#my brain rebuttals saying that that’s just what an abuser would say to get out of seeming abusive

[necrxticstardust]

Is it a normal, totally not OCD thing to get stuck in a thought loop where you’re worried abt something you’re doing is abusive, and you try to rationalize that that potentially abusive thing is something you’d have to be intentionally choosing to do, and the fact that you aren’t intentionally doing that thing means you aren’t abusive. But then in trying to prove you aren’t abusive, it means you’re gaslighting and manipulating the situation and ARE abusive because trying to prove you aren’t abusive is something an abuser would do so you try to reiterate that you aren’t trying to be abusive and you aren’t doing things intentionally to be abusive and you aren’t manipulating the situation bc that requires you to be aware of and intentionally manipulating but then. That just proves you’re abusive because you’re trying to convince yourself you’re not abusive and that’s something an abuser would do. And that loop just goes on for infinity?

[lakesbian]

Do Brian & Aisha & Alec for the blorbo bingo obviously :p

alec:

almost everyone but me is wrong about him. gnawing on wildbow's leg like a rabid dog for dropping the ball in the gender and sexuality department. there has got to be SOME reason i like him so much but i have no idea what it is. did not expect to care about him even remotely but his death put him in my brain forever against my will. i can make him worse. and will hypothetically sometimes for fun. he is chilling on the couch in my mind palace in perpetuum. i want to take him out for ice cream as a special treat. the thing is that i Would say "alec did nothing wrong" as a somewhat facetious rebuttal of the fandom spaces that think he's an ontologically evil cunt for being sexually abused when he was 12 but the same people also genuinely believe he did nothing wrong in his interlude and subsequently i cannot say "alec did nothing wrong" without sounding exactly like said people. so i compromise with "alec did 2 things wrong and the things redditors think he did wrong are none of them," which technically isn't true either, but captures my intended sentiment close enough. i love him forever

aisha:

ilove her forever. she's done nothing wrong in her entire life, ever, at any point in time. i wish her existence was pleasant and easy. please stop putting her in situations. alec is my favorite in a "inexplicable bout of autism" way but aisha is my favorite worm character in a "favorite with all inexplicable bouts of autism aside" way. i wish ward was about aisha. fuck vicky i want an entire book about aisha. everythign ever should be about aisha. extremely underrated undersider. i wish i was autistic about aisha instead of alec so i could inspire an Aishaposting Renaissance on wormblr instead of just an alec one. we should set wildbow's car on fire once for every Wildbow Moment involved in the writing of aisha laborn. also i should clarify. most worm fandom takes about the undersiders are incorrect in general, so i'm defining "fandom" here as just wormblr and not the broader worm fandom--wormblr generally understands miss aisha laborn imo

brian:

every time i think too hard about the way wildbow fucks up writing brian i morph into a man literally too angry to die. there's soooo much interesting shit there and then he just fully forgets to make any of it relevant. Gnawing On His Leg Like A Rabid Dog. i Love brian he's one of the top characters ever. there's something about an exceedingly normal guy who isn't Actually normal but Thinks he is because everyone else is so much weirder than him that's so funny and endearing. i wish his life didn't suck so much but also i love watching how much it sucks. we should all post about him more. i intend to get a phd in brian laborn upon worm reread.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

Okay I'm sorry if this is so long but the tweets anons send and the rest of the twitter conversation with the Emma fan made literally my brain hurt, not my head, my freaking brain and I need to say some things. I would happily say it to them as well but I have no Twitter so 🤷🏽‍♀️ Few things that bother me

Her fans saying she was defending herself. there's no information about that, but whenever someone tries to rationalize it saying that maybe Emma hit Evan and in self defense Evan pushed her away which caused her bruises cuz she fell to her knees (which I think is the most common speculation about this accident) they claim it's stupid to say because there's no news about him defending himself. Well where are the news about Emma defending herself?

Her fans saying Evan went back to her and even proposed so it means it's all good. He also was with her despite cheating "rumors" (I say it like that cuz technically they're rumors but we know they're not just rumors) doesn't mean it's not bad, and let's not act like it's unfortunately not common for victims of abuse to be with their abusers for years, and even defend them.

Her fans using Evan's dark roles against him. What about Emma's bitchy and bad roles?? Evan playing the bad guy means he's the bad guy but, Emma playing the mean, privileged, rich bitch, when she gave us a proof of being one in real life multiple times is iconic?

Her fans using Evan's therapy against him. That's a good thing! Emma should try it! Maybe less people would get hurt by her, it's also important now that she's a mother. And I haven't seen her fans talking about Evan and his addiction struggles, but I'm sure if them talking about these blind, wouldn't mean they'd also have to acknowledge blinds about Emma's addiction and her fucked up behavior, they would use it against him too.

And the most ridiculous thing Emma's fans say; they arrested Emma because only Evan had visible injuries but...they were found hitting each other? And yes I do know that's what her team claimed but if it were true, it wouldn't only be Emma that got arrested. If they were found both hitting each other she wouldn't need visible injuries for Evan to get arrested 🤦🏽‍♀️ and sorry but if he was hitting her, her tiny body would've had more than bruised knees And just to think about that, how were they found hitting each other then? He was hitting her knees (assuming from the fact that that's literally the only place she had injury besides the tiny ass scrape on her arm) and she was doing what? How did they get to the point that he was hitting her in the knees out of all places. The only explanation I can think of is the speculation that I already mentioned, she was pushed to her knees, but that doesn't fit the "they were found hitting each other" narrative. And when you add the fact that she was seen with bruises multiple times to the combo... well, it doesn't look good for Emma and her narrative 🤷🏽‍♀️

whew! thank you! now imagine if the emma stans could come up with such a coherent rebuttal. really, anything besides made up stories, some heavily cropped screenshots from an article, and the damn photos of emma with her bruised knees.

[terrarium-tonic]

i argued with an incel for longer than i am proud of

tl:dr

transphobic, women-hater 18yr old refuses to accept that people have harder lives than him, who simply cannot get any bitches, because he's unsafe to be around.

i work with an andrew tate enthusiast and today we got into a fairly long (3 hours) "debate". it began with trans rights. the obvious stance being that trans people deserve every opportunity and all the love the world can offer for the simple reason that they exist and are people. his counter was that he is ok with trans people as long as they exist quietly and dont shove it down anyone's throats. I responded with the argument that silence often means death and he reacted with general disbelief as he believes that "people know what trans is so they dont need to keep saying it and promoting it". obviously i asked how anyone promotes that and where the line is drawn between demanding acceptance and respect and actively "grooming" children into becoming trans and he couldn't define it besides making the point that people at pride dont always wear "family friendly outfits" and it shows degeneracy to children.

he made the point that he's ok with gay people but escalated it by saying that trans people have a mental illness and that he just wants to help them and that it shouldn't be encouraged or accepted. i told him my understanding of the science and how hormones and brain shape and some of the other things i've read and heard (having trans/ non-binary friends) and his only rebuttal was that not all people who say they are trans are actually trans and if you held a gun to their head then they'd concede but i made it clear that even if this was true, why should that result in suffering for the people who he WILL believe are trans? he wouldn't concede that it isnt a mental illness and maintains that he only wishes help towards these people but i asked him to define help and if he means conversion therapy, he vaguely agreed although didn't exactly know what that would entail so i informed him that people try this stuff and it often involves the systematic torture and sexual abuse of people and that he cannot possibly believe that this is a good thing to put a "mentally ill" person through and if the experts all say that is isnt an illness and the best "cure" is gender affirming care then thats what they should get.

this derailed into links between being trans and being a pedophile, i dismissed this as statistics just dont show any correlation and this is not a safe comparison to make.

i tried making the comparison to black rights and the history of this movement as its something he claimed to have more knowledge of but seemed to have no idea about the way modern slavery is rooted in the prison system and laws and prosecutions are unfairly pointed towards black people meaning that yes we "abolished slavery" but that was followed by segregation and then red-lining and all modern forms of division faced. this seemed to strike something but as soon as i attempted to bring this back to sexuality and gender and point out that these are all minority groups who face prejudice in different forms than that of 50, 100, 400 years ago but suddenly it back tracked to mental illness.

i tried explaining the stonewall riots and how they were seen as necessary because people were literally dying and it was being encouraged by the systems in place and one of the first people to talk was a black, trans-woman who was booed by others members of the community because some of the white L,G and B were prepared to take their rights in exchange for distance from trans people. throughout the debate he kept bringing up the fact that riots, protests and anything other than silence is just being too loud and makes business owners and the general public angry at whichever group is doing the protest. me telling him about stonewall made him bring this up again and he claimed that if people didnt riot that the general public would be a lot more sympathetic and like them more. i had to explain that gay-bashing is a thing people do and the police encouraged and did their fair share but this was again met with disbelief. the aids crisis history had, similarly, no effect

i asked which methods people are meant to enact change when the laws and systems are built against them and he said "speak to the media" and i asked how they can do that without also addressing children and younger people as he seems to think that this would be inappropriate. he didnt have an answer to this. i asked why young people cant learn about these things and he says it should be left to children to figure out on their own and when i tried to point out how much straight sex is pushed upon kids so not teaching LGBT history and information leaves an unfair divide for letting kids "work it out on their own"

we finally got to the route of the problem when we discovered that he holds the belief that women need god in their life otherwise they are degenerate and unpure and they have no self respect. he pointed out that a woman who sleeps with more than people than is appropriate (he would not define what was too many for it to be inappropriate) no longer has self respect and therefore is a reflection on the man as having no self respect. he stated that if a man is with a woman that has slept with multiple people in an unacceptable time frame then it makes the man look lesser and this is the woman's fault. i asked why he couldn't feel secure in the knowledge that his partner is his and only has interest in him and why he would feel insecure knowing his partner has had other partners but he claimed it isn't insecurity and that it simply comes down to self-respect (he couldn't define the term)

i had to point out that he has never had a relationship and that he is not a woman so cannot define what a woman's self respect is made of and cannot possibly give any kind of relationship advice to me. i pointed out that i have loved and respected my partner for nearly 7 years and that he cannot possibly have more first-hand knowledge about this topic.

he asked me the question "in a relationship, who is the prize?" i said "what?" "the man or the woman, who is the prize in the relationship?" i was dumbfounded and stated clearly "the relationship IS the prize, the two of you together in a relationship" he shook his head and wholeheartedly disagreed. "in a relationship the woman will most often say herself and the man will most often say the woman because men are not valued so she has to have self respect and be god-fearing in order to make him look good" i couldn't find a better response than "the god-fearing woman you've made up is taught to respect and value her man more than herself so instantly your logic falls apart" and he actually agreed with me.

i tried the empathy approach again with some hard hitting facts and among the conversation i pointed out that almost every member of the LGBT community has faced some type of violence, many homeless of a young age are homeless because of their LGBT identity. i also tried making him understand (after he claimed that men ask women out more than women ask men out and i told him thats because women have to be as safe as possible and he didn't believe me) i told him that i can say with 100% certainty that every woman he knows has received some type of sexual harassment. that includes cat-calling, unwanted touch, comments about appearance, more violent things than this. i certainly dont know any women who have not experienced something along these lines and i know its also true that, for everything i see or hear about, there are 10 things i dont see or hear about. i told him all this and there was a slight look of sadness, disbelief and denial but i promised him it is true and to think about every woman he knows, mother, sister, classmates, colleagues, he has to understand how true this is and i told him that this is exactly why he needs to learn more respect and that he, actually, isnt shit until he learns to become a safe person to be around and a person who can handle not being wanted because he adds no value to an already valuable woman.

this person is 18-19 and im a little older and i genuinely feel bad for him because i dont want him going towards a woman and making them feel unsafe and then he has to sit in his head and just will not understand that this is both his fault and the fault of many men around him. i wish i could have grabbed his head and just shook him until he learns to do better

[quietmyfearswith]

their love language ; preferences

warnings — fluff (?) couple of swear words

characters — andy barber, steve rogers, jake jensen, bucky barnes, carter baizen, lance tucker, syverson, will shaw (cold light of day), august walker

a/n — just something i put together lmao asks are open for anything

with their little

masterlist

andy barber — physical touch and words of affirmation

It wasn’t unusual that Andy brought home work; but more often than not concerning. Not only was he overworking himself, but it also led him to doubt and question his own capabilities. And Y/N knew when these unwanted thoughts would start to plague Andy’s mind and she knew just how to prevent them from affecting him severely. Creeping up behind him, she placed her hands on his shoulders giving him a massage he didn’t know his body was begging for. “How you doing, handsome?” she asked sweetly as she placed a small kiss on the back of his ear. Turning his head slightly so he could reciprocate the kiss but on her hand, “Making slow but significant progress.” She hummed, moving her fingers from his shoulders and to his temples she tried to rub off the stress that seemed to have its epicenter at his forehead. “Well all that was possible because of you, angel, you and that big brain of yours.” Andy grabbed both her hands and turned to her; she knew what was gonna happen next — he was gonna argue with what she said and instead claim that he wasn’t that good and he could have done it quicker or done more. But before he even had a chance to do so, she slanted her lips on his to shut him up. “I’m gonna shut you up with a kiss every time you talk shit about yourself,” the man’s entire body vibrated with laughter as turned his chair around to face Y/N and grabbed her so she sat down on his lap, “In that case we might be kissing for a long time, love.”

august walker — acts of service

August’s dedication wasn’t only limited to his work; but also to his beloved Y/N. He’d like to think that the reason that he exposed himself to the dangers of the world is so that he could guarantee her safety. But on the instances wherein he wasn’t on a mission and instead was back home with her, he never missed out on an opportunity to make her feel safe and loved. Since he was having downtime from a mission, he took it upon himself to bring you to work and pick you up. It didn’t matter if it was out of his way or he had a busy day, it was something he loved to do. He loved having one hand on the steering wheel and the other on her warm thigh; just like how they were right now following her departure from her work. “I noticed how your laundry was piling up, so I washed it already. Also found the missing sock you were whining about last week,” Y/N looked at August and decided to tease him as she jokingly accused him, “I knew it! You hid it somewhere in our home.” His hand that was comfortably resting on her thigh left its place and went for her sides, tickling her. Hearing her giggles, made him boyishly smile, “That’s not what happened, missy. I was cleaning the house — because you were whining about how cluttered and messy it was getting and you didn’t have the time to clean it up — and somehow found that fuzzy sock of yours in the kitchen.” Upon learning what her man was up to, she was shocked and teased him more by saying, “Are you sure you should be a CIA agent and not a house cleaner? Seems like it’s one thing you absolutely love to do.” placing his hand back on her thigh, August rubbed her thigh warmly as he spoke, “Only for you love, I’ll do anything for you.”

bucky barnes — words of affirmation

For the majority of his life, he was used to hearing gruesome and morbid orders that were tasked for him to carry out. He was so used to hearing yells and harsh voices ringing in his ears; but now since he was free from their abusive hold, he didn’t have to hear the same sounds again. “Wakey wakey sleeping beauty,” was whispered into his ear, snapping him out of his sleeping state. Turning over, he looked at Y/N and smiled, “Are you sure I’m sleeping beauty and not you?” She just chuckled at his rebuttal as she laid her head on his chest and looked up at him, “I’m sure it’s you who’s the sleeping beauty I mean have you seen this face?” She took note  as she ran her finger through his sculpted face, “Jawline that can cut deep, lips that are soft and delectable, eyes that are extremely expressive.” She then let her hand go down to where his heart was and delicately traced over it as she further explained, “And of course, what’s inside of you takes the cake of what makes you the sleeping beauty; a caring nature, compassionate to others, wit that is incomparable, and has so much love to give.” The super soldier could feel his heart swell double its  current size with how comforting and heartfelt her compliment was. Grateful tears threatened to leave his eyes as she placed a chaste kiss on his chest and assured him, “Everything about you is beautiful, Bucky.”

jake jensen — quality time

“Are you free this Saturday?” Jake asked as he directed his focus from the computer to his girlfriend as she placed a mug of coffee on his working table. Curious and hopeful eyes were behind the lensed frame, hoping she would say that she was available. Leaning against his desk she crossed her arms and gave him a mocking look, “Depends on who’s asking and why,” but the puppy of man just grabbed at her forearms and pouted. “Please baby? I was hoping you’d be down for laser tag? Or if you don’t want to do that maybe we can watch a movie?” Y/N could not help but coo at how adorable her boyfriend looked; for a man who was part of the army he was too much of a softie. He despised having to be away from home for missions since he was always aching to spend time with you — and it didn’t really matter to him what it was you two were doing you could be museum-hopping, hiking, having a movie marathon, or just cuddling in bed. Which explains as to why he was inquiring whether or not you were available to spend time with him; leaning down to kiss his forehead, Y/N decided to put him out of his misery, “Yes love, I’m free on Saturday, we can go out for laser tag.” Standing up from where he was sitting down he excitedly wrapped his arms around the woman who was now laughing at how she mimicked the elation of a child. “Thank you, baby, can’t wait to kick your ass then.”

syverson — physical touch and quality time

Having been home from a deployment, it felt odd for Sy to not wake up when the sun was barely up or to not be squished with other men in a small space. Feeling movement in the bed where he lay, he quickly opened both his eyes and looked at the source of it. “Come back,” he groggily mumbled as he pulled Y/N closer and buried his face on her neck. “What if there’s somewhere I need to be, bear?” It was a surprise when she felt him whine, this alpha of a man whined at the thought of having to be away with his girlfriend. “I am gonna have to lock you inside the house, I just came back and there’s no way I’m gonna let you out until we’ve made up for lost time.” As she played with his short hair she pressed a kiss on the side of his forehead, “Good thing I have the week off then, huh?” his head shot up from her neck and looked at her excitedly, “No shit, baby? I get you all to myself for the whole week?” Nodding she busied her fingers again by running it through his buzz cut hair again. Feeling his thick arms wrap around her, she could feel the happiness and contentment resonate through his whole body. “I’m not letting you out of my hold, let alone my sight — I’m gonna need you all close to me and we’re gonna do everything together.”

lance tucker — physical touch

Having been involved in gymnastics at a young age, Lance’s hands were calloused and rough due to vigorous training. This then led him to be quite insecure and apprehensive when it came to physical contact with others, especially with someone he loves; for he fears they might run off once they feel the rough texture of his hands. Coming home from a long day filled with coaching he slumped down on the couch and took a deep breath. His muscles ached and it was starting to reach the point where it bothered him. “Hey bub, you just got home?” Y/N appeared from the kitchen and sat down beside the gymnast. As if on instinct, Lance laid his head on her lap and started to move his face around — as if it was a cat begging to be pet. Chuckling she did play with his hair with one hand while the other held on to his one hand. Letting out a satisfied hum he then began to vaguely recount his day, “Long day of coaching, switching up styles, correcting postures.” At the brief recount Y/N could feel how Lance tensed up and wanted to help him out hence why she offered, “How ‘bout you lie here and let me get that lavender oil you love? Then I can give the god of gymnastics a massage.” his eyes lit up and immediately lifted his head off her comfortable lap and laid down on his stomach as he tiredly mumbled, “Thank you baby, you’re massages are the best and I love your gentle touch.”

steve rogers — acts of service

Since retiring, Steve found himself comforted by having a routine. And much of his routine involves the things he does for Y/N — the love of his life. After finishing his morning run around the neighborhood, he immediately prepares coffee and sets out to cook breakfast. Upon padding down the stairs of their shared home, Y/N smiles at the sight of Steve placing the bacon, egg, and toast on two plates. “Good morning, honey,” she greeted him with a kiss on his lips. “Breakfast for my love,” he said as he placed a plate in front of her and slid to the seat opposite from where she was. “You have a busy day ahead of you, right?” She hummed in response to his question as she took a sip of the coffee he made, “Well I went to the gas station and made sure you had a full tank; I also prepared you your favorite lunch,” he pointed to the small lunch bag he bought her a few months back upon learning she would sometimes not have enough time to buy lunch if she had a busy day from work; so he took it upon himself to prepare lunch for her everyday. Placing her mug down, she held one of his hands in her own and looked at him fondly, “You spoil me too much; I think I’m getting too dependent on you.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he placed a few gentle kisses in the back of her palm and spoke sincerely, “I wouldn’t mind that at all, doll.”

carter baizen — receiving gifts

Luxurious and designer brands were something that Carter always had. It didn’t matter what kind of item it was — clothes, shoes, car, appliance, or electronics — but it was guaranteed that Carter had that object through the most expensive brand they had. So it was a surprise not only to Y/N, but also to Carter himself about how excited and touched he was every time the former gave him a gift. “Carter, I’m home!” Her yell seemed to bounce off the walls of his penthouse; one that was merely a living space but was turned into a warm and comforting home once she stepped foot in it, and in his life as well. “Hey, how was Canada?” he asked as he was seated on the sectional couch and patted for the spot beside him. Taking up on his offer she sat beside him as she placed a paper bag in his lap, “It was great! And I got this for you.” smiling, he thanked her for the gift and opened the bag as he pulled out the stuffed moose that was inside it, “A moose?” She nodded her head excitedly, “Well I don’t know, it just reminded me of you. Like you both have this cold and hard exterior; but really you both are softies,” she ended her explanation with a nervous giggle, fear settling in that Carter didn’t really like the gift. But as if he could read her thoughts he eased her nervousness with a smile and booped her nose, “Well it’s the best gift anyone has ever given me; so thank you, princess.” she sighed dramatically and leaned her back against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you and laughs at her silly antics. “That’s what you always say every time I give you something.” Holding the moose with one hand he shook it around as he talked in a silly voice, as if mimicking a cartoon character, “Well that’s because I do love everything you give me.”

will shaw — words of affirmation

In his pursuit of establishing himself as a businessman and entrepreneur, Will has heard a fair share of rejections and bad news. In fact he was so used to hearing these that it was quite rare and refreshing for him to hear reminders of positivity; and it wasn’t until Y/N came into his life and served to be the breath of fresh air for Will. Hanging up the phone call, Will let out an exasperated sigh and loosened the tie on his neck. Despite being successful in securing a meeting with potential business partners, he felt defeated as it took too much time and effort. The ringtone of his phone made him roll his eyes; though he did pick the phone up and answer the call without looking at the caller ID. “Yes, Mr. Scott?” Instead of the husky voice he was just talking to, it was instead the sweet voice of his girlfriend as she teased him, “Not a Mr. Scott, but should I be worried that you might like him more than me?” Upon hearing her voice he chuckled and shook his head, “No babe, there’s only you.” She laughed as well but despite that she was worried about him, “You alright, babe? Have you eaten?” Sitting up straight, he briefed her on what has happened so far, “Yeah I had a salad earlier. But guess what? I have a meeting with Mr. Scott, and if things go well they’re gonna be our business partners.” Her excited squeal made him excited as well, “That’s great babe! I told you that there was no need to doubt your presentation and skill!” Placing his hand on his chin, “I think you’re being too confident in me, babe” he sighed. “Well how could I not?” she said as she began listing off the qualities she admired about him, “You always get back up despite how many times you’ve fallen down, you’re determined to achieve what you want and will do all means to do so, and of course have you seen how good-looking you are? Mr. Scott would be an idiot to say no to that pretty face.” Her last remark had him roaring with laughter and shook his head at his silliness, “Oh babe, you do know how to boost someone’s confidence huh?”

[disapoitment]

Am I about to overanalyse another throwaway gag? Absolutely! This time it's from the classic season one episode, Napoleon Brainaparte.

So, towards the very end of this episode, our poor, beloved mice are about to meet their tragic end. They're threateningly informed that an afterlife awaits them, and as they cower in what they believe to be their final moments, the viewers are given a glimpse into their heads...specifically, what they each imagine heaven to be like. This scene surprised me on my first watch, because it was pretty unexpected. And surprisingly...sweet?

Let's start off with Brain's idea of heaven, which is shown first.

Right off the bat we have him surrounded by a chorus of Pinky angels. This is one of the rebuttals I have for people who doubt Brain cares about Pinky...I mean, if I didn't like someone, I definitely wouldn't include them in my idealised afterlife, nevermind multiple versions of them!

Uh, I digress. The thing I actually want to draw attention to here is the fact that Brain actively desires Pinky in his life (or, afterlife, in this case) and can't imagine existing, in any form, without him. We've seen it time and time again, from the episode "Snowball" to that one story from the comics, but this is one of the earliest, most apparent instances of it in the show. This scene alone proves to the audience that Brain isn't using Pinky to reach his goals, but genuinely sees him as a friend and a companion. And maybe there's an unhealthy splash of codependancy in there.

To take this a step further, an afterlife is commonly portrayed as a sort of perfect world; a place of eternal happiness, even. It's safe to assume from this daydream that Brain subconsciously associates Pinky with the same joy and contentment associated with heaven. We can even interpret this scene as Brain viewing Pinky as an angel, which is not only heart-wrenchingly sweet, but makes a fair bit of sense, all things considered.

After all, though Brain himself tends to shy away from explicit displays of emotions and empathy, he's been established to admire these traits in others. In "TV or not TV", he claims to find Princess Diana (who was well-known for her activism) attractive, and he repeatedly praises Pinky's kind nature throughout the series, even when it directly interferes with a plan. He even sabotages his own plots when Pinky objects for moral reasons, eg "Inherit The Wheeze", and then there's the iconic instance of him DESTROYING his own machinery after tearing up over Pinky's Christmas letter. I believe this is why Pinky is an angel in Brain's eyes: he's compassionate, he's pure-hearted, and he's innocent. Well, innocent in the sense of intention, at least. Pinky represents all the things Brain is too afraid to be himself, lest morality get in the way of his goals.

On top of that, Pinky always stays by Brain's side. He's the only person/mouse who has never left him, hurt him, or betrayed him. It's natural that someone so lonely, cynical and self-loathing as Brain would view his polar opposite as a literal angel...or, even more impactfully, a full chorus of them. Of course Brain's idealised heaven has himself as an angel too, but I'd say that's either his ego coming into play (he's both self-hating and conceited) or just to serve as a visual signifier that he's...um, dead. The flock of Pinky angels is what I'm focusing on here, because the sheer amount of them in comparison to Brain highlights them in this miniature megalomaniac's reverie. And also because it's more interesting to take the analysis in this direction! ♡

Honestly, there's not quite as much I can say about this segment of the scene. Brain is on a throne, so presumably he's imagining himself ruling...heaven? Good for you, Brain!

It's very in-character for Brain to put himself as the centrepiece of his ideal afterlife, and as much as I love this little guy, the angel imagery is obviously ironic. Whether intentional or not, this can be connected to his egotism, as well as his belief that everything he does, no matter how severe or morally corrupt, can be justified by the end goal of ruling Earth and making it a better place. I don't believe that Brain genuinely sees himself as an angel when it comes to his purity, but rather that he thinks all his sins can be forgiven if/when he becomes the "benevolent dictator" (his words, not mine) of the planet...or maybe that's just what he tells himself to be able to sleep at night.

He looks noticeably very content and calm as an angel. I would go off on a tangent about how this is a version of Brain who is finally freed from the burden of his never-ending cycle of failure, and that this suggests that he needs to break out of his world domination obsession to ever be truly happy, but...I'll spare you.

Oh, Pinky. Poor, poor Pinky. He's so selfless that it stings :(

It says a painful amount that in his idea of heaven...he's not even in it. I don't think he hates himself, yet he's so good-natured that he ends up neglecting his own desires for the sake of others. In this scene, he has literally forgotten to include himself in his own idealised world. I hate to say this, but this could be a result of his codependent relationship with Brain. He's so focused on Brain's happiness and goals that his life almost revolves around him at this point, and as I mentioned before, they fall apart without eachother. Pinky pours his heart and soul into helping Brain, partly because he genuinely believes Brain will make the world a better place, and partly because he'd do almost anything for Brain's sake. His love for Brain is so strong that he's the focus of Pinky's own paradise.

What I find significant is Brain taking the role of every single angel in the fantasy. He's portrayed as a sweet and wholesome creature wearing a cute smile, a stark contrast to reality. Even just him being an angel in the first place implies that this is how Pinky sees him. A big part of the latter's motivation to help Brain take over the world, though scarcely mentioned in the show itself, is so it can become a happier, nicer place for everyone. As a determined optimist, Pinky shares the desire to improve the Earth, and so views Brain as a sort of hero, someone surely worthy of a halo and wings.

His view of Brain as a good person can be explained further when we consider that he doesn't mind being bopped (and in some interpretations, downright enjoys it), can shrug off any verbal abuse, and clings onto any snippets of warmth he receives from Brain. The things others would raise their eyebrows at are things Pinky ignores or adores. I think it's safe to say that, overall, Pinky is the type to focus on his friend's positive traits and simply ignore most of the negatives, as seen in "Pinky's Plan" when he gives an extremely sugarcoated description of Brain to the world leaders. Because of all this, in Pinky's mind, Brain truly is an angel. It's bittersweet, really.

And here we have it again. Brain on the throne, ruling. This is all Pinky truly wants—for his friend to be happy, fulfilled and at peace, making whatever world he may rule a better place. There's not an awful lot more to say now, since this is just a repeat of the scene from Brain's fantasy, but I think that's the most heartwarming part. These two mice are working towards the exact same goal, and yet their reasons for doing so are quite different: Brain to rule the world, Pinky to make his friend smile. It's almost poetic in its simplistic beauty. The voice actors said it best when they described the show as a "desperate love story", and the little scenes like this only prove that to me.

Welp, that's all I have to say for now! I haven't reached this hard since I tried to get to the chromatica oreos on the top shelf in Tesco. But this was fun, anyway! Thank you ever so much for reading :'D Your patience must be incredible! 💕

[implexedactions]

Heartbreak

How could you do this to Enji?

A/N: I’m (officially) back baby! Uni hasn’t gotten better, I’ve just stopped caring.

CW: Yandere Content, invasion of privacy, unconsciousness, guns, degredation, marital abuse, abuse, planned murder, fucked up view of relationships.

---

Sitting on the couch, you anxiously looked at your phone. That lowlife assassin was going to kill him, right? Enji shouldn’t suspect anything, that fiery brute had all the brains of a duck. It was just a simple gunshot to the back of the head. His flame powers can’t protect him from that. Nothing that can go wrong there...

You nervously bounce your leg. He should be dead by now. You should’ve gotten the confirmation text by now.

Trying to fool the old man into loving you was sickeningly easy. Despite his intimidating exterior, he was so reserved and shut off from any human connection you just needed to exist next to him (with little open disgust) for him to start noticing you. Faking that you loved the lovesick fool had been a bit harder, but Enji was hardly ever free, so you just did your own thing most of the time, and responded with fake adoration whenever he managed to be in the same postcode as you.

Enji not bringing up a prenup before getting married had been mainly luck. There aren’t many good reasons for denying a prenup, so it was nice he did the leg work, or lack thereof, on that one. But yet, to get his fortune, you needed him dead. The old man wasn’t THAT old, and as such, this assassin was the best bet. Some rando guy with a gun and a flashy quirk. It wasn’t rocket science. The only reason Enji won his fights was the villains trying to face him front on. A gunshot to the back of the head by someone he didn’t see coming? Easy.

Well, it was meant to be easy. What was this idiot doing?! Endeavor should be dead by now!

You didn’t care much for the whole “no.1 hero” shtick Enji had going on either. There would always be another, and this city could go to the hounds for all you cared. You’d be far away on some private island home, enjoying the summer heat under a palm tree. Or maybe a snowy mountain, you never really liked the heat.

Walking into the kitchen, you shakily drank some water. It was all you could bring yourself to stomach. The cool water felt ice cold as it went down. That’s when you heard it. Footsteps on gravel. Heavy footsteps. Like someone was...walking to the front door. Cursing, you looked at your phone one last time before walking to the front door.

The person on the other side opened the door swiftly, before slamming it shut. You were faced with Enji wearing his hero suit, flames bursting off his face. He turned to you, and he was fuming.

“How was your day, honey? Are you okay?” you nervously queried, eager to try and calm your enraged lover.

His eyes thinned as he stared at you.

“Oh, it was fine, until some punk thought they could shoot me in the back of the head. Turns out when threatened with their life, they saw no point in protecting their..”

He gestured to you with disgust as his flames grew brighter.

“...employer.”

He stepped forward, bearing down on you as you nervously shook your head.

“I don’t know what you mean? Why would I do that? He’s just trying to set me up, I’m sure! He’s a weasel, they all are!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Funny, I never mentioned that lowlife was a ‘he’.”

Gulping, you stepped backwards, wringing your hands together, eyes nervously darting around the room, looking for an escape. Landing on a window that leads to a fire escape, you turn on your heel, only for a hand to wrap around the back of your throat.

“No. You do not get to run away from this.”

He turns you around in his hand, still on your throat as he effortlessly drags you to the kitchen. With his free hand, he picks up your phone.

“What are you doing?”

“None of your business.”

He opens it effortlessly. You dismay at the fact that he seemingly knows your passcode. You never told it to him.

“Ha, what? Thought I would not know my lovers’ details? But alas, I know everything about you. Or well. I ASSUMED I did.”

He swipes through the phone, occasionally reading over certain texts, before crushing it in his hand. You shudder to think what the hand currently around your neck could do. He turns to you, eyes staring yours down.

“See, when I threatened that punk, he revealed some very interesting information. Like that my SPOUSE-”

His hand got noticeably tighter around your neck. You could barely still breathe, vision slightly blurring.

“-was just using me for my money. Which is interesting because I could swear that you were actually in love with me. Guess you should not have told your co-conspiritator so much. Classic mistake villains make. You would be surprised how often I come across it in my line of work.”

You try to gasp out an apology or rebuttal but it just comes out as wheezing. He won’t actually kill you, right? He’s just going to turn you into the police...right? You refuse to think about how he destroyed the evidence on the phone, and what that suggests regarding his next move.

“Go on. Refute these claims. If you tell me you love me, maybe I will believe it.”

His frown grows as, by his own design, you cannot reply to him.

“You must know that troubles me deeply. I cannot fathom how one could use someone like that. You are a truly terrible person.”

His gaze weakens.

“And yet, I still love you. So you leave me no choice but to...correct this behaviour.”

He walks to the guest room, which after 7 months of living with him in this apartment, you only now realise has no windows, and is fitted with a door that locks from the outside.

He closes the door and throws you onto the ground roughly.

Coughing, you turn to face him, your back against the luxurious carpet flooring.

“I’ll go to the police! I swear! They might not like what I’ve done, but if you touch me, it’ll be so much worse for you!”

His eyes grew dark as a chuckle escaped him.

“You really think you can escape me? I have dealt with way worse than a tiny, pathetic, disobedient spouse.”

He walks forward til his form is towering over yours. His feet are either side of your waist. He digs his heel into your side for good measure.

“You think I could not deal with a measly, poorly-planned assassination attempt? There have been much more elegant and better prepared plans to kill me that I have stopped in their tracks. If you actually engaged in a conversation with me, maybe you would have heard about them.”

He grabs your jaw with his hand, his inhuman heat unbearably close.

“I have to thank you though! All this time I thought I wanted a nice partner to spend my life with, but now I realise what I actually want.”

“And w-what is t-that?” You say shakily.

He chuckles as the flames on his body dissipate. He tenderly strokes your body with his free hand.

“I want a toy. Something of mine to break, burn, and punish. Stress-relief. And let's face it, who else am I going to find that is so irredeemably suited for the job?”

He looks you dead in the eyes with a cocky look on his face.

“You want an escape from your old life? So be it. Welcome to your new hell.”

[serpentstole]

Luciferian Challenge: Day 12+13 (And 22)

A few of these prompts ended up being very similar in theme, so I’ve combined them into a bit of a long reply.

Dogma is something we throw about…that we reject it. Where do you think we may fall short as Luciferians/Satanists when it comes to dogma? Do you think dogma has a certain value?

I don’t think dogma has any value really, no, as I don’t like the idea of rules or ideas that cannot be questioned on principle. Even as a child, I took issue with blind obedience. My mother once called me downstairs, and I asked why, and my father got angry and said that I shouldn’t bother to ask why and just do it, and that even if one of them told me to jump out of a window they probably had a good reason for it.

That memory is seared into my brain and still irks me.

I do think rules themselves can be important, but when we speak of rejecting dogma it’s typically in the sense of it being some authoritative status quo that cannot be discussed or challenged. I think my example above is a good example of that, as petty as it may seem: that parents should be obeyed without question and with the assumption they have our best interests at heart.

I do not believe there’s room for that sort of attitude in an empathetic and respectful society, even towards children. Respecting their natural curiosity and teaching them about bodily autonomy is something I think can only be a net good. The only thing growing up in a strict household taught me, where there was little room for negotiation or challenging of the way things were, was how to be a decent liar.

It harmed me in far more ways than it helped instill any positive values, and while I would not want to belittle the experiences of anyone in a similar boat, I consider myself one of the lucky ones. There are some families where a dogmatic stance, whether based in politics or religion, can lead to the alienation or outright abandonment of LGBT youth, of young women who wish control over their own bodies, of those with views that differ from their parents’, or any other black sheep.

I feel like this question and my thoughts on it really go hand in hand with the next one, so I’m going to actually combine them into one post and make up the difference later.

Do you think it’s dogma or silly to say what Luciferianism/Satanism is not?

I do not think it’s dogmatic to say what Luciferianism or Satanism is or isn’t. The reason I’ve kept both labels in these two prompts, when I’ve removed them in every other post, is because I spent a lot of time in a mixed Luciferian and Satanist community during the beginning of my religious journey. Despite our differences, especially in the case of Atheist Satanism versus Theistic Luciferianism, I saw a great deal of overlap in a lot of the values/ideals, inspirations, and talking points. 

I think outlining those ideals and values is important to just… having a label. Words mean things. Religious affiliations and ideas mean things. Even saying you belong to or adhere to a school of thought typically has some manner of definition or parameters. While Luciferianism and Satanism can be incredibly diverse when it comes to the details of one’s ethics and morals, practices, views of the divinity or lack there of, and other suck points, there’s a good deal that does unite us that’s reflected in the archetypal figures our religions are named after. I also believe that certain aspects of what is seen as the Standard Luciferian should be weighed more or less heavily. For example, I don’t see my irritation with hostility towards Christianity as something that makes me less of a Luciferian.

However, I want to combine these two prompts with one more to round out my view of this topic. 

What do you disagree with Luciferians/Satanists most?

In the goddamn dogma they cling to and perpetuate while claiming to be adversarial to or enlightened above such ideas. It’s become almost a meaningless buzzword. It barely still looks like a real word to me anymore. This is honestly where my post goes completely off the rails into a mini essay, so it’s under the cut.

The idea that all “Abrahamic” religions should be treated as inherently harmful and oppressive is a bad take. 

That Christianity, Judaism, and Islam should even be lumped together when discussing such issues betrays a shallow understanding of these religions that’s been regurgitated from one person to another, typically through a culturally Christian lens.

The idea that “only LaVeyan Satanism should be called Satanism because nothing else that calls itself Satanism is actually Satanism” is exhausting, and I will fist fight Anton myself in hell.

The principles of Might Makes Right and Social Darwanism that some Satanists perpetuate is dumb and bad and wrong, sorry, that’s the only rebuttal I’m dignifying that school of thought with. Once again, I will be fist fighting Anton in hell.

And that’s to say nothing of the Satanists and Luciferians out there that regurgitate the same racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and other assorted bigotries that they’ll condemn religions like Christanity for while perpetuating it with a coat of black paint. Because I have absolutely seen this first hand, both as an observer and as the target of it.

Like... I can’t speak on Islam at all, because I have very very limited experience with it from both a research and real life experience point of view, and thus I’m not comfortable making any claims. On the other hand, I do know that to list all the ways that Judaism is not a dogmatic religion would deserve its own post written by someone far more knowledgeable than me, and it somehow still gets lumped into the Problematic n’ Dogmatic category of AbRaHaMiC ReLiGiOnS. For that reason, in the case of Islam, I can’t help but wonder if the assumption that it’s also dogmatic comes from the harmful assumption that it’s a religion that’s strict to the point of harshness that a lot of people have.

Even in the case of Christianity, which I would argue (as someone who I’d say was raised within the church) is hands down the most seemingly dogmatic of the three (particularly in North America), this is just not universally true. If it was, there probably wouldn’t be so many branches and denominations, many of which cannot stand each other and think the rest are misguided at best and heretical at worst. This is something that’s even brought up in the Satanic Bible; I’ve read the miserable thing. Have you ever seen someone say “Christians and Catholics”? That’s a pretty loaded example of how much disagreement exists within the religion when an entire core branch of it is considered tangentially related.

Not to mention, I was raised Lutheran. That came about because a German Catholic got incredibly steamed at his own religion so he made a more boring different version of it. While the existence of dogma has led to these schisms, historically speaking, the end result has been a religion so varied that it’s hard to say what is and isn’t treated as inarguable law. If you don’t believe me, try talking to a Protestant pastor about the Seven Deadly Sins and see how far you get. I tried during confirmation class and got shut down immediately... but on the flip side, my church was pretty accepting of LGBT folks, which I think some people would claim Christianity is dogmatically against by default.

Is there dogmatic thinking within specific churches or branches or communities? Absolutely, I wouldn’t argue that. I think it can arise in any community, religious or not, but that some religious communities seem to be particularly vulnerable to it. But the harm those specific cases could do should be where our focus goes, not the condemnation of these religions or the concept of religion as a whole, which I touched on in a previous prompt. 

I’m not some glorious enlightened mind. I would not want to give the impression that I think I hold in my hands the One True Way to do Luciferianism, or that I think the majority of this religious community are uncritical edgelords. This is, after all, my answer to the thing I take issue with the most, not my thoughts on Luciferianism or Satanism as a whole. I just don’t think it should be a particularly hot take that Religious Discrimination Is Bad Actually, or that maybe you can be rebellious and adversarial and hedonistic and enlightened while still genuinely giving a shit about people. Because otherwise what’s the point?

If we are hostile and rebellious with no actual end goal, no greater cause or purpose, we are simply being contrarian for the sake of it. If we blame the idea of organized religion instead of those who manipulate and abuse faith and scripture for selfish and malicious ends, we’ve missed the point, as I said in the aforementioned previous post. Not all of us have the ability to become an activist, obviously, and I would not ask you to. But I think as those who would claim to reject dogmatic thinking and strive to embody either the ideals of enlightenment or the adversary would do well to be ever questioning their preconceptions of the world around them, of other religions, and of less obvious unjust structures of power.

I don’t know why a community that believes in illumination and free thinking sees the world in such black and white ways.

While I will always strive for a greater understanding of the world, and I hold the concept of enlightenment very dear to my heart, I think it’s something that one spends a lifetime working towards. Alongside my favourite quotes from Paradise Lost, I hold the Socratic Paradox of “I know that I know nothing” as a personal motto, and I wish more people who I share this label with would do the same.

[sirfrogsworth]

I love Zelda. 

People often don’t understand when you gain a little or a lot of notoriety online the abuse hurled can sometimes be very... loud. Being popular is fun and for many it is worth it. But negative stuff is so much louder than positive no matter how much you tell your brain that is backwards. 

So even if you get 99% positive lovely replies and messages, sometimes the negative still pierces through. 

People would always question me when I responded to trolls. Over and over again telling me not to “feed them” like they were some sassy carnivorous singing plant. 

But different people need to deal with things in different ways. When I devastated a troll with a perfect rebuttal, that almost always canceled out anything bad they had to say. It was like I was purging all of those negative voices from my system. It felt cathartic and allowed me to continue doing my thing. And sometimes the outpouring of support I’d get when exposing a troll from all the amazing people I followed would feel like getting a bouncy star in Super Mario Bros. 

If someone is new to having a following online and they ask for advice on how to deal with trolls... it’s definitely cool to let them know various options. But make sure you pose them as options and not “this is a thing that definitely works.” Because nothing works 100% and your advice might not work for their individual needs. 

Sometimes block and ignore is the best thing. Sometimes engaging them helps. Sometimes signing off and taking a break is best. Sometimes a mixture of all works. 

But unsolicited advice like above can get just as maddening as the trolls. 

Zelda has been around long enough to know what works for her. Trust her process. 

This guy can heck off. 

[bwemph]

The Measure of Things | Chapter 3 | Two Ghosts

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Mando asks a probing question that leaves you wondering if you are truly happy where you are. The next morning, you find your answer, and not a moment too soon. While finishing up work on Mando’s ship, the hangar is attacked and you watch your life fall apart (or rather, explode) right in front of you.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Drunkenness, light swearing, toxic relationship/physical abuse (a single push/shove), canon typical violence, death of a droid, mild angst

“You shoulda let me at ‘em,” Max slurred as he leaned heavily on your shoulders. He stumbled a little, nearly taking you down with him as your front door was now in sight.

The last rays of sun peeked over the horizon before disappearing entirely for the night. The risk of bandits and whatever other criminal scum now became a threat, as crime always seemed to thrive at dusk.

“Max, those guys would have pummeled you. I’m saving your life, honey,” you said, embarrassment keeping you from sharing a gaze with the Mandalorian who strode alongside you and your intoxicated partner.

The three of you reached the door. You  searched your pocket for your keys, struggling to simultaneously locate them and keep Max from tumbling into the dirt.

You huffed a sigh of frustration. “They’re in here somewhere…” you mused, searching another pocket.

While you were preoccupied digging through your pockets, the child looked between you and Mando, then turned his attention to the door, reaching out with a tiny, three-fingered hand.

Suddenly, the lock clicked as if the key had turned it, and the child settled back in the pram, looking very pleased with himself.

You furrowed your brow at the baby but stretched out a tentative hand to open the door anyway. It opened as if it were never locked.

“Um...thank you,” you said, offering the baby a little smile. “Alright, Max, let’s get you inside and get you some water.”

“I’m not thirsty,” he muttered as you led him inside.

“You need to--”

“You don’t tell me what to do.” Max elbowed you aside and pointed an unsteady but accusatory finger at you. “You’re not my mother. And you’d be a damn terrible one if you were!” A ragged laugh tore from his throat before he nearly lost his footing. He caught himself on the shelf and said, “I’m going to bed.”

He staggered off toward your room and heavily closed the door.

You hugged yourself with a sigh, shaking your head as you watched after him for quite some time.

“Why do you let him treat you like that?” Mando said finally.

Another sigh. “He’s drunk. You can’t really blame him, can you?”

“That’s no excuse. He’s like that when he’s sober too.” He lifted the baby from the pram and let him waddle around the room.

The child made a beeline for the model droid that he had taken a liking to at the beginning of the week.

You shrugged, watching after the child. “He doesn’t mean it. I know he loves me.”

“Does he?” His voice was surprisingly soft. It made your heart ache.

When you turned your gaze to look at Mando, he was staring intently at you. You couldn’t see his eyes but you did feel them boring through your unbothered facade.

Does he?

No words came when you opened your mouth for a rebuttal. Frustration bubbled up in your chest, creeping up your neck until it was behind your eyes. But still, no words, only a few tears that threatened to spill over instead.

You pushed them back with everything you had and bit your lip before finally finding a response. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. He does.”

He nodded once and looked away. He didn’t contest your claim, but you knew he didn’t believe you.

Across the room, the child’s eyes drooped as he stared into space and sucked on the model droid.

You trailed behind Mando as he crossed to pick up the baby and place him back in the pram. Within moments he was asleep, wrapped up in his surprisingly soft blankets.

You smiled a little, touching the peach fuzz that covered the child’s head. “I should get to bed. Stantin wants everyone to work before sunrise tomorrow.”

The Mandalorian tucked the child in and looked at you once more. He almost reached out to touch your arm, you thought.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

Again, his voice was soft. You couldn’t quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was just some sort of kindness that the Mandalorian had acquired since taking on his tiny green crewmate.

Not that he wasn’t kind before. He was always friendly toward you when you flew with him. But you never saw this sort of gentleness that he showed since his reentry to your life.

“Goodnight, Mando.”

You were sure to open and close the bedroom door quietly as not to wake the baby. As quietly as you could, anyway. The hinges still creaked as the door swung either direction.

Max was sprawled out on the bed, shirt discarded on the floor, boots still on his feet; one untied, and the other still laced up.

With a heavy sigh, you removed his boots. To your surprise, he didn’t even stir. You set them neatly at the foot of the bed before you did the same with your own shoes, put on pajamas, and wriggled into bed where you could find space next to Max. You pulled the covers over the both of you and closed your eyes in hopes of drifting off sooner rather than later, as not to be stuck with your thoughts for too long.

Sleep didn’t find you easily. You wished that you could be in Max’s place, passed out drunk, and not worried about anything except tomorrow’s hangover. Chances are, he wasn’t even worried about that. He only ever worried about you. Where you were, what you were doing, who you were with.

You always told yourself it was just because he loved you. Max wanted you to be safe. Sure, he had issues with control. But it was only because he loved you. He cared so much because he loved you.

He loved you.

But the Mandalorian’s question echoed in your mind again.

Does he?

But then, an even more troubling question rattled through your brain.

Do you love him?

You weren't even entirely sure you knew what love was.

Sure, you were decently attracted to Max. You wanted good things for him. But did you love him?

Well, you didn’t really think you did, and the morning would soon prove that.

****

Max’s shouts carried across the house. Surely he’d woken up Mando and the baby now.

“I don’t give a shit what Stantin wants!”

You backed away, stumbling over the shoes you laid at the foot of the bed last night. You just barely caught yourself on the bed.

Max had rolled out of bed now, his golden hair going in all directions as he loomed over you with a raging glare.

“Fine, I’m going without you,” you said, your voice barely a squeak as you hurried to gather your shoes and leave the room. “Don’t come crying to me when you lose your job!”

Something in Max snapped, and he grabbed your wrist, making you drop the shoes on the ground again. “You’re always kissing Stantin’s ass, you know that? That Mandalorian too, keeping him here when I clearly tell you not to. What about what I want? Think about me for just one second!”

“I do!” You tore your wrist away from Max’s grip and suddenly found the courage to get in his face, to get toe to toe with him and jab an accusing finger at him. “I think about what you want every second of every day. The whole time I’ve lived on this scumbucket of a planet I’ve only thought about what you want! How to keep you from getting angry! Do you know how exhausting that is? I’m sick of it! You don’t respect me.”

“Oh I’m sorry, let me show you some respect!”

Max grabbed your shoulders and shoved you backward into the dresser with a sickening thud. You lost your footing and tumbled to the ground, eyes wide with bewilderment.

In a blur, you saw Max turn and leave the room.

You gathered your wits and pushed yourself to your feet. You staggered across the room and followed Max out to the living room past Mando and the child. Max’s hand was reaching for the door.

“Max,” you said, voice such a stony cold that it even surprised you.

He turned to you, that same fury in his eyes from the bedroom.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, and you got a sinking feeling in your chest that was telling you to stop while you were ahead. You didn’t listen to it. You’d listened to that instinct too many times.

“Don’t come back. We’re done.”

Those five words ignited an even greater rage than before in Max. He advanced toward you like a predator to its prey, and you knew you made a mistake. You braced for another blow.

You were surprised when he didn’t strike you. Instead, Mando crossed the room, putting himself between you and Max.

“You heard y/n,” Mando said.

Max then attempted a swing at the Mandalorian, whose only response was to block and throw a punch straight to Max’s sternum.

Max doubled over and gasped for breath.

“Don’t come back,” Mando repeated.

With effort, Max stood up straight again, still shaken and trying to fill his lungs, and left the house. He didn’t look back. He didn’t say anything. He was gone.

Mando turned to you, looking you over. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, heart still racing. “Yeah.” 

You felt...well, you couldn’t really place how you felt. Anger burned in your chest for the way Max put hands on you like that, for the way he’d done it many times before, for the way he degraded you and called you names. Even in the midst of your anger, some kind of sadness lingered beneath the surface. 

“That’s been a long time coming,” you concluded with a brave sigh. “What do you say we go finish working on your ship? We can finish up the fuel tank today and you can finally be on your way.”

Your words weren’t without some weight.

“Sounds like a plan,” the Mandalorian responded.

****

No words were exchanged between the pair, save for the occasional “will you hand me the wrench” or things of the like.

The child filled most of the quiet, cooing over the sounds of machinery and the creaking of Mando’s ship. He had taken a liking to HE-27, chasing the droid around and clasping his little hands together as it would perform tricks for him.

Sometimes he would waddle over to you with a miscellaneous mechanical part and hold it out to you in hopes of being helpful.

You would thank the baby and return to work, using the piece if it was helpful to your current task, but otherwise stashing it in your pocket as not to dishearten the little one.

Your usual banter with Mando had minimized to almost nothing at all. Given the events this morning, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to tease him as you usually did, and you brushed off any of his quips or attempts to start conversation.

You wanted to talk, but you just didn’t have much to say. It took everything in you not to drag your feet on fixing the fuel tank. You could have finished it within a couple hours, but even your hands worked slowly, refusing to dash through the task as you usually did while you finished up the last few nuts and bolts.

Quietly cursing as you dropped a screw on the ground, you ended up brushing against Mando’s glove as you reached for the screw.

Your eyes met his visor as he handed the screw back to you.

“Thank you,” you said before promptly returning to work.

A few moments of silence followed, the only sound being the screw gun as you secured one of the last panels.

You felt the Mandalorian’s gaze heavy on you as you set the screw gun aside. You looked up, feeling your heart flutter a little despite the pit in your stomach.

“Why didn’t you hit him back?” he asked.

You furrowed your brow. “Hit him back? What are you talking about?”

 He leaned his shoulder against the Crest as he spoke. “I’m not deaf. I heard you two in the bedroom this morning.”

You evaded his gaze. “Maybe you heard me hit him. Don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions, Mando.”

“I wouldn’t assume if you weren’t favoring your leg like that.”

You did have a slight limp since Max pushed you. You must have rolled your ankle when you fell. You hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought since the incident. It all happened so fast.

“So what?” 

“That’s not the y/n I know. You wouldn’t have let him do that in the first place, let alone not hit him back.”

“Well, then I suppose you don’t really know me anymore, do you, Mando?” You crossed your arms and faced him with a little bitterness hanging just behind your teeth. “It changes you, being stuck between a rock and a hard place like that, being threatened with death or losing the people you love, only to come home to them and have them turn their backs on you.”

The Guild flashed through your memory, faces of the people you once considered family. You thought of the bandits that captured you, all the things leading up to you leaving the Guild, or rather your exile from it.

Your eyes dropped as you shoved the thought from your mind. “You don’t know what it’s like being turned away like that. You don’t know what it’s like not to belong anywhere.”

“You’d be surprised.”

His words had you furrowing your brow, but you waved the matter off.

Nearby, the child laughed as he chased HE-27 around the hangar with his little green hands outstretched. 

HE-27 suddenly hovered in place, looking between itself and the baby as it was unable to move on its own, some strange force pulling it toward the baby. The same force the baby used to lower the model droid from your shelf at home.

You patted the side of the Razor Crest. “Anyway, your fuel tank should be good to go. You’re all ready to get out of here.” 

Mando sighed and reached out a hand, gingerly resting it on your shoulder.”Thank you, y/n, you’ve been very kind. How could I ever repay you?”

You gave a breathy laugh and waved a hand in the air. “No, no. It's payment enough to see an old friend, Mando.”

A little tug at your pant leg brought your eyes downward to where the child looked up with wide brown eyes as if he understood what was going on.

You picked him up and hugged him close, heart melting when he nuzzled into your neck.

“I’ll miss having you guys around,” you said, thinking back on the past week and how your life had really been turned on its head by having them around. Oh, how you would miss the chaos.

Oh, how you would miss Din.

You pecked a little kiss to the top of the child’s head before handing him off to Mando and watching how gently he cradled him in the crook of his arm.

“Be safe,” you said finally. With a little uncertainty, you rested your hand on his breastplate.

The Mandalorian placed a hand over yours. “You too. Thank you.” He slowly wrapped his free arm around you in a hug.

Although his beskar was cold against your cheek, you didn’t really mind the stiffness of the hug.

You took a moment to savor his touch until HE-27 whizzed out of the control room, beeping frantically.

“H, what is it?”

You jogged after the droid, Mando and the baby close behind as it led you back inside to the panel where three, four, then five blinking dots appeared on your radar.

Ships had entered the atmosphere, and they were approaching the base. Fast.

You heard several other operators’ voices on the comms, including Max’s voice, but you hopped on as well.

“This is bay two in Rabadus Base. You do not have authorization to land yet. I repeat, you do not have authorization to land.”

No response from the ships.

Mando raised his visor to the sky and tensed.

“We need to get out of here.”

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder at him, a look of confusion.

While your attention was on the Mandalorian, two streams of laser fire fell from the sky and crashed into the Base, and bay sixteen erupted in flames across the way.

Mando’s hand closed around your arm and yanked you out of the control room and out into the hangar.

The hatch of the Crest opened, and was waiting for you to enter as you ran across the shipyard.

Then, it was your bay that fell under attack next. The control room lit up with fire and smoke, and you watched in horror as the hatch closed.

HE-27, your poor droid, disappeared behind a screen of flame and shrapnel. You couldn’t help but cry out when the hatch sealed and you nearly lost your footing as the ship took off, dodging the assailant’s cannons.

Silence lingered around you despite the ringing in your ears and the cannon fire outside. You leaned up against the wall to process what was going on, what just happened. You didn’t have all the pieces. Rage boiled in your veins for your little droid, your only friend, but you felt an ocean threatening to spill from your eyes. You pushed it back and swallowed hard. Finally, you gathered your wits and stumbled up to the cockpit where Mando and the baby were.

Your eyes pricked with tears as you watched the shipyard flood with an explosion, even when they picked off bay nine, Max’s hangar.

One of the ships turned and started toward the Crest, readying its cannons.

“Sit down,” Mando instructed, “it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

You sat heavily in the seat behind him and buckled yourself  in, still having to steady yourself when Mando took a sharp turn away from enemy fire and made to leave the atmosphere.

“Who is that?” You asked. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Hang on.”

With that, Mando put the ship into lightspeed and blasted to safety, away from Rabadus.

You decided at that moment that you were never going back.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

10 Times Arnav Singh Raizada Crossed The Line (Part 1)

Arnav Singh Raizada is our perfect, tortured Mills & Boons hero. Sometimes it’s unfortunate when recent shows have aped his behavior and not the layered characterization that he had. However, sometimes (according to my own opinion) I felt that his character might have crossed the line. 

It’s moments where no explanations justify his behavior. 

Please remember this is all my crazy opinion so feel free to add your own in notes! Oh and don’t worry, a similar list is coming for Khushi as well as they’re truly made for each other. After all, aren’t they our favorite ‘will-they-won’t-they’ idiots?

Tearing the dori.

Arnav Singh Raizada does not apologize.

Blasting at Khushi for pranking, PRANKING him.

Telling Khushi her anklet, their almost kiss & she, does not matter.

Arnav Hypocrite Raizada - forcing an engaged Khushi to confess her feelings when he’s unable to do so.

Reminding Khushi of her broken engagement cause he can’t handle jealousy.

Manipulating & frightening Khushi with Akash & Payal’s divorce papers.

Telling Khushi he ‘faked’ his sickness to get rid of the ‘Swami’ tag.

Refusing to believe Khushi’s version of events.

Becoming Khushi’s landlord and blackmailing her (emotionally and financially) to get her to come back home.

Bonus

Telling Khushi that she does not have the brains, courage nor talent to face the real world.  

#1 “Badtameezi toh maine abhi shuru bhi nahi ki.” (S1, E2)

“I haven’t even started misbehaving.”

First Reaction: No Arnav bitwa, no. That dialogue never has and never will make sense.

What’s wrong with it: 

Almost everything. First of all when someone is in a position to abuse his/her/their position of power and authority, they don’t get to make rules on what counts as misbehavior. Secondly, just because one hasn’t sexually harassed a person does not mean one’s harassment hasn’t been “bad enough”. 

Arnav’s behavior crossed the line the minute you tell Khushi that she and her sister are the kind of women who can easily get another man - and none of us are kids here to know what the thinly veiled insult meant to Khushi & Payal’s character. 

What makes this entire situation problematic is that he accuses her with certainty based on assumptions and Khushi, really, has not warranted any sort of behavior from his end - she actually makes a compelling argument. This kind of a situation, unfortunately, keeps happening in the future where Arnav accuses her based on half truths/assumptions.

Of course there’s a part of me that always wonders what idiots as staff does Arnav have because they; (1) let a newbie go on the ramp (can’t imagine that happening at a Sabyasachi / Manish Malhotra fashion show), (2) are incompetent enough to not be able to procure and verify any information about Khushi.

Track Rewrite: 

First of all, this is perhaps the only terrible moment that I want to leave untouched. It’s perfect. It sounds ludicrous but this level of animosity was required to create a hatred the two had for each other until love and lust suddenly stormed into their thoughts. 

Khushi looks perfectly devastated and Arnav’s anger rises because his fashion show in Lucknow (out of all cities) has been ruined. The less can be said about recent shows where there’s very little logic to the hatred shared between characters.

It establishes that Arnav has been very aware, right from the start, how beautiful Khushi is. And not just the delicate beauty like Payal, but the beauty that can make one lose their path, their calm, their temper and tempt them out of their stupor. 

It’s this opinion that he forms about Khushi that he subconsciously carries for the longest time - (it’s what makes it easier for him to believe Shyam’s version of events because this assumption of a tempting, young, poor woman out to seduce the rich never really leaves his mind).

Head-canon: 

This was the only time Aman Mathur took a vacation. Poor Arnav, he really needed efficient staff. 

Public Service Announcement: 

Ladies and gentlemen, this does not mean that hate, pain and misbehavior is necessary for love to bloom. No, love does not have a template and this is a love story that happens despite the hate, not because of it. 

Also, just so you know that Khushi - or any person - is not responsible for the things that happen to them. If a person’s self respect, dignity or agency is threatened - you go ahead and bash the attacker and not blame the person! *phew*

#2 “Arnav Singh Raizada kabhi kisise maafi nahi maangta.” (S2, E19)

“Arnav Singh Raizada does not apologize to anyone.”

First Reaction: Screw you Raizada! How dare you? Buaji - throw your infamous damned belan over his head! Raizada, do you realise you’re saying this while standing on someone else’s property?

And…

Why do I find it hot that Khushi opens the door to an impatient Arnav who’s dressed as dark as the sky, his temper matching the thunder in the background while they lock eyes? *i need help* when I watched this show for the first time I totally expected another scene like this would occur where Arnav asks her back or confesses his love. Yeah I trusted him enough to make another mistake where Khushi’s left home and he needs to get her back.

What’s wrong with it: 

The things he said to her before he came to her house. The insults he levied on her are based on an accusation which is baseless. We get to know that until Akash’s public proposal to Payal that Arnav never bothered on learning the truth about what happened that night. 

Hence it reveals another trait that Arnav never double checks his assumption until he’s faced with a confronting reality. But, in the length of time he’s gotten to know Khushi until that point - the things he tells her is way out of line. 

And when he reaches her home, slapping that money on her table and insulting her in front of her family… yeah it’s difficult to watch that. Especially after all the Rabba Ve’s they’ve had and his difficulty & helplessness on learning that this same woman was going to leave for Lucknow forever.

Track Rewrite: 

Arnav’s anger is really a projection of his frustration on himself for hurting Anjali and a terrible act of him confirming to himself that money can get him everything - even his sister’s happiness, which he attributes to his ability to get Khushi back into the house using money because he only knows the language of money. 

So my problem isn’t much with him… it’s with Khushi’s inaction. This is one of my least favourite scenes in the show because once Khushi stops (mostly) retaliating to Arnav from this point - she never really retaliates ever again. It’s like they kill that intellectual and mature aspect of Khushi who really knew how to debate (ah, don’t I love the resignation scene and her moment with Lavanya, Sim & Pam in the office).

Of course, Arnav and Khushi argue bucket lots in the future but from this moment on they really amp up Khushi’s silent crying and reduce her logical arguments to her emotions. Hence, if there’s anything I would have changed then I would always give Khushi the final word - the logical final word because who doesn’t like a solid rebuttal.

Quick note; Arnav does amend from saying “women like you” to “people like you”. So there’s a shift from his belief of her being a gold digger (and hence, lack of character) to a middle class greedy person (like his uncle).

Head-canon: 

I believe she doesn’t give Arnav a chance to gloat that he got her back with his money. Hence, the following exchange takes place in my head…

--

Arnav: “Mujhe pata tha tum paise ke liye kuch bhi karogi.”

Khushi: “Hum aap se ek baat kahe? Aap ghalat hai.”

Arnav: “No, main tum jaiso ko achi tarah se jaanta hai.”

Khushi: “Haan, shayad aap hum jaiso ko jaante hai. Par humein nahi. Aur rahi baat humara yaha aake kaam karne ka, toh humein nahi lagta ki humein kisi ko bhi safai deni ki zaroorat hai. Khaas kar ki aapko.”

- -

Arnav: “I knew you’d do anything for money,”

Khushi: “You know what? You’re wrong.”

Arnav: “I’m not. I know people like you.”

Khushi: “You may know people like me, but not me. And as far as me choosing to work here, I don’t find it necessary to give anyone any explanation. Especially you.”

--

Public Service Announcement/Crazy thought: 

The old 500 rupee notes are banned post demonetization. So don’t use those notes.

Check out my crazy version of this episode. 

#3 “Di isse sorry bolne ki koi zaruri nahi hai. Yeh aapki naukar hai.” (S3, E1/E2)

“Di you don’t have to apologise to her. She’s your servant.”

First Reaction: Oh no you didn’t… you didn’t!

What’s wrong with it: 

I think it gets on my nerves how rude he is and that he constantly measures her to her financial and societal status. And all of this is because she pranked him. Like she literally put sugar crystals in his petrol tank, changed his phone ringtone to a silly item number and put juice in his shoes. And he responds to that with some pretty damaging words. He literally tells her that lying and cheating is in her blood. 

Yikes! Flashback time Arnav - when she just alluded how he would feel if his sister’s marriage broke he tore her strings, and he legit just insulted her parents. All because she played some childish pranks. 

I have to say Khushi does put up a good fight, for most of it, and I love Anjali trying her best to intervene but yes… the way Arnav just flares up here - he crosses quite a few lines (hence I am not at all sorry when Khushi flings the hot tea on him, sorry I’m a sadist). I think his continuous push to show his authority, superiority over her is not really healthy. 

And that last Rabba Ve (although the tune is beautiful) which is evoked by her tears, and previously evoked by the impressions of his fingers around her wrist, gives a very wrong message to the public.

Track Rewrite: 

I never, ever want to change their essential characteristic. I’m pretty satisfied when he’s literally burned after he’s burned her with his words. Karma always gets him...

But, I really wouldn’t mind a strong, confident, and angry “ENOUGH” from Khushi as well. Or even a quiet, deadly, whisper of an “enough” that would stop his nonsensical tirade. It’s important for him to know when he’s crossed the line, before Khushi starts crying.

Really, it wouldn’t hurt if he was taken aback by her burst of anger or the threat of anger instead of tears (remember the Guesthouse incident… he was turned on by her fury, and then he simmered down and felt guilty - that’s a good cycle to follow when there’s an argument. No, not always the turn on side but the ability to give both the parties anger).

Because of late there seems to be an obsession of male heroes getting the ability to insult their “soulmates” and then stopping because of her tears and then never following it up with an apology. There’s a lot of context in the case of Arnav and Khushi… but I always relish when he’s flabbergasted and silenced by her retaliated anger more than anything else (cue, the resignation scene again).

Head-canon:

Arnav: “Di you don’t have to apologise to her, she’s your servant-”

Khushi: “-enough.” / or / “ENOUGH!”

Arnav and Anjali stand, silenced by Khushi’s anger.

Khushi (to Arnav): “Do yourself and your status a favour. Don’t open your mouth. Especially in front of me. I may fall before your eyes, but you dig yourself a grave.”

Khushi walks away, leaving Arnav stunned.

---

Arnav: “Di isse sorry bolne ki koi zaruri nahi hai. Yeh aapki naukar hai-”

Khushi: “-bas.” / or / “BAS!”

Arnav and Anjali stand, silenced by Khushi’s anger.

Khushi (to Arnav): “Aap apne aap aur apne aukaad pe ek ehsaan kijiye. Apna muh mat kholiye. Khaas karke humare saamne. Shayad hum aapke nazro main gir jaate hai, par aap toh khai khodke apne aap ko giraate hai.”

Khushi walks away, leaving Arnav stunned.

--

Too harsh? Too unlike Khushi? Sorry, I’ve been watching that scene on repeat way too many times and I may have vented out a bit - it gets crazier when I list out Khushi’s antics!

Public Service Announcement: 

Don’t break laptops or play pranks on people who might explode on you. Also, don’t waste mango juice on pranks - it’s delicious consumed. Probably that’s why Arnav was angry - one, he cannot drink mango juice due to his diabetes, and two, she wasted it on shoes!

#4 “Mere liye uss baat ki, ya tumhari, koi ehmiyat nahi hai.” (S3, E40)

“For me, that [the almost kiss], or you, don’t mean a thing to me.”

First Reaction: YES THAT’S WHY YOU KEEP ON THINKING ABOUT IT! LIKE OF COURSE BABUA ALWAYS SAYS THE TRUTH AND SAYS THE THINGS HE MEANS. LIKE OF COURSE YOU DID NOT INITIATE THE KISS OR PRESERVE HER ANKLET IN THE KHUSHI SHRINE OF YOURS! What the fu-dge Babua, literally?

What’s wrong with it:

Actually nothing. I just want to mentally slap him, that’s it. This needs to happen. Because honestly at this point of their relationship if this hadn’t happened - if they had kissed, chosen to break up with their partners (more like Khushi absolutely refusing to get engaged and even end up giving an ultimatum to her family) - then they would technically end up together and the most unhealthy point of their relationship.

Arnav is not at all ready for marriage but he would say yes because it’s the only way Khushi would be with him? Khushi, although in love with Arnav, still really has no actual reach to his depth and emotions. 

And really all her fantasies of Arnav are really fantasies, she loves him for what he evokes in her more than what he truly is. He is unable to get her out of his system. It would be a bad place to begin a relationship.

So although nothing is wrong with this scene and it’s like a bitter pill that needs to be swallowed, I still want to say he crossed a line by reinstating that she means nothing to him even though he led her on the entire foreplay of a Diwali. And like… wow, he’s asking what he means to her after he just declared that he’s going to get engaged to his longtime girlfriend who is also now Khushi’s closest friend? Like why… why would Khushi tell you what you mean to her?

Track Rewrite: 

I would rewrite Buaji’s pressure on Khushi. It’s regressive, painful and terrible to watch. I know it’s necessary… and if not rewrite this scene then I would just add a scene in the future where Buaji truly apologises for ruining her dearest Sanka Devi’s life. She owed this at least and it would be nice to see elders recognize their own mistakes at times.

Head-canon: 

Lavanya is in a happy relationship with NK <3.

Public Service Announcement: 

If you have a difficulty in saying what you want to say, enroll in Jalebi Teaches Feelz Expression classes.

#5 “I hope tumhe koi farak nahi padta.” (S4, E8 - S4, E14)

“I hope it means nothing to you / I hope it doesn’t affect you / I hope it doesn’t make a difference to you.” It = me, Arnav, our relationship (or whatever it is).

First Reaction: wherefore art thou asking questions yond thee cannot answ'r?

What’s wrong with it: 

This is where Arnav’s moralities really turn grey. Over here any affection, concern or committment to Lavanya is literally forgotten. Almost possessed, Arnav has three goals; 

(1) Make Khushi admit what he himself cannot admit - that he, them, everything matters to her (2) Prove to Khushi she won’t find a better match than him, that he’s her equal and he’s the only one who can provide for her and give her everything she desires (3) Make her breakup with her undesirable and unworthy fiance (he hasn’t met him but he just knows that her fiance does not deserve Khushi and I have to agree with Arnav, he’s right) and probably end up getting engaged with him.

The epic part of the Raizada plan is - he doesn’t have an idea what would happen if Khushi actually gives a farak. It’s not that Arnav is right or justified, he just stands the way he has always been - in all his fifty thousands shades of grey (not I’m not a fan of that book, pleej no).

Track Rewrite: 

A bit more time for Arnav, Lavanya, his apology and their break up. I love it that he does it instantly, but I also wish he spent more time talking to Lavanya. Just some more Arnav/Lavanya scenes, we really never got to see more of their friendship and her understanding.  

As far as everything else, Khushi’s inner battles and silence is really amazing - it’s what gives her dignity and it’s her self preservation. Arnav is redeemed by the fact that he genuinely is Khushi’s soulmate and he can feel her distress and is the only one who accurately senses that Khushi might have been pressured to agree to this marriage. Who knows Khushi cannot live in a loveless marriage. It’s something he can now guarantee, after a whirlwind of denial.

Although his actions are dubious, he’s the only one who senses the lack of joy and passion. So, rather terribly, he tries to put it across that he can fulfill her needs.

This comes to a halt when Payal refuses Akash in the first proposal. It sheds light on his earlier mistake and he realises that he has been wrong about Khushi all along (so he does not bring up her financial/societal status in insults post the event because Khushi really did end up in fashion show by mistake and more than that - her sister’s marriage did break because of him - not until the hate marriage).

And he realises his error with Lavanya that brings him out of this “I need to possess Khushi” phase.  

So I liked that we saw the ugliest side of their love, the irrational jealousy and demand of possession. And I love that Khushi did not budge in, no matter how much it hurt.

Head-canon: 

Lavanya knew all about it. Hence, she never holds Khushi responsible and instead guides Arnav to making better decisions. 

Also, Khushi went through a similar, crazed phase. Except we never see it because Khushi grows increasingly quiet when her heart is suffering. She uses words to express and choses silence when she does not want to acknowledge.

Public Service Announcement: 

Remember, it’s a good thing that they show us the unhealthy and healthy phase of a relationship between two people who love each other. This phase was decidedly toxic between Arnav and Khushi - when love is jealous, causes pain, is insensitive, is madness - see the signs and don’t go in deep when it’s at this phase. Every love has its time to mature and grow. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Read Part 2

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Author’s Note: I wanted to write something for Phil of the Future, since we’re now in the year 2021 and the future part of that show took place in 2121. And since I’ll be dead when 2121 rolls around, here I go. Exactly one hundred years early, when I still can.

Summary: What if Keely Teslow was an orphan and that led to a very obvious result and happy ending for Phil and Keely?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514058

Parallels 

Present

It was when Phil and Keely were in… a certain place, that Phil finally asked the golden question, that Keely was honestly surprised that he hadn’t voiced a long time ago.

“Keely… are you sad that you didn’t have parents?” And Keely couldn’t help laughing good-naturedly at this, because Phil should have known her answer to this better than anyone else. “Maybe a little bit… Like, even though I know you’d never hurt me, Phil… When you and I finally started dating, before you had to go back to the future, it would have been nice to have a dad tell you that if you hurt me, they’d kill you: you know, to fill out the sort of clichés that everyone is supposed to have in their lives… But as for the rest of it…”

Flashbacks

Keely felt... good about being invited over to the Diffy’s, even though she was still somewhat shocked to know that they were from the future. But as she sat in their lovely kitchen beside Phil—as he showed off to her a little, by spraying some cookies onto her plate--she could feel his mother's obvious question for her coming from a mile away.

"Keely, if you had wanted to... you could have invited your parents over with you. Knowing that we're from the future must be... difficult for you, I’d imagine. And perhaps you could use the moral support?"

And, naturally—because this did hurt Keely some—she decided to give the easy part of the rebuttal first, as her hand slid against Phil's. "It's fine, really. After flying with Phil on the Skyak, I see how cool this all is... But about my parents? …I don't have any. I was in foster care most of my life. And the few foster families I had… weren't the greatest. They weren't abusive, or anything! But, like, one family got super into the baby that they’d adopted after me—I think they wanted a baby more than a teenager, and could no longer support me as well—…so I ran away. So, then I just decided to make things easier by getting emancipation."

"Keely, what?! You never told me any of this," Phil said, as he adopted a concerned air, that a strange part of Keely wanted to kiss him on the nose for.

“It’s okay, Phil. Really,” Keely tried to assure her friend. But Phil didn’t seem convinced. He opened his mouth to say something… but then must have thought better of it, because he swiftly closed it.

And Keely could tell by the way that Phil’s dad, Lloyd—if she recalled correctly?—was looking at her, that he’d quickly changed his mind on his stance of things. Before, she had thought he was the one in the family against her being told any of this stuff, in order to protect his wife and children, but now it seemed like he would have happily told Keely’s parents about the year 2121, if it had meant that she had some.

“Keely, know that you’re welcome here any time,” Barbara Diffy smiled at the girl—before patting her on the hand once and then leaving the room with her husband, so she and Phil could be alone, Keely would presume.

“Keely-” Phil started again.

But Keely wasn’t ready to truly have this conversation now. Maybe not ever. “Come on, Phil,” she said now, as she began pulling her best friend away—as she desperately needed a distraction—“show me that device you were telling me about, that allows me to see the future’s version of the Internet.”

And here Phil grinned… and it was more beautiful to Keely’s eyes, than she would have liked to admit. “I don’t think you’re quite ready to have your brain blown there, Grasshopper. But let me show you how the Wizard will change your life.”

And once Phil changed Keely into Britney Spears after they entered the living room—and she got to belt out a pretty good rendition of “Oops, I Did It Again” as B-Spears—Keely couldn’t help agreeing that the Wizard was, indeed, life-changing.

…

The next time Keely’s parents came up—or didn’t come up—was when Pim had gone missing after taking the Skyak: a thought that still terrified Keely to this day (even if had worked out okay, in the end), even though she was still miffed that Pim had been buttering them up that day, just so she could sneak off and do something dangerous.

But when Keely had been tasked with watching over Curtis, as Phil went and looked for his sister, Keely had thought for a minute that… it was probably good that she didn’t have parents, so she could stay out and do this thing without having to worry about a curfew

And she especially felt that when Phil and Pim showed up again—after it was super dark—and she was able to wrap her arms around Pim, and tell her how glad she was that she was okay, and not have to think about anything else.

…

But Keely became sad about the prospect of being parentless, one day when Phil told her that the first time he’d seen Keely hadn’t been at school, like she’d thought, but when she’d been the one to put the star on Pickford’s Christmas tree.

As she hung-out with the Diffys on this Christmas (right now, she and Phil were sitting on the couch together and drinking as much hot chocolate as they possibly could), Keely found herself saying, “I sort of wish I’d had parents to be there to see me being honored that way. But it’s really no big deal...”

Phil was quiet for a moment. And Keely thought that he had just gotten wrapped up in watching George Bailey decide he wanted to live again in “It’s a Wonderful Life”. But finally, he took her hand and told her, “…Keely. You know that my parents see you as their daughter, right? And an honorary part of the family? I feel like Pim even sees you as an older sister, even though she’d never admit it. And while I’m sure it’s not everything you’re looking for… just know that you’re not alone and you can belong here, if you want.”

And at Phil’s earnestness, Keely felt a blush coming on… something that seemed to be happening to her more and more where Phil was concerned. She put a hand over her cheek, in order to try and hide it. “Th-thanks, Phil. It means a lot.”

And then Keely did something that surprised the both of them: she leaned in and kissed Phil Diffy on the cheek.

“Keely, wha-” And there was something in Phil’s eyes as he looked at her searchingly then: like maybe he didn’t mind that kiss atall, and would have liked to be more than just friends with her now.

And later, Keely would regret that she’d tried to play it off by pointing above them and whispering, “Mistletoe.”

But at the time, she hadn’t been able to stop smiling. Because even though a new romance hadn’t been kindled—yet—it still had been the best Christmas she’d ever had… Even if she did have the stupid theme song for “Astro Tree” stuck in her head.

…

“Phil… in the future, I’m wearing a wedding ring!”

This memory of Keely’s was one of the ones where she thought she was glad her life had turned out the way it did. Because even though it would have been exciting to let them know that she was engaged in the future… she doubted that anyone would appreciate her going ga-ga over s chocolate diamonds here. Both Tia and Via hated the color brown. And whenever she’d talked about chocolate diamonds with them in the past, they couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t just want a pristine, white one. And she was sure that any parents she had would have been the same.

And Keely almost had to laugh when Phil asked the question that any (jealous?) guy would, while he prepared The Giggle to look up more information for her. “So, I guess you want to know who the lucky guy is, huh…?”

Keely grinned widely, in leaning closer to Phil. She was starting to think she knew exactly who the lucky guy was going to be, after all. Even if it was still her secret. “No. I’ll be surprised.”

But Keely wrapped an arm around Phil’s shoulder, anyway, hoping he’d get the hint.

…

Keely and Phil had finally gotten together. It was a miracle, all things considered. And the entire student body—even their strange principal—seemed to be thinking that that was the case. But Keely liked to believe that she and Phil had been destined to get to this point. And how she was waiting for her first kiss now… her first kiss that Phil would steal.

But that all came crashing down, when Lloyd essentially revealed that he’d known how to fix the time machine for a long time now, but just hadn’t done so because his family had been so happy in the past. But apparently, the Diffys knew they really didhave to go home… And they wouldn’t be able to come back, because of some new law in the future that prevented time travel because of their own mishap.

Phil had already left Keely—as far as she knew—and so she prepared to read the school’s news for the day in a depressive state.

…Until Phil surprised her by bursting into her office and telling her he couldn’t leave without telling her goodbye for real.

And then they finally kissed.

And though it was Keely’s first ever one—and Phil’s too, she was guessing—she knew that no other one would ever live up to it. And no guy could ever give her what she and Phil had had together. So, she tried to hang onto his taste of cinnamon as long as she could and make it a part of her.

Phil was leaving before Keely could even think then… but as he did, a thought occurred to her: why was she even staying here? Yes, she had friends and things she loved in these early 2000s. But there was really nothing holding her back from going to 2121 with Phil and his family if they wished it, was there?

And if Phil’s Internet “The Giggle” device had shown her making news broadcasts in such a futuristic setting… didn’t that mean something? She had another theory she needed to voice to Phil, too.

So, running as fast as her feet would carry her (she’d even ditched her high heels back at school, so they wouldn’t slow her down), Keely made it to the Diffy’s driveway and yelled for Phil as loud as she possibly could as they were about to fly out. “PHIL! PHIL, WAIT!”

…Thankfully, Phil seemed to hear her and got out, before he’d gone somewhere she could never follow.

And while he certainly looked happy to see her—for what he surely thought would be the last time—he also seemed sad, as if Keely was drawing out the inevitable.

“Keely, what is it?” And yet even as he seemed ready to end this, Phil seemed unable from reaching a hand out to cup Keely’s face—something that she happily leaned into.

“Phil… answer me this question. And let’s not beat around the bush here. I think- you’ve liked me for forever. As long as I have you. And with that, I’m sure that your mind jumped to ridiculous future events… like marrying me. And if you had… what kind of wedding band would you have given me?”

Phil seemed somewhat baffled by this at first. But the more he spoke, the more he seemed to say the words that Keely had wanted him to and remember something important with it. “I don’t know. Chocolate diamonds, maybe? I know how much you love the- Wait. Keely!”

Suddenly, Keely found herself in Phil’s arms as the two of them held onto each other and sobbed. “Phil… in the future, I was wearing a wedding band with chocolate diamonds. Do you get it? It was from you. I married you! Which means I go to the future with you!”

And the way that Phil beamed at Keely then was enough to make the sun ashamed of its lack of power. “Then I think you need to get into the time machine STAT, little lady. And tell my dad that he needs to pull up another seat for you.”

And the two took each other’s hands, and began walking towards the sunset together.

Present

“I never would have dreamt of having parents, Phil, because it would have kept me from being with you.”

And Phil’s eyes seemed to twinkle at that, before he leaned down to drop a kiss to Keely’s crown. “I think I can live with that, then.”

Together, the two of them walked into the news studio Keely worked at, where they were currently negotiating with the higher-ups to let Phil compose their music for them and then play it.

And it really was their perfect future.

Author’s Note: This is a bit of nice closure for me, as I was always sad about Phil and Keely’s ending. Though I like to think they found a way to be together.

Also, I doubt that Keely’s wedding ring was filled with chocolate diamonds in that one clip. Just roll with it.

All of this Phil of the Future stuff is done from memory. I haven’t seen the show in ages. So hopefully there was nothing too egregious here.

Thanks for reading!

[qm-vox]

Sigilverse Fanfic - Death by Misadventure

Author’s Note: After ten thousand years I am ONCE AGAIN PROCRASTINATING ON OTHER OBLIGATIONS to bring you the unasked-for fourth chapter in this Sigilverse fanfic. Previous chapters, in order, include What You Think of Death, In It To The Death, and Death Warmed Over. Sigilverse continues to be provided by @periakman whose latest book Legacy of the Sigil just dropped. Like queer YA that grapples absolutely fucking directly with trauma, recovery, and injustice? Give her a glance and your money.

Content Warnings: Child abuse, violence, mentions of suicide, extrajudicial murder, drug use

Vellkill Island, Grevelt. Late Autumn

Monika was intently working her way through her linguistics assignments when Deirdre punched her directly in the back of the head, not hard enough to see stars but definitely hard enough that the young apprentice’s hunched-over seating posture became her best imitation of a human-skin rug.

“The Void was that for?” Monika asked with her mouth against the stone floor of her room.

“Don’t die of shock, but science,” Deirdre commented. “Notice how you actually got hit?”

“I was there, I remember.”

“How often have you actually been hit in the last two months you ass?” came the acidic rebuttal.

Monika considered this. It certainly hadn’t been for lack of trying on Deirdre’s part or, she had to admit, the various soldiers the two of them had cajoled into helping explore Monika’s affinity. The apprentice’s telekinesis seemed to rely on existing movement, but it could nudge and exaggerate motion with incredible efficiency. Fists, feet, blades, sandbags, hurled bricks (while wearing a helmet, obviously), all had simply nyoomed right past Monika without so much as disturbing her dreadlocks. Deirdre had vetoed attempting to shoot Monika with a crossbow bolt; when Monika had tried it anyway using a rope and pulley system, the bolt had went right past her too.

“Yeah, well - I’d like to see you try it again,” Monika muttered bitterly.

“I’m going to,” Deirdre admitted.

“Why?”

“Science,” Deirdre answered, and then she aimed a savage kick at the girl.

Monika’s previous training paid off; she rolled away from her master’s boot and up into a fighting stance. Deirdre wasn’t in her typical armor, which meant among other things that if Monika hit her it’d actually hurt, except -

- hold on -

“Are you wearing padding?” Monika asked in outrage.

“We’re in a stone room and I expect you’re gonna toss my corpse around like old laundry, of course I’m in padding,” Deirdre answered. “You gonna hit me back or what?”

“What’re we testing?” Monika answered; the two circled each other warily, automatically edging away from Monika’s bed and kicking books out of the space where a fight might happen without taking their eyes off of each other.

“Focus,” came the reply. “I need to know if you can fight and do that at the same time, and how long you can do both or either. What’s the rule?”

“Report any feelings of pain in my head or eyes, halt if you call a halt, magic can hurt me and I need to not be hurt for no reason,” Monika answered dutifully. “I’m no good to you if I have a stroke.”

“You’re no good to yourself if you have a stroke, little patriot. Now hit me.”

So Monika hit her.

Like a speeding carriage.

Deirdre took the shot in the solar plexis and hit the stone wall with a whump. Dust shook loose from the rafters while the teen stared in vague shock. Deirdre slid to the ground slowly, collapsing onto her ass and sucking in deep, steady breaths.

“Change of plans,” the Silencer managed in what Monika could only call ‘her voice’ for lack of a better word. “I’m just gonna try to hit you and if anyone asks what happened to me, your obstacle course got me.”

“...Yeah, okay.”

This plan went fantastically for Monika. Deirdre not so much.

The teen watched as her master attempted to hit her to absolutely no avail. Deirdre kept her movements small, precise, laying out a flurry of controlled jabs and strikes that all missed by the barest fraction of an inch. For bigger things Monika could usually feel a twinge, the sensation of her affinity being accessed, but here it was more like a background noise as her kinesis just chugged along.

Things got wild with the bigger hits. An attempted haymaker sent Deirdre sprawling into the wall in an ungainly heap. A stomp kick fit to break down a door hit the wall instead, folding the Silencer in on herself like a paper fan and blowing the air out of her lungs. Deirdre tried to wave off Monika’s sheepish attempts to offer her a canteen of water but her body won out over her pride.

The attempt to throw the canteen at Monika sent it sailing out the window and into the presence of the world’s least fortunate chicken and luckiest enlisted man, respectively.

After what felt like an eternity, but the shifting daylight insisted was about an hour, Deirdre collapsed onto the bed with sweat plastering her red hair to her neck.

“You’re not even tired,” the Silencer complained.

“Nope,” Monika agreed. “I’m only just now feeling any pressure in my head and even then it’s more like I’ve got a cat on me.”

“...This might complicate things.”

“Isn’t it a good sign?” Monika pressed, voice full of hope.

“Depends, how into dying on accident are you in the name of science?”

Monika didn’t answer that.

“You know what I’m about to ask.”

Monika didn’t answer. She just left the room.

*

Monika had long since given up on looking for Ysabelle anywhere but the infirmary; the healer slept there, on a narrow cot that she insisted was her own choice and preference, thank you very much you nosy brat. On the average day there weren’t actually all that many patients, and today there were none. Monika walked in on Ysabelle putting a kettle on for tea.

“That beast finally find a way to maul you again?” Ysabelle asked without looking up, her voice flat.

“I don’t like you talking about her like that,” Monika said in a low voice. “...But no. I wanted to ask you about magical injuries. Erm. Injuries from using your affinity, that is.”

Wordlessly, Ysabelle left the kettle, but when she came back with two cups and set them down Monika knew she was invited to stay. The apprentice sat down cross-legged on one of the medical beds and waited for the healer to speak.

“Understand that I say this in the most technical sense I can,” Ysabelle began after a moment. “The question you’ve just asked is completely useless. Some affinities are inherently dangerous. Some are dangerous because they’re in bodies that aren’t suited to use them, or only partially suited. The Reaper puts his bones straight through his own skin and muscle, and even though he’s adapted to handle that it still hurts. Is that the sort of affinity injury you’re asking about?”

Monika frowned, holding her empty teacup and staring down into it. The porcelain was thin and unusually fine; once again, the apprentice considered asking Ysabelle why she had such an expensive tea service, and once again Monika discarded the question as likely to open up realms of bullshit beyond her imagination. “No, not...well...maybe? What happens to telekinetics?”

“Ah. Hrm. You’re wondering about your limits?” When Monika nodded, Ysabelle started to hrm her way through preparing the tea; picking out the blend she wanted to use, getting out stale cookies (’Why are your cookies so shit when your tea is so expensive?�� was another one of those questions Monika forced herself not to ask on a nearly daily basis), and fetching her cream, butter, and sugar. With the service fully set, the healer once again settled down to look at Monika. “That is...also complicated. Esoteric applications of magic can cause brain injuries, but they don’t always do so. Over-use of magic in general causes damage to what I will, for lack of a better term, classify as the soul, the fallout of which can range from acute depression, catatonic or fugue states, dissociation, or even death. Part of the reason ritual magic is so tightly controlled is because of injuries of this kind.”

The teen nodded, and then frowned again. “Wait, for lack of a better term? Do you not believe in souls?”

Ysabelle gave Monika a wan grin. “I did most of my learning in Haldon, where we have other ideas. That beast training you could tell you more, if you care to ask.”

Monika bristled, and when she saw Ysaballe tensing up in turn the apprentice let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and willed herself to calm down. Lots of people had reasons to dislike Deirdre. Void, Monika disliked Deirdre! Just let it go. Leeeeet it gooooo.

“In your opinion -” Monika began, and then she stopped. Ysabelle said nothing, but when the kettle started whistling did move to make the tea at last, giving the teen a lot more time to think. Getting a warm cup how she liked it (to wit, with enough sugar to kill nine men) to hold in her hands was a comfort of its own. “My master is concerned that if I can’t find a way to regulate my power, I could cause myself brain injuries. Maybe even those soul ones you’re talking about,” Monika explained at last. “How would I be able to tell if I’m close to danger?”

Comprehension dawned over Ysabelle’s expression; the healer added butter and sugar to her tea and stirred it slowly, clearly looking for the words she wanted to say. Monika had seen this look before, when trying to diagnose a tricky problem or injury and explain it in a way her patient would understand. “You probably don’t,” Ysabelle admitted after a moment. “Pain in the head without a clear cause could be one sign, but it might not be; a lot of the brain has no pain receptors, and if you’re bleeding internally you may not know until you have a stroke or even die. Fatigue can also be a sign of excessive magical expenditure, but given your affinity...”

“...I’ll probably be exhausted for other reasons,” Monika finished with a nod. “Hell, even just doing training with Lee leaves me exhausted.”

“Mister Lee puts you through your paces,” Ysabelle agreed. “And if you end up in battle, as you inevitably will given your master’s profession, the emotional toll can make self-awareness even more difficult. Your master is correct - you are in fact in an unknown amount of danger from yourself, and this danger of necessity will need to be addressed.” She and Monika took sips of their tea at the same time, each with expressions of Intense Contemplation on their faces. “If you could be so kind, please explain to Deirdre that you had this conversation with me, and that I may be able to suggest resources to the both of you on this matter which would require her rather more comprehensive powers of requisition. I am willing to speak to her at her earliest convenience.”

“Civilly?” Monika pressed.

Ysabelle sighed.

“Civilly,” the healer agreed, at last.

*

Vellkill Island, Grevelt. Midwinter.

The teleporter arrived without much fanfare, to the immediate panic of those posted there. Monika’s first clue that something was wrong was the mad scramble to put everything up to code, as if some kind of inspection was coming. She had just been about to find Deirdre and ask what was happening when her master found her instead.

“Uniform up, we’re due downstairs,” Deirdre ordered briskly. “And your books have arrived.”

“These related?” Monika hazarded, even as she moved to obey.

“Very. Try to be on your best behavior, the Colonel’s going to have a stick up his ass.”

‘Downstairs’ turned out to be the fort’s parade ground, where the soldiery were assembled in crisp formation. The Colonel (Monika went into her breathing exercises; stay calm, staaaay calm) was conversing in low tones with a tall, bald woman with skin just as dark as Monika’s own, a first since arriving at this Void-curst island. As they got closer, the apprentice noticed the dagger tattoo on the woman’s hand, just like the one on Deirdre’s.

Another Crimson Dagger. Oh no.

“Silencer,” the tall woman greeted with a nod. “Monika of Westkill. My name is Serethen of Javier. I have brought your requested materials.”

Monika bowed. Deirdre just nodded, and then opened her mouth: “Didn’t expect those until spring opened the seas up. What do you want?”

Serethen laughed and favored Deirdre with a faint smile. “Your reputation precedes you, Silencer. There is an ulterior motive, but it will wait. My journey has been long, and I am exhausted. You and your apprentice will take lunch with me tomorrow, and then we can discuss things.”

“I will have my rooms -” the Colonel began.

“Not you,” Serethen interrupted.

“That is hardly your place, Agent,” the island’s lord and master hissed, only to be forced to fumble and curse as a sealed envelope was thrown at him. He glared at the tall teleporter, and then at the envelope.

Later, much later, Monika would treasure the exact look on his face during darker times in her life.

“Not you,” Serethen repeated, and then she set down the heavy pack on her back. She gestured between it and Deirdre and then swept away with a quiet dignity and no small amount of self-satisfaction.

“I think I might want to be her when I grow up,” Monika said after a moment.

“Same,” her master echoed.

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

‘The Absent Father and Spider-Man’s Unfulfilled Potential’: Rebuttal Part 3: George Stacy

Master Post

My rebuttal to Fettinger’s 2006 essay continues here. His essay eventually began listing off potential father figures to Peter to see how Peter might fare under their guidance. As such I felt it appropriate to partition my rebuttal per character. In this instalment we will check out his examination of Captain George Stacy.

Fettinger begins by claiming that early MJ learned Peter’s identity via observation rather than deduction like George Stacy did.

This is true in one sense because Parallel Lives establishes she found out by observing Peter enter his home an Spidey leave it.

But it is untrue in another sense because prior to that retcon it was presumed and essentially canon that MJ DID deduce the truth like George did.

·         Fettinger continues to detail Peter and George’s history claiming George was in the wrong place at the wrong time getting crushed by debris from Doc Ock and Spidey’s battle.

This is inaccurate. A child  was in the wrong place at the wrong time and Stacy sacrificed  himself to save said child.

·         Fettinger goes on to postulate that if George had lived we would’ve seen something akin to Civil War 2006 (I will get into that in a minute) where Peter unmasks.

He goes on to say something that’s perfectly true, that whilst George would’ve guarded Peter’s secret for a while if Peter and Gwen continued to grow more serious he wouldn’t have allowed Peter to marry Gwen if he didn’t tell her the truth. What is entirely inaccurate is his assessment that marriage was the ‘logical’ conclusion to his and Gwen’s relationship. As I, and others, have detailed before, Peter and Gwen’s relationship was NOT a rosy one at all and had more than a few problems for various reasons including their immaturity. Marriage was NOT the inevitable endgame for them, splitting up (sooner or later) was.

·         Fettinger continues that George would have pressed Peter into joining the force and worked to rehabilitate Spidey’s reputation behind the scenes by making Spidey and the law accept and understand one another better.

This is another perfectly organic extrapolation upon George’s character. However, presuming he’d have succeeded in charming either side is incredibly questionable, various members of the law enforcement of the Marvel Universe actively dislike superheroes for simply making them look inadequate.

And as for Spidey understanding the ‘limits’ the law enforcers have to face...what has that got to do with anything; especially Peter’s unfulfilled potential?

Over the course of Spider-Man’s career hasn’t his vigilante activities, which have been OUTSIDE the bounds of the law, proven themselves to ultimately be more effective in the cases he’s tackled than the activities of regular law enforcement?

Spidey’s powers and anonymity render him essentially incorruptible to people like the Kingpin. His bending of the law to acquire information has shut down major crimes. These factors do not apply to the police. So why would Spider-Man NEED to understand what law enforcers face? His methods are clearly much MORE effective.

Or did I miss those issues where the regular police prevented Doc Ock from nuking New York city? Hell in ‘Secret Wars II’ Spider-Man did egregiously more to help people when a whole building was transformed into gold than the regular law enforcement (whom the Kingpin had an arrangement with).

·         Fettinger continues by arguing that Peter would’ve unmasked like in Civil War #2 and would’ve become the vanguard of a legitimate superhuman police force.

Putting aside how badly that worked out for everyone in hindsight, that is NOT a good thing (see all the countless abuses of power perpetuated by the police). It also opens up his family and friends to countless dangers that the authorities are NOT equipped to protect them from (super villain prisons clearly suck shit). AND he’d be handcuffed by certain limitations of the law, the likes of which he’s been bypassing for years to great effect. And how exactly is this him NOT FULFILLING HIS POTENTIAL!?????

·         Fettinger continues by claiming Peter’s investigative and intuitive skills might’ve been improved by Stacy’s tutelage making more use of his brains than his brawn.

Spider-Man ALREADY uses his brains during fights and is a perfectly competent investigator.

Fettinger is painting Spidey as a guy who just punches things out to solve the situation when that’s not true, he’s capable of deductive reasoning and all other sorts of mental gymnastics. He’s used his brains to outsmart villains on COUNTLESS occasions, including in Amazing Spider-Man #2!!!!!!! So why does Peter need to ‘improve’ his investigative skills? They clearly work just fine.

That’s it for Captain Stacy. Next up…the Jackal!

Master Post

[fedonciadale]

Not an ask but I kinda needed to get this out. I get pretty furious at people who reject our theories just based on the fact that they are coming from shippers, their reasoning being this is not a show about ships. I don’t think they understand that love is at the very heart of the story. The things we do for love. That’s the whole story basically. Familial love, romantic love. RLJ, Lysa Arryn starting the entire GOT, even the red wedding, Dany’s treason. ALL motivated by Love!

Dear nonny,

Yes agree! Trying to devalidate arguments because of bias (be it shipper bias or something else) is a so called 'non sequitur' which means that one does not logically follow the other.

If I am a shipper and therefore biased and someone tells me that my argument is not valid they claim that the motivation for me argueing in the first place actually effects the value of my argument which is obviously untrue. There is no logical connection.

To give an example : If I were to claim that 2 + 2 equals 4 and you would answer 'of course you would say that, you are a mathematician', it is perfectly clear that my bias does not really effect the truth of what I said. That kind of false rebuttal is called bulverism BTW...

And you know, many things are actually about shipping in literature. Often the love interests are more than 'just' love interests and act as stand-in for a certain decision or a mind-set and anyway in books that are set in a world where political alliances are forged by marriages shipping is actually at the core of the story. People in ASOIAF itself ship all the time. Robert Baratheon shipped Joffrey and Sansa as a self-insert for himself and Lyanna, Catelyn shipped Robb with Margaery, Lysa shipped Sansa with her son Sweetrobin,.... I could name more obviously. Marriage and alliances are a constant subject in ASOIAF and of course it is important....

You know, I don't get it either why people would think that it is not important... This book is not about relationships... Psaw! Everything is about relationships....

Would anyone who has a brain really claim that for their personal life it is absolutely unimportant who they end up with??? It is unimportant who their friends are? What kind of parents they had? This is an absolute ridiculous claim.

I mean if we are with somebody - even if it us only for a while - we see this person every day, their opinion influences us etc. etc.... And of course we all want our faves in fiction to be happy. I could never ship Jon with Dany because I think he would be fundamentally unhappy (and in a way the show proved me right) nor could I ship Sansa with anyone who would not value her (like her abusers)...

But sure it is 'only' about shipping...

Thanks for the ask!

[najikat]

Best birthday ever with the best realization.

So, I thought today would be crummy but it ended up being the best birthday ever. I got to talk and chill with the voice actor of Jet from Cowboy Bebop and get to meet Jaqen, The Faceless Man from Game of Thrones! The artist of the Goosebumps books got a good belly laugh when I ran over to him and called him the "Man responsible for my nightmares"! He was super awesome and took plenty of time talking to me about my future in art. I met an amazing crew of artists eager to show me the ropes of con-table running. One artist is so nice that she's donating me her extra con gear/setup!

I could have let a lot of things on this silly void of anonymity take away my joy today, but I ended up realizing people will always lie like insane, hurt you to see you bleed, and try to thieve away your goodness to make it look like their own. I probably give way too much care into things I shouldn't because I wear my heart on my sleeve and fret over anyone who "gets the wrong idea" about who I am and the morals I represent.

But honestly, I'm over it.

So, instead of perpetuating an endless cycle of bickering, I'm for once... Not going to respond. I prepared a massive word document the size of Kansas with a plethora of screenshots, rebuttals, and receipt slapping.

Then it dawned on me as I sat down to review it tonight. Why? What would I lose if I just move on and continue as I have been? A few really toxic people online screaming into the void "HAH! See! She has no proof and no response! She's HORRIBLE! This validates everything I say as truth! What I say must be true! See! See!"

... Uhm. OK. But I know it's not.

So, Should that really matter to me?

The healthy part of my brain is saying very tenderly "No, darling. It shouldn't.".

So what does this mean for me? Well, for one I regain control over my experience online and control over my mental health. I don't need to keep reliving abuse and continued toxicity. I don't need to keep worrying if I need to defend against more air-grabbing lies or people using me as a beating bag for others actions. My friends don't need to worry if I'm hurting and they don't need to see me slip back into a wreck of depression and handshaking anxiety. I won't be vulnerable to the damage these people cause because I won't care nor listen.

These people will always try to manipulate. They will always lie.

So, when does it stop for ME? I know it will never stop for them. Not ever. They create what they live in. What do I want to live in? Well, not like them that is for sure.

So, I'm going to do some self-care here. After 16 hours of isolation on the 19th fact checking, reliving a really horrible place and mental state, grammar correcting and obsessing over a "rebuttal" stronger than a strike from Thor’s Hammer... I'm deleting the entire thing.

Just. Like. That.

I know some people who don't know me won't believe that... and that's OK.

I know the truth and so do those that are important to me. Anyone else is just a bonus. My goal was already achieved of warning people last year and I will continue to do so as I see fit. I'm never online besides to post my art because life doing adult things offline is my priority and responsibility. I can't control anyone other than myself. I conduct myself with morals and integrity. I KNOW that.

If people who don't know me think otherwise...

Well, with all due respect... Fuck 'em.

In the end, I had an amazing birthday today. And that is all she wrote. 

TO FRIENDS | FOLLOWERS:

I understand people will want to continue coming to me to let me know about the events taking place with ex-leaders/members of Dragons Crown and their known affiliates due to our history or to ask questions about the aforementioned. This isn’t actually helpful and isn’t contributing to my mental health or wellbeing, but instead constantly dredging up a painful aspect of history I’d rather not relive. There have been multiple instances of myself and others sharing their accounts, and posting logs/screenshots all across Tumblr. I am sure you can find them in my Archive as well. I ask that if more is posted or said regarding the whole situation and group (be it further reblogs or call-outs) that it not be brought to my attention no matter how important you might find it. Anons will be turned off, plugs like Tumblr Savior will continue to be utilized, and every step has been taken to keep it out of sight, out of mind. I’ll probably be reblogging this sub-section a few times over the course of the next week to ensure visibility. Thank you, and I love you all ♥