#my health issues almost made me quit but I prevailed

[thequeenofsarcaasm]

Happy Pride Month fellow biblical abominations 🏳️‍🌈

This is something silly and unserious I wrote for @chosoyukiism. I just wanted Gojo to take a “Am I gay?” quiz and it was my best chance to write it

Summary:

After their first Pride events together, Gojo tries to confess his feelings to his best friends so clumsily that he gets mistaken for a homophobe.

Preview:

[robininthelabyrinth]

Polyphonic 

Chapter 3 ao3  (alt: tumblr pt 1, pt 2)

-

Lan Qiren wanted to speak to Wei Wuxian about everything they needed to do, but it would have to wait: the moment they arrived, they were immediately swept up into the political mess that Jin Zixun’s ill-fated ambush had caused.

Jin Guangshan was there in the blink of an eye, despite normally taking his time in seeing anyone, and Lan Qiren didn’t like the way he started making excuses for his nephew’s behavior from the very start. It was to a certain degree understandable, as everyone would first incline towards defending their family, but the haste with which Jin Guangshan sought to sweep it all under the rug was disconcerting, and Lan Qiren thought it was almost suggestive of some level of premeditation. Even more distasteful, however, was how he sought to twist the entire event into being yet another reason Wei Wuxian ought to surrender the Stygian Tiger Seal to the Jin sect: for his own good, of course, in order to avoid being made into a target on account of the disdain of the cultivation world –

“Sect Leader Jin, your words are in poor taste,” Lan Qiren said sharply.

He could hear Jiang Cheng, who ought to be defending Wei Wuxian and was trying his stuttering best to do so, starting to waver; the boy had a pleasant rippling melody by nature, forced into a fierce allegro by his parents’ endless disputes and his later tragedies, and the weak foundation meant that he was too easily buffeted by uncertainty and doubt, as Jin Guangshan undoubtedly knew.

“Let us not speak in abstraction,” he continued. “It was your sect, your nephew, who launched this particular ambush. You ought to be making a formal apology to Wei Wuxian and thinking of reparations to repair the injury to your sect’s reputation, not acting like a thief complaining to the magistrate that his victim failed to hand over his property quickly enough to prevent violence!”

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrowed in irritation, though he fought to keep the expression off his face as if it could disguise the swell of bitter rotten music that accompanied him wherever he went. “Teacher Lan,” he said, striving for composed and charming but mostly coming off as stiff and wooden. “Come now, I must be misunderstanding you. Surely you are not accusing me of being a thief.”

Historically, as Jin Guangshan well knew, this was when Lan Qiren backed down, mindful of his position as interim sect leader – his sect granted him much of the responsibility but not the full measure of power that typically accorded with the title, and he was conscious, always, that his role was to ensure there was something preserved for his nephews to inherit.

Perhaps Jin Guangshan had forgotten that Lan Qiren was no longer interim sect leader.

“I am describing the facts as I see them,” he said icily, straightening his back and levelling his best teacher’s glare, refined by years of troublesome students. “And they are this: by the agreement of the cultivation world and through his own powers, Wei Wuxian was inviolate and unbothered as long as he remained in the Burial Mounds. Despite this, he willingly chose to emerge in response to an invitation issued by your sect, only to be attacked by your sect – and when he comes to you for justice, rather than grant it to him, you suggest that he hand over his most prized possession to prevent any similar attacks in the future. Unfamiliarity may require me to consult my sect’s texts to be sure, Sect Leader Jin, but only to determine if I should be calling it extortion, blackmail, or outright thievery!”

“Teacher Lan!” one of the smaller sect leaders gasped, even as Jin Guangshan went utterly florid with rage. “You’re not suggesting that Jin-gongzi was involved in the ambush!”

Lan Qiren had been Jin Zixuan’s teacher and knew him well – he had been a shy, introverted boy whose awkwardness came off as aloofness, and would never have done anything like this. Even less so would Lan Qiren suspect such a thing of the man who had been steadied by war and responsibility into an adult with a firm moral foundation.

“No,” he said, and met Jin Guangshan’s eyes directly. “I believe Jin-gongzi’s invitation to have been wholly sincere.”

For a moment, Lan Qiren thought Jin Guangshan was actually going to strike him, his aura lashing out violently like a clash of cymbals, discordant and biting, and he braced himself, but in the last moment etiquette prevailed and Jin Guangshan refrained, although his fists were clenched so tightly that his veins stood out from the backs of his hands.

That was when Wei Wuxian opened his mouth.

Lan Qiren silenced him with the muting spell before he could get out a single syllable.

Jiang Cheng sent him a thankful glance and cleared his throat. “This is a serious matter,” he said. “It requires a full investigation; we won’t be able to solve it all talking now. Both Wei Wuxian and Teacher Lan have traveled a long way – I have no doubt that they need some time to rest and refresh themselves.”

A convenient way to stop anyone from starting a fight, and implicitly excusing Lan Qiren’s rudeness as a mere symptom of exhaustion, resolving the whole thing without losing any more face for anyone. The Jiang sect’s boy was picking up this whole politics business quite well, the poor child.

“I concur,” Jin Guangshan said, recovering a little of his poise. “There are rooms ready for you both.”

Lan Qiren inclined his head as well. “An excellent idea,” he said, and then, because he could now, added, “We can discuss reparations for the ambush later.”

“And what about the curse?” Jin Zixun hissed, clearly done with holding his tongue the way everyone had been so obviously instructing him with their eyes. “Am I to simply suffer while that criminal walks free and unharmed?”

“When I said there would be an investigation, I meant it!” Jiang Cheng snapped. “I doubt your curse is so advanced that it can’t wait another day, and if it is, then you should have brought it up earlier!”

“Why you –“

“Sect Leader Jiang has spoken,” Jin Zixuan interrupted, his voice hard. “Zixun, don’t forget that you must also answer to me as to what you did to my guest in my name without my permission. I think it might benefit you to ‘rest and refresh’ as well. One of the servants can take you to see a doctor.”

Jin Guangshan seemed on the verge of objecting, but Jin Zixuan seemed not to get the hint, already turning his face away.

“In the meantime,” he said, saluting politely, “Sect Leader Jiang, Wei-gongzi, would you come with me? A-Li is waiting to see you both.”

Lan Qiren allowed himself to be whisked off in a different direction to settle down, which in all honesty he did need to do. He hadn’t flown such a distance in years, had been in better health when he’d done so, and he had been tired even before all this excitement; some rest would do wonders for him, even if it did make him feel a bit like he’d become a doddering old man or an invalid. Before he could settle down, though, he heard a sound approaching – a little uneven, sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow – and despite the fact that Jin Guangyao had never been anything but polite to him, he felt his back tense up at the reminder of why he was here in the first place.

“Honored teacher,” Jin Guangyao said, smiling and saluting deeply – more than he should, really, given that Lan Qiren was neither a sect leader nor had ever been his teacher. “Welcome to Jinlin Tower. I regret that your arrival was marred by such unpleasantness, and hope that the remainder of your visit is calmer.”

It’s not Jin Guangyao’s fault that Lan Xichen likes him, Lan Qiren reminded himself. Your suspicions, and your family’s terrible luck at love, are your own burdens to bear. They should not be put onto others.

He nodded to Jin Guangyao.

“It would be good to see a peaceable resolution to today’s events,” he said neutrally. “I appreciate that you have come to check on me personally. It is truly going above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Your nephew is my sworn brother, Teacher Lan. How could I fail to honor you as my elder?” Jin Guangyao said smoothly. “Let me know if there’s anything we can do to make you more comfortable.”

“A bath before dinner would be nice. Has my nephew arrived yet?” Lan Qiren privately hoped that he hadn’t, and was relieved when Jin Guangyao shook his head, confirming it. “Let me know when he does.”

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao said, and saluted again. “I’ll inform the servants; a bath will be made ready for you by afternoon.”

The moment Jin Guangyao left the room, Lan Qiren traced the pattern along the hem of his robes that shook off the dust of the road, returning them to being as clean and pristine as always – not a long-term solution to laundry, but very effective in the short-run, and one that he’d only refrained from doing earlier in order to drive home the point regarding how he had also been victimized by Jin Zixun’s ambush.

It was a profound relief to be clean again.

Once he could no longer hear Jin Guangyao’s familiar chords, he relaxed, which unfortunately these days meant coughing. He rubbed his chest when he was done, sighing, and settled down with his guqin to start playing a little, hoping to ease his nerves. Lan Xichen would be on his way already, he knew, and would probably move even faster once he got word regarding Lan Qiren’s presence. He’d made rather a lot of trouble for his nephew…

The door slammed open, and only years of experience with troublesome children, along with the warning echo of a song free and clear, full of shining righteousness, allowed Lan Qiren to remain unmoved by the cacophonous crash.

“So I have questions,” Wei Wuxian said. “Many, many questions, and I’m going to want answers to…uh, are you all right?”

Lan Qiren ignored Wei Wuxian’s rush, finishing the stanza he was playing and letting his hands still over the guqin. “Sit, and I will answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

Wei Wuxian closed the door behind him and put up a talisman for privacy, like the ones they used to use during the war, before coming to sit across the table from Lan Qiren. He was frowning. “Honored Teacher Lan, your lips are red,” he said cautiously. “Were you coughing up blood just now?”

“An old injury from the war,” Lan Qiren said, unable to resist recalling the memory of Wen Xu’s wild smirk as he’d deliberately smashed his ribs into pieces, grinding his palm against Lan Qiren’s chest to force the broken pieces to pierce his lungs. Nie Mingjue had executed Wen Xu only a few months later, a matter that had greatly eased his nightmares…truly Lan Qiren had to get to the bottom of this mystery as soon as possible; once Lan Xichen’s name was cleared, he could focus on trying to devise a solution to cleanse Nie Mingjue of the spiritual poison. “It can be aggravated by excess choler. Do not concern yourself about it.”

Wei Wuxian looked like he was concerning himself about it. “But you nearly –” Lan Qiren glared until he dropped the volume of his voice significantly. “You nearly got into a fight with dozens of cultivators back at the Qiongqi Path on my behalf! Wouldn’t that have aggravated it even worse than just getting angry?”

“Much worse,” Lan Qiren agreed peaceably. “My talents in battle are not especially notable, although better with the guqin than the sword. Regardless, the effort expended would almost certainly result in a severe backlash later.”

Wei Wuxian gaped at him. “Then why did you do it?”

“Was there an alternative?”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth opened and closed a few more times.

“How are your shijie and shizi?” Lan Qiren asked when it appeared that Wei Wuxian was not going to force any words out of his mouth any time soon. He folded his hands together in an appropriate manner – he, at least, knew his etiquette, and would continue to model it in the hope that Wei Wuxian might one day catch a hint. “Well, I trust?”

“Uh, yeah, they’re great. Jin Ling is perfect, shijie is wonderful, the peacock doesn’t deserve either of them, though he’s gotten better, I guess,” Wei Wuxian said, then shook his head as if to clear it. “And I wouldn’t have been able to see either of them if not for you.”

Personally, Lan Qiren didn’t think one Jin Zixun and any number of his friends would actually be able to stop Wei Wuxian, preplanned ambush or no, so he just hummed noncommittally. “You said you had questions?”

“Yeah, and now I have even more,” Wei Wuxian grumbled, but he seemed to settle down a little. “Let’s start with the fact that you said you needed help on a musical issue, but that it is also somehow an attempted murder. What’s that about?”

Lan Qiren grimaced. “Serve tea,” he instructed Wei Wuxian, and waited until he was midway through the process – and thus not staring straight at Lan Qiren – to start talking. “I have reason to believe that Nie Mingjue has been poisoned with spiritual poison.”

Wei Wuxian nearly spilled the tea, but managed to stop himself in time. “Chifeng-zun? Impossible!” Then he frowned. “I’d heard his temper was getting far worse, of late. Just mentions of it in passing…you think it’s because of that?”

“It may be. The Nie sect is prone to encountering qi deviations; a spiritual poison, especially one that specifically targets choleric feelings such as irritation and rage, would be particularly insidious when aimed against them. Should he die, everyone might be inclined to assume that the cause was hereditary rather than external.”

“A perfect murder. What type of poison?” Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows went up. “Wait – you think – musical poison?”

“My sect is renowned for using musical cultivation as healing techniques,” Lan Qiren pointed out, not sure why it seemed to come as such a shock to Wei Wuxian. “Antidotes grow alongside poisons, and all that can heal can also hurt – anyway, isn’t what you do a type of musical cultivation as well?”

“Good point,” Wei Wuxian said ruefully. “All right, that makes sense. That definitely seems like a real problem…but why do you need my help?”

“My health is poor, and I do not know what such an investigation will require,” Lan Qiren said. “And I cannot ask anyone in my sect to assist me.”

“Why not?”

“Because the primary suspect,” Lan Qiren said heavily, “is Xichen.”

Wei Wuxian stared.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few long moments of blank gawping. “Please forgive me, honored teacher, but I think I misheard you. Are you saying that you think Zewu-jun is poisoning Chifeng-zun?”

“I hope dearly that he is not, of course,” Lan Qiren said. “In fact, part of the reason for my desire to investigate privately is to assist in clearing him of suspicion –”

“No, no, hold on, don’t move on just yet,” Wei Wuxian said, holding up his hands. “You think Zewu-jun – Lan Xichen! – might be capable of poisoning his sworn brother and, as far as I know, best friend? Your nephew?”

“Yes.”

“You really think he’s capable of something like that?”

“I have done my best to raise him to be the sort of man who would not be,” Lan Qiren said, and thought suddenly of his own brother – their father had treasured him, cared for him, valued him above all else. Would he have ever imagined that he would do what he had done and end up living out his life in seclusion, only to die pointlessly at the hands of the Wen sect? “And yet, who’s to say?”

“Uh, me? All the cultivation world? It’s Zewu-jun! He’s one of the most upright people I’ve ever met! You might as well suspect Lan Zhan – you don’t, do you?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. He appreciated the righteous crescendo in Wei Wuxian’s voice, particularly when Lan Wangji was mentioned – unfortunate as it might be to find that Lan Wangji’s seemingly hopeless affection might actually be requited, since it remained a terrible idea – but it was a little inconvenient at the moment. “But equally I cannot burden him with the duty to suspect his brother. It would only hurt him.”

Wei Wuxian quieted down at that. “I can see that,” he said, grimacing. “But…why would you suspect Zewu-jun?”

“The evidence is – suggestive.” Lan Qiren shook his head. “To be clear, while I will of course value the truth above all else, I am not looking for evidence of Lan Xichen’s guilt. I am hoping to exculpate him.”

Wei Wuxian leaned forward, now frowning in earnest. “All right,” he said. “I still don’t really believe it, but other people might, and that’s bad enough. Even unfounded rumors can make for real trouble. Tell me what you know about it.”

“My nephew has been helping Nie Mingjue to ease the symptoms of his familial tendency towards qi deviations by playing him one of the strongest and most secret Lan sect healing songs,” Lan Qiren explained. “The spiritual poison I have observed in Nie Mingjue’s body is precisely a variation on that healing song – only instead of the pure version, which is designed to calm and heal disrupted qi, it is intermixed with another song that deliberately encourages spiritual turmoil.”

“All right. I suppose playing for Chifeng-zun gives Zewu-jun opportunity, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only one who could’ve applied the poison song.”

“The Song of Turmoil is a rare import, hidden away in one of sect’s forbidden books. Only very few people have access to that part of our collection.”

Wei Wuxian arched his eyebrows. “And yet you can immediately recognize it?”

“I enjoy studying obscure musical texts as an aid in composition,” Lan Qiren said, mild censure in his voice. “Would you dare claim you do not do the same?”

“…fine, fine, good point.” Wei Wuxian waved his hand. “Okay, fine…still, I’m not convinced. Even if the only source of the song is the Lan sect’s library, there was a lot of chaos these past few years. Someone else could have picked it up, couldn’t they?”

“It’s possible,” Lan Qiren admitted. “Unfortunately, the tune had the same starts and stops that are characteristic of Xichen’s playing.”

As a musical cultivator, even Wei Wuxian had to concede that the unique quirks of playing style were difficult, although not impossible, to replicate, and moreover that one would have to wonder why anyone else would bother doing so, especially in a spiritual poison they presumably hoped would go entirely undetected. He rubbed his forehead, clearly thinking it over. “So, wait, are you saying you heard this musical poison getting played? Were you affected by it? Why didn’t you interrupt in order to stop it or to find out who was responsible?”

Lan Qiren shook his head. “I did not hear the playing, only the effects.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “I don’t understand. If you didn’t hear it get played, how do you know that the playing had Zewu-jun’s idiosyncratic characteristics?”

“I’m very familiar with how Xichen plays. How would I not notice it? Even if I only heard it intermixed with Nie Mingjue’s own base tone, the sound is distinctive enough to recognize.”

Wei Wuxian was staring at him, looking blank again. A moment later his brow furrowed as if he’d just had a thought that seemed strange to him. He said, “Honored teacher, a question. When I said I wasn’t the one who cast the curse on Jin Zixun, you said that the person who cast it played the guqin, not the flute. I’d been wondering…how did you know that?”

“The curse has the sound of a breaking guqin string, which does not accord with Jin Zixun’s own music,” Lan Qiren explained. “The person who cast it was moderately powerful and very well-trained, although this represents an overreach on their part. I think it is likely that they incurred a backlash due to the casting –”

“You just heard it?” Wei Wuxian interrupted. It was rather rude, but Lan Qiren supposed he’d signed up for that. “You just looked at him and heard the curse that had been placed on him?”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“You can hear what people’s spiritual energy sounds like?” Wei Wuxian was growing pale.

“Not spiritual energy directly,” Lan Qiren said, a little puzzled by what seemed like an outsized reaction. Not only was Wei Wuxian’s face pale, his fists clenched, but his song, normally so free and clear, had become suppressed, tense, tightly strung. “More in the nature of the sound of a person’s spirit itself. Your Ghost General, for instance; he has a very gentle melody, very soft, but the underlying base is harsh, jagged, thick with resentment, less playing than dying – he needs to learn to marry those two parts of his spirit together, or else he’ll have trouble finding peace. That’s why I offered to take him as a student.”

“What about me?” Wei Wuxian asked. He was almost vibrating with the need to know. “What about my music? Has it – changed?”

“It’s gotten a little more sober, which is not uncommon with tragedy,” Lan Qiren said, and felt as though he were on the edge of some terrible revelation. “But no, fundamentally you remain the same person you always were.”

Wei Wuxian exhaled, hard. A trill of relief.

“Something happened that made you think it would change,” Lan Qiren deduced, reaching up to stroke his beard thoughtfully. He watched as Wei Wuxian’s eyes flickered one way, then another. “Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him.

“Are you unwilling to return to orthodox cultivation – or unable?”

There was a world of difference between the two: one was arrogance, relentless and unrestrained, looking down at the truths the cultivators of the world and their ancestors had worked so hard to unearth, the other merely a depressing practicality – who wouldn’t choose to cultivate something if the alternative was nothing at all?

And yet…how could it be?

And why would Wei Wuxian be so terrified of letting others discover it?

“That’s none of your business,” Wei Wuxian said, teeth set in a bitter smile that was more of a grimace than anything else. “I agreed to help you, Honored Teacher, but my business is my own.”

“But –”

“Another question,” Wei Wuxian said. “Different subject: I know you don’t lie, and earlier you said…what you said. So tell me, what Lan sect girl has her heart so set on me that you decided to come tell me in person that I wasn’t allowed marry her?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “I only meant to advise you that it was a poor match for you both; it was not meant as an insult to you,” he objected, a little offended. “If you and Wangji insist, I will not stand in your way.”

He shook his head and sighed a little, regretful; he would not pursue the matter Wei Wuxian was hiding any further. He wanted to help, curiosity itching at him, but Wei Wuxian was right – it was none of his business.

“As long as your reliance on demonic cultivation does not impede your assistance in my investigation, I will not bring it up again,” he concluded. “How do you propose we begin?”

“…Lan Zhan?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I already explained to you why I do not wish to involve Wangji, and that I do not suspect him. Why would we start with him?”

“Not for the investigation,” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, his face bright red. “About the – marriage!”

[thedeviljudges]

Do you think Yohan always planned to fake his death and join Elijah in Switzerland, or did he originally intend to really die with the rest of the 'villains'? Part of me thinks that would fit with his pre-Gaon conception of himself, as a monster, not deserving of love, not necessarily seeing a role for himself in Elijah's life beyond getting revenge for her/Isaac, and financing an opportunity to help her recovery. Or do you think regardless of that, he'd still never plan to leave her on her own?

i didn't mean to put off this ask for so long. i was busy, but i also wanted to wrap my thoughts around this before i tried answering. not bc i didn't have an answer to begin with but yohan and death is a subject i'd like to approach, but i'm not entirely sure how i'd like to make the analysis of it, and i'm not sure i ever will.

so that leaves me to answer it here in the best way i can because point blank: i do believe yohan intended to die by the end. i do think he had two plans in place since the beginning (dying or not dying and helping elijah), but of course, until that final moment, he wasn't ever going to know the truth. that end scene of him blowing up the court was a 50/50 shot. he had a plan to make it out, but it wasn't a guarantee.

but lets also back up a bit because before we get to that point, i think it's necessary to point out that the reason yohan gets away and does all of the shit that he does is because he knows that he might not make it out alive. it's why he's reckless. it's why he bends the law the way that he does. yohan's actions prove, over and over again, that he does not care for himself. he does not care to live except to protect elijah. there are so many small moments of this. we call yohan unhinged out of fun, but i think there is truth in it because i've mentioned this casually before (and part of my words above in terms of not necessarily knowing how to approach this just yet) is that yohan is almost...... suicidal himself.

he's reckless. he's said that he does not care about the actual law. his goal has always been getting revenge for his brother, especially for his niece who grew up without her parents. yohan never truly cared about the bigger picture until gaon came along. if we leave out gaon and think of the plot as such, yohan would've been able to prevail much quicker, i'd say. he had a plan and was going to follow through with it no matter what, regardless of the ending. and he knew going into it that there was a chance he wouldn't make it out alive.

which is why i think he partially also allowed elijah to blame him for her parent's death because if she hates him, it will be so much easier for her to forget him. she won't mourn him or miss him. she will be able to move on with her life and live it any which way she wants. but because yohan doesn't really understand kids, let alone elijah, what he fails to realize is that elijah doesn't actually hate her uncle. she's looking to get rid of all of the pent up hurt and frustration bc she never had an outlet to let all of that out. yohan fails to see that elijah cares for him and would miss him, to a degree, if he died.

so now, if we think of the plot with gaon, it twists everything on its head bc gaon has no need to be there within yohan's plans. yohan doesn't need gaon to do anything bc everything was already planned from the beginning. if anything, gaon came in and crashed some things, leaving yohan to pick up those pieces and continue pushing forward. biggest case in point, gaon's stubbornness and his arguments against yohan with the law and what he's doing.

see, gaon eventually comes to realize yohan's reasonings for doing what he's doing for his brother, but i feel like gaon thinks that even if that is part of yohan's plan involves revenge, how much does he think yohan is also doing this for the greater good and wanting to fix society? we know that yohan has no intention of that, but does gaon? and so no wonder gaon protests because if he thinks yohan is trying to fix a broken system (plus get revenge all in the same plot), no wonder gaon continues fighting yohan - he's under the belief that yohan is trying to make things better. but he's NOT.

which circles back to the idea that yohan had every intention of either making it out alive or dying. gaon opened his eyes that yes, maybe things could possibly be good. gaon made yohan question a lot of things along the way, especially his own humanness and realizing that he is worth something and not the monster he let himself believe he was, and what others told him he was. that wasn't part of the plan either, which is why it made it so much harder for yohan to go through with bombing the court because yohan's at a conflicting place of finally understanding gaon's hope but knowing that he only ever had revenge as an intent.

yohan's plan is derailed a bit by gaon being hope and introducing concepts yohan has lived without for so long. before then, yohan lived isolated with one clear goal in mind until gaon showed him he had a reason to live. i also said in another post that while gaon stopped yohan because he didn't want to see yohan going down a path he couldn't come back from, it was already too late at that point. yohan had already set his path long before gaon came into the picture and nothing he said or done would've changed that. but it DID given yohan more perspective and more heart, possibly being at peace even more so with dying knowing elijah would have gaon.

but instances within the show - of course, his two fake deaths. him steering gaon and himself off the road on the middle of the highway. him chasing after the minister's son. yohan asking soohyun to save gaon despite him literally bleeding out.

yohan does not care for himself. he does not care whether he lives or dies, as long as his plan is completed. we can talk til we're blue in the face about how yohan was wrong manipulating the law like he did and various other things, but the reason why? is because he did not care. and it wasn't because of him being a sociopath by any means. it was because he numbed his emotions, lied to himself, and used his love for his brother and elijah to propel him to a desired end with the possibility of his death involved. and quite frankly, that speaks volumes about who he is and just how much he actually cares, how much he actually has emotions.

yohan, to love his niece so much he decided to manipulate the law, to serve his own agenda and purposes for an outcome that wouldn't actually give them that much peace, but would at least position the country in a way they could grow and give elijah a life where she wouldn't have to grow up into that kind of destruction. this is why yohan "leaves" gaon behind and why gaon is the hope of the show because in going along with his plans, yohan realized that if gaon wasn't going to follow him through til the end, if he was going to do everything in his power to stop yohan, then the biggest apology yohan could give gaon was the world - the entire judicial system to make things right, to do better. that was yohan's gift to gaon and his apology because yohan had no intention of making it better. but maybe gaon could with him gone.

i've seen a few comments about how if yohan was someone in irl, we'd all steer clear of him, well, there's a lot of characters out there like that, but i wouldn't stay away from him for the reasons everyone typically lists (like the choking and manipulation) because they think he's that way just bc. yohan's actions mimic those of someone who simply doesn't care because they're depressed and not because they're psychotic. there is a DIFFERENCE. like yes, are some of his actions shitty? and his gaon right to mistrust the things he does sometimes, also yes.

but understand that there is a difference in people's behaviors depending on the underlying mental health issues involved. i don't fully believe yohan had any intent to hurt elijah or gaon maliciously. it's part of yohan being oblivious and not recognizing his own actions mixed with the entirety of his plans to be followed through til the very end. we've seen how oblivious yohan can be (the classroom bird story is a classic example; they all thought he was the devil when in reality, this kid only hurt the bird because it was scaring the girl he sat next to. logically, that mean eliminating the threat. he didn't purposefully kill the bird and enjoy it. it was a practical response within his own personal world).

i feel like i'm missing parts of this discussion, which is why i said this was a difficult topic for me to approach just to get all of my thoughts about it out there. and long story short to answer your question: i think yohan intended to die (just like he had a plan in case went to jail, for example). that possibility couldn't have been ruled out. but i think he had the plan to escape with elijah so that she could get better. either way, whatever happened happened, even if he died. elijah would be taken care of regardless.

gaon throws a wrench in his plans just a little bit, makes him realize his emotional capacities but gaon's not enough to stop yohan from seeing his plans out until the very end, even if that means losing gaon, too, because even if gaon has shown yohan that he is worthy of love and family and affection, it is not enough to forgive everything he's done, and he needs to make right what was wrong. yohan's death in that courtroom, if it had happened, wouldn't be the thing everyone needed to forgive him for his actions but it would be a start in eliminating himself as part of the problem.

another thing to keep in mind, is that we know yohan is not a sociopath, even if that's what everyone wanted us to believe. everyone thought he made sunah jump out the window, but what he was actually doing was protecting isaac and his mother's necklace. sunah made the choice all on her own, set up yohan and framed him despite yohan reaching out time and time again. isaac didn't even understand what had happened and focused on the fact that this girl jumped because of yohan without listening to the truth of it. yohan has always been shown to be fiercely loyal to the people he loves. he's never directly done anything bad (at least as a kid) unless he was provoked.

what people need to understand about yohan as a character is INTENTIONS. and i hope i'm making myself clear on this. everyone thinks he's born a devil, but that has never been the case. yohan's actions just come from a place from blind revenge. if he never needed to get revenge in the first place, if isaac was alive and well, would yohan make these same decisions? would he still be this kind of person who needed to use these methods to work around the law? i don't think so.

i think i remember getting an ask awhile back about whether yohan would eventually turn into who he is now had isaac lived because we see him livid and upset during that flashback to one of his earlier court cases (where we find he's ripping the paper with the pen) and whether or not isaac's death just fast forwarded the process. i don't feel like trying to go dig that post out, and i can't remember what i said on it either, but i feel yohan would have his family as a moral compass to keep him in line, and he wouldn't have succumbed to his present-day tactics. i think he could've worked his way up into the system and made real change. i think his heart could've been there all long, but again, was derailed by isaac's death and of course, plans changed.

this was a mouthful, and i hope what i'm saying makes sense because you can probably see what i mean about how difficult it is trying to organize my thoughts about this subject. but i am under the full belief that yohan had every intention of dying at the end or even before that. i think he's a depressed individual who learned to slowly open back up with gaon's help, but gaon is no doctor and no amount of his kindness would help someone that depressed either. it helped, certainly. but yohan saw himself as a monster/devil until the very end, and was more than willing to kill himself to make gaon and elijah's life so much easier. as penance. as justice. as love.

[drxwsyni]

if you have requests open, could you please do a blurb/scenario where overhaul is too needy and clingy for touch ? it would be nice to see him be normal once. like the s/o is doing something like reading, and then suddenly he starts smoothering her in kisses, wanting to cuddle and etc. ?

how dare you come into my inbox and request something so gosh diddly darn soft anon, this is a yandere blog for crying out loud. also i’ve never really written fluff before, so i hope this lives up to your expectations given where i took this. i really spent a while trying to make this so i’m sorry if it wasn’t what you imagined. anyhoot―thanks for requesting my fav villain!

warnings: implied kidnapping and stockholm syndrome

_____

Yandere Chisaki Kai/Overhaul x f!Reader

(2.9k words)     Title: affection

Time seemed to pass quickly in an unchanging environment. Having lost yourself long ago to the stagnant surroundings and uncompromising directives, existing was now a calm, passive experience.

Gradually, your mindset began to shift. Likely for the better, you acknowledged and accepted the proclamations of Chisaki Kai.

It was peculiar―there was a certain attachment he had to you, and it was quite evident. He cared for you, but it was on a detached level. Few times existed in your memory in which he had displayed innate affection, something with physical warmth to it. Mostly, his devotion was shown in the act of providing for you―maintaining your good health, a comfortable place to rest, relaxing pastimes―anything to make your life with him more pleasant.

When it came to more personal exchanges, Chisaki was lacking deeply. On the rare occasion he’d indulge you in closeness, but something seemed to be holding him back. Contact was limited―a hand on the small of your back, moving a strand of wayward hair from your face. If he was feeling particularly bold, he might gently cup your cheek as he admired the details in your irises for a fleeting moment.

It never moved beyond these happenings though, whether you wished they would or not.

You took them as they came, but slowly the lack of contact was having its own effects on your health. It was more of a mental than physical affliction―the loss of touch meant the loss of an irreplaceable comfort.

Unfortunately, Chisaki had his boundaries, something you were well aware of. It was the driving force preventing you from bringing up the concern. Instead, you continued to subsist day in and day out. By now the need to resist had faded completely, and you were left to the subjection of his will.

Today, that will had you occupied in his office. The yakuza leader seemed to take solace in your company, although distant, thus having you frequently stationed in his proximity. Novel in hand, leaning against the armrest behind you, your mind drifted from the contents of the pages as you relaxed against the soft leather. Always in his line of site, the couch you were laying on was positioned against the wall to Kai’s right as he worked diligently at his desk.

If there was one trait of his that prevailed over all others, it was his attention to detail in your condition. He picked up on everything before you comprehended the reality yourself. It was because of this you eventually began to willingly let him make all the decisions, knowing you’d never be on the same level of proficiency.

His office was normally a quiet environment―you deduced it was something he maintained when you were around. It was easier to immerse yourself in a good book like this, devoid of distractions. Yet, every so often your thoughts departed from the story, taking up residence in the details of your surroundings.

The warm yet sufficiently illuminating lighting, crisp and sterile scented air, ambient noises of a quietly ticking clock or the typing of a keyboard. It all served to subdue your nerves, letting your mind ease into placidity. Your eyes drifted to the wall on your left, lost in the grooved details of the high-grade wooden panelling.

“Angel.”

Your head turned to the source of the sound, pulling you out of your thoughts. Chisaki had moved to seat himself on the edge of the couch next to you, a look of worry in his eyes coupled with slightly furrowed eyebrows. You offered a hum in response.

“How did you sleep last night? You tend to get...distracted, when you’re tired.” He must’ve noticed the wandering look in your eyes―eyes that should've been focused on your novel. As always, he knows you better than you know yourself.

“Well enough, I guess.” You gave a warm smile in hopes of easing his concerns.

He continued with an inquisitive look. “How many hours?”

You knew the question to be an order to tell the truth, despite it sounding harmless enough. “Maybe five. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

Chisaki let out a sigh, likely disappointed at the response.

Yet, it would seem today he was feeling generous with affection.

His gloved right hand drifted to your face, settling on cupping the side of it while his thumb lightly caressed your cheekbone. “You know to wake me up if you're having trouble sleeping.”

“I didn’t want to bother you Kai. I’m really not that tired, so you don’t need to worry.” Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted to do, knowing how it affected his ability to work sometimes.

“We’ve been over this before, angel. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. If something is wrong you’re to tell me immediately.”

But you couldn’t tell him what was wrong. The truth was something even he wouldn’t be able to fix as far as you were concerned.

You could have woken him up last night, and you probably would’ve been met with sleeping pills to ease your affliction. It would’ve done the trick, but in reality it wouldn’t have been what you truly needed. Even after all this time, admitting it to yourself was difficult. But you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in his touch. The two of you even slept in the same bed―it wouldn’t take much for him to fix the issue if he wasn’t so insistent on ‘giving you your space.’

For now, you resolved to lean into his hand, silently conveying your feelings. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d be up for so long.”

He must’ve picked up on the movement, seeing as his eyes widened ever so slightly. Much to your surprise, he didn’t withdraw his hand.

Once again he regarded you with mild distress. “Your health will deteriorate if you remain exhausted. Tell me next time, I’ll give you something to help with the restlessness.”

That’s not what you wanted. “I don’t like taking the pills though. They make me feel...weird.”

He gave a small laugh, “How else am I supposed to put you to sleep?”

You bit down on your lower lip nervously, looking away from his gaze. He’d likely never understand, and it was a reality you would have to get used to―just as you had with all the other difficulties he presented you.

“Hey, look at me.” Your eyes immediately followed his command, seeing him now glaring down at you. “You’re acting strange, what are you thinking about?”

What were you supposed to tell him?

You’d have to lie your way out of this one and pray he didn’t pick up on it. You opened your mouth to speak, but a knock at the heavy wooden door effectively cut you off.

“Just a minute.” Chisaki called out to whoever provided the interruption before regarding you again. His hand slipped to the top of your exposed knee, given that you were wearing a dress that came just above it. “Whatever’s wrong―you're telling me later, understand?”

You gave a small nod in response, which he deemed satisfactory enough.

Giving your knee a small squeeze, he stood from the couch, moving to retake his place in the chair behind his desk. He invited the individual waiting on the other side of the door in, and you returned to the company of your book.

Yet, as hard as you tried to focus on its contents, you couldn’t help but fret over the prospect of having to tell him exactly how you were feeling.

_____

The following couple of hours were spent in the continued presence of Kai as he dealt with a few of his subordinates in the office. Since the interaction you picked up on his brief glances in your direction, doing what you assumed was making sure you weren’t falling asleep.

Eventually, dinner had rolled around. The two of you ate in almost complete silence, save for a few comments made here and there regarding your opinions on the new novel you were reading, and him on having to deal with some incompetent underlings.

It would seem for the moment he had disregarded his promise to interrogate you on the topic of your change in behaviour. Maybe for once he wouldn’t be so painfully thorough, and instead let this one incident slide.

That’s what you hoped for, not being able to come to terms with the reality of having to tell him the truth. But you knew better―he was never one to go back on his word, not even with you.

Chisaki returned to the office for a few hours after dinner, letting Kurono accompany you on a walk through the compound's courtyard.

The place was by far your most favoured area in the base. It was the only thing that really changed in your life―the seasons, weather, anything nature had to offer―the only constant that was inconstant. You always took as much time as possible to relish in the environment, and were never truly satisfied by the time you were escorted away, back to the shared bedroom.

Kai was already in the room when you returned, some unidentifiable files in hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over the papers.

It was fairly late, nearing when he had designated an appropriate bedtime for yourself.

He lifted his head as you entered the room, watching as you shut the door behind you.

“I drew you a bath. We’re having that talk once you’re ready for bed.”

Following his unspoken commands, you headed into the bathroom, not before picking out a pair of pyjamas for the night.

Naturally, you spent as long as possible soaking in the gradually cooling off water. Having scrubbed your body down long ago, it was now a matter of biding your time until you could work up the courage to return to him.

Unfortunately that courage never came, rather it was more of an inescapable dread that you had no choice but to deal with. If you waited any longer it would only make things worse for the both of you.

Coming to terms with the situation, you finished up with your bath and finished getting ready for bed.

Upon exiting the bathroom you saw Kai was already in bed, sitting up against the headboard on his phone. By the end of the day he never truly finished his work as far as you could tell, leaving times like this to be spent tending to emails or occasionally answering a phone call. He never bothered to hide his occupation from you. It wasn’t always a bad thing, but some of the discussions he had were, for lack of better words, alarming. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.

The only light left on in the room was that of the lamp on his bedside table. His eyes never strayed from his phone as you made your way over to your side of the bed. You settled for lying on your side, facing away from him under the blankets.

It was around 9:00 pm at this point. Normally Chisaki stayed up for a couple of hours, either in bed on his phone or at the small desk just to the side of the room. He insisted that you go to bed at the same time every night, and remained in the room to make sure you actually fell asleep.

Like usual, the two of you never talked in these moments. That continued to be your reality for a few minutes, but his promise was more than enough to keep the exhaustion away for the time being.

You heard a deep sigh from his side of the bed, followed by the gentle thud of a phone being laid on the nightstand. There was a slight shift in the bed before movement ceased once again.

“So, what’s on your mind?”

You really didn’t want to open up to him about this. “Nothing really, I guess.”

For the most part you’d been good at hiding it, but last night was just one amongst many that had you awake for long hours. Keeping the issue from him wasn’t the easiest, but it was better than the alternative―than this.

“Angel, I’m going to need you to cooperate here. I can tell your behaviour has changed.”

Maybe you weren’t as good at hiding it as you thought.

“Just a little tired is all, I’m fine.”

You’re definitely not fine.

“How long have you felt like this.”

Longer than you could feasibly remember, but you digress.

“Maybe a month...or two.”

The pause suggested that, like you expected, your answers tonight would likely irritate him.

“I’ll pick up some medication to help you stay asleep then.”

Again with this, it’s like he has selective memory or something.

“I don’t li―”

“You don’t like the way it makes you feel, I know. But you’ll fall ill if you remain in this state.”

You never had the room to be demanding with Kai. Realistically, you never needed to. Somehow he always managed to take care of everything―even things you didn’t realize were a problem. Not when it came to this however. Nowadays, he just barely missed the mark, and it was enough to cause issues of its own.

“It’s just...not everything can be solved with pills.”

God, what were you saying? It would be so much easier to just accept his answer and move on.

That’s what you thought, but something was causing you to reply against your will, for better or for worse.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, my love.” You felt the bed shift once again, the only light going out with a click.

You’ve already dug yourself deep enough into this mess, where’s the harm in going a little further?

“I guess I’m just...lonely?”

There was a moment of silence that felt like it lasted an eternity. You’d never discussed this topic with him before―at least you think you hadn’t. A lot of your memories felt foggy due to the almost completely unchanging routine you’d been subjected to for who knows how long.

You heard another sigh from his side of the bed. It was already something you’d anticipated―him not being able to provide for you in this way despite being more than capable of doing so with all other concerns. All you could do now was wait for the inevitable, medically approached solution he had conjured.

“Well, if that’s the case…” Yet, in a swift motion you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back from your position on the edge of the bed, “...I suppose it’d be quite irresponsible of me to neglect this problem any longer.”

He slotted you securely against his chest, arm remaining firmly draped over your frame effectively keeping you from moving even an inch out of his grasp.

The sudden contact sent your mind reeling, while your body was seemingly unable to put up resistance―but at this point there wasn’t much need to resist anyways. In fact, you were more concerned with Chisaki, him stepping way outside of what you perceived to be his comfort zone.

“I―y-you don’t have to―”

“You should know that I’ve been holding back for your sake. Had I known you were so afflicted I would’ve indulged myself much sooner.”

Naturally, this only confused you further.

“I thought you didn’t like touching people?” Your voice was quiet―small even.

He almost laughed at the comment, but it came out as more of a breathy exhale. “That’s correct, angel.” Almost tantalizingly slow, he started leaving a trail of light kisses down your neck, pausing only to speak. “You however...I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

You felt the grip around your waist tighten ever so slightly. Not in a threatening way―more so to bring you closer to him, if that was even possible.

“Why did you wait?” For as long as you’ve known him, Chisaki was a man to take whatever he wanted without question. So the prospect of your current situation was baffling.

You could almost feel the slight smile he had against your skin as he lightly hovered over it. “I wanted you to come to me first...and now that you have,” his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, “I don’t plan on keeping the same restraint any longer.”

A shiver ran up and down your spine, you inwardly cursing yourself for having sensitive ears.

He continued, “But I suppose for now I should let you sleep, seeing as I’ve been preventing you from doing so for quite some time.” You felt him plant a final, gentle kiss atop the crown of your head.

It had been so long since someone had held you―made you feel genuinely loved―that it had your heart beating a million times a minute. Chisaki must’ve picked up on it, being so close, as his hand drifted to rest atop yours, rubbing small, soothing circles into it with his thumb.

This is what you wanted, right? For him to take this extra step?

Vaguely, you could register a slight feeling of...apprehension?

But, surely there was no need to feel worried anymore. Not after he’d looked after you―cared for you―for so long.

You tried to connect the sensation to reasoning. And yet, no matter how hard your brain searched for answers, a correspondence never formed. Rather, the sentiment faded as quickly as it arised, and was replaced with the comfort of his closeness to you―his affection.

So, you let it gradually lull you into sleep, knowing it’d be there―he’d be there―when you woke up. And it would still be there whenever you needed it, just as everything else was provided for you without you even having to ask.

[seaofthemind-art]

The “Abuse” Trope in MCU Spider-Man Fan Fiction: Part 1

[Edit Note: This first post completely missed my point, and as such is now being continued in "Part 2". I have made several edits and additions to this post for coherence between the two.]

I became interested in these tropes partly due to what seemed to be its abundance within the fandom. Re-reading several stories recently led me to consider how this trope has been handled in the fandom, its variations and ways that it has been turned on its head, as well as stories ideas that have not been explored yet to my knowledge.

Within the "Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)" category on AO3 there are several overarching areas that would come under the trope of abuse.

To put it in context, on the 26th October 2020 there was 28,637 works in the category; this included 626 stories tagged as "child abuse", a total of more than 2% of the stories. Of course, as we well know, tagging on AO3 is not consistent: there will be "abuse" stories which do not use this tag, whilst the tag may also be referring to a range of characters' situations (ie: Tony's childhood, Flash's backstory, OC characters). However, for these posts I'm going to look at stories related to Peter's experiences.

For all the "popularity" of these stories in the fandom, it is just an example of what are wide spread tropes across media. TV Tropes lists several related tropes including Abusive Parents and Foster Kid, showing that it is not only this fandom in which it is common.TV Tropes also makes a good point in its Sliding Scale of Parent-Shaming in Fiction, in that: what one person classes as abusive behavior may be perfectly acceptable to another.

Major Plot Categories

One of the common targets for this trope is "May's Abusive Boyfriend", which seems to have grown in popularity in the last year as Endgame has provided a convenient set-up for this trope:

the second law of thermodynamics by extraordinarythings

"It happens the same way it always does. (It's just discipline. It's not that bad. It's fine, Peter is fine, he'll be fine--). Except he really isn't fine, and Tony knows something's up, and Peter's house of cards is falling apart, and so the story goes."

Who Saves The Hero by CamelotQueen

“May brings home her new boyfriend. Something about him makes Peter feel nervous, but he makes May happy. And if May's happy, then Peter is happy. Then it escalates.”

Fear all else but never me. Please. by Webtrinsic

“May's new boyfriend proves himself to be a grade A-asshole when he decides to abuse Peter. And that doesn't sit well with Tony at all.”

i get by (but it’s eating me alive) by Livinei

““Do you not want to be home?” Tony starts. “No.” Tony considers for a moment. Peter’s never not wanted to be home. Not before… Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know a lot about David. Peter doesn’t bring him up a lot, and when he does then he’s not very eager to discuss it for long. Tony hasn’t gotten an impression that Peter’s particularly fond of the guy, though.”

The Homes We Make by iamq

“Peter Parker isn't the type of boy to run crying to Tony Stark because he can't handle a punch. Michelle Jones and Ned Leeds aren't the type of friends to ignore Peter's rapidly declining health. Eugene "Flash" Thompson isn't an idiot.”

to this day by hopeless_hope

“It's months before anyone realizes May's boyfriend abuses Peter. The effects are lasting.”

Promotions Aren’t Always A Good Thing by Agib

“When May gets a new boyfriend, Peter's okay. When Carter moves in, he can deal. When May gets a promotion so she works days and Carter works nights, Peter finds it harder to deal. When Carter starts abusing him, he begins to feel crushed by the weight of it all.”

The Black And The Blue (All That It Takes Out of You) by Buckets_of_Stars

“David wasn't a person Peter would ever want to be around, but with him being May's new boyfriend and all, it makes it harder and harder to avoid him. But it was fine, May was happy and of course, Peter still has Tony. But that was before the hitting started. Before David spit neglectful words in his face and the spiderling begins to question his very worth.Tony, on the other hand, is not having it.”

Vertigo by GalaxyThreads

“Coming back from the dead wasn't nearly as awesome as TV made it out to be. Peter's learning this on the go. And it really doesn't help that May's new husband absolutely hates him. And that May is pretty ignorant of that and him now. But it's all fine. Really.”

Your Heart Changed (mine stayed the same) by @loboselinaistrash​ [WIP]

"Peter Parker is back but 5 years into the future and the world has changed. Peter goes home with May only to find she had moved on, with a husband and two kids. Peter struggles to find his place in this new family with a strict step uncle, the longer he's there the harder he finds it to stay on his good side, uncertain if May will believe him."

A Peter Parker Problem by @spagbol99​ [WIP]

"Peter comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. But he has done it before, he can do it again. The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now. He knows Tony would be there for him through anything. But Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. He is Spider-man. He's been to space and fought aliens. He can get through anything. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?"

--

This premise has been turned on it's head by a couple of authors with the straight opposite of this trope in "May has a new boyfriend who is decent (and confused)":

The Secrets We Keep by @euphoric-melancholyy​

"May has a really awesome, loving boyfriend who's just a little confused as to why she lets her teenage son stay out til 1 every night and sleep somewhere else every weekend. Also, he’s friends with Tony Stark? Chris - May’s new boyfriend - feels like he’s missing something here."

A Good Kid  by kuragay

"Ricky thinks that May's an exceptional woman, and he thinks that Peter's an exceptional kid. But there's no denying that the Parker household is full of mysteries, and most of them are centered around Peter and his supposed internship with Tony Stark."

--

Then there has also been several stories changing the abuser, such as in the concept of "What if May (or Ben) is the abusive carer?":

Brooklyn by @hailing-stars​ [part of a longer series]

"After leaving Peter with Tony and months of no contact, May shows up in Peter's life again, interrupting Tony's plans to adopt him. Peter has to decide who he wants to live with, but soon learns the decision may really not be his."

Parker Luck by CreepyLittleLullaby

"He never met one, he got left behind by the other, the next one died, and the only one he had left was pushing him away. And he doesn't know what to do. Peter really has rotten luck when it comes to parental figures. No matter how hard he tries. Parker luck will always prevail."

Please, Understand by jipseebree

"When Aunt May discovers that he's Spider-Man, something inside her snaps. She starts to abuse him and he deserves it, doesn't he? After all, people have died because of him. People who wouldn't have died if he was a better hero."

Spiders hunt alone, anyway by karma_is_a_turtle [WIP]

"Ben’s death hits the Parker family hard, May worst of all. May Parker struggles to cope with her husband’s death and her nine-year-old nephew grows up learning how to pick up her slack."

Always Silent, Peter Darling by LlibLo

“After a traumatic experience at age 6, Peter Parker hasn't spoken a word. Most blame it on the fact that he witnessed his Uncle die in a horrible fire, this is only partly true. Now, almost 10 years later Peter is given the chance to finally speak, but will he take it? Or is the fear of his Aunt to much for him to take that chance? Either way, Tony Stark can tell something's not quite right about the kind hearted May Parker.“

It’s All Just Static In My Head by Blue__Dreams

“And then May was shot. Foolishly, childishly, Peter hoped Iron Man would swoop in and save the day again. He hoped and hoped and hoped. And Ben drank and drank and drank. As Ben grew worse, and their fridge grew empty, as Peter’s face became more bruised, and his powers grew, Peter realized, you can’t depend on superheroes. So Peter created his own hero - Spiderman.“

 I told you I had issues by Bergen            

“Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and right now, a little exasperated. Because some guy is swinging around New York, shooting webs and making trouble, Fury is breathing down his neck, and his latest intern took off with his coupon for a free coffee.“

--

Another focus for the abuse trope are the "Skip Wescott" stories, which take their concept and the character from a one-shot from the comics. @irondadfics​ has a good rec list for this. Many of the stories take it further than the comic that inspired them, and within the fandom it has also become common to see it re-mixed in variations of “Abused by Other Person of Authority” AKA: Babysitter/Teacher/Foster Carer/etc.

Although Skip is a common character for authors to use when they need a character as the abuser who isn't a complete original character, both original characters do appear as well as other characters from within the MCU.

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle

“Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.“

take a look at me now, there's just an empty space by @lyssismagical

“As much as Peter does want to disappear to his bedroom and avoid the awkward attempts at a one-sided conversation or inquiries about the life Tony’s read about, he craves the closeness to another person. The last time he felt properly close to someone was May. Every home in between had people who tried or people who didn’t, either way, it never felt the same. He was just another mouth to feed, another set of house visits and questionnaires from Elaine, another troubled kid under their roof. He was never treated like a human being, like a kid.“

Like A Flame That Flickered Out Too Soon... by @mysterycheerio

““He did this to you?”. Peter nodded. “And this is why you haven’t been talking?”. Another nod. Tony left the room in a hurry. Peter didn’t know where he went. Pepper knew. Rhodey knew. The whole damn neighbourhood around Stark Mansion knew, his yells were so loud.”

The Education Complication by Buckets_Of_Stars

“When young Peter Stark was diagnosed with Asthma, he was given two very important rules to always follow: 1. No long distance running. 2. Always have your inhaler with you. But when a new Gym Teacher with a hatred toward Iron Man gets hired, the 13 year old is going to find that following these two simple steps has never been more difficult.”

--

This is just a selection of the stories which can be found on AO3, from which it should be already clear that these cover a wide range of treatments of the subject.

Across all the categories, the reactions of characters to the abuse is varied; as well as some notable omissions in the range of stories. 

This we will look at in Part 2.

[sendmyresignation]

You Got Blood On Your Money

Question: how do you make honest art? Is this not the eternal conflict as a creator- how to stay genuine to yourself and your art without tripping into the pitfalls that lay within fame or money or popular culture? Every creator must grapple with the fight between being seen and being sold. But very few artists struggle with this quite as visibly as My Chemical Romance has. From the inception of this band, which has always been more art project than musical endeavor, its members have tried desperately to convey a bone-deep sincerity fundamental to their work. From their very first song, the band proclaims itself as a savior to a generation that had been stripped of their will in the face of unimaginable horror. At the same time, there exists within their music a commitment to storytelling, a desire to fill the empty space in rock music with narrative and macabre and emotion that had been absent. Both of these elements manifest themselves into a band that very seriously considered it their mission to save people’s lives, as well as to create deeply meaningful art. But how do you save as many people as possible without being corrupted by the spotlight? And how do maintain genuine storytelling as you get further and further from the basement shows you got your started in?

These are questions that permeate their music at every turn, something that haunted each album and made itself known in each new project. And while there are many ways to dissect this particular struggle in their discography, nowhere is it more apparent than in the dispute between Thank You For the Venom and its reimagined successor- Tomorrow’s Money. These songs are noticeably similar in their structure as well as lyricism and imagery but instead of the latter building off of the other, they are inverses of each other. And they speak to My Chem’s long battle with becoming a legendary band in the midst of also attempting to keep their identities as artists and outsiders. And in analyzing their differences, it becomes reflective of the band’s main career-long conflict between the commodification of their art and the need to create something larger than themselves. And the question remains, were they successful?

Before we answer that, let's talk about Thank You for the Venom. To begin, it's important to note that Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge is an interesting part of My Chemical Romance’s discography because ultimately, it is unconcerned with legacy, but instead is centered on the immediacy of loss and the reactionary pursuit of revenge. In a record overwhelmed with death and grief, there is very little mention of the afterlife for either the living or the dead- characters are murdered but there is very little textual violence. Characters come back to life but there is minimal discussion of how they died or where exactly they were in death. However, that does not mean Revenge is not devoid of mythologizing- it just happens to be about immediate intention rather than a long-term commitment. It is because of this reckless drive forward almost to spite the odds that allows for Venom to exist as the band's declaration- it is their call to arms. Specifically, the track is a pronouncement of My Chemical Romance as renegades fighting against the fake, safe bands writing hits for money instead of survival or purpose: they “won’t front the scene” if you paid them, after all, but are instead running from their enemies. And not only are they an oppositional force, but they are pariahs, targets- something you can try to kill but will fail at. More specifically, in “If this is what you want the fire at will” there is an element of martyrdom, the idea that they are not just a necessary part of the very structure of society but also there is the implication that killing them is to concede to their influence and a necessary part of their lifecycle. Once you get big enough to become a target, you inevitably will be shot down- that is the final step of a great and honest band’s success. This also feeds into the album's wider ideas surrounding revenge as a concept as the greatest revenge is finding success in the aspects of yourself and, by extension, the things you create that other people thought were worthless (I don't think it's a coincidence so much of this album is steeped in comic book imagery and art and mixing punk and metal and theater when those are things the band would get shit on for enjoying). At the same time, this theme exists as the foundation necessary to create an anthem of survival- revenge is the fuel that keeps the protagonist, as well as the band, in motion. Look at the specifics of their thesis- “Just the way the doctor made me” and “You’ll never make me leave” are both reconciliations with the self in spite of the prevailing narrative against them. That connects to the way this song is a statement of a savior and a martyr twofold- “Give me all your hopeless hearts and make me ill” as a representation of the band taking on the pain of others to keep them both alive. All told, in Venom there is perseverance in the face of a large, unimaginable adversary. It is a threat directed at your enemies. It’s living as free and ugly and completely yourself as you can until they shoot you down in a hail of bullets. And then even that end is itself a victory.

Here, at its core, Venom is really the singular instance in the entire album where the band reconciles with an image. And the image the band creates for themselves is as outcasts in opposition to the "scene" and as a revenge plot, proving to their audience the value of authenticity and survival and rubbing it in the faces of those who doubted them. These themes about what My Chemical Romance is and what their goals are is something they wrestle with for the rest of their career- how do you say lives, reach an audience, and remain a fighting force against the societal norm when you exceed your mission and become part of the fabric of popular culture? But that is for later, at this moment, Revenge imagines no future. Only this desperate battlecry.

By contrast, Tomorrow’s Money is dealing with the aftermath. Functioning as a cynical reimagining of Venom, the song is structurally, thematically, and even lyrically reminiscent of Venom to an uncanny degree. First and foremost, the songs are structured the same- a slow build-up into a whispered intro, a multi-part chorus, the exact same chorus-verse layout, and a strikingly similar solo. Looking at the two Toro solos more closely, they both feature more building up as well as tremolos, triples, darker tones, and what sounds like a slide progression just ripping through both of them. Tomorrow’s Money is mimicking Venom pretty clearly here- either as a direct reference or because Venom is so reminiscent of the condensed MCR sound that they’re ripping off to make their point. And looking deeper at the themes present in Money specifically, just like Revenge, there is a clear lack of legacy- “we got no heroes ‘cause our heroes are dead” calling back to the very real disillusionment of Disenchanted that’s placed specifically in a song about becoming part of the machine, being heroes themselves, to nod to the fact that the very mission of the band is dead as well.

Simply put, Money tackles similar issues as Venom about fame and audience and creating art while using much of the same language and metaphors to completely invert the claims found in the “original”. To start with, both songs use the verbage “bleeding” to associate with a kind of suffering for your art that was an aspect of their previous band ideology. Namely, it’s the idea that the audience makes the band ill through the “hopeless hearts” as much as the “poison” does. The “what’s life like bleeding on the floor” of Venom is paired with “you’ll never make me leave” is a statement of defiance and survival against the odds while still bearing the burden of other’s pain. Money, on the other hand, explicitly says they “stopped bleeding three years ago” as a rejection of this leftover martyrdom prevalent in Revenge especially.  But it also refers to their newfound luxury of comfort, they have a way to stitch themselves together that they didn’t have before. These implications transition directly into the ideas surrounding health, vitality and living- specifically surrounding both doctors and infection. Speaking of the former, Money has an interesting lines in “If we crash this time, we’ve got machines to keep us alive” and "me and my surgeons and my street-walking friends" because they speak to both becoming a part of the “industry” by mentioning mechanization but also specifically evokes the living dead. In the MCR canon, the idea of the undead (both vampires and zombies) are antagonistic forces that represent the outside world, specifically fake people or the music industry. And zombies, in general, are already rife with allegorical connections to consumerism, like how Dawn of the Dead, a known mcr influence, is directly about materialistic culture. Vampires, subconsciously or not, are often representatives of exuberant wealth as well as beauty and desire. They’re also blood-suckers and leeches that someone in this narrative has fallen in love with, as if colluding with the enemy and allowing them to literally drain them and their life force. Thus, in describing themselves as essentially undead (when they crash, they’re revived) as well as directly collaborating with the undead, they are connecting themselves to the very forces they’ve been fighting. But perhaps the most interesting aspect of this association is how they specifically relate it to survival, the only way of staying alive is to accept them, to allow themselves to be hooked up to the machines that make them undead in the first place. Almost as if you make it far enough not to tear yourself apart, you’ll eventually assimilate into and become part of the industry. 

This idea of unavoidable assimilation is compounded with the multiple references to viruses- “You're loaded up with the fame. You’re dressed up like a virus” then being reemphasised with “We’re gonna give it for free. Hook up the veins to the antibodies, got it with the disease, we’re gonna give it to you”. Both these lines condemn fame but also implicates themselves as part of the contagion that is celebritidom at the same time it depicts this process as unavoidable. Not only that, they’re the ones spreading it at the same time they condemn it. This duality, possibly even exaggerated hypocrisy is buried deep into the foundation of Money. Even the ending line, as angry and inflammatory as it is- still names them as complicit as the "I’ll see you in hell" implies that they're going to hell too. Looking even deeper, there are multiple references to the dilution of their message:  “Choke down the words with no meaning” and “The words get lost when we all look the same'' both representing meaninglessness in the lyrics while “the microphone’s got a tapwire” is reminiscent of wiretapping or even the surveillance company Tapewire, suggesting their words are under scrutiny, they are being monitored and that could be one of the reasons for meaningless words. All of these lyrics reference, with subtly or, in the case of the last one, very obviously about the sellibility and how rigid the label of “emo” is and how they couldn't escape it - they may not have gotten paid to front the scene, but they sure did inadvertently lead a cause. And being put in that position was clearly very stifling, striping them of their artistry. Even looking at the response to Black Parade, it's clear that popular culture at large did not appreciate the record for its genuine message but for the moment in time it represented or the aesthetics it called back too. In many ways it was taken at face value- “words with no meaning” or just another dark, death obsessed emo record. What Tomorrow's money is is a rejection of the glorification of suffering and nativity of Venom in the face of becoming pop culture icons but it's also, in a way, reconciling with a perception of failure and loss of creative control that will haunt My Chem for the rest of their years.

Ultimately Tomorrow's Money is representative of the band's response to the gradual shift of My Chemical Romance, as an entity, away from martyrs to an accepted part of the music industry and culture. How do you reconcile with that? In this moment, in a post-Black Parade era, they try taking everything down with them- becoming a whistle blower to their truth. But perhaps most importantly, this conflict lays the foundation for Danger Days as both critique of industry’s commodification of art, as well as the reutilization of the obsession with legacy and death in their next project -no longer can they let the machines revive them, they have to get out of the city, yell incendiary graffiti at the top of their lungs, and explode in brilliant colors. It was time to return to calls to arms. It was time to return to the power of not just of death but of living on long after it, the album the act of becoming folk heroes for a new generation. And while the bright lights didn't last forever, by scrapping Conventional Weapons and starting over in the name of artistic integrity they truly created a legacy of material unrivaled in its sincerity, reach, and cultural significance. 

As we know, the story didn’t end there. The final chapter used to be closed, and ending with "I choose defeat I walk away and leave this place the same today" as the conclusion of their career. This was not the explosion Gerard wrote about, not the doomsday device but a quiet goodbye, a silent curtain call. It's another round of disillusionment finally fully-realized. And yet, the Reunion seems to be a direct contradiction to their farewell- in some way they did come back because they were needed, because their absence was a gaping hole in music at large which suggests they did change things, that they do have a noticeable effect on the world they inhabit. Looking at A Summoning for even a moment, the picture illustrated to the viewer is that they are an otherworldly power. That they are an entity that you plead for the return of, the hero and the savior on clear display. And regardless of how you feel about the postponement, you can never talk away that fact- some force bodily brought them back in their narrative, that it was human interference that started the resurrection. And that it was primarily through art, especially that video, that they declared their forced-to-be unfulfilled intentions. I've always liked to believe that we've cycled back around, that the cynicism of Conventional Weapons and then later Fake Your Death has had its moment but now it's time to return to that world of rebellion in this era of the desert- the reinhabiting of reckless living and creation. Again, we must ask: what does it mean to make art for the masses? I don’t think we’ll ever truly find the right answer, but I think My Chemical Romance have always tried their best to solve the equation.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 4

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1       Part 2      Part 3      Part 5

Next Morning

“We’re done here, OK?” The Joker shouts and you stomp away, furious at his behavior.

“Of course we are done, who the hell would put up with you?!! You’re horrible!!!”

“It finally clicked? Good!!!! Come on, speed it up and disappear!!!!” he points at the top of the hill where your car is parked.

You walk faster and J is increasingly frustrated with each step you take.

“So what you said was a lie?!” he yells before he can stop himself. “You assured me I’ll get used with being loved and here you are running from me! Hypocrite! Who’s the liar now, huh?”

You turn around, stunned.

How dare he twist your most intimate confessions in such a manner?

Y/N and The Joker glare at each other for a few moments before you voice all the bitterness and resentment building up in your heart loud enough for him to hear:

“I hate you!”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks. “Perfect! I’m used to it!”

You reprise your stroll, determined not to fall into his little traps anymore: this time is over and you have to put as much distance in between the two of you in the next few seconds before he attempts one of his tricks.

Not that you would fall for it again, but you never know…

One last glare while you try to open the car door and you see him flair his arms around loudly screaming at his phone; your fingers keep missing the lock and you kick the metal frame, irritated. Another glance and you spot a vehicle driving in the parking lane towards where The Joker is.

“J?...” you hesitantly call out to him yet The Joker probably has the earbuds in so he can’t hear you. “J!!!” you wave to get his attention without success. “Oh my God!” you rush back in his direction when you realize that SUV will hit him if it continues the present trajectory. “J!!! J!!!!”

The King is too absorbed in his business conversation thus he finally sees Y/N next to him as she violently pushes him out of harm’s way.

The strong impact wakes you up and you gasp for air, panicked. Your troubled mind has difficulty catching up with reality: a damaged brain can’t possibly render any type of comfort in this situation.

“Why are you crying?” J mumbles half asleep. “Did you have a bad dream?”

You seem confused and unresponsive to his questions, no other choice besides waking up to check on you.

“Calm down. You had a nightmare, ok?” he pulls the agitated Y/N in his arms. “ Hey, it’s me!”

You whimper at the pain paralyzing your body and don’t complain when he drags you on top of him; it actually feels soothing having someone close that understands what’s happening to you.

“Don’t hold me so tight, I can’t breathe,” J pecks your forehead where the blood clot pressing on your frontal lobe should be. “Better?” he asks a tearful girlfriend that ultimately begins to understand she wasn’t hit by a car minutes ago: it’s an ordeal she already went through months ago despite the aftermath of the accident still creating problems. “Such an early bird,” The Clown yawns since he won’t be able to doze off after your episode. “Only 7 am Princess…” the grumbled noises make you receptive to his complaint. “What about you give me some sugar in exchange for my services?” J suggests, quite puzzled when you roll off him and stumble out of the bedroom. “Where are you going?!”

You don’t answer because you’re concentrating just on what your neurons were able to translate in such a short notice: your man wants sugar. That’s why you’re in a big hurry to bring him a bag containing the sweet product, happily offering the item to his majesty The King of Gotham.

“For God’s sake, Pumpkin!” he accepts the gift nevertheless and places it on the covers. “That’s not what I meant,” he snatches Y/N in his arms and kisses her.

“No…sugar?...” you inquire out of genuine curiosity.

“I already got it,” he mischievously smirks at your bafflement, deciding to exercise your skills at once. “Say Princess: if I give you two kisses and then I give you two more, how many kisses do you get?”

“Ummm…” you debate on the question,”… not enough?”

“Due to your high standards, certainly,” The Joker huffs at the genuine reply. “Your solution is not wrong, but I’m looking for a number. Two plus two? Come on, you already know this one!”

“Mmmm… Four?...” you blur out and get groped as reward.

“Good girl!” J proudly applauds your abilities at crack of dawn. “Enough algebra for this morning,” he changes topic. “Your doctor appointment is at 10; you should take a shower soon,” and he rambles on until something is clear: the blank expression on your face hints at the outcome.

“You’re not listening, are you?” he suspiciously inquires.

“No.”

Why would you? Your brain’s self-defense mechanism prevailed at all the information flooding your deteriorated synapses and the result was blocking the outpour of sentences.

“That was a 10 minutes speech, Pumpkin!” The Joker grouchily admonishes the carefree Y/N.

“11,” you gesture at the clock on the wall.

“11 what?”

“11 minutes, not 10,” you nonchalantly conclude.

“Oh, so you have the audacity to time me while you don’t bother keeping up?!”

“Yes,” you giggle and hide your face under the pillow.

“That’s preposterous!”

“Hm?...” your nose emerges from under the cushion at the fascinating word you can’t recollect being in your current vocabulary.

“Preposterous, Princess!” J repeats.”… Stop laughing, would you?” he forcefully hijacks your pillow and you snicker because whatever-the-heck- it-means Preposterous Princess sounds like a hilarious nickname. “You wanna play games?” The Clown Prince of Crime sucks on his silver teeth willing to bring a final showdown to this magical day. “Fine, remember you made me with your abominable behavior!” he reaches for the nightstand in order to grab his favorite deck of cards. “Pick a card, any card; I won’t peak,” J watches the captivated woman pluck her choice from the mound. “Now put it in the stack,” he urges and you follow the instructions.

The Joker vigorously shuffles the cards then searches for yours.

“Is this it?” he triumphantly flicks the Joker card out of the bunch.

You nod a yes completely smitten he guessed again and your terrible half steals a kiss, triumphantly growling to himself:

“Who’s  laughing now, huh?”

*************

After Your Doctor’s Appointment

J slides the screen on his phone and before he can utter anything you announce:

“Hi, this is Pre… Pro… Mmm… W-wait,” you stammer and gather your thoughts. “This is Preposterous Princess.”

The Joker sighs, definitely unamused at your 5th call in a row to tell him what’s going on at your routine consultation: he barely finished counting the ammo boxes he received with the shipment after you left and going over the heist scheme for next week it’s made impossible by Y/N.

“Pumpkin, I will remind you that’s not what I meant when I said that word. It was Preposterous COMA Princess!! Two separate entities, alright? We need to have a serious discussion after you get home.”

“I have to go, Pro… Ummm… Preposterous Princess is at…at the gates,” you say it very fast and hang up, excited to share news with him.

Yet The Clown is already acquainted with the whole development on your condition: the doctor’s office contacted him after your departure in order to brief him on Y/N health. The blood clot is a bit smaller since it keeps reabsorbing; the cognitive issues are there, tests ended up pretty much within normal range except one, thus it’s necessary for the two of you to have the dialogue he mentioned about.

Five more minutes and you barge in his office holding your yellow teddy bear and for the first time in his life The Joker can’t help regretting he’s about to burst someone’s bubble.

You approach the desk and set the ultrasound picture in front of him waiting for his reaction; your bright smile doesn’t go well with how gloomy he appears, literally an understatement anyway.

“Baby,” you tap the image just in case he didn’t realize what he’s staring at.

“I know, Pumpkin. We can’t keep it.”

“Hm…?” your smile gradually dies out as you comprehend he’s not on the same page with your wishes.

“We can’t keep the baby, it’s very dangerous given you merely survived a severe trauma. I was told it’s nearly impossible for you to have kids, that’s why I didn’t use… Anyway… I admit this one’s on me and the conclusion is… … we can’t keep the baby.”

“No baby?” you sniffle.

“Nope, it would be too harsh on your body. Plus, you won’t be able to use your anti-inflammatory medication if you’re pregnant.”

“I want baby!”

“Are you deaf??!” J slams the desk with his fist, annoyed. “You can’t have a child, it could kill you. Do you want to perish?!” he rises from his chair.

“No… I want you and baby.”

“No way in hell!” he snarls at your defiance.

“Why can’t I h-have baby? Because… because I’m stupid?” you cuddle with your plush toy, heartbroken at his approach.

“You’re not stupid, but I’m beginning to have doubts if what I told you doesn’t make sense!”

“I want baby!” you whisper on the verge of crying.

“I want baby,” The Joker mocks and watches your demeanor change: it doesn’t take a genius to detangle the mystery of how hurt you seem.

“Are…are you making fun of me?!”

The King is a jerk, no doubt about it. Despite his obvious flaws he never ridiculed someone’s disability; it’s simply beneath him. One could say this is a new low for him and he cannot erase it: Y/N’s cognitive impairment is clearly sacred ground he trespassed on a whim when he shouldn’t have.

“If…if you were like me… I wouldn’t laugh at… at you,” you wipe your tears, sobbing. “I’m not smart… anymore but I can m-make decisions, ok? I want baby!”

“I said no!” J yells, fired up you won’t listen to reason.

“I don… I don’t care!” you storm out of the office and trip on the carpet, almost falling to the ground. “It’s my baby!”

“It’s mine also unless you have another boyfriend!!”

**************

You’ve been gone for the last hour; it’s a big place yet it shouldn’t be so difficult to find one’s partner.

The Joker dials your number and inquires as soon as you blow your nose on the other side of the line.

“Is this The Preposterous Princess?”

Dead air again; Y/N isn’t in the mood to speak to the man she can’t forgive for his transgression. In addition to him disregarding her intention of keeping the offspring, he made her feel dumb and that’s unforgivable.

“Y/N, where are you?!” J descends the steps leading to the basement, the last area he didn’t searched for his missing woman. He opens the boiler room, nothing. The pantry reveals zero clues either. The janitorial supplies closet is a different story; a box of sponges flies by his ear, immediately accompanied by a hateful tone:

“Go away!”

“You almost broke my nose,” he over exaggerates. “What are you doing here anyway? I’ve been looking all over the house!” “I’m hiding baby from you,” you clearly enunciate without stammering.

“Give me a break,” he drops on his knees in front of you. “I don’t want you to kick the bucket, why is that a bad thing?”

“I want baby!”

“Stubborn mule, you sound like a scratched CD that skips and skips and skips,” he barks at your persistence.

“Hm?” you crinkle your nose.

“Scratched CD!” he brings his face close to yours, pleased an opportunity for his plan has arisen. “First of all, if you want to keep the kid you have to promise not to die; second, I have no desire to become a father and third of all pick a card!” he shoves them in your fingers, perfectly aware that if you can’t process all the stuff he’s yapping at an amazing speed, you’ll get distracted and forget you’re mad at him; including one of your favorite games to the equation should seal the outcome.

“Hm?”

“Chop, chop, pick a card Pumpkin!”

You suspiciously pluck your item and then shove it back in the bundle.

The Joker steals a kiss while figuring out your card and you protest:

“I don’t… I don’t want your four kisses!”

“That’s too bad, I do come with four kisses, it’s a bundle deal!” J dismisses your logic connected to this morning’s algebra lesson. “Is this your card?” he shows you the Jester card and your mouth opens in amazement.

“A-ha!”

He fights with himself if he should disclose the secret: you don’t seem totally diverted and his plot could misfire due to inaction.

It’s not worth it.

“Do you know how I select the correct card?”

“No.”

“Each single time Pumpkin you invariably pick The Joker card.”

You sulk at the revelation since it’s true: you don’t recall sorting another card from the deck.

“I do… I always choose you…”

He doesn’t have a response and the chat is taking a strange turn, not precisely what he was aiming for.

“Yeah, well… good for you, Princess…” he stands and offers his hand to help you up.

Another smooch as bonus for his assistance whilst The Queen pouts at his impertinence: he has such a nerve!

Perhaps because he comes with four kisses.

It’s a bundle deal.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[ziracona]

Sorry if this has been asked before but, I'm really curious about how you would have written Max in the story if he were to be there? He's one of my personal favorite characters and finding redemption stories about him is kinda hard (You have no idea how happy I was when I read Claudette threw him a scarf to stay warm, like yes please; he's a feral child in a killer's body, but please stay warm)

I don’t think I have been, and no problem!

If Max had had a larger role in ILM, I am not 100% sure how I’d have written his perosnality, since I haven’t had to do it yet in-depth, but I know he’d be very angry and both defensive and aggressive towards everything, warry, skittish, hostile. Not bad necessarily, but humans will raise hackles and be ready to lash out and bite if they’ve all they’ve ever known is abuse the same way a mistreated cat or dog would, or like, most any living thing. I think he’s very lonely and unloved, and it’s hard for humans to survive without positive contact and affirmation and physical affection. I mean, if we’re left alone totally, we literally just die. But since his only experience with humans—and his parents/the people who should have loved him most no less—was nothing but danger and abuse and isolation and imprisonment, I think it’d be very hard for him to be approached. Not at all impossible, but man, it is really, really hard to convince someone who’s been through torrential rains of abuse that there’s something else to be given.

I do have ideas on how you could get through, but let me think about personality first. Well, aside from aggressive, defensive, skittish, warry, and hostile, like inborn traits to go along with learned, I think he is a very volatile person. He must be enduring and strong to survive what he did and live, and so determined and tenacious. —Oh! Hang on, big one before I forget. So, I am not a forefront authority in Disability as it relates to narrative, but I know quite a bit and was lucky enough to have a professor whose central areas were Disability, Horror, and Disability in Horror. I don’t know who exactly popularized the idea of Max as having basically a child’s mind in an adult’s killer body, though I think I’ve been told it was one person or story? Maybe it was just a big fandom take. But that’s one of the most prevailing and harmful disability stereotypes, especially for mental disabilities, and horror is a massive offender in general with both disabilities and disorders, and we need to do better & listen to the communities themselves more. I don’t mean this in a harsh way at all—I don’t even know if you meant ‘feral child in a killer’s body’ that way, or meant like, ‘this feral man in a killer’s body is my child TuT’—which is a totally different statement—and even with the former, I know people have had that idea of Max super popularized and are inundated with it, and most people I think just don’t know it’s a very harmful and prevalent stereotype period—I didn’t until I was in my 20s. But I think it’s important to bring attention to it when it’s brought up. Many of the bad things done to people with disabilities come from treating them as not fully actualized humans (I guess I should say ‘us’), and some of those ways are easy to spot, because they’re cruel, and some are harder, because they seem positive. The ‘child mind in an adult body’ is a huge one for disabilities that doesn’t seem awful at first glance, but actually is a huge problem. Unfortunately, human children also get treated by and large as not fully realized humans (as in autonomous & worthy of respect and self-determination—obvs there are some differences that are important, but a child is still an entire ass human & should be respected as such). The painting a physically and mentally disabled character as childlike or mentally trapped as a child is used to control and take autonomy and gravity from our opinions and lives. It’s also just like, not accurate. But the biggest thing is that it takes agency from individuals and paints them as less intelligent, less capable of wanting or pursing more ‘adult’ things [such as jobs or sex or protesting for their rights or having informed opinions on current events and doing something about it], and tries to paint that permanent, life-long dehumanization as a positive thing by making it cute or innofenssive at first glance. While still discounting disabled as kids, passing off autonomy and decisions to their caregivers, and ignoring our status as equal and actualized individuals. Stunted learning or growth or different ways of speaking, moving, and limitations understanding certain things don’t actually make disabled people like children. They’re just adults who sometimes have some very different ways of speaking or thinking or seeming or being. But it’s super important that we’re still adults and like, have the actualized self of adults, even if our speech patterns seem weird. There’s a huge and extremely important difference between an adult with social hangups around sensitive areas and social norms, and being a child. If you didn’t know any of that, don’t feel too bad, again like, people who aren’t disabled almost never talk about disability theory or issues, and I didn’t know this till I was in my 20s. But I feel really bad for Max and bad about how he is usually characterized, so it is important to bring this up.

Okay! That all said, I think personality wise, Max would be really fun to write. Because you have two levels—you have the taught things—fear, aggression, etc, and his inborn perosnality. There is very little canon about Max, but we know he never left home after freeing himself, he steals clothes from scarecrows or whatever he can find, and he’s probably in his early 20s or maybe to his mid 20s now. Since he never left home, I’d think he’s probably a little more cautious and anctious by nature, even with all that rage. I think he’d be sentimental if he ever was given something to love. He must have attachment to things pretty easily, and would I think have liked people a lot because of that, if life had been different. Would have been a shy but friendly and hopeful farm boy. Now, he’s kind of a broken mess, sadly. He’s had it super pounded in by family he is worthless and horrific and disgusting and a monster and an abomination, so I think he expects all humans to take one look and violently feel the same towards him. Taught humans are cruel, and he isn’t safe with them, and the only thing that will stop them and protect himself is unchecked aggression.

So, when it comes to like, getting close enough to him to redeem him, it’s rough, because again, he’d be very very aggressive. I mean, even after killing his parents, he mutilated the animals on the farm in rage, and continued to viciously hurt and then kill anything living he could find on the farm, so he’s got a lot of danger, and he really leaned into violence to protect himself. It’s what he knows now. I think he’s still lonely — like, so lonely he’s sick with it — but unlike Anna and Michael, he’s never known love, so I don’t think he’s even aware of that, and it’s on a pretty subconscious level. Plus, he has even less understanding of human communication and rules and gestures than the other feral killers, so it’d be really hard to get through to him. I think about the only plausible way is really, really, really fuckin slowly, through repeated gifts and kindnesses for no reason (like Claude with the scarf but every day for three years)—the same way you’d try to get through to a feral cat, since like other living things, humans also are wary and mistrustful when hurt, but can be socialized into new situations and do have a pretty set list of gifts and actions we appreciate. I mean, if I was feral, I would start to soften if repeatedly left chocolates and big warm coats and picture books to look at, pretty rocks. I have a crow heart.... >.> Or, the much more likely option, you’d have to catch him or find him captured and helpless, and then be kind instead of doing anything bad at all, and help him for a somewhat extended period of time, nurse him back to health or such, so he’d be forced to actually realize this person isn’t trying to hurt him—they’re trying to help.

I think Max would get less hostile slowly and cautiously because like, if you’ve ever been horribly abused you know you’re afraid to be hurt again. But also, if you’re alone, there’s a battle between wanting some kind of constact and love, and the fear of trying to trust someone only to be brutally torn up again and cast aside. It’s a painful place to be. But I think once he made it over that initial trust hurdle, and could bring himself to stop shuddering at a touch and to believe the person helping him was just trying to give him food, not poison or something to choke on, he’d be absolutely overcome, becuase if you’ve never been shown kindness and then are, overwhelmingly, it’s really hard to process. There’s a lot of psychology stuff about how we form our understandings and processing of each other and the world that I’m not gonna go into much bc convoluted, but it’d be like the opposite weirdly of a Just World break. The realization some things are less awful than your cemented life understanding structure. It would feel wrong and be hard to process (and rewireing a brain takes some time), but he’s been so alone for so long, I think the longing for people would get through, and he would cautiously start to trust and be just bowled over and kind of intimidated by the strength of like, the love and affection and gratitude and belonging he’d start to feel. I think he’d be afraid, becuase it’s not how life is meant to go, and jumpy, but he’d also just be lost to the happiness of actually having some kind of positive human connection, and become fiercely protective of whoever (or whichever people) was/were helping him. Got something he doesn’t want to lose now.

He’s young, so he’s going to still be figuring stuff out, and he had an awful upbringing, so lots of confusion and anger and un-learning too, but I’m really glad you liked that scene!! 😭 and that you like Max too, because he needs more love. I like him a lot too, that’s why he ends up with an undetermined fate instead of, like, dead in ILM. I’d like to give him a fully story role sometime, when there’s more space for it. He’s such a complex and unfortunate guy, he deserves a chance to grow more right and find people who are different and have a better future. TuT. It ain’t fair how his life was.

[demauryss]

Prompt 24 seems interesting

hi. thanks for sending this in :)) here’s my take on an office!au in which eliott is a graphic designer and lucas is assistant managing editor. hope you like this :))

no. 24 from “the way you said i love you” drabble challenge

When Lucas thinks about it, he figures it can be a lot worse than his current situation. He could be stuck in a dream in which he’s in his philosophy lecture from college which has somehow dragged to ten hours, revisiting the torture inflicted on his poor brain once again. He could be stuck third-wheeling Basile and Daphne – or, front-desk Helene and fourth-floor Sharon on their amazing, brilliant, always adventurous and with too much lovey-dovey stuff dates. And, if worst comes to worst, Lucas could be caught up in the Sammy and Tammy Riots – the STARS – that his neighbours are notorious for starting over issues of minute importance.

But it’s just his luck - Lucas would say - that out of all the above and decidedly much, much better ways for the universe to gang up on him for all the wrong he’s done, he’s stuck in a room with flaking brown paint on the walls, a broken fan and hanging bulb from the ceiling – both of which are worthy of being featured in a horror movie - and, admittedly, his worst nightmare – tall, beautiful Eliott Demaury, who’s currently jumping on his foot, holding the other one in his hands over the shoes after hitting the door probably too hard.

“I told you it won’t work,” Lucas sighs, stretching his legs which have now begun to cramp. He’s made a home for himself against a wall, sitting on the floor covered in dirt and a web courtesy of a spider he saw crawling under the bookshelf Eliott’s currently sulking against. He’s given up trying long ago, picking at the wood flakes on one of the cabinets to his right. Might as well make himself comfortable if he’s going to spend all day here.

“Eliott sit down,” Lucas sighs as Eliott picks up pacing in the room wide as his whole leg – probably even wider, Lucas’s just being dramatic, “You’re giving me anxiety.”

Eliott stops pacing, now standing in front of Lucas. His hands are perched on either sides of his waist as he stares down at Lucas’s reclining figure on the floor. His hair - the obnoxious, sex hair which Lucas has imagined many times passing his fingers through (just to see if they’re as silky as they look, no other reason) – a millimeter away from the bulb which is currently swinging, throws a shadow around the room, making the room resemble more and more to the set of a movie bound to give nightmares. Lucas decides, if he ever makes it out, he’ll direct a movie here.

“But Lucas,” Eliott sighs, lines beginning to form on his forehead. That can’t be good. “I need to be in the Conference Room in thirty minutes. I’m gonna fucking miss the presentation!”

Lucas forces the unease bubbling in his stomach down as he raises his arm to hold Eliott’s wrist, giving it a tug; his supervisor would be walking in the Conference Room in thirty minutes, livid, and with a now unemployed Lucas following behind her, if Lucas makes it out of here by then. Eliott stops his rambling about letting his supervisor down and everything to look at Lucas, eyes filled with so much tension Lucas almost throws up. “Calm down, Eliott,” Lucas says, tugging at the sleeve of Eliott’s camel jacket, “It would be all useless if you walk out of here with a ruptured blood vessel in your head or a dead cardiac tissue.”

Eliott lets a frown take over his features, quickly glancing to where Lucas’s hand is wrapped around his arm. Lucas drops his hand awkwardly, flashing Eliott a hopeful smile. Eliott sighs, dropping his shoulders before sitting himself against the wall in front of Lucas, who realizes his miscalculations just when Eliott stretches out his legs which reach Lucas’s knees. Okay, the room is bigger than Assistant Mayor Bellwether’s room from Zootopia.

“How are you so calm?” Eliott narrows his eyes, watching Lucas intently, like he’s gauging his reaction. He voice is higher, breathy. Lucas fears for the state of his skin, probably prepping to be covered in wrinkles in a couple of minutes.

“How can I not be?” Lucas shrugs as if he’s been stuck in a room like this a million times before. “You’re taking all the stress with you.”

Lucas smiles as Eliott giggles, some tension diffusion from his shoulders, “Yeah, I’m stressed out enough for both of us.” Eliott shakes his head, looking down for a bit, playing with the frayed thread of his jeans over his knees. The light over them in the sound-proof, signal-proof room flickers for a bit before turning bright again. Lucas realizes with a heavy heart that his worst fears are going to come true in mere seconds.

“I can’t not worry,” Eliott speaks softly, “My team is presenting the design for the book today. I can’t let them down.” The heaviness inside Lucas’s heart comes up in his throat. Lucas is the assistant of the Managing Editor, Marley, while Eliott leads a whole team of talented graphic artists in the Creatives Deparment. Lucas knows Eliott was supposed to present the design for a book cover. His job is more on line than Lucas’s is.

“Man, I’m never searching for archive files again,” Eliott groans, turning on his phone to see if there’s any network or not. Dejected and with a heavy sigh, he turns it off, looking up at Lucas, “What were you doing here before?”

Lucas shrugs, again, “Same as you, digging up old treasure.” While that’s partly true, Lucas can’t let Eliott know the times he’s spent sat just like this, allegedly on lunch during the break, serving his cold heart with its impulses to look at these fucking old files and memoirs and whatnot, holding worn out pages and pretty handwriting from days computers didn’t exist. There was a reason how the spot he chose to sit on was so clean, Eliott.

Lucas was busy in one of his sessions again when Eliott had walked in, all bright and fresh from the rain outside. Lucas had squeaked out a ‘Hi’ to Eliott’s pleasant ‘Hello’. It was weird to see Eliott this close after months of admiring him from afar. Even though their departments had caused them to interact with one another on many occasions before, but it was never like in this vicinity before, in a storage room as wide as half of Lucas and with no other person around.

Lucas was in a weird state of panic as Eliott told him of the file he was looking for, something from an artist working here before. And then a thunder, pretty powerful wind and a loud bang of door later, Lucas was stuck in the room with his raging crush and the person the crush was on. No amount of forcing the doorknob breathing its last and swearing at the door to open – or resorting to kicking it – had caused it to budge.

The rain has long since stopped, but the humidity prevails. Fucking physics and its useless fucking phenomenon. Lucas sits with trembling hands, legs now perched up, Eliott’s feet touching his own. Apart from the fear of doing something traumatic for both of them in front of Eliott, the light going out is taking away ten years Lucas’s life every time it flickers. Being stuck in a room with Eliott in front of him? Fucking great. Fantastic. Being stuck with Eliott in total dark? Count him the fuck out.

Eliott sighs once again, catching Lucas’s attention, “Why did it need to stick now?” He looks lost like a child, all tensed shoulders and creased forehead. Lucas can guarantee Eliott’s walking out with permanent health issues.

“Humidity,” Lucas answers, keeping his voice soft, probably too low. It’s as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear but Eliott, which is odd since Lucas could yell and the sound wouldn’t make it past a millimeter outside the door. Fucking fantastic sound-observant room, guys. Would definitely recommend having one in your house/office/whatever building, if you’re up for a quickie or two in terrible, unhygienic conditions.

Eliott looks at Lucas with confusion now replacing the worry in his eyes. Deeming it as a distraction, Lucas continues, “The door must have expanded from the humidity left by the rain. And when it banged shut, the added volume must have caused it to stick.”

Eliott narrows his eyes, “So it won’t open unless it de-expands?”

De-expands. Lucas smiles. Stretching his arms over his head he explains, “That’s right. So, we might be here for a while.”

“As if I don’t know,” Eliott scoffs lightly, leaning against the wall with a quite groan, “What time is it, though? My phone’s almost dead, and neither do I have any signal. Who’d have thought I’d be stuck in a ratty old room with you today?”

Eliott laughs as Lucas gulps down something acrid, a bitter feeling clawing up at his throat. It’s moment like this when he’s reminded of just how out of Eliott’s league Lucas really is. The realization that he won’t ever look at Lucas the same way kicks in much faster than he expects it to. But it’s fine. Lucas is all fine.

With a tremor in his arm, he takes out his phone from his pocket, pressing the home button. He clears his throat, “It’s one-fif-“ And then, like a car clash in slow motion, it happens. Something pops up on the screen. A notification. A message. A fucking message from front-desk Helene asking about his whereabouts. Slowly he turns his vision to the left-corner of the screen. Heart thrumming in his throat and tremor in his hands he leaps up to his feet, Eliott following him with his eyes.

“Lucas? Is everything alr-“

Lucas cuts him off, probably looking like a wild animalescaped from the zoo. “ELIOTT, I’VE GOT IT!!” He yells, previous trepidation about anyone but Eliott hearing him out of the fucking window. Eliott stands up, confused, “Got what?”

Lucas thrusts the phone in Eliott’s face. It takes a momentfor realization to kick inside him, but when it does, it’s beautiful. “Oh God, Oh God. Oh God. Lucas!”  He yells,excitedly bouncing up and down on his feet. Thank God. Now Lucas doesn’t have to worry about them running out of oxygen and their corpses decaying with no one knowing where they had went. Thank fucking God.

Lucas peers at the small lines at the corner of his screen which weren’t there minutes ago. Fucking miracles. He wastes no time in dialing Helene’s number, Eliott watching him with a small smile as he stutters out some nonsense involving “the storage room, Helene. Eliott-I’m-we’re stuck. Quick!” It makes no sense to his ears, blood currently filling them, spiked with adrenaline and- and Eliott looking at him like that. As Helene shouts something about being there in seconds, Lucas can’t take his eyes off of the now relaxed and smiling Eliott. His face is soft, soft. Lucas wants to tou-

There’s a bang. Another bang. Lucas jumps ten feet in air, Eliott backing both of them into the cabinet behind them. The door rattles, opening with a loud sound as it smashes just where Lucas was previously standing. He would have been hit in the face if Eliott hadn’t acted wisely. Lucas feels the warmth of Eliott’s hand on his arm too late before he’s being pulled away, Helene jamming into the small space in front of Lucas, several sturdy men behind her. They must have kicked the door open. So Eliott was really up to something, even if it didn’t work then.

“Lucas- oh god, are you okay?” Helene rushes out in a single breath. He chuckles, realizing how hard his hear is actually beating. Well Lucas, time for cover ups, “I’m fine, Lene. Though you should worry about this idiot. Pretty sure his blood pressure has passed the two hundred mark.”

He points to where Eliott stands, still pressed up against the cabinet. Helene shoots him a quick, worry-filled glance before deeming he looks fine. “You two can come with me to the break room. The presentation has been cancelled, that’s what I was going to text you about.”

She pats Lucas’s arm before turning, muttering about stupidrains and humidity. Lucas smiles, beginning to follow her. But he’s stopped in his tracks by a hand wrapping around his wrist. Before he knows he’s being turned around, and enveloped in strong muscular arms, heavenly orange-y sent blurring his senses, and warm face pressed into his neck.

Eliott’s hugging him. Eliott is fucking hugging him. EliottFUCKING Demaury is HUGGING HIM.

Before he could launch Operation PANIC AT THE FUCKING INTIMATE CONTACT WITH HIS CRUSH, Lucas is stopped however by his still sensible brain. Maybe Eliott’s just happy Lucas’s not the last person he’d see before he dies. Yes. That’s plausible. Awkwardly, Lucas wraps his arms around Eliott’s waist, inhaling the scent of oranges currently dominating his brain. Admittedly, Lucas thinks, it feels nice being wrapped up in somebody like this. He’s so much hug-deprived he’ll cry if he thinks about it.

Eliott gives a final squeeze before pulling away, a tentative smile on his face which is too close to Lucas. He can count the freckles. The smile on his face enlarges as Lucas awkwardly steps back. He needs to be professional.

“Thank you,” Eliott says, eyes in pretty crescents. Lucas wants to draw them. “You got me out of this room. I’ll love you forever Lucas, for this.”

Lucas’s heart catches up in his throat again. Eliott winks, before moving around Lucas and walking out of the room. Lucas feels his heartbeat in his ears, head, everywhere. Eliott said ‘I love you’. He probably didn’t mean it. Eliott said “I love you.” He probably didn’t think what he was saying. Eliott said, “I’ll love you forever, Lucas.” Maybe he goes throwing those words around to people helping him. Yes, that’s probably it. It’s not even that deep, Lucas. Eliott didn’t mean it that way. Stop complicating things.

So Lucas takes a deep breath, forces his heart back into his cage, and follows the receding figure of Eliott Deamury into the break-room.

[hobohumanitarian6]

This is a long post so please be warned!!! I need to get some things off my chest....

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING POSSIBLE⚠️

Feedback to this post is open-ended. You cannot offend me and will not be blocked.

⭐ So here's the thing: one of my late grandmother's friends just posted that her 29 year old son died in his sleep with seemingly no explanation. This really shook me I guess. For one, I used to hang out with this kid during the summers a lot. My specific memories are very vague, but deep in my consciousness I know that I have called him friend in the past. For another, many things lately have been prompting me to ask the difficult questions ie

Why in the fuck am I here?

What's the meaning of it all?

When is my life going to get better?

How do I prepare myself for better things?

Am I blocking me or is something else blocking me?

What am I doing wrong that the universe doesn't think I'm ready for a new chapter?

Am I really with the right person?

What about the afterlife?

Am I going to be silenced or speak out?

What if I can't do some of things I want/dreamed of?

What is going to satisfy me if my future doesn't go as planned?

⭐ I've been doing quite a bit of soul searching through all of this, established the framework of the person I want to be and

BAM! 🧱 💥 🏃🏻‍♀️

Straight into a fucking. Brick. Wall.

⭐ I am in one of the worst continental states in the US (by even statistic) and before all of the shutdown and pandemic began, I had plans to be relocated with my new job, a place to call home & reunited with family by June 1st. Clearly that didn't happen....

⭐ I am spending $900 a month for a 250 ft² motel room just so I am not out on the streets.

Homelessness. Can we talk about that for a second? People getting arrested for being out past curfew because they don't have a place to go, put in jail because they're in the way, not tested or treated for the virus because they generally have no insurance, giving people loads of food stamps so the emergency assistance funding is broke-

600 dollars of groceries is a lot if you have a fridge, freezer, microwave, oven, toaster, etc not if you have to buy your food from overpriced convenience stores and gas stations and fresh food from grocery stores that 70% of the price is for the packaging it comes with!!

Soup kitchens closing because they don't want to risk contamination. Who's feeding those without a hot meal? Do they realize malnourishment is the quickest way to get sick with any pathogen!?

Shelters closed because of overpopulation. Domestic violence homes turning battered women and children away because there's too scarce of resources and funding. Yet people care about big corporations going bankrupt? Please tell me what the difference is between a goddamn human fucking life and a couple lawsuits because you didn't know how to prepare for an ever-changing economy.

Thank the universe i am sheltered with minimal resources to take care of myself and I have a steady job due to an enormous company's "chance on a down-in-the-dumps contractor." This job I have held steadily for a year despite chronic health issues has been the best thing to happen to me by far in a long time. I am definitely not by any means complaining about my job or that I even have life necessities right now. Several million don't have that.

⭐ The problem with this state is there are no resources for a person who's struggling to make an honest living. I lost my apartment two years ago because I had to take a medical leave of absence at my job then, got behind on rent and was evicted without a chance to catch up. The power was cut three nights before I had to leave, and I owe a deposit on the electric company to get any type of service back in my name. The realty company who owns the apartment complex will not allow a payment plan without a fraction of the principle paid down, so therefore I cannot apply for private or realty housing and I have been on the waiting list for federal housing assistance for 3 years without a single word. I also had my bank card stolen with my ID when I was trying to catch a bus to work a few weeks after that so whoever it was made small purchases that my bank applied interest and late charges to so that is also standing in debt. Thank universe my current employer allows direct deposit to a savings account at a bad credit institution or I'd be royally fucked.

⭐ Before I made the hard decision to doll out almost a G a month just for a room, I tried sleeping in my pickup. I even took the effort to pallet it for a platform bed & make benches to live in free campgrounds, cemeteries, truck stops, boonie dead ends, and behind abandoned buildings. I had a 12V converter that I connected to a rice cooker and made a tin can stove to grill small portions of meat on a single-egg mini skillet. I kept getting chased off by rangers, cops, annoying people trying to do crack and not get their lives better, and eventually violently detained for "suspicious activity" - I was thrown on the ground, put in handcuffs, patted down by a male officer with no female present, searched my vehicle without consent & written a citation: this was 2 am, I had a campsite reservation, I was clearly sleeping & my vehicle was current. The officers did not give me their name or numbers so I could not make a report.

⭐ I have chronic health issues - hip dysplasia & hyper mobility (not severe enough to be EDS), anemia, rexhia (NOT PRO ANYTHING), pre diabetes, H.S, BPD, PTSD, endometriosis & chronic migraines. I have filed time and time and time again for medical assistance but have always been denied. Every time I try to see a doctor, they claim I have this-or-that infection caused by this-or-that disorder, sent to an overpriced pharmacy with illness-irritating antibiotics that just keep me in an unending cycle of flares and barely-managable pain. Do not let anyone privileged or wealthy confuse you - you are not treated the same if you don't have coverage. Sorry to say but it is indeed a fact.

⭐ With this job I work 40-50 hours a week, eat as healthy as I can on a dime sized budget, and cover all my expenses. Yet I cannot move forward in this state on to better things. I want so badly to have a family, to go to college, etc but I cannot do this with living month to month someplace that isn't even my own.

⭐ The emotional affect this has had on me is tremendous. I am embarrassed of my situation, and never allow any guests in fear they'd judge me. I never take any photographs, which is heartbreaking because it has been one of my long-time hobbies. I am extremely guarded and I lie about small details to protect myself. I have severe trust issues and I always hold a dagger at my waist because I have to assume any minute you'll pull out a Glock.

⭐ Naturally I am an empath and this has brought me more compassion and understanding than I ever thought possible. The police brutality against people of color and racism in socio-economic programs truly breaks my heart because as a white female and all the struggles and discrimination I've endured, I can only begin to understand it's 1000x harder for people of color especially. I stand behind your protests 100%. I beseech you, go fight for what you deserve! I will be begging higher powers for your protection indefinitely!

⭐ I have gained a new perspective on non-profit organizations and volunteer work. Some are truly amazing and their stories move people to tears; others are truly wicked stealing from the poor, embezzling cash flow for their own vanities. Please please please research the charity you are interested in thoroughly before getting involved. Volunteer work will always be appreciated- and will teach you many invaluable lessons. If you help these organizations and need help yourself: respect yourself, hold yourself high, and ask for the assistance. They will generally be more inclined to help. If you are turned away, try not to be bitter. Administrators only do as they see fit.

⭐ That's another thing - bitterness. This has been the most vile and roughest character default I've ever had to battle with myself. When you've been through the shit and you can't see the sewer (sts) it's so easy to stay in the dumps. It's so easy to feel entitled because you've clawed your way to the top. It's easy to feel angry with everyone because it's you vs the system. It's so fucking easy to give up completely and stop trying and just lay down and die. It's easy to step in front of a two ton bus, oncoming freight train, taking the entire package of extra strength Excedrin not because you have a migraine, but just not to feel a thing, go completely numb for one single second. It's easy to go down to the head shop and get a nickel bag of weed to chill and get a 5$ pizza and forget you have responsibilities.

IT'S SO FUCKING TOUGH MAN

⭐ Growing up strictly religious, I tend to shy away from Christianity or other "preachy religion" now. I hate having Jesus shoved down my throat at a service before a hot meal on a Tuesday night and the "speaker" automatically assuming I need to stop smoking crack and going to jail and get my life back on track and God will bless me when I'm in the 46% who has never been to county and hold a job while trying to get back on my feet.

ADDICTION IS NOT POVERTY GUYS

I still support people who go to church and speak in tongues if that satisfies them. I still support people who are strictly vegetarian and make a pilgrimage to the mecca if that satisfies them. I still support people who have 7 two week long feasts a year for something that happened 4000 years ago if that satisfies them. I still support people who believe in baptisms for the dead and not drinking coffee if that satisfies them. I still support people who call Jesus the Nazarene and believe that Lucifer the Dark Lord will prevail if that satisfies them. I still support people who call down the power of the moon into their plant babies and give thanks to the triple goddess if that satisfies them. I support religion or practices of all kinds.

I believe I was meant to be tolerant and be good to others. That this life will give back what you put in. That there is a higher power that governs all and it is up to you to determine just what that is to you. Not to tell people what is wrong with their lives just based on your personal story.

⭐ During this pandemic, I have done a lot of soul searching. Journaling, listening to podcasts, listening to seminars on values I'd never know existed, trying to discover who I am. This journey has included empathy training, reiki, yoga, somatic movement, feldenkrais methods, and astral meditation. I just have a list of these questions I'd like answered or given suggestions to:

What do you believe is the meaning of life? Is there any philosophers, speakers, teachers, theologians, writers, musicians etc that can help answer this?

What is your definition of religion in it's rawest form?

Do you know of any resources I may not have thought of?

Is there any criticism you can give good or bad?

Am I focused on one thing and neglecting another?

Do you have any further opinions on the topics listed above?

Do you have a suggestion of the next right step?

Do you have ideas on how I can help with the aforementioned problems?

How do I stop feeling like I'm wasting my time?

How do I find contentment in everything should I die tomorrow?

What is your opinion of the afterlife?

How do you find happiness in the midst of bullshit?

What did a friend/relative/mentor tell you when you were going through an existential crisis?

Have you felt trapped too? Due to the covid or otherwise?

Any curse words, songs, books, movies, etc of use?

🌸🌸I sincerely appreciate any feedback 🌸🌸

[genesisofsadness]

Farmyard, norwich: ‘for the maximum element, it works’ – restaurant overview

They do drop some catches here, but the commendable ambition makes all of it worthwhile

bistronomy in st benedicts avenue: chef andrew jones (left) at farmyard, norwich. Bistronomy in st benedicts road: chef andrew jones (left) at farmyard, norwich. Photo: chris ridley/the observer farmyard, 23 st benedicts street, norwich nr2 4pf (01603 733 188). Snacks £3. 50, starters £7-£nine, mains £thirteen-£26, cakes £7, wines from £19. 50

farmyard in norwich is the form of restaurant that brings out the maternal in me. Reading the menu makes me feel like one of those dad and mom status in the wings all through the auditions for britain’s got skills, watching my children, ant and dec’s palms lightly on my shoulders for moral guide. I am determined for the kitchen to prevail. I want to hug them all to my bosom and inform them the whole thing could be ok. I’m additionally terrified they’ll drop the capture. It's far for eating place goers who are glad to provide the kitchen permission to try only a little harder that is a grossly patronising issue to say to a team of skilled cooks. However the menu is so ambitiously everywhere in the area, is any such random, swooping series of dishes, i'm able to’t pretty help myself. It’s no longer a lot stressed as at the run. Say hello to cooking which attracts its thought from mexico or japan, north africa or spain, and a gaggle of locations in-among. It demands so many competencies, so much know-how of the way various techniques, spices and dishes sit inside a way of life, that misfires seem almost guaranteed. A number of it is actually down to the language used. On the menu they describe what they do as “bistronomy”, a venerable word first coined in paris inside the early 90s with the aid of professional chefs bored with the puckered and stiff atmosphere within the city’s grandest garlanded gastro palaces. They desired to retain being creative, adventurous cooks, however inside the body of a comfy bistro, with the encouraging pricing that suggests. This brilliant and secure area with its business ducted ceiling, strand board floors, and partly open white tiled kitchen, in reality can't be accused of pretension. For the proctologically challenged, be aware: there are padded banquettes.

‘the chips preserve plenty of their bite’: ham, egg and chips. Facebooktwitterpinterest ‘the chips keep lots in their chunk’: ham, egg and chips. Image: chris ridley/the observer the menu language is a little greater trying. A wonton as served here is really just a dumpling or folded piece of pasta by means of every other misused call? A beetroot “wine gum” is honestly a piece of partially dehydrated beetroot. You may determine to be profoundly irritated through this mangling of the lexicon, or you may decide the meals at the plate. I’m going with the latter due to the fact, for the most element, it works. There are misfires. The batter of salt and pepper squid, from the part of the menu headed “snacks”, doesn’t appear particularly interested by staying attached to its host. However it handiest costs £3. 50 so it’s hard to roll your eyes for lengthy. Those beetroot “wine gums”, candy and chewy, are served with a dollop of horseradish cream to drag them through. They depart strawberry-colored ribbons via the dulux whiteness, and are lots better. A few dish names are a gentle funny story constructed round understatement. Ham, egg and chips are lumps of smoky, salty, collapsing ham hock, with a cured egg yolk and a massive knot of deep-fried, spiralised potato. The latter seems at the beginning a touch difficult and underneath cooked, but there is a limpid hammy broth at the lowest of the bowl. The “chips” maintain a great deal in their bite as they shatter into it with a whack of the fork.

“highly spiced carrot wonton” are, as i recommended, simply any other word for folded-over ravioli, and not specifically highly spiced. However there's a thick celeriac purée here, and some roasted carrots to preserve the interest. It may not quite match as much as its billing, however it’s a solid and dependable little bit of cooking. As is a £sixteen important route of a roasted hen leg, with a boneless, breaded and deep-fried wing, on a thick truffle purée and fowl jus. 1/2 a roasted leek, singed in various places, slumps across it, languorously. It’s a roast fowl dinner that has polished its shoes and combed its hair. To head along we have a bowl of shredded brassicas, thru which both toasted almonds and a pokey salsa verde have been spooned. It’s a cheery act of interest to detail. A potato “terrine” is some other model of spuds sliced and pressed and cooked, then cut into rectangles and deep fried, which, at bubala some months back, were described erroneously as latkes. Regardless of the call, they may be usually welcome.

‘no longer particularly spicy’: spicy carrot wonton. A vegetable ramen is a dish i discover myself nodding at admiringly, in preference to adoring. There's a effective intensity to the broth, and the dozens of toasted barley buried in its steaming depths along a load of different veg, make certain no person will pass hungry. But the noodles are replaced through spiralised carrot. It’s an unusual call. That is partially due to the fact the usage of noodles could not have impacted the meat-unfastened nature of the dish. They could have introduced a little extra starch to the broth and might additionally have justified calling it a ramen. But more often than not it’s an bizarre name because it makes it appear as if proudly owning a spiralizer is an entirely affordable existence preference, when of path they're implements that deserve to be pointed and laughed at with such malice that they subsequently throw themselves into the bin out of embarrassment. Even bearing in mind the unevenness of that dish i ought to consider myself back here trying their version of a multi-layered mole poblano with bbq lamb and blue corn tacos, simply to look whether or not they may without a doubt pull it off, or the roast hake with paprika chickpea stew. This farmyard is decided to fatten up its residents. Cakes turn among the outrageous and the outrageously comforting. The former is defined as a “white chocolate bar”. It’s a sizable block of smooth, sticky white chocolate ganache. It would be teeth-achingly sweet were it no longer for the bold saltiness of the miso caramel slathered across the pinnacle, the scattering of peanuts and the intense dark chocolate sorbet. It’s a re-engineered snickers bar, possibly with the aid of a person who lately kicked a first-rate crystal meth addiction and is now searching out a socially suited manner by way of which to get off their face. With the aid of contrast a steamed ginger pudding, perched on earrings of gently spiced pineapple with a coconut sorbet is a gentle all-in-one hug and back rub.

‘re-engineered snickers’: white chocolate-miso bar. Facebooktwitterpinterest ‘re-engineered snickers’: white chocolate-miso bar. Photo: chris ridley/the observer right here at farmyard they may now not usually gain every one among their goals. Some of those catches really are dropped. However on foot lower back along the norwich lane it calls domestic, exceeded unremarkable pizzerias and dependable looking bistros and cocktail bars designed for a friday night time, the area of interest it fills became apparent. It's miles for restaurant goers who're happy to offer the kitchen permission to try just a little harder and strive only a little extra. And honestly, couldn’t we all do with a eating place like that? Information bites

proper now you may now not be thinking about travelling restaurants, but you may accomplish that once more. In the spirit of assist for the eating place quarter, this column will retain making tips. Simply over at the norfolk coast from farmyard isn't any 1 cromer, which belongs to chef galton blackiston of morston hall. Downstairs it’s a first-rate carpenter and ice cream bar. Upstairs, there’s a globe-trotting bistro which takes in the whole thing from fish tacos to hoisin duck pancakes, tandoori fowl naan and a massaman vegan curry. It’s bold but, usually it works (no1cromer. Com). Till the cease of april heston blumenthal’s three michelin celebrity fats duck in bray is reducing the price of its menu by using £seventy five. It’s nevertheless a stonking £250 with the cut price. At time of writing there are some lunchtime tables to be had within the moderately spaced eating room. This will be the instant to strive it (thefatduck. Co. Uk). Oisin rogers, who's the nearest factor london has to a celeb publican, is to take a second boozer underneath his wing, alongside the guinea grill in mayfair, famed for its beefy menu of steaks and claret. He’s revamping the close by windmill, and bringing in dishes together with pork cheek and oyster pie, and excellent fish and chips. Our journalism is open for all… … and could continue to be so. Now extra than ever, the father or mother is dedicated to delivering first-rate, responsible journalism each and every day. In those terrific instances, when anxiety and uncertainty abound, the guardian’s measured, authoritative reporting has never been so important. We will stay with you, turning in exceptional journalism so we can all make critical choices approximately our lives, health and protection – based on fact, no longer fiction. We believe every one folks deserves equal access to accurate news and calm clarification. So, not like many others, we made a specific choice: to keep father or mother journalism open for all, regardless of wherein they stay or what they can find the money for to pay. This would now not be viable with out the generosity of readers, who now assist our work from one hundred eighty nations around the sector. We have upheld our editorial independence inside the face of the disintegration of traditional media – with social systems giving rise to incorrect information, the seemingly unstoppable upward thrust of massive tech and independent voices being squashed by commercial possession. The mother or father’s independence method we are able to set our personal agenda and voice our personal evaluations. Our journalism is free from industrial and political bias – in no way inspired by using billionaire owners or shareholders. This makes us exceptional. It manner we will task the effective with out worry and provide a voice to the ones less heard. Your financial support has intended we can preserve investigating, disentangling and interrogating. It has covered our independence, which has by no means been so crucial. We're so grateful.

[crimenight-a]

ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS ATTRIBUTES ASSOCIATED WITH BATMAN is his seemingly uncaring    &    stoic nature.    it’s also one of the generalizations i openly despise;    the more recent batman media has shaped our understanding of his person in the wrong way.    while i agree that he does seem cold at times,    it’s not for the reason most people immediately think.    so,    in this meta,    i’m going to walk you through bruce’s story    &    explain why he is the way he is.

first,    i want to address the general perception concerning his emotional state.    readers/watchers,    alike,    think bruce’s apathetic nature is related to his trauma.    they’re only half right,    for it did indirectly lead him to change his outward expression of self,    but it’s not the direct reason.    even characters in the DC universe comment on bruce’s apparent lack of distress-like emotions:

❝   your ward    &    my daughter are in mortal danger !    indeed,    batman, they may already be dead !   yet you show no signs of agitation–   nor do you exhibit any curiosity concerning my humble self !    have you no feelings ?   ❞                                                                                                                                    -- batman (1940) #232

ra’s al ghul says this upon meeting bruce for the first time    &    enlisting his help in saving his daughter,    talia al ghul.    we see many variations of this repeat with superman,    wonder woman,    green lantern,    the flash,    &   many more.    so,    it’s not only the general public in our world that thinks batman doesn’t feel anything,    that thought process is also preserved in characters from within DC’s universe.    another type of media that’s to blame are the comedic types.    there’s so many cartoons    &    comics that depict a younger bruce to be very stoic    &    cold,    batman’s voice    &    intimidating nature are ridiculed by many heroes   (  i’m looking at you,    mcu tony/peter   ).   i won’t deny that these moments are very funny    (   especially when DC retaliates like in that batman lego movie where batman screams ‘IRON MAN SUCKS!’   ),   but in actuality,    it still adds to this prevailing idea that he really feels nothing.    i won’t lie   &    say i thought differently before i made this blog,    because i didn’t.    much to my surprise,    however,    it only took me a few issues from detective comics/the original batman run to understand that we’ve been wrong all along.

you may now be asking,    ‘if he’s not truly uncaring,    then why does he act like he is ?’    well,    let me point you to this single issue that i wish i could have every one of these new writers that dc hires read,    it’s detective comics’ (1989) second annual issue    (   if you’re interested,    you can read it here !     although,    a quick warning that this issue deals with the K/KK    &   it’s displayed as such on the cover;    be careful if you decide to read   ).   it follows a young bruce,    only seventeen    (   already quite buff    &   skilled,    might i add   ),   who asks to shadow a famous detective in what i believe is rural new jersey.    harvey harris was hailed to be one of the greatest detectives on the east coast,    there was nothing he couldn’t handle.    at that point,    bruce didn’t really know how he was going to go about waging a war on crime    (   he juggled with options like the FBI,    GCPD,    district attorney,    more legal positions   ),   but he knew detective work was something he’d probably have to do no matter what he chose.    so,    he sent a letter to harris,    asking to shadow him under the name frank dixon,    harris accepted with a warning that the case he had on his hands was incredibly violent    &    horrific.    throughout this issue,    we see many instances where bruce lets his emotions get the better of him    &    it ultimately leads to harris’s demise    (    indirectly,    yes,    but this is a pattern in bruce’s story.    if he did just one thing differently,    he could have saved his parents,    harvey harris,    &    COUNTLESS more people.    the fact haunts him to this day    ).   bruce    &    harris eventually track down the person who has been killing people in that small rural town,    &    he sees that he’s in the process of another murder.    i’m sure you can guess what bruce did,    he screamed    &    lunged for the man in a hot flash of rage,    the man pulls a gun.    bruce knocks him out in one swift punch,    but the gun still goes off    &    it, unfortunately,    hits harris.    in his dying moments,    he tells bruce something that sticks with him still to this day:

❝   i never tried to teach you detection.    you already got the mind for it.    but when you let your emotions take control,    you just go blind.    i don’t know where you’re headed from here,    bruce,    but wherever it is,    remember…    you gotta control that anger.    when you get that into your head– really know it– then ol’ harvey will have done right by you.   ❞                                                                                                             -- detective comics (1989) annual #2

harris had been commenting on bruce’s anger for the entire time they’ve been together,    &    we can really see how bruce struggles with understanding his own emotions through his many warnings:

❝   nice spottin’,    by the way.    now,    if we could just do somethin’ about that temper..   ❞ ❝   son,    it’s rare i see a man who carries such rage so close to the surface.   ❞ ❝   harvey was right.    because i was a hothead..  ❞    (   bruce says this   )

the thing is,    bruce had been incredibly polite to mostly everyone.    the only times he lost his cool is when people didn’t cooperate with him    &    harris on the case,    or if they made fun of him for being a “pretty,    city boy.”    most of the time,    harris had to physically hold bruce back from doing something he’d quickly regret,    such as picking a fight with grown men twice his size    (   i would like to proudly add that bruce beat these guys shitless,    but they trashed his fancy red porsche :/   ).   i know i’m spending a lot of time on this single annual,    but it’s SO important when you realize that bruce really does have anger management issues to the point where he can’t hold back his own outbursts.    let’s compare that younger bruce to the one we know today,    there’s quite a stark difference,    isn’t there ?   the batman we’re familiar with would never jump into anything without thinking about it many times over.    that’s because bruce took what harris said to heart,    &    he worked damn hard to implement his advice:

❝   i had a crazy hate,    too.    but unlike carr,    i refused to let it blind me to reality.    to the truth.    i went over the entire case eleven times,    in each instances extracting more    &    more of my emotional involvement.    &    on the twelfth pass through–a coldly logical pass–i saw what had been bothering me.    &    i knew that it wasn’t over.   ❞                                             note: carr is the murderer that bruce lunged at    &    the one that killed harris.

for us,    removing our emotions    &    thinking about something logically can range from being impossible to incredibly difficult.    imagine,    then,    the mental strength bruce,    a boy who had always been obnoxiously transparent with his feelings,    had to exert in order to go through this case without feeling some immense distracting rage    (   this ties into one of his character’s core ideas:    batman’s will/willpower is insurmountable compared to even other superheroes    ).   he eventually found out that carr was nothing more than a human weapon that someone else had been manipulating,    but the point is:    bruce realized through this issue that he wasn’t good at solving cases because he could never separate his own emotions from the victim’s.    from then on,    he tried his best to be “coldly logical” with every case he comes across,    &    he eventually adopted this state of mind when he was in the batsuit regularly.    being batman requires a ridiculously high amount of awareness    &    general perception.    if he’s constantly angry    &    jumping to rash conclusions,    he’s not going to last long.

however,    this doesn’t mean that bruce doesn’t slip up    &    let his emotions get the best of him even as an adult.    one of the most apparent examples of this is when jason dies.    i think most of us know how terrible that was    &    how bruce blames himself.    in order to keep this meta from getting unnecessarily longer,    all we need to take away from that arc is that bruce quite honestly drowns with guilt because if he had chosen to go after jason instead of go after someone else,    jason would still be alive.    with that anger directed at himself    &    at the world in general,    he recklessly starts to fight anyone he sees while in the batsuit.    even petty criminals would be beaten within an inch of their lives,    he’d make mistakes that he never did before,    &    come home with horrible injuries.    he had no sense of self-preservation,    all he cared about was his anger    &    guilt.    notice how throwing caution to the wind puts bruce in considerably more danger,    thus this supports my point that bruce struggles with his emotions,    but learned to suppress them for the sake of helping    &    saving people.

it actually surprises me when people don’t seem to realize that bruce is empathetic almost to a fault.    he holds onto hope,    &    he always had,    even if it’s foolish to do so.    hope that someone is still alive,    hope that someone still had good in them,    hope in his own abilities.    there was once a case where the entire bat-family understood immediately that a boy had killed his own parents,    but bruce clung to the hope that maybe it wasn’t him,    maybe it was some other greedy politician or hired gun.    bruce knew he was wrong    &    that he was chasing essentially no one,    but the sheer hope that the boy was innocent kept him going in circles.    i wholeheartedly believe that bruce is an empath,    someone who is incredibly sensitive to another’s emotions,    with how quickly he understands how almost everyone feels.    there are times where bruce will show compassion before he shows anything else.    yes,    he aims to scare people with his dramatic antics:

❝   gotham city is hell.    we are all in hell.    &    i am the king of hell !   ❞                                                                                                      -- batman: legends of the dark knight #6

but the purpose of his promise was to make sure nothing like what happened to him ever happens to someone else again.    i’ve said this before,    &    i’ll say it again:    BATMAN IS A GLORIFIED BABYSITTER.    really,    scarecrow said this    &    i stole it from him,    but he wants to care for his city.    that’s why he funds all these free health clinics throughout gotham,    it’s why he opened new soup kitchens    &    funded existing ones.    he revolutionized gotham’s orphanage system,    he forced wayne enterprises to make new jobs,    he single-handedly dropped gotham’s unemployment rate by a substantial amount.    he hands money    &    opportunities to struggling families,    he sits with them    &    helps them through their pain.    he does all of this against his playboy persona,    i remember how most of gotham was confused when he was starting his charity projects since he was immediately said to be ignorant or even uncaring towards gotham’s poverty    &    crime issues.    he started the ‘rebuild gotham’ project(s),    he funded arkham.    he’s in active member of the gotham’s    &    new jersey’s political scene,    influencing massive changes.    his infamous ‘no killing’ rule can be attributed to the fact that bruce doesn’t know what led someone to doing the horrible thing that he’s chasing them for;    HE TRIES TO SEE THE GOOD IN EVERYONE.    i know that comes as a surprise,    mostly because bruce openly despised superman    (    despite clark being one of the kindest people anyone has ever met    )    in that batman v superman movie,    but this blog has never taken any inspiration from those films,    so we’re going to ignore that    &    i ask you to do the same when you’re referencing my portrayal.

bruce would never go to such lengths to bring gotham back from its dark days if it wasn’t for how much he cared for its people.    &    he wouldn’t care at all if he seemingly felt no emotions.    yes,    a part of him doesn’t know how he’d deal with his trauma if he hadn’t passionately pursued something like this,    but that doesn’t take away from the fact that bruce is a fundamentally compassionate man.    the way he takes care of the victims in each case,    personally comforting them    (    hugging, etc.   ),    accommodating them in any way he can.    there’s times where he gets so angry after seeing certain victims,    that he finds it hard to control himself even after decades of training his willpower;    THAT’S how vehement his emotions are.

seeing the good in everyone    &    personally feeling everyone’s pain are both very emotionally taxing traits,    &    he doesn’t suppress these qualities.    he allows himself to feel guilt    &    practice empathy because it keeps him going when all he wants to do is collapse.    bruce has never denied feeling emotions,    he never does it to intimidate his allies,    he just has a harsh way of looking at things because,    again,    he removes his own feelings from the mix.    most other superheroes,    like in the justice league,    sometimes marvel at how bruce almost never gives into his anger during important decisions.    i keep repeating my main points    &    this is all quite the speel,    but it’s INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT that you understand that bruce has never not felt his emotions just as strongly as everyone else,    if not stronger.    to end this off,    let’s see what bruce said in response to ra’s al ghul’s earlier question    (   this is something i find that summarizes what i’ve said in this meta really well    ):

❝   plenty of them !    but it won’t do me any good for me to allow my emotions to gain control…    not while there’s a job ahead !    for years,    i’ve trained myself to concentrate on the thing at hand–    later,    i’ll cry…    if i must !   ❞                                                                                                                                 -- batman (1940) #232

&    because i know how hard tumblr’s tiny font is to read,    here’s a link to this same meta, but on google docs !   read whichever version you want !

[writer59january13]

April 9th, 2022 birthday poem for dearly departed papa

Elysian fields long since embraced dada's soul

which rocketed into aerospace

(courtesy General Electric satellite)

just a tad more'n eighteen plus months ago,

nevertheless melancholy

still plucks mine heart strings.

Mine psyche still situated awry

placid countenance of yours truly doth belie

residual sadness easily prompted

can easily trigger me to cry

linkedin when grim reaper gloated

October 7th, 2020

ye did somewhat peacefully die

though methinks immortality

I did briefly espy,

when miracles of modern medicine

tried, but could not

stave off mortality nor fortify

depredations of aging concerning

one wunderkind whose accomplishments

laudatory when a young handsome guy,

whose intelligence scored high

native talent aptitude tests did imply.

The late Boyce Brandon Harris

exhibited prolific talents at young age

aside being scholastically gifted,

acquiring graduate degree

courtesy Columbia University,

freshly minted mechanical engineer

(he admirably ranked within

uppermost percentile academically),

I hashtag thy mine deceased father

(a polymath - jack-of-all-trades),

who possessed (née excelled)

at diverse creative abilities.

Aside from being schooled

as mechanical engineer,

(which courses in mathematics and science

he passed with flying colors)

his mind genetically bequeathed

to craft almost anything under the sun

evidenced first by yours truly,

the second offspring and sole son

who ofttimes felt intimidated

at being in presence

of said Renaissance man.

Handicrafts included

expending blood, sweat, and tears

to craft multitude of projects;

i. building me Flintstone (foot powered) car with wooden license plate.

ii. making playhouse for all three of us - his progeny. iii. amassing wood pile(s),

to stoke wood burning stoves

iv. designing Zayda trail for Teddy and Ruff (two doggone mixed breed Border Collies

rescued courtesy youngest sister

at her Jacobsburg, Penna work site)

v. constructing sauna in cellar,

vi. etching, detailing (ala fresco),

vii. plus trimming living room ceiling,

viii. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof,

ix. tiling the kitchen floor,

x. building a cistern for brethren,

xi. wood paneling many rooms,

xii. building custom made toy chest,

xiii. stringing up lights to increase visibility

driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark,

xiv. partly assembled a kayak,

xv. retooling - enhancing porch

(formerly slate covered),

where Morris dancers performed

at wedding for eldest sister.

xvi. Helping, née completing homework/school assignments.

Unlike him who did beget me

I experienced cognitive challenges

that beset one painfully shy

and severely introverted male

more to the point

as a lad and mediocre student to boot

promotion to next highest grade

occurred just by the skin of my teeth,

which may help to explain

why I wear dentures,

oh... these choppers worn for about

one sixth of mein kampf livingsocial.

A sense of inadequacy prevailed,

when absolute zero self esteem

strikingly and suddenly manifested

in tandem when parents moved

their young tender family within

Lower Providence School District,

but into a larger house

(initial summer estate constituted

about one hundred acres of woodland -

named Glen Elm

think Winnie the Pooh -

house at Pooh corner -).

Not quite two score plus ten years

spent livingsocial at 324 Level Road

(above mentioned abode alluded),

and twas there majority

mine existential highs and lows,

where nadir of mein kampf transpired,

I emotionally hit rock bottom

upon onset of prepubescence

yet major event triggering

mine major depression

set in motion,

when parents chose February 28th, 1968

to move out of shoddily constructed domicile

located on Lantern Lane.

As shared with Renee Cardone

(the therapist whose virtual sessions

linkedin courtesy Doxy.me portal -

similar to Zoom),

that aforementioned date

marked a turning point

after which time, I floundered

experiencing irrevocable mental health issues

punctuating my psychological equilibrium

with chronic distress,

though I forgive father and mother

who unwittingly made decision to move.

[paulinestudyblr]

Studyblr tag : 11 questions

Thank you so much @zealtostudy for tagging me ! (By the way, sorry for the late reply ^^’)

1. Do you enjoy the study community?

Yes, I really enjoy this community. I’ve only met amazing people, and I really appreciate how supportive it is, we’re all trying to motivate each other to achieve our dreams, isn’t it a cool thing to think about ? ^^

2. What are thoughts on aesthetics especially on Tumblr and studygram?

If I answer this question only considering my experience, then I'm all about it because aesthetic is part of what makes me want to study (I’m quite obsessed with taking pretty notes ahah). But it is also very important to realize that having pretty notes isn’t going to get you good grades (trust me, if I spent more time actually studying and not rewritting my notes, I would probably do much better ^^’)

3. Have you ever feel pressured by your photos and them not being good enough?

Not really, I post because it helps me to be more motivated, and more consistent in my work when I need more determination (that’s why I mostly post during the holidays, otherwise school pressure is enough to make me study). So I post genuine pictures of my studying sessions, without any pressure ^^

4. What is your favorite genres of books?

I’m almost interested in every kinds of books x) But I love essays to reflect, and good fantasy books to be entertained (Isaac Asimov 💙)

5. Have you ever failed an exam/class? What lessons did you learn?

This year I had very bad grades in one subject especially, but in what I’m doing, you can’t fail a class. But last year I definitely learned what failure meant, and that I had limits. It taught me to step back, one grade won’t define you, it’s how you react afterwards, how you change your study habits and take your difficulties into account. Failing is for sure not a shame, and you can even make it a strength.

6. What is the book that you read maybe years or months ago and it is still your favorite?

I’ve always been obsessed with “Le Petit Prince” (The Little Prince, in French). My grandmother used to read it to me as a child almost once a month, but each time I read it again, I discover new things.

7. Have you have had problems with your mental health or physical health due to studies? (If you don’t want to answer you can move on to the next question.)

I won’t go deep in details but I had mental health issues and school isn’t always helping for sure ahah

8. What do you think are some myths prevailing in the study community?

I feel like the biggest myth is the idealization of studyblr members. That we never procrastinate, that we all love what we are doing, that we all take pretty notes, and that we are all succesful.

9. Who is favorite study blogger and why?

I’m the worst but I definitely can’t answer ^^’ If we’re only speaking about my favourite study blogger in terms of the content that they post, I never pay attention to who is creating the post here on tumblr. It feels quite disrespectul actually, I might take a closer look from now on ! 

10. How do you relieve stress? An app? Activity?

Running 💙💙💙 (it’s what enabled me to survive this year ahah). And more recently I discovered journaling, and it’s a life-changing activity to me ! I feel like when my emotions are on paper, I can just move on and not think about it again.

11. Why did you join this community?

I actually tried to find my first post here to remember ahah (I’ve been here for almost 3 years now,  memories are fading away :,) ). But during this long process, I remembered that I started by discovering the art of bullet journaling. It was brand-new for me, and it enabled me to both be creative and productive. So I made a looot of researches in order to have cool inspiration to create my own. And my first post was about my first bujo ^^ (then I stopped using it for more than a year and I discovered to study community a bit more ^^)

I now tag @studywithava, @blueyjoy, @green-bullet and @timetostudy2018 to answer my 11 questions below ! ^^ (if you feel like some questions are making you uncomfortable, feel free to move on to the next one)

Do you enjoy taking time to make pretty notes ?

Is there anything popular in the study community that you dislike?

Do you like studying with music ? (If yes, what kinf of music do you listen to ?)

What is your motivation to study ?

When you’ve studied hard, how do you treat yourself ?

Do you prefer reading books or watching shows ?

What is your planning system ? (If you have one ;) )

Have you ever experienced failure ? 

Is there anyone you admire ?

What is the best gift someone can offer you ?

Why did you join this community ? (I’m taking the same question, but I feel like this is a quite interesting one ^^)

Of course if I didn’t tag you and that you still want to answer, I’d be happy to read about you, just tag me ! :)

[heroesclimbfind]

Your ranking & my ranking of the best rock climbers won’t match. Here’s why.

TLDR: Rock climbing operates like every other sport: Sponsorship is about a lot more than performance; and gender bias prevails. Please stop acting surprised.

Non-rock climbers won’t stop talking to me about Alex Honnold. Not necessarily about his free solo ascents of big walls, but just about his segment, more generally, on 60 Minutes.

“So how do you measure success in rock climbing? Is it speed—how fast somebody gets up a wall?” they ask.

For America, fittingly, TV finally made rock climbing a recognizable sport. If it weren’t for Alex Honnold in 2015, rock climbing would continue to be discussed exclusively by rock climbers.

Relative to other competition sports, rock climbing remains obscure. In fact, I still meet many people who don’t realize it will be part of the 2020 Olympics. And, non-climbers certainly do not understand how it will be scored (to be fair, neither do climbers, but that’s another issue).

Still, any sport—well known or otherwise—participates in a massive multi-billion-dollar industry. In 2010, the New York City Marathon increased the city’s economy by $340 million. The Chicago Cubs generate an alleged $600 million each year for the state of Illinois. The sports industry produced almost 500,000 jobs in America in 2013, from coaches, to referees, to agents (Bleacher Report). This estimate does not, for example, include the stadium vendors, ticket sales specialists, or related third-party jobs (Economic Modeling Specialists Int’l).

Basically, sports are a mega moneymaker.

Rock climbing gyms, youth teams, and training camps are cropping up everywhere. Whether you like it or not, rock climbing is becoming a more popular sport.

Why is this important? Well, if you pay attention to the goings-on of the climbing community, there is a subtle but salient debate occurring. It’s about who contributes the most to our community.

Is it the first ascentionist? Is the person who bolts the lines? Is it the most well-rounded, best-performing, highest-ranked athlete? Is it the World Cup winner?

When you pay attention to the climbing community’s debate, it’s clear how young and immature this sport—and its stakeholders—truly are. I don’t mean this as an insult. Rather, I’m saying it as a reminder, a gut check.

Rock climbers have the acute advantage of learning from other competitive sports: how to handle sponsorship, how to handle diversity, how to protect the environment, how to reward good citizens…

Let’s start with sponsorship.

In 2011, Adidas purchased family favorite Five Ten for $25 million in cash (Gear Junkie). In 2014, Columbia Sportswear bought Prana Living for $190 million  (Dealbook, New York Times). In 2016, Petzl reported 700 employees and consolidated revenue of €154 million. There are myriad climbing gear and clothing companies from Sterling Ropes to Mammut to Evolv to Metolius to Mad Rock to The North Face.

Sponsored athletes from each of these multimillion-dollar companies are hired to showcase new gear and model clothing. Athletes inspire young people to participate in the same sport and endorse the quality of a particular product. When sponsored athletes mess up, they’re dropped. It’s pretty simple.

Ryan Lochte, 12-time Olympic medalist in swimming, lost his endorsement from Speedo after he lied about a non-sports related incident in Rio. Doping cost pro-cyclist Lance Armstrong sponsorship from Nike, Oakley, and 24-Hour Fitness, as well as earned him a lifetime ban from competing in any sporting event governed by the U.S. anti-doping agency. Golfer Tiger Woods lost sponsorship from Accenture, AT&T, Buick, Gatorade, and Tag Heuer after his extra-marital affairs became public. The list goes on.

Because rock climbing is growing in popularity, companies have the luxury of choice. There are so many talented climbers today; it’s nearly impossible to say one person is holding the torch for us all (except maybe Adam Ondra). So, sponsorship is a fickle thing.

Bad behavior begets repercussions. Even minor incidents can cost you major endorsements.

Now let’s talk about gender.

There is a huge disparity in funding and sponsorship opportunities between male and female rock climbers. Just 29 percent of sponsored rock climbers are women. Ergo, there are 2.5 men with climbing sponsorships for each sponsored woman (Alan Kimbrough Moore’s Blog).

When such a huge disparity in funding and sponsorship exists between genders, this means that women have fewer opportunities to obtain coaching, gain competition experience, travel for climbing, or, generally, spend time on training. In turn, this will affect performance. The cycle continues as women trail in performance, and cease to gain sponsorship. Experienced female climbers lack the same financial rewards as their male counterparts, and they stop climbing earlier. And so on.

“The self-perpetuating cycle of women’s sport being given less attention than men’s, and seen as less ‘deserving’, continues,” writes Tamsin Kelly in, “Are Men And Woman Treated Equally In Sport? Sadly, not yet,” for the Huffington Post.

Outside climbing, only 7 percent of sports media coverage is devoted to women’s sports and just 0.4 percent of commercial investment goes to women-only sports, according to The Women’s Sports and Fitness Foundation.

Nevertheless, over 60 percent of sports fans polled said they would like to see more women’s sport on TV (WSFF).

As you can see, it’s not an issue of demand. It’s an issue of the economics of opportunity.

Lack of sponsorship may also affect, for example, the amount of time female climbers spend developing new areas or establishing first ascents. Instead, pressured to “prove themselves” in a male-oriented industry, female climbers seek to repeat hard sport routes, boulders, or big wall climbs.

And “prove themselves,” they do. In 1990, Lynn Hill was the first woman to redpoint 5.14, Masse Critique in Cimaï, France. This was after the first ascentionist, a Mr. Tribout, claimed no woman would ever be able to climb it (Wikipedia).

Although there were a lot of there “firsts” in-between, in 2012, Sasha DiGiulian became the first American woman to climb 9a (5.14d), making her the best female sport climber in America by difficulty. She was also the first North American Woman to onsight 8b+ (5.14a) (not to mention, she would go on to be 3-time US National Champion).

Meanwhile, during those same years, Joe Kinder was working on high-quality first ascents, including Bone Tomahaw, 9a (5.14d), Weekend At Bernie's 8c (5.14b), Southern Smoke 8c+ (5.14c), and Maquina Muerte 8c+ or 9a (5.14d) (The Project Magazine). This made him at least one of the strongest American developers, if not the best developer, of new hard lines.

Who is the better climber? Better community member? Better role model? Who deserves sponsorship the most?

Personally, I believe sports have four major areas of contribution to society, and I will order them by what will likely be the least to the most controversial for rock climbers:

Health – Sports promote active, healthy lifestyles.

Community – Sports provide a sense of community to rally around causes, such as the environment, a sense of identity, and diversity.

Economy – Sports provide jobs and contribute to local economies, often through entertainment.

Celebrity – Sports celebrities increase cause-related marketing and become role models for future generations.

I bet you can see where I’m going with this logic.

There are many ways sports contribute to society, and many ways an athlete can contribute to the sport.

Frankly, I’m pretty frustrated with current dialogue surrounding climbers’ contributions.

When you limit contributions to a singular measure (or grade), it becomes quite exclusive, alienating. 

The narrative also tends to be biased by a white, male-centric history.

What if we lived in a world where the most talented climber was that person who could hang from the smallest hold? In this world, women—generally perceived to be stronger than men at crimping small holds—would be on top. How would you feel about this measure of performance, of being “the best”? How would this change the dynamics of sponsorship or gender diversity?

When you think back on Alex Honnold and his 60 Minutes of global attention, it would be quite plausible for him to have said, “In climbing, the smaller the hold, the harder the climb.” My family would have believed that. My non-climbing friends would have bought it.

Grades are just one measure of difficulty. So is climbing without a rope, so is trying new beta or movement, so is putting up a first ascent or being ”first” to any degree.

It seems clear to me that rock climbing is just like other sports. Yes, I know. You want to it be different because rock climbing—to any rock climber—seems like a lifestyle more than mere entertainment or an extracurricular activity.

However, sponsored rock climbers are simply professional athletes. They advertise for brands in order to sell more products and boost local economies. They become role models for future generations of the sport, and these generations look for diversity of gender, race, identity, geography, disability, and age.

Future generations say, “I admire this athlete because she’s from my hometown… she has a particular skill… she looks like me… she’s my same age… she has passion… she shares my values...”

Famous athletes have the privilege to promote causes, from environmental protection to the eradication of childhood poverty. Rock climbing, like swimming, golf, and basketball, provides athletes with a platform to promote equality and human rights.

NFL players who kneel during the national anthem use their limelight and notoriety to advance the cause of Black Lives Matter. The U.S. Gymnastics team leverages their popularity and podium to advance the #MeToo movement. Alex Honnold operates the Honnold Foundation to provide solar energy for a more equitable world.

If a rock climber uses her prominence in the community to speak out against bullying, we should champion that cause, not criticize it. When climbing companies behave like sponsors of any other sport, we should accept that rock climbing is maturing as a business, keeping in mind that we, as consumers, still have power. Eventually, when lessons are learned and the time (and rehabilitation) is right, we should forgive inhumanly strong athletes for their humanity (yup, looking at you, Michael Phelps).

I like to imagine Joe Kinder’s enthusiasm, his genuine zest for the sport when he said, “I am really pleased with my generation of climbers. We are at a really vital point where climbing is growing like crazy, it’s getting more respect as a real sport, and it can only get bigger and better,” (Climbing Magazine).

Rock climbing will only get bigger. That’s true. But, better is up to us.

[sapphicscholar]

hi so I didn't know who to ask but in my psych class we're learning about adolescent psychology, & there was this unit on developing interest in relationships. It went way into detail on how the brain changes during that time, which was interesting, but ofc my gay ass couldn't relate. at the end all it said was 'it's different for homosexuals.' I guess I'm wondering if you know of any way to learn about psychology relating to LGBT people? srsly im thirsty for anything in academia I can relate to

(same psych anon) that was a pretty specific question so I guess like do you have any info or know of any links/ websites/places to learn about lgbt history and lives and stuff like that in an academic way? bc I love school & learning but I’ve always wanted to learn more about myself and people like me, but they never teach that in schools.

Oh my gosh SO MANY THINGS! Okay, so, the psych stuff is pretty outside of my knowledge but I asked my gf (she does the science in this relationship while my gay ass just reads a whole lot of books), and she recommends Helen Fisher and looking at the researchers at the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality or the Kinsey Institute, as well as The Sage Encyclopedia of LGBTQ Studies (it’s an online resource a lot of universities subscribe to). But I’d also say that as far as thinking about developmental narratives, LGBTQ memoirs are a great place to start, especially since so many of them go through their own experiences of having to confront this heteronormative, cis-centric narrative that just doesn’t fit them and their lives. 

So some good queer history authors are: John D’Emilio (comprehensive, if a bit male-centric), Lillian Faderman (writing all about lesbian history, including more recent history; very well-respected; she’s got some issues in her scholarship that by no means discount it as a whole, but I’m happy to talk more about if you want), Michael Bronski (his Queer History of the United States is really accessible), George Chauncey (it’s just of NYC, but still fun), Estelle B. Freedman, Foucault (though it’s not quite “history,” it’s a kind of history meets theory of regimes of power and how sexuality got tied up in that), Martha Vicinus (I adore her), Valerie Traub (goes all the way back to the early modern period), and so many others who really focus more on niche history, so I won’t list them here. There are some web resources, but I know a lot of them are databases that are subscription-based. I’ll see what I can’t dig up in the next couple of days as far as free websites. I know they exist; it’s just a matter of having the time to look…

Okay, you didn’t specifically say you were interested in literature but bc I taught literature and think it’s a great way to learn about the history of a group, I’m gonna list some anyway and you can feel free to disregard!

Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt (or Carol, depends on the year it was printed) – you can also check out the movie! I find the two to be complementary (the book gives you Therese’s POV almost exclusively, whereas the movie shows much more of Carol’s story) 

Alison Bechdel, Fun Home is her graphic novel/memoir that’s really excellent, but the comic strip that sort of launched her as a public persona (at least within the lesbian community) was Dykes to Watch Out For, quite a bit of which is available for free online

Henry James, The Bostonians – one of the first recognizable depictions of a queer female character in literature (not really…I’d trouble that as a professor, but that’s how it gets taught in general, and it was one of the first books where even contemporary reviewers were quick to note that there was something “wrong” or “morbid,” which was 19th C. code for what would come to be understood as lesbian sexuality, about Olive Chancellor) – free online, though it’s James at his most….Jamesian, which means it’s not that accessible

The poetry of Emily Dickinson! It’s all free online. There’s a ton of it, though much of it isn’t obviously queer

James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room – gets into bisexual identity in a way a lot of works don’t do; on the sadder side…fair warning 

Virginia Woolf! Especially Orlando or Mrs. Dalloway – the former has been called “the longest and most charming love-letter in literature” (to Woolf’s longtime friend and lover, Vita Sackville-West) and deals with the fluidity of gender and time; the latter has quite a few flashbacks to the brief childhood romance of the protagonist and her friend. Both of them are great, but Woolf, as a modernist, can have a writing style that’s difficult to get into at first (for instance, time really isn’t stable or linear, which is something I adore about her, but definitely takes some getting used to). They’re both available free online through Project Gutenberg

Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness – it’s a classic, in the sense that it’s one of those books people sort of expect you to have read if you do lesbian literature. It’s certainly an interesting story and told well, but it’s not even close to a happy ending and is rather conciliatory to prevailing norms (though even still it was taken to the courts under the  obscenity laws) - free online, though!

Sarah Waters – a contemporary novelist who writes almost all historical fiction about queer women! Some of her stories are better known (e.g. Tipping the Velvet), but they’re pretty much all great. Varying degrees of angst, but definitely an accessible read

Maggie Nelson, The Argonauts – sort of experimental in form (it’s fiction with footnotes!); it deals with a lesbian woman coming to terms with her partner’s transition and her own identity during the process 

E.M. Forster, Maurice – even though it was first drafted in the 1910s, Forster edited it throughout his life, and, given the subject matter, which was also autobiographical, and the prevailing attitudes at the time, the book was only published posthumously in the 70s

Colette’s Claudine series – it’s long (multi-volume) but sort of a classic – they’re all old enough to be free online, though the English translation is harder to come by 

Eileen Myles – lesbian poet and novelist – I’d recommend Inferno but some of her poetry is free online 

Rita Mae Brown – Rubyfruit Jungle and Oranges Are not the Only Fruit are both quite good, though, especially the latter deals with religiously-motivated homophobia, so I know at least my girlfriend, who dealt with a lot of that from her family, opted not to read it for her own mental health. 

Tony Kushner, Angels in America – this two-part play deals with the AIDS crisis in America – it’s been turned into a TV miniseries, a Broadway play, and a movie, some of which are available online

Really anything by David Sedaris or Augusten Burroughs – both are gay authors who deal a lot with short stories (a ton of memoir/autobiographical stuff) – the former is a bit funnier, but they both have enough sarcasm and dry wit even in dark situations to make them fast reads 

Alan Ginsburg’s poetry 

Walt Whitman’s poetry (though it can be really fucking racist) 

Binyavanga Wainaina, One Day I Will Write About This Place – does deal with issues of sexual abuse as a warning 

Anything by Amber Hollibaugh (she writes a lot about class and butch/femme dynamics – quite a bit of her stuff has been scanned and uploaded online) 

Michelle Tea – was a slam poet; recovering alcoholic; fantastically funny and talented author and delightful human being if you ever get the chance to meet her or go to one of her readings

Randy Shilts, And the Band Played On – more a work of investigative journalism than anything, the work is a stunning indictment of the indifference of the US government during some of the worst years of the AIDS crisis, but it also provides a good bit of gay history 

Terry Galloway Mean Little Deaf Queer – deals with one woman’s experience of losing her hearing and navigating the world and the Deaf and deaf communities as a once-hearing person – she’s sort of acerbic and always funny;

Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex – grapples with intersex identity in a way that’s still far too rare in literature 

Theodore Winthrop, Cecil Dreem – just rediscovered about two years ago, this is one of the few pretty happy gay novels from the nineteenth century! Free online!

Leslie Feinberg, Stone Butch Blues – pretty clear from the title, but deals with a butch character’s struggles with gender identity (takes T to pass for a while, but then gets alienated from the lesbian community; eventually stops taking T, but still struggles with what that means for her) – Feinberg’s wife made it free online for everyone after Feinberg’s death (the book had a limited print run, which made finding copies both hard and expensive) 

Harvey Fierstein, Torch Song Trilogy – trilogy later adapted for film about an effeminate gay man (who also performs as a drag queen) and his life and family   

Oscar Wilde – his novels aren’t explicitly gay, but they often dance around it thematically, at least; his heartbreaking letter, De Profundis, which he wrote to his lover while imprisoned for “gross indecency,” is available online 

Anything by Dorothy Alison 

Audre Lorde, Zami: A New Spelling of My Name - great as a memoir and a cultural history  

There’s so many more but this is so my jam I suspect I’ve already rambled too long

If you’re interested in film, here are a few: 

Paris Is Burning (a film about drag ball culture in NYC) 

Fire – Deepa Mehta (it’s on YouTube in the US) 

Boys Don’t Cry – there is a lot of homophobia and transphobia in the film, so it’s definitely one you’ll want to be in the right mindset to watch (I, for one, have only watched it once) 

But I’m a Cheerleader – over-the-top mockumentary-esque film that satirizes conversion therapy and the Christian “documentaries” that claimed to showcase their successes (RuPaul is in it as well) 

Desert Hearts – one of the earliest films to leave open the possibility of a happy ending for the lesbian couple 

Hedwig and the Angry Itch – deals with gender identity and feelings of not belonging (also a fabulous musical) 

Philadelphia – about one man’s experience of discrimination while dying of AIDS 

There are plenty of lighter films, but I figure these tend to also talk more seriously about some issues as well

I don’t know if anyone but me made it to the end of this post, but there’s also so much fun queer theory out there that I won’t get into here, but I’m always up for giving more recommendations!