places, to all go make their own photo of the same place that a million people have photographed before - as compared to going exploring in a foreign place.

And in some cases - like Kyoto - this also leads to the fact that the local people often get pushed out of the places they actually live in.

A lot of people will often say: "Yeah, but it is great for their economy." Which... leaving my capitalism-hating-ideation aside for a moment... Well, actually it is not good and COVID showed us. Because it makes the economy totally depedent on tourism. In places that are heavily dependent on tourism, the sudden complete anihilation of tourism with the pandemic pushed those places further into a crisis than anywhere else. Heck, keeping it with Kyoto: Given a lot of folks had jobs related to the tourism industry and there were in fact not many other jobs, a lot of people found themselves forced to move away from Kyoto during the pandemic.

So while the entire "but economy" thing will seem true on a short term, it actually is not on the long term.

And that is without going into the environmental impact that comes from a lot of people flocking to certain places. This is shown especially in areas, where folks go for "nature", destroying nature while they do so. Because nature just cannot handle thousands upon thousands of people travelling through.

So, what do I mean with "travel, instead of tourism"? Well, frankly: Yes, you still go to other places. But - to keep with Japan - instead of going to Kyoto you might go to Morigushi or Beppo, and instead of touring from one temple and shrine to the next, you will just interact with the places and explore them. To actually experience them, rather than some preconscieved notion of what it is supposed to be. And you interact with the people.

And you learn. Because we all just need to learn about different people, different cultures and different places. Rather than just consuming them.

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 

Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him. 

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say. 

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask. 

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.” 

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 

“It’s fine,” he assures you. 

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.” 

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

[itsabouttimex2]

Platonic yandere monkey family finding out y/n is dating redson

Monkiefam reacts to dating Red Son

(Alternate Scenario)

MK will no doubt be the calmest about this situation... depending on the season. In the start, he’ll be incredibly upset (even somewhat betrayed) about you dating his very dangerous rival. Let’s not forget that Red Son was once very willing to harm innocent people in his quest to take over the world/please his father.

Once Early!MK learns about your relationship with Red Son he’s genuinely worried for you, thinking you might have been coerced into the relationship in some way. This fear sets him on the war path, racing off to the Demon Bull King’s fortress. He’ll unhesitatingly smash through hordes of Bull Clones, ripping apart the metal of the drones like wet tissue paper. Each machine-shattering swing of the Ruyi Jingu Bang brings him a step closer to you, a step closer to the dining hall that serves as the center room of the armored fortress.

Where he finds you and Red Son sitting across from one another, happily sharing a meal together.

His heart is struck with anger and relief in unison, his diametric emotions spread between the both of you. He’s furious at Red Son, for daring to try and court his precious sibling, but also eased by the fact that you’re clearly unharmed and here by your own will and volition. By nature of being someone very precious to him, you garner far less anger from MK than his rival does, but he’s still upset. His voice takes on a gruff edge as he angrily scolds you, sounding much like Pigsy does when the chef flips his lid.

“You came here?! Without telling me?! To go on a date with my rival?!”

Any protests, excuse, or explanations from you are summarily dismissed as he grabs you by the wrist, swinging his golden staff against the ground. Bits of tech and clutter from around the house gather together, forming a small mech with the both of you in the cockpit. Red Son can only stare in shock as MK’s brand new mech stomps out of the fortress, each angry step shaking the ground.

The ride home is tempestuous, his emotions flaring as he pilots the gold and red mech, biting his tongue to keep himself from yelling at you. He’s angry, sure, but he still loves you. MK doesn’t want to drive you away or hurt your feelings, after all. He just wants to keep you safe.

Even if it means cutting you off from your ‘boyfriend’. He’s only doing it for your own good, of course.

Sun Wukong has seen people make a lot of bad decisions in his time. Even as knowledge and resources grow wider spread and more readily available, people stay foolish, small-minded, reckless. Sometimes by circumstance. Sometimes by choice. And one of the greatest motivators for foolish decisions, staying consistent through the centuries-

is love.

Love, whether fleeting and passionate or slow and drudging, changes people. It inspires them to perform grand gestures, to better themselves, to grow and learn. Love makes people into artists, writers, sculptors, all so that they can share with the world with the white-hot beat of their hearts.

And then, equal and opposite, it drives them to violence and bloodshed. Blood-red hands born of green-eyed envy driven to take up sharp knives and heavy cudgels. It breeds wicked plots and gruesome schemes, tricking people into throwing their lives away for a fleeting flame that’s destined to burn out.

Love is beautiful and dangerous in equal amounts, something to be both cherished and feared.

Sun Wukong has seen both outcomes. He’s personally dealt with tragedies born of love, many times over. Not every coupling ends with marriage and children, a ring and a promise.

His own sworn brother, Zhu Baije, was cast out of heaven for attempting to seduce Guanyin, being reborn as a pig demon. Then, he never returned to the maiden in Gao village that he fell for, instead spending his life as a cleanser of altar leftovers.

Kui Mulang was separated from his lover for his crimes, and forced to become a furnace keeper. Tang Sanzang refused to marry the queen of the Women’s Kingdom, and then rejected the scorpion demon that stole him away.

He doesn’t tell you all of that, of course. He nudges you with an elbow and gives you a cheeky grin, saying that: “It doesn’t always end well, bud. Trust me, I’ve seen more than a few things in my time that would have you running for a cloister.”

He doesn’t warn you off of love entirely, or threaten you to not start dating. In fact, he’s not entirely opposed to the idea of you having a significant other. He’s a pretty easy-going guy, even when he’s staring down his enemies or cracking skulls open.

In fact, depending on who you go after, he might be entirely supportive of you!

Red Son is not a decision he will abide by, unfortunately. There’s just too many flaws to count, in Wukong’s opinion. Short-tempered, egotistical, elitist, violent, power-hungry… nothing that qualifies him to be your partner, honestly.

So the Great Sage goes about trying to casually split the two of you up, whether it’s finding his way “by coincidence” into your dates, or crashing any meetings you and the demon have. What can he say? He gets around a lot more these days, doesn’t he? It’s not strange to meet up in popular places around Megapolis.

Even though he continues to show up wherever you and Red Son meet, no matter how “off the beaten path” or “hole in the wall” it may be. He’ll never justify himself or explain why he’s there. But he will grab a table and join the two of you.

He might not be outright sabotaging the relationship, but he sure makes it hard to maintain and grow. He won’t candidly ruin it, but he keeps pushing and pushing, slowly fraying your nerves. It’s a trap, where he’s trying to push you into snapping at him. And if you do fall for it?

It does get worse.

Try to lash out at him, or demand that he go away. Yell at him, or push him away. Try it, and he’ll throw you over his shoulder and hop onto his flying cloud, racing you back to Flower Fruit Mountain. From there, he’ll forbid you from being with Red Son again, grounding you for the outburst he intentionally provoked.

Watching you grow upset with his decree, Wukong will wipe away the tears gathering up in your eyes, and pull you into a hug to comfort you. He doesn’t want you upset. He just wants you to himself.

“It’s alright, bud. Don’t worry about that fire guy. He’s pretty awful, honestly. Let’s sit down and watch something fun to take your mind off him, alright?”

And; for now at least, he’s got you.

No. Absolutely not. Macaque refuses to allow it. He doesn’t want to see you with anybody, but least of all a “hot-headed demon with daddy issues,” as he puts it. Where Wukong will show restraint by never outright ruining your dates and outings together, Macaque crosses that line unhesitatingly. Once he learns that you’re openly and happily dating a dangerous demon, he sets out to find you and rectify this little issue.

He stalks out to the park that you and Red Son are walking through, quietly following along as his glare burns into the demon’s back. His fury reaches a boiling point when the two of you settle onto a bench, Red Son’s hand slowly reaching out to yours.

He furiously stomps through the park, coming up behind the both of you. The shadows writhe and roil with each step he takes, coming alive to lash at the ground around them with ice-cold tendrils.

He summons up his shadow staff and swings it down, smashing the middle of the bench you and your boyfriend are sitting on to announce his presence, cleaving the metal cleanly and easily. You and Red Son both scramble to your feet, shocked and more than a little scared.

You specifically.

If there’s anything that gives him reason to pause, anything that stops him in his tracks, it’s the look of outright fear in your eyes. He takes a moment to catch his breath, dispelling his staff and quieting the rioting shadows. He’s still angry, sure. But he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him. So, even though he’s seething with fury, he stops short of actually harming Red Son, instead settling for dragging you away by your ear as you argue and protest his rough hold on you.

Macaque pulls you over to a shadow portal, still gripping your quickly-reddening ear between his thumb and pointer finger, pushing you in before him. He whips around to shoot Red Som a death glare, then turns back and jumps in after you.

You both pop out inside your shared house, Macaque’s foot tapping impatiently as he folds his arms, staring at you disapprovingly. You rub at your sore ear, glaring right back.

“No dating. I already told you this. One, you’re too young. Two, anyone could be an opponent in disguise. Three, he’s dangerous. Seriously, bad call. I thought you were smarter than this, kid.”

He goes silent when he sees the tears beading up in the corners of your eyes, maybe from pain, maybe from his lecture. He did just technically call you stupid. Macaque sighs, and pats your head.

“Look, just… go lay down. See if you can’t get some shut-eye, alright? I’ll check up on you when it’s time to eat.”

He sends you off to your room, spinning you around and nudging you off, sighing as you go. His powerful ears make it impossible to ignore your quiet sniffles and the sound of tears hitting the hardwood floors.

He’s not the bad guy here, he reminds himself. The bad guy is whoever’s trying to corrupt you or steal you away from him. Them, not him.

Never him.

[cyren-myadd]

Do you have any thoughts on the fact that in first scenario Spider was supposed be from Mexico and his name was Javier?

I don't think we ever had any real confirmation of original-Spider's ethnicity or nationality, but when his name was first announced as "Javier Socorro" a lot of people assumed he would be Latino Hispanic (from a Latin American country) instead of White Hispanic (from Spain) like he ended up being. That meant he very well could've been Mexican, or at least half-Mexican on his mom's side since I think he was always intended to be Quaritch's son. I believe they changed his first name to "Miles" to make the connection to Quaritch more obvious.

If Spider had been Mexican, it wouldn't have really changed anything in The Way of Water. He's still a human, and being a different color wouldn't change the way the other characters perceive him. The only thing that would've been different is that he wouldn't have had the nickname "monkey boy/monkey mascot," since having Sigourney Weaver and Stephen Lang calling a Hispanic kid monkey would NOT have gone over well.

Even though making him a different ethnicity wouldn't have changed the movie itself, I actually think it might've changed the way he was perceived by the audience.

This is a thought I've had in the back of my head for a long time, and this question finally gave me a reason to type it all out. But before I get into it, I do want to say that I am white and American, so I'm speaking from the perspective of a white American when I make this analysis of Spider's character and how he was perceived by American audiences. Now let's get into it:

Spider was a pretty controversial character. A lot of people hated him, but there was also a minority of people who really loved him too (me lol). Some people hated him because they felt like Neteyam's death was his fault or because they didn't like that he saved Quaritch in the end, which are reasons that wouldn't change because of his ethnicity, but there were also people who hated him because of his appearance. Spider was often described as "feeling out of place" and off-putting to some viewers. After I saw the Way of Water with my cousins, one of them (he is also white) told me that he hated Spider. When I asked him why, he shrugged and said, "he's a white boy with dreadlocks!" like that was the only reason he needed.

Now I'm just speculating here, but I think a small part of the reason why so many people can't stand Spider might be because he is white. Not because of racism against white people, but because of the context in which Spider exists as a white person. The Na'vi are very obvious allegories for indigenous American, African, and Maori people, and the RDA is a very obvious allegory for European colonizers and US corporations that exploited those groups. I can't speak for the rest of the world, but in America there are social controversies over white American people taking items that are culturally significant to other groups and wearing them as costumes. I know there's a lot of controversy over what is and isn't cultural appropriation, but when it comes to specifically white people wearing specifically Native American clothing, it's generally regarded negatively since most Native American people have said it's disrespectful because the clothing has cultural and spiritual significance.

And then we have Spider, who is not only white, but is also the son of two people who actively harmed the Na'vi, and he wears Na'vi clothing.

In the context of the Avatar movies, it makes perfect sense that Spider would dress and act the way that he does. He was raised alongside the Na'vi so it's all he knows. If you were going to fit Spider into the greater allegory of Avatar, he is similar to the historical figure, Olive Oatman. When Oatman was a child in the 1800s, her family was killed by a group of Native Americans, and she and her sister ended up being taken in by the Mohave people. She lived with them for several years before returning to a white settlement, and during that time she was assimilated into the Mohave tribe, wearing their clothing and receiving traditional tattoos. (Her story is super interesting, you should totally read more about it!). Spider is like a sci-fi version of Oatman, since his parents were killed by natives and he ended up being taken in by them and assimilating into their culture. In the context of modern day culture, a white woman getting Mohave tattoos would be considered appropriation, but in the context of Oatman's situation, it makes sense. Same thing with Spider. In-universe, adopting Omaticaya culture makes sense.

However, if you look at Spider through the lens of modern American cultural context, he looks an awful lot like a white kid dressing up in the traditional clothing of a culture his people harmed. If Spider had been raised on earth and was actively benefiting from the RDA's exploitation of Pandora, then what he's doing would be considered appropriation. But he wasn't. Even though that's not what Spider is, the association is still there. So when people see this "white boy with dreadlocks" as my cousin put it, they feel like there's something wrong with what they're looking at because they associate his appearance with cultural appropriation. I think if Spider had been cast as Latino, he might have been received a bit more favorably by the audience.

Once again, this is all just speculation, I don't really know if Spider's perception would've been different if he'd been a different ethnicity, and I acknowledge that most of the hate Spider received had to do with his character actions. However, I do believe that American audiences may have been partly influenced by the concept of cultural appropriation, which is where that feeling of Spider being "off-putting" comes from. I think it's definitely where my cousin's dislike of him comes from, since it's not about anything he did, but rather how he looks like.

[vintageseawitch]

this is what i think of when third party voters go around acting morally superior because they don't want to get their hands dirty like the rest of us. they're toddlers having temper tantrums because instead of using the system in a way that could benefit them in the long term like the extremist Republicans have been doing for decades, third party voters refuse to participate in local civics & then claim the entire country is already fascist. they're so cute in their naivety if they think the US can't get any worse.

what the fuck do you think will happen if you try to protest against a government with a military as massive, lethal, & expensive as ours. who do you think will be sacrificed first? oh what's that? crickets? thought so. i'm a white woman but i will absolutely use my voice to point out leftists can be racist as fuck & the anti-blackness in your spaces can be absolutely fucking wild. not everyone leftist is white, but many that are can be pretty problematic.

if you think i'm selfish then fine. if you state that you would gladly exchange my life for a Palestinian like one of you said in a comment to me a few weeks ago then fine. i'm out here fighting to make sure the people who live here in this country don't experience our own Holocaust.

if you have a problem with people wanting to fight this while claiming you're anti-genocide, you're a fucking liar & a hypocrite. you won't know what the fuck to do in a true fascist country. i don't doubt there are pockets of fascism already existing here but you thinking it's already the worst it can be is as infuriating as people who think the government is creating their massive hurricanes using weather machines. you sound just as childish & delusional. you already sound like children because you will never take responsibility for your choices if it ends up helping him win.

jill stein's campaign is a sham. she is deliberately running as a spoiler. she's a wealthy white woman who lives in a mostly white affluent neighborhood. she's going around lecturing black people about white supremacy. she is getting funds from Republicans as well as help from trump's lawyers. Lockheed Martin has given her money. she's involved in shady as fuck index funds for companies that harm the environment. she only started talking about Gaza during this election cycle to hit you in the feelings so she can bank on it. she made a whole stink about needing a recount, raised a bunch of money for that, & then that money disappeared who knows where. do you all hear this? do you care? no, you're just like maga with their orange Jesus. you don't give a FUCK about stein's red flags because she's "different."

if Harris loses & you blame anyone but yourselves, you're cowardly traitors who threw us regular Americans to the wolves because of your precious fucking principles. history has shown time & time again that protest voting typically allows something worse to take control. it's hardly ever beneficial to the people. you're vile. you don't want to make this world a better place by allowing so many near you to suffer & die. if both sides are the same then please tell me you're okay with another trump presidency. or just shut the fuck up.

i look forward to more potentially heartwarming messages saying that my life doesn't mean shit from people who allegedly are against the death penalty & are pro-human rights 🥰

please vote, don't stop talking about Project 2025, etc. i hope enough of us vote in a way that these pathetic third party voters don't gain any kind of traction. at this point i'm just angry at their hypocrisy when they don't even listen to other protestors who live here & are begging them to not vote third party. i refuse to listen to y'all not take responsibility for your part. Project 2025 will hurt us all but apparently you're okay with that or you think it's already here. smooth brain takes all around. anyways good luck & stay safe to anyone who votes blue 💙

[thewoollyviking]

There’s something that’s been bothering me about discussing the finale to SU (the finale to the main series that is, not future) that I hear often.

Namely, that Steven’s success in getting the Diamonds, especially White, to change their ways is meant to be a sort of escapist fantasy where you can somehow reach out to your bigoted, hyper conservative family and get them to change their mind.

For a while I was sympathetic to that. I understand that in the last few years a lot of people, especially anybody living in the US, have had to cut ties with their family for one reason or another, and that this ending can be comforting. Perhaps even enough to inspire hope that maybe one day, they themselves could do the same with their friends or family.

But in the last few years I just feel like this need to cling to that fantasy has aged poorly and might even be more harmful than hopeful.

I wonder how many people watched the show and thought that if they just said the right thing or had the right argument, they could reach out to that person they had to ghost for a while and pull them out of that rabbit hole.

But whenever I do hear about or talk to people who have tried to do that, who try to talk them out and change their mind, all I hear about is how emotionally draining it is. How much that person just hurts them bu basically spitting in their face. Ever since 2020 these people have just become impossible to talk to because they aren’t interested in having their mind changed.

If you have a friend or family member that traded their principles for a red hat, they’re not going to care about your arguments.

The people who stay and try to get those people to change just keep hurting themselves. And the people they’re trying to reach out to are either too lost in the sauce to see how they’re hurting them, or they do know and revel in it.

It’s why I can’t help but feel like Steven was kind of coddled by the narrative and given an easy out (most likely because CN was threatening to pull the plug after the Garnet Wedding) to make for a nicer ending to the story.

But in a way it cheapens other elements of the story. Are we to assume then that Rose could have reasoned with White and simply didn’t try as hard as Steven had? Did Steven just come off as more convincing and charismatic than Rose? Is the nonstop demonization of Rose after season 5 suggesting that Rose should never have ran away and instead should have stayed to suffer under the Diamonds abuse in the slim hope that she could get them to understand her?

What was so special about Steven that Rose lacked in getting them to finally change?

I don’t like the idea of this element of the story, the confrontation with the apathetic, abusive family of the protagonist’s mother, feeling like it has to end on such a perfect fairy tale ending when so much they had been everything but that.

We kept all that emotional ugliness and drama when it came to Rose and how losing her affected Steven’s family. Why choose to have the Diamonds walk away thinking they can be a happy family now with Steven, and why is Steven coddling them by letting them think they can have him be their stand-in for Rose without having to accept that she’s gone because of them?

Why not keep it here? Why not show that people like Rose and Steven don’t need to always change the minds of or gain the approval of people like White. That sometimes the best we can do is just to try and get away, cut ties, and strike out on your own for your own sake because they will never. stop. hurting you.

But if you can, the best you can do is try to take away whatever power that abuser is using over others. Not necessarily by killing them, but at least by making it so that they could never hurt somebody ever again.

That should have been how Steven dealt with White. Having to bitterly accept that she’d be a hateful, abusive piece of shit no matter what he said. But at least Yellow and Blue, two of Rose’s family who had thousands of years of grief to process before getting called out for their role in Rose’s abuse, would want to help in making things right.

It would not be a perfect fairy tale ending, but that would have at least been one that better handled the Diamonds as villains.

Because they are. And that’s something this fandom seems to have forgotten and instead in a confused stupor seemed to have slapped onto Rose.

[snottertooder]

Why this red hood design is bad for Red hood as a character

My 2 cents on how this red hood design is harmful for his character and falls into the stereotypes that are put on him (aka Classism aka Angry Robin reckless Jason ) I will be looking at this from a logical stand point as an artist so if you like smth about this design power to you. A characters design is supposed to be both realistic AND fit the characater aesthetically which neither do here. (Ex: Superman wearing neon red undies is not realistic but it’s his trade mark)

1) Domino mask

Quick and easy, making the eyes of the Domino mask red instead of white intigates anger, literally screams “I see red” really drives home “pitmadness jason” “angry Robin jason”

2) Muscular Build

We see muscular builds in characters who are brawlers, who are more strong than smart, heros, crooks, henchmen,villains. Jason falls into none of those Categories, It makes him out to be more of a brawler type like the hulk rather than someone who uses weapons (or guns 🙃 like he should be)

I don’t see any point of him having muscles on his arms as he’s more like Nightwing, he trained like dick and fights similarly to him. I’ve seen people say he’s the least athletic Robin which? I’m just going to assume it’s because of this design choice of him having bigger muscles because Bigger = Slower.

The addition of the muscles also makes him look older which takes away the real tragedy of Jasons story which is that he’s so young, he died young, he fought Bruce at the age of 18. Making him look older takes away his “innocence” (aka the tragidy of his character). Basically Adding muscle isn’t beneficial for his skills set + paints a different picture of his character at first glance (he looks like a brawler rather than a duelists + he doesn’t look agile + he looks older)

3) Clothing

Bandages- he looks like a brawler, or a boxer type character, again focuses more on fighting red hood than his actual character: a planner “I’m 5 steps ahead of you” under the red hood Jason. It screams Reckless Jason who throws punches first asks questions later, and paints him in a different light (also they are SOOO UGLY with his gloves)

Vest- looks really cheap and thin, literally looks like something you would find at a Goodwill bins but drop immediately from the weird texture. Your telling me your a trust fund kid with a Billionaire daddy and a Mother figure who’s a princess but can’t get a proper vest?? Also the hood is soo on the nose, just because he’s called red hood doesn’t mean he needs that. Bring his helmet back.

Pants- it doesn’t look like it in the picture but 99.9% of the time they are drawn as sweatpants and sometimes they’re even adidas like he’s being sponsored to wear them. Again very cheap and he looks so goofy next to other hero’s who have proper gear on. It’s giving I woke up like this. Give him proper pants.

Symbol- this is more personal opinionated but I hate him having a symbol, the current one looks weird and what is that even supposed to be??? Why would he put that on his shirt?? It looks like a the Red heart on converses expect like possessed and angry (weird choice making the eyes look like that but okay….) I prefer him having no symbol at all, I genuinely think he’s popular enough to live off his red helmet alone, let it be his symbol, or a simple R like in three jokers (also nods to his Robin costume) but lowkey im grateful bc seeing the other options this was definitely the best……

Final synopsis: this design leans into the caricature Dc likes to put him in but also has some Fanon Jason todd mixed into it. He looks angry, stupid, and poor. looks nothing like who he is at core and strays soo far from his og design (again a brawler rather than a dualist) he looks lazy in it and it genuinely looks like he picked up his outfit at the nearest Walmart. I am not against seeing Jason in new costumes and played around with his design but when it strays so far and makes his character look completely different I don’t see the point of changing it in the first place.

Anyways save me Under the red hood Jason and Three jokers Jason 🙏.