#number three just like i’m not gonna trust anyone who has to explicitly tell me to trust them

[ihavebeesinmybrain]

and while i’m on the topic, it’s insane how much time the reunion spent belaboring how hard it has been for sam since the show has been airing and like. respectfully. this is not a case of a bad edit. this is just natural consequences. this is cause and effect. if you behave like a piece of shit, people are going to treat you like a piece of shit. if you go on a fucking netflix show and behave like a piece of shit on an international stage, soooooooo many people are going to know what a piece of shit you are and all of those people will respond to you accordingly. like, are people right to be cyber bullying him? maybe not. but did he invite this? absolutely. don’t try to get me to feel bad for the man. i’m not going to feel bad for him.

[tobesolonely]

aura (II)

A/n: hi everyone! thank you for reading aura and enjoying it enough to ask for a part 2! i hope this lives up to what you guys want! Thanks so much <3 p.s. i am so sorry but I lost track of who asked to be on the taglist :-( So if u would like, please send me an ask and i will definitely add you next time i post about them!

summary: witch!y/n can see auras and harry is no longer blue. he’s pink!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry always found Y/N to be a bit strange since his first encounter with her, but he never thought she was the type who could kill house plants with just the flick of her finger.

“What just happened?” Harry loudly questions, moving as far away from her as he could get. “How did you do that? What’s going on?” His aura is red and muddy gray. Anxiety, nervousness, and fear.

“How did I do what?” Y/N asks. She wasn’t willing to give herself up so easily.

“You killed my Pothos! I saw you,” Harry points at her accusingly. “Saw ya flick your finger and then it died. Do y’know how hard it is for that thing to die? I forget to water it all the time and it was still doin’ great!”

“Really? It didn’t look too great when I got here -”

“That’s not true,” Harry interrupts her. “You’re tryin’ to make me feel crazy! I know what I saw.”

It’s silent. Neither Y/N nor Harry says anything for what has to be at least half a minute. Y/N doesn’t know if she should tell the truth or try to convince Harry he didn’t see what he thought he saw, and Harry is too frightened to move. Finally, Y/N breaks the silence.

“Harry, it was your bad energy that killed your plant. I was just redirecting it because I didn’t wanna be stuck with it again.” Y/N nervously tugs on the hem of her shirt.

“What do you mean?” Harry inquires, moving slightly closer to her once more. He was still frightened, but quite curious about how Y/N would explain the situation at hand.

Y/N didn’t know what to say. If there was one thing she knew, it was that her… capabilities were not really supposed to be shared with anyone. Of course, they weren’t! It was a hard concept to understand. It was assumed that people who didn’t have this ability would ostracize those who did— potentially even hurt them.

She knew in her heart that Harry wasn’t the type to ever harm her, but her mother always told her she could never be too careful. Y/N lived by those words, always replaying them in her head whenever she wanted to open up to anyone about all that she could do. Harry looks at Y/N expectantly, waiting for her to speak. She seems far away, lost in some thought that Harry didn’t want to break her from.

“Ever since I was little, I’ve always been a really empathetic person,” she starts. “It seemed like I always knew the right things to say to help someone feel better, and I could always cheer them up. My saying this isn’t to brag at all, it was just how it was.” Harry smiles at this but doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.

“I realized something was different about me when my friend came to school one day really sad because her fish had died that morning,” Y/N inhales softly. “Of course I felt for her, you know? Like I said, I was a very empathetic person. When I went in to give her a hug though, I felt so weird immediately after! She was fine, though. It was like she didn’t even care anymore.”

“She just wasn’t sad about it anymore?”

“She missed her fish still, of course. She was just able to reflect on how happy having a pet fish made her and all the good times she had with him. I felt terrible, though. I literally had taken on her pain just from hugging her.”

As Harry takes in what she’s saying, it all starts to make sense to him.

The second time he met her, she was so adamant about knowing what was wrong with him. Harry thought he only felt better because he had talked to her about it instead of holding it in as he usually did (and that could’ve been part of the reason!), but she had also touched him.

It had happened so quickly, Harry didn’t even think anything of it. And why would he? It was nothing more than a gentle touch, gone as quickly as it was there. Now that he knew what he did, it all made sense.

“Can I ask you something, Y/N?”

“You can ask me anything, Harry.”

“How do you always know when I’m not feelin’ well? Jus’ by looking at me?”

“Well,” Y/N starts, a bit hesitant. “I can see it. Your aura.”

“My aura?”

“Your spiritual energy— it has colors.”

“What color am I right now?”

“Red and gray. You’re scared and nervous.” Y/N responds quickly. She’s right.

“How can you see it?”

“I’m not sure. I started becoming able to see auras once I learned I was able to take away people’s emotional pain…” Y/N trails off. “I know it’s odd.”

“Can you… show me?”

“You want me to show you? Show you what?”

“The thing you jus’ did.”

“It only works when you have bad energy.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at Y/N in confusion. “Thought you said I was scared and nervous?”

“Well,” Y/N hesitates. “Now you’re… uh, pink.”

“Pink?”

“You’re feeling love.”

Harry feels his cheeks flush as he quickly looks away, hating in that moment that Y/N could literally see what he was feeling. If that was really the case, how much longer would he be able to fight with himself about how he felt about her if even she knew his true feelings?  

He’s saved by the sound of his doorbell ringing, figuring it was his assistant dropping off lunch for him and Y/N. “Be right back.” He says quietly, getting up from the couch, still avoiding eye contact with Y/N.

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to be confused.

She was beginning to notice that Harry turned pink around her quite often— literally. Not only would his skin flush at her presence, but his aura would change too. Y/N decided to tell herself there was no way it could mean anything. Of course it meant nothing! She just met this man. His feelings (or lack of) for her meant nothing. Y/N was just glad Harry couldn’t read her aura in the same way she could read his.

If he could, he would see she was always pink, too.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N.

She was magical. Literally.

After she had left that evening, Harry spent more time than he would like to admit researching auras and empathy. He learned there was a range of colors one's auras could be at any given time, and it was always subject to change. Harry figured that if he could see Y/N’s aura, it would always be shining gold.

Y/N didn’t explicitly tell Harry not to tell anyone about this, but he knew it was something he should keep to himself. He wanted her to trust him and know she was safe around him. Telling anyone what he assumed to be her biggest secret would do nothing but push her away from him— and that was the last thing Harry wanted.

He needed to hear her sweet voice again.

Harry didn’t want Y/N to think he was obsessed with her, but the cat was already out the bag. She could literally see that he had feelings for her. The way Harry saw things, this meant he could lean into his small crush on Y/N now rather than try and deny it. He just hoped she wouldn’t find him bothersome.

When she picks up his call after the third ring, Harry swears his heart just about beats out of his chest.

”Hi Harry. How are you?”

It takes him a moment to compose himself. “H- hi Y/N. Doin’ better, thanks for askin’... I was thinking of you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Harry hums. “S’why I called. What are you up to today?”

“Nothing, really. Just at work.”

Oh. Work.

Y/N was so celestial, heavenly that Harry had forgotten she at her core a regular person who still had to work to pay their bills, just like everyone else. Just like him.

“I don’t mean to bother you while you’re busy. I’ll let you go.” Harry offers this as a courtesy, but he’s hoping Y/N will say he’s not a bother at all and she’s happy to talk to him.

“I think that would work out a bit better. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. Bye, Harry!”

Harry is met with three short beeps that signify the call has ended.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.

He called her first! It made her heart flutter to know he was thinking of her. She’s glad he doesn’t know she was thinking about him as well.

It was nice to hear from him. Truth be told, Y/N was always worried about Harry. She worried that he wasn’t sleeping enough, eating enough, or telling people ‘yes’ when he should really be saying ‘no’. She worried he was unhappy. All she wanted was for him to be happy. Although Y/N couldn’t physically see him over the phone, she knew he was doing well today.

Y/N couldn’t say she wasn’t surprised to see Harry’s number flash across her phone. She thought that surely after telling him what she did he would want nothing to do with her. She was glad that he didn’t scare away easily, and that just made her feel even more warmth inside of her body. Y/N looked around the workroom filled with her other co-workers and she hoped there was no one else like her in the building lest they see how pink she was. She was absolutely smitten!

“Y/N, are you with us? What do you think?”

Y/N is broken out of her thoughts by her boss with the call of her name. In her Harry-haze she had completely zoned out, forgetting she was in the middle of an important work meeting.

“I’m very sorry. My mind was somewhere else for a moment,” she turns to face her boss, eyes wonder-filled.  “Would you mind repeating the question?” Y/N sees her boss briefly turn from red to pink and back to yellow before he repeats himself, clearing his throat.

Y/N smirks to herself. Men were too easy.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“What’s got you so smiley?”

Harry jumps slightly, redirecting his attention to his manager. “Whatdya mean?”

“Been smiling and strumming your guitar for ten minutes straight,” Jeff narrows his eyes at Harry. “Are you thinking of that girl again?”

“Y/N,” Harry corrects him immediately. “What are you gonna do if I am?”

“Tell you to snap out of it, man. She’s got you this distracted already and she doesn’t even know you have a crush on her?”

Harry wants to tell him that she does even though he’s not explicitly stated it, but then that would lead to a conversation that wasn’t his to have. So he changes the subject—slightly.

“What do think about me inviting Y/N to the studio? You’ll finally be able to put a face to the name,” Harry adds once he sees the look his manager gives him every time he’s about to tell him no. “I trust her. I jus’ want her opinion on a few things. I know she won’t leak anything.”

“I’m not sure if that’s your greatest idea…” Jeff trails off giving Harry one of his infamous looks of doubt.

“I wouldn’t even be suggesting this if I didn’t trust her with everything in me. ‘Ve never suggested this any other time, have I?”

Jeff gives Harry a pointed look, although he can’t argue with that.

“Fine, invite her. She’s signing papers though…”

Jeff’s voice is nothing more than background noise as he dials Y/N’s number, which he embarrassingly already knows by heart.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When Harry comes out of the large, wooden double-doors to meet Y/N, he’s glowing. He’s a flash of dazzling gold and pink, his aura not being able to just land on one. Y/N is flattered that he still turns pink when he sees her, and relieved to see him so happy. So relaxed.

“So glad you could make it,” Harry tells Y/N, pulling her in for a tight hug. “My manager had a fit when I told him you were comin’, he’s jus’ very protective of me and my music. Don’t take it personally.”

“I understand,” Y/N tells him honestly. “I don’t blame your manager for not being too keen on me crashing in on one of your sessions. I could leave my phone in the car if that would make you both feel better?”

Y/N made things so easy. She was perfect in Harry’s eyes.

“I trust you completely. It might make my manager feel a bit better though…” Harry trails off, feeling sheepish. Y/N nods and unlocks her car without saying anything, retrieving her phone from her purse and hiding it away in her glove compartment.

“There. Just me and my ears now.” She lets out the sweetest giggle Harry’s ever heard, and he swears he could melt.

“Follow me, then.”

Harry makes his way back inside the studio but feels weird with Y/N trailing so closely behind him, not speaking or physically touching him. He stops and turns to face her, reluctantly reaching his hand out for her to grab. She looks at him for a moment, analyzing his energy before shakily intertwining her finger with his. Harry glows pink—so much so that he was nearly shining red. Y/N was having a difficult time differentiating between the glow of his aura and the glow of his cheeks.

He continues walking down the hall, now feeling like he was on top of the world because he had the most beautiful girl in the universe’s hand in his. Harry was ready to get to work. She was his new biggest inspiration.

Y/N’s having the greatest time watching Harry’s colors. He’s so happy and full of love! The fact that Harry was in such good spirits possibly because of Y/N made her feel like she was floating on a cloud.

Harry feels Y/N’s hesitation to enter the room that now holds not only Jeff but Mitch as well. She pulls back slightly on his hand, hiding timidly behind his broad shoulders. “What’s wrong?” He asks quietly, turning to face her.

“I don’t think they’re happy to see me…” Y/N trails off.

“How do you know?” Harry asks habitually before he realizes who he’s talking to. He knows how she knows. He internally cringes at his question.

“They’re both red,” she shifts from foot to foot. “I can leave. I don’t want to cause any problems—”

“No!” Harry says a bit too loudly. Jeff and Mitch turn to look in their direction, finally aware of their presence. Harry blushes, speaking a bit more quietly. “Sorry. Jus’... don’t leave. I promise they’re not mad that you’re here. They’re just a bit nervous because you’re new and they’ve never met you before. I’ll tell ‘em you left your phone in the car though and it’ll all be good. Yeah?”

Y/N nods, not completely certain Harry could get these men to warm up to her just because he said so. He tilts her chin up so she’s looking in his eyes, and he gives her a warm smile.

“Hey… what color am I?”

Y/N swallows thickly before answering. “You’re yellow… and pink.”

“See? ‘M not red. It’s all good, darling. Believe me when I say that.”

Y/N’s heart beats faster at the pet name and she just hopes Harry can’t hear it. She gives him a forced smile before grabbing his hand again and following him inside of the small room.

“Jeff, Mitch,” Harry starts, swinging Y/N’s hand in his. “This is Y/N.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Jeff says. Harry shoots him a look, silently pleading him to not say anything that’ll embarrass him. Luckily for Harry, Jeff catches onto this and keeps his introduction simple. “I’m Jeff, Harry’s manager.”

“Hi,” Y/N responds. Harry’s heart-strings feel like they’re being tugged at when he hears how quiet Y/N has become. “I left my phone in the car.” Jeff shoots Harry a surprised looked to which Harry gives a small nod in confirmation. Jeff hums, satisfied.

“We’re glad you could join us. I’m not sure if you have any experience in music, but it’ll be nice to get a fresh opinion on some things.”

Mitch gives Y/N a small nod and a smile, and Harry feels her grip on his hand tighten. “Don’t worry. Mitch is just shy.” Harry quietly reassures her. She loosens her grip on his hand slightly, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Where should I sit?”

“Y’can sit on that couch over there. Can I get you anything to drink? Have you ate, I can order food if you haven’t?”

Harry and Y/N are in their own world, only focused on each other. This doesn’t go unnoticed to Jeff or Mitch, and they share knowing looks behind the pair’s backs.

“What do you guys want to eat? Y/N hasn’t eaten yet,” Harry says, already searching for his text thread with his assistant. “Sushi? Mexican?”

“Whatever Y/N wants,” Mitch says, strumming a few random chords on his guitar. “Anything’s fine with me.”

Harry’s satisfied with this answer, just wanting to give all his attention back to Y/N. “Whatdya want to eat, love?”

“Do you all like veggie pizza?”

“Eh–”

Harry shoots Jeff a look that tells him not to disagree with her, so Jeff looks down and acts preoccupied with his phone. “That sounds really good, Y/N. I’ll order that.”

Harry actually hated veggie pizza. He hoped Y/N couldn’t tell.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

”I just miss your accent and your friends…”

Harry was blue and Y/N hated it.

She knew he was pulling from old memories for his songs, but she hated when he was upset. Y/N was in a trance, though. Harry’s voice was beautiful. His songs pulled her in like magic. They were captivating, and so, so beautiful.

Y/N was enjoying being in the recording studio. She never had any experience like it, and it was interesting to see all the hard work that went into making just one song.

”Don’t you call him “baby”, we’re not talking lately,” Harry sings into his microphone sadly, licking his lips during the pause. “Don’t you call him what you used to call me…”

Y/N just wanted to go into the recording booth and hug Harry, take his pain away. She knew now wasn’t the time nor place for that, though. She’d check on him later.

“That’s good,” Jeff says, giving Harry a thumbs up. Harry gives him one back and takes his clunky earphones off, setting them beside his feet.

“How was that?” Harry asks Y/N as soon as he’s out of the recording booth. The musician in him knew it wasn’t bad, but he still wanted her praise.

“Very beautiful! Are you okay?” She gives Harry one of those knowing looks he’s growing to love. He shrugs, leaning down to speak quietly to her.

“Singin’ about someone who used to be very special to me,” he says, glancing down at his Vans-clad feet. “I’m okay, though. Don’t worry about me.”

Y/N wanted to tell Harry she always worried about him. She wanted to scream it in his face so he understood how much she cared for his well-being. She does neither of the two. “Okay, Harry. I’m just checking.”

Harry loved that she was “just checking”. He wanted to tell Y/N that he never wanted her to stop caring for him, as he would never stop caring for her. He does neither of the two. “Thank you for checking, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to them, they were both falling deeper for each other.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Y/N, are we gonna watch our movie tonight, or are you busy?” Y/N’s roommate, Amalia, peaks her head into her bedroom. Y/N was busy hanging upside down on her bed. Texting Harry.

“What? Oh, is it Friday? Let me just take off my makeup... “ Y/N locks her phone and slowly sits up, taking care not to smush her sleeping kitty who was currently snoring beside her.

“Who were you texting? You’ve been on your phone a lot more than usual lately,” Amalia notes, coming completely into Y/N’s room. “A boy?”

Y/N feels her body heat up at her roommate’s observation. “Maybe…”

“Y/N! You’ve gotta tell me! Who is he, is he cute?” Her roommate makes herself comfortable on Y/N’s bed, folding her legs beneath her. Sapphire startles slightly but quickly falls back asleep, curling her tail closer to her.

“You might know him,” Y/N begins. She and Harry never had a conversation about telling others about their association with others. She trusted her roommate, but she wasn’t sure if he would appreciate it. She decides she’ll just call him. “I’ll actually just call him. Hopefully, he’s not busy.”

Amalia finds it odd that Y/N would rather call this man than just tell her about him, but she says nothing, of course. She was used to her roommate’s behavior. She was different, and that’s why she loved her so much!

“Can you FaceTime him? I wanna see what he looks like,” Amalia claps her hands together out of excitement, feeling anticipation bubble in her stomach. She was hoping her roommate finally found someone for her so they could join her and her boyfriend on double dates and couples game nights.

“FaceTime him?” Y/N had never done that before. She and Harry always just spoke on the phone, and lately, they had gotten into texting. She hoped he wouldn’t mind. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Y/N pulls up the app on her phone and types in Harry’s contact name (which was ‘Harry’ with three pink hearts, which she would never tell him!) and bites her lip as she waits for him to answer. As an afterthought, she reaches for her earphones and connects them to her phone just in case her roommate recognizes his voice. After all, everyone on the planet knew who Harry was except for Y/N. He answers almost immediately, a dimpled smile on his face and a beautiful pink light surrounding him.

“Was jus’ thinking of you. Are we in sync? I swear I was about to call you,” Harry tells her, not being able to stop his toothy grin. “Is everything okay?”

“Well,” Y/N feels nervous. His gaze is still as intense and attentive, even though a phone screen. “I’m just hanging out with my roommate and she noticed I’ve been smiling at my phone a lot—”

“A very observant roommate.”

“Yeah, and she wanted to know if I was texting a boy. I didn’t know if it was okay to say anything but she’s beside me so do you want to say hi? It’s okay if you don’t want to, and I’m sorry if you’re busy right now…”

Harry’s gaze visibly softens. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“You know why.”

Harry hums. “I’d love to meet your roommate. Go ahead and give her the phone.”

Y/N examines Harry for a moment, trying to determine if he’s telling the truth. His aura is slightly tinged red but it’s mainly yellow, making him glow the color of a sunset. He was probably a bit anxious, but he was happy. That was most important to Y/N. Amalia is sitting at the end of Y/N’s bed quietly, scratching Sapphire’s head while she waits. She watches as Y/N unplugs her earphones from her phone and wordlessly hands it to her.

Amalia’s mouth drops.

“Hi, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

Amalia’s entire body feels tingly.

“H- hi. Uh, I’m Amalia. Y/N’s roommate,” she looks up at Y/N, eyes wide. “It’s… wow. I’m sorry, I kinda don’t know what to say right now. I’m such a big fan of yours!”

Y/N hears Harry’s beautiful laugh and she smiles. It was his shy laugh. He was flattered. Maybe a bit flustered.

“That’s very, very nice of you. Thank you for the support.”

“Are you and Y/N dating? I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!” Amalia gives Y/N an accusatory scowl and she feels her body heat up at her roommate’s words.

“Not at the moment, but I’m working on it,” Harry tells her. Y/N doesn’t need to see him to know he’s pink. “I think she was jus’ tryin’ to protect my privacy. Which I appreciate, of course. But a friend of Y/N is a friend of mine! She has good judgment.”

Y/N can’t believe Harry’s “working on it”. He cares for her much more than she had initially thought, and Y/N just hopes he knows how much she cares for him as well. Even if she doesn’t say it.

“I’m gonna give the phone back to Y/N before I say something to embarrass myself, but it was really nice to meet you!” Amalia shakily hands the phone back to Y/N as Harry is telling her it was nice to meet her too.

Y/N is happy to see his face again. He immediately turns pink once he sees her again, a light blush tinging his cheeks. “She’s very nice. We should all go out to brunch one afternoon, how’s that sound?” Y/N nods, glancing at her roommate who currently looked like she was on the verge of fainting, bright pink just as Harry was. She was infatuated.

“Amalia’s amazing,” Y/N replies. “I was just calling to say hi, but I’m glad to see you’re doing good. I’ll talk to you later?” A deep indigo color slowly surrounds Harry at the prospect of Y/N ending the call, making Y/N frown. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Friday’s are our movie nights…”

“Oh!” Harry turns yellow again. “I didn’t mean to keep you from that. I’d like that, though. Lunch tomorrow?”

“And the studio?” Y/N asks, used to their routine. Harry shakes his head.

“Was thinking we do something else. Get out of there for the afternoon? ‘M sure you get bored jus’ watchin’ me sing all day. The last thing I want is for you to be bored.”

Y/N nearly laughed out loud. She was never bored when she was with Harry. She could simply sit and watch the grass grow with him, and she’d still be thoroughly entertained.

“I don’t want you to fall behind because of me.”

“S’my album. I can take a day off, darling. Hey–– can ya look at me?” Y/N knows Harry is asking her to examine what color he is. She nods after a moment.

“Okay, Harry. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” she takes a thoughtful pause as she usually does. “Have a good night.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes. You too, Y/N.” The call disconnects. Y/N feels her heart about to beat out of her chest. Counting down the minutes.

She was counting down the minutes, too.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry was nervous to see Y/N. He hadn’t been alone with her since the day at his house when she came over to keep him company while he was sick. Their relationship was progressing quicker than anticipated, but neither of the two had any complaints.

Per Harry’s request (or, after a ton of his begging) Y/N agreed to let Harry pick her up instead of driving separately and meeting up like they usually do. He was excited to finally know where Y/N lived. When he thought of any space Y/N cultivated, he imagined it to be a bit cluttered. Lots of paintings on the walls. Perhaps some personal photographs of friends and family.

When Harry approaches Y/N’s apartment complex, he isn’t surprised to see that she lives in one of the oldest-looking buildings he’s ever seen. He was sure that when he asked her about it later, she would tell him that old buildings had the most character or something along those lines. Harry parks in record time, albeit like a bit of an asshole, and grabs the bouquet of flowers he picked up on his way to her before hurrying out of his car. His sunglasses immediately go on and his beanie gets pulled low over his forehead in the off chance there was someone who could recognize him anywhere nearby.

“Four, eight, two, five,” Harry mutters Y/N’s gate code under his breath as he approaches it. “Four, eight, two, five…” He’s delighted when it works. Against Y/N’s wishes, he didn’t write it down when she told him, adamant about having the best memory in the world. He was glad he didn’t forget it and have to call her and ask for it again.

Harry has no difficulty at all finding her apartment. Just as she said, there were several potted plants surrounding the door and a plaque that read, ‘Welcome to our home!’. He smiled to himself. It was just so Y/N. He firmly knocks and takes a step back, tightly gripping the bouquet in his hands. The door flies open moments later and Harry is met with Y/N’s beautiful face. His nerves immediately dissipate.

“Hi, Harry–– oh! Those are beautiful!” She opens the door a bit wider. “Please, come in!”

Harry’s happy. She seems happy. Of course, he couldn’t know for sure in the way that he could, but Harry was quickly learning her mannerisms.

“Hi, darlin’. S’nice to see you,” he leans down to place a delicate kiss on her cheek. “You’re lookin’ as beautiful as ever.”

“I haven’t even gotten changed yet,” she replies dismissively, shutting the door. “I completely lost track of time. I was helping Amalia get ready for a date that she’s going on and it made me forget all about ours.”

Harry could die a happy man right now. Y/N just referred to their spending time together as a date!

“No apologizing,” Harry says sternly, handing the flowers to Y/N. “‘M not upset about it, am I? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Y/N looks down shyly at the shabby rug beneath her feet. “Do you wanna help me pick out an outfit? I’m not too sure about what I should wear… I really think it would help if you actually told me where we were going.”

“Nice try,” Harry chuckles, following her through the apartment. It looked just as he pictured it would. “Already told you it’s a surprise.”

“I thought I would try again.”

Y/N’s room was incredible. There were plants everywhere even more than the ones surrounding her front door. Some were even hanging from the ceiling! Her walls were a pale yellow color. She had glow-in-the-dark stars and planets stuck to her ceiling, a ginormous rug that covered probably half of her wooden floor, and paintings taped haphazardly to the wall. It looked like she made them herself, too. They were lovely.

“Your room is amazing,” Harry tells her, flopping onto her bed while she digs around in her closet. Even though he had never been there before, he immediately feels comfortable. At home. “Where’s Sapphire?”

“Oh, she’s around here somewhere,” Y/N’s voice sounds a bit muffled from being in her closet. “She might be hiding. She doesn’t like men.”

“Did you tell her that I’m nice?”

Y/N turns to look at him, two shirts in her hand. “I can’t force her to like you, Harry. What do you think about these shirts?”

“I think you would look good in all of them,” Harry feels his heart rate pick up under her gaze. “You may get cold if you wear something sleeveless, though.”

Y/N says nothing in response, just stares at him. To anyone else, her staring may be weird, but Harry knew what she was doing. He stares back at her just as intensely, raising an eyebrow. Finally, she nods, turning her attention back to her closet.

“Should I wear something with long sleeves?”

Harry hums in response to her question. “I think that would be a good idea.”

Y/N turns to face him again, tugging at her oversized sleep shirt. “Do you think you can take down some shirts on the shelf for me? I don’t feel like going to get a chair all the way from the kitchen…”

“Of course I can,” Harry immediately gets up from his lying position on Y/N’s bed. “Which ones?”

“The ones in that corner,” Y/N replies, standing beside Harry. He never noticed how much shorter she was than him until she was asking him to reach things off the top-shelf for her. Harry loved it.

He reaches up with ease, grabbing a stack of neatly folded long-sleeves. In the process of pulling them down, a box comes falling off the shelf, hitting the floor with a loud clang! and the sound of broken glass. “Shit,” Harry mutters, bending down to reach for the box. “Sorry about tha’, pet–”

“Don’t touch that!” Y/N exclaims, pushing past Harry to grab the box before he does. Harry backs up, putting his hands up in the air like he was a criminal who’d just been caught.

“I didn’t touch it, I promise,” Harry quickly reassures her. “Why can’t I touch it? What is that?”

“Remember how I was telling you about bad energy?” Her voice drops to a whisper. Harry nods. “This is where I store everyone's bad energy whenever I get stuck with it. They’re in little viles, you know what I mean? Those little tubes?”

“Yeah.”

“I think the tubes broke when it fell… I can never open this box again because then the bad energy will get out and go back to their owner's body.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, trying to take in what Y/N just told him. It wasn’t the oddest thing he’s heard since he met her. “Is any of my bad energy in there?”

“Yes. Remember when we were at the Greek food place?”

Harry smiles at the memory. “How could I forget? I think that was the day that I knew I had to get to know ya. I was properly obsessed with the idea of runnin’ into you again for days.” Y/N looks away as she usually does when he gets her flustered but this time Harry moves closer to her, snaking his arms around her waist.

“Thank you for always makin’ sure ‘m happy, love,” Harry’s lips are dangerously close to hers, so close that she can smell the scent of mint on his breath. “You don’t even have to touch me to make me happy. Jus’ bein’ near you is enough.” Y/N lets out a shaky breath, not trusting her voice enough to do anything other than nod. Both of their hearts are about to beat out of their chests.

“I’d do anything to make you happy, Harry,” Y/N finally says, staring directly into his eyes. “You deserve all the happiness this life has to offer you.”

“Likewise,” Harry says, feeling intoxicated from standing so close to her. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Y/N gives Harry the biggest smile before standing on her tiptoes, smushing her lips against Harry’s. His eyes shut as he melts into the kiss, having to remind himself to stop smiling so he can properly kiss her back. Her lips are soft, and she tastes just as sweet as she actually is. His entire body tingles and his chest burns due to lack of oxygen, but he was determined not to break the kiss first. His stomach twisted from all the butterflies he had, but it was a feeling no one had made him feel in a long, long time.

Y/N’s the first one to break the kiss. She giggles as she rests her head against Harry’s chest, gasping slightly for air. “You’re a very good kisser.”

“You too.” Harry’s breathless. He doesn’t want to pull away from her so he settles on intaking short bursts of air.

“I’m gonna get changed before I decide to stand here and just kiss you all day,” Y/N tells him, finally breaking their contact. “Can you wait in the living room?”

“I wouldn’t hate that,” Harry says as he places a quick peck on her lips. “‘M gonna go put your flowers in something so they don’t die. Y’think Sapphire will come out of hiding and let me pet her since her mommy finally let me kiss her?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I thought we were getting lunch?”

Y/N had been sat in Harry’s passenger seat for slightly over an hour now, his hand hardly leaving hers the entire time. He was yellow for the most part (except when Y/N would speak he turned pink). Song after song played lowly over the stereo, but it was mainly just background noise–– neither one of them was really listening to it.

“We are.”

“Why are we driving so far?” 

“I wanna take you to a really nice spot. Is that okay?”

“Are we almost there?” She stares intensely at Harry and she knows he can feel her eyes on him. He flashes red for a moment causing Y/N to cock her head in confusion. “Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t want you to think our date is boring.”

“Why would I think it’s boring?”

“Have you ever been to Balboa Park? San Diego?” Harry tears his eyes from the road briefly to look at her and he’s relieved to see a look of excitement in her eyes.

“I’ve never been but from the pictures I’ve seen it looks sooo beautiful! Are we going there?” Her grip on his hand tightens slightly.

“Mhm,” Y/N sees Harry visibly relax. “Figure we could grab a bite after? Or before, depending on how hungry you are.”

“We should eat before! Are we allowed to eat in the park? We should have a picnic–– can we do that?” Y/N is talking a mile a minute, too excited to slow down. She turns in the passenger seat to face Harry fully, hand still in his. “We’re going to the gardens, right?” 

“We’re doin’ whatever you want, love. I have some things planned that I think you would like but nothing’s set in stone.”

Y/N loves the fact that Harry took it upon himself to plan out their day. She decides she would go along with whatever he had planned, seeing as he’s been there before and she hasn’t.

They arrive at the park approximately thirty minutes later and Y/N quickly unbuckles her seatbelt and lets herself out of the car before Harry can open the door for her himself. He laughs to himself at her excitement.

“Where are we going first?” Y/N reaches for Harry’s hand seemingly out of habit, not thinking twice before doing so. If she wasn’t busy looking around in awe, she’d see Harry looking down at their interlocked fingers with a big smile on his face.

“How ‘bout we get you something to eat first then go find a spot to have a lil’ picnic? The last time I was here I remember seein’ people eating under this ginormous tree–”

“Okay!” Y/N agrees cheerily, dragging Harry through the parking lot. She was leading the way even though she had no clue where she was going. “Wait, where are we going?”

“How about I lead the way?” Harry is a mixture of green and yellow. He was happy and enjoying the prospect of a nature-filled day.

“Harry, what’s your favorite part about nature?”

“What’s tha’?”

“I see that you like nature, so I just wanted to know what you liked the most about it,” Y/N replies, swinging their hands. 

“It’s calming. I think ‘ve written some of my best songs surrounded by trees and water and things like that. What do you like the most about nature?”

“It’s beautiful. Plants help us and we help them.”

Harry smiles in response to her answer but says nothing, walking her the rest of the way through the parking lot and to the entrance of the park. Once inside they set out on finding something to quickly fill their stomachs with, not wanting to waste too much time eating.

“How do sandwiches sound?” Harry asks, nodding his head in the direction of a sandwich shop. “Quick and easy, isn’t it?”

“Can we still eat them under the fig tree?”

“Whatever you’d like, darling. S’your world, ‘m just livin’ in it.” 

Even though he lets out a chuckle after saying that, Y/N knew he was being completely serious.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry could listen to Y/N talk all day. He never wanted to stop hearing her sweet voice. Y/N’s attention was fixated on the beautiful, blooming gardens–– but Harry was only fixated on her.

She pointed out nearly everything they saw, impressing Harry with her knowledge on plant names and pointless information on how to care for them. She asked Harry to stand in front of all her favorite plants so she could take a picture of him to “commemorate the day” and Harry was more than willing to do so. Anything to keep a smile on her face. Y/N had grown tired of carrying her purse over her shoulder about an hour back and Harry even offered to wear it for her so she wouldn’t have a sore shoulder the next morning.

They decided to call it quits once the sun started setting, walking hand in hand quietly back to Harry’s car. He opens the door for her and checks to make sure she’s all the way in before slamming it shut and walking around to his side. He immediately reaches for her hand again, loving the way it felt in his way too much to not hold it at all times.

“Did you have a good time today?” Harry asks, looking at Y/N’s face in the dim light. She nods sheepishly, looking down at the hands.

“I had an amazing time. I can’t believe you drove all the way out here just for me,” she traces her fingers over one of Harry’s rings. “Thank you for today.”

“How many times have I gotta tell ya I’d do anything for you?” Harry questions, leaning over the center console to be closer to her. “Loved seein’ that beautiful smile on your face today. Made me happy.”

“You’re just saying that…”

“Oh, come off it,” Harry jokes, kissing her cheek before leaning back over to start his car. “Know you saw how happy I was the whole day. S’all because of you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Y/N lean over as he previously was so her face is close to his. She gently places the hand that was holding Harry’s on his face and turns his head so he’s fully facing her, licking her lips before she connects them with his. Harry melts into the kiss as he did earlier, feeling as if time stopped when their lips were pressed together. It was the most gentle, loving kiss Harry ever shared with another person.

He could get used to this.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

please let me know what you thought!

[inkykeiji]

Hi lil Pixie!!!💕💕💕 I hope you’re doing well, I wanted to know your thoughts on something..

I work as a hostess in a restaurant, and there is this older guy customer that comes in pretty often. He’s kind of sketchy and the waitresses don’t seem to like him and I can see why, he told me he’s been watching me for a while and he always asks me personal questions. The other night he tried to get my phone number and followed me around the restaurant telling me he would pay me more money (for unspecified work) if I leave the restaurant and worked for him and some other old man that wants to meet me. He said he’s rich and is “trying to give me my big break”.. My manager wasn’t really able to help me out since he’s a customer.. but I was curious if something like this has happened to you? I am sorry for the long ask

hi anon bb!!! <33 i’m gonna tw this just in case & answer under a read more!

**ALSO if ANYONE ELSE has dealt with issues such as these i am begging you to come forward and share your experience and tips with us, please!! <33

tw: harassment, creepy men

so i want to preface this with saying that this particular situation has never happened to me before, thus i am quite ignorant on the subject and all of the advice i’ve given you in this answer are just things that i personally would do to ensure my safety. but take it all with a grain of salt, and please check out the links i’ve included at the end, as well!! <3

first of all, sweetpea, i am so sorry that’s happening to you. that is EXTREMELY creepy and unsettling, and i literally have anxiety FOR YOU just thinking about it. i’ve never worked in a restaurant so thankfully i’ve never experienced an encounter like that. i’ve had men follow me all the way home begging me for my number, which was already pretty scary, and one of them attempted to get into my building (thankfully our security guard was there to stop him!), and i’ve had men follow me in their cars while i’m out on a run, so (on some level) i understand that creepiness for sure!!!

however, these experiences are much different from yours, because this guy is literally coming into your place of work, meaning you’re kind of trapped there for the duration of your shift, and because he isn’t “technically” doing anything wrong (as in, apparently anything that your manager could kick/ban him from the restaurant for) there isn’t much anyone can do. which sucks royally, because what he’s doing IS wrong; it’s almost like a type of micro-harassment—going into someone’s workplace and making them visibly uncomfortable + asking inappropriate questions IS WRONG. that’s not a normal thing to do. FOLLOWING SOMEONE AROUND at their job is quite literally harassment, full stop. in my opinion, it’s total bullshit that your manager couldn’t do much, because in my opinion that should absolutely be grounds to kick someone from the establishment.

and i have to be honest, i’m very surprised that your manager can’t do anything on the basis that this man has been harassing and bothering MULTIPLE workers. anon babie i would take this to HR if you can. i’ve literally never worked in a restaurant so i have no idea how this works, but YOU DESERVE TO FEEL SAFE AND COMFORTABLE AT WORK, and if you don’t, then it is your workplace’s job to help fix that. telling your manager was a good first step; it’s important for them to know! i’m assuming you’ve done this already, but if you haven’t, i’d let your other coworkers know as well (whichever ones you trust and especially those who are experiencing the same thing). make everyone aware of this, because it is serious. everyone needs to know who he is, so if he comes in asking or calling for personal information (such as your next shift) everyone knows not to give it out. i’ve heard of cases of people like this calling the place of employment and acting as a family member—make it known to everyone you work with that your family/friends would never do this, and that you’re not comfortable with anyone giving out that information.

be aware of your surroundings, always. i’m sure you always already are, but please sweetpea be extra careful. carry some sort of defense with you, if you can/if you feel comfortable with it. always let someone trusted know when your shift starts and ends, and if you plan on coming straight home after that or not. if he stays until the end of your shift, have someone walk with you to your car (even then like, we really don’t want this dude knowing which car is yours/what car you drive) or to the bus stop, or begin carpooling with coworkers. if you can, have someone else pick you up from your shift. it’s absolutely disgusting that we have to put these measures in place, but unfortunately this is the reality of the world we live in. in the few experiences where i have had a man follow me, i’ve made some very stupid mistakes (such as going straight home instead of to a public place) because i literally go stupid from fear. it’s so difficult, but try to keep a clear head if you find yourself in one of these situations, and i think all of the suggestions above may act as preventative measures as well. downloading one of those panic apps for your phone that sends like a text or something to trusted contacts in your phone may be a good idea as well!!!

on top of that, if you get stuck speaking to him, be very careful with what you say. we don’t realize just how much information we can accidentally reveal about ourselves through conversation, so be conscious and aware of what you’re saying and try not to give him any important or personal information.

but i want to make this very clear: if this man continues to ask for your number, or continues to ask you to ‘work for him’ after you have explicitly told him you are not interested, THAT IS HARASSMENT. that is absolutely grounds for banishment. if your manager won’t do anything, take this a level higher, to whoever is above your manager. this is NOT okay, and we can’t just let it slide.

ah this is such a tricky situation, but it’s also very scary and i want you to be as safe as you can. i’m so sorry i can’t give better advice; again, if ANYONE else has any advice on how to deal with this, or has experienced a similar situation, i am begging you to jump in and share your tips and knowledge with us.

anon bb i have attached a few links that may be helpful!!!

https://www.inc.com/lolly-daskal/10-tips-for-dealing-with-workplace-harassment.html

https://www.hg.org/legal-articles/how-to-handle-sexual-harassment-from-a-customer-57809

these last three are a little more general and kind of more for employers, but i wanted to include them just in case, because i feel like there’s some helpful information in there as well!! aaah truly i’m so sorry i’m so unknowledgable on this, i hope this all helps at least a little <333 please stay safe out there my sweet friend!!

https://www.employmentlawyernewyork.com/news/latest/employer-liability-for-harassment-by-customers.html

https://hrdailyadvisor.blr.com/2016/03/04/what-hr-must-do-when-customers-harass-employees/

https://resources.workable.com/third-party-harassment-policy

[dogbearinggifts]

“Dad Sent Me to the Moon” vs. “Because Dad Made Me”

How Luther and Vanya Talk About Trauma, Part Nine

This is Part Nine of my series comparing and contrasting how Luther and Vanya talk about their own respective traumas, and respond to the traumas of others. This part will conclude my examination of the series itself, and my analysis of each episode’s events. I have one more installment planned, where I discuss my overall findings for each character—both how they are portrayed in canon and how they are portrayed in fandom, as well as some general insights on each that I’ve picked up along the way—so stick around for that. 

If this is the first time you’re seeing this series on your dash, you can find previous installments here: 

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six  Part Seven  Part Eight 

and then I swear I’ll finally go through and add links at the bottom of the page on each essay I’m sorry I’ve just been lazy, y’all are awesome for sticking with this

Episode Nine: Changes Part Two (aka Apocalypse…Now?) 

This is not the first mention of trauma in this episode; merely the first mention in this half of it. Nevertheless, it comes when Allison joins Luther, Diego and Klaus in the basement, where Vanya is being held. 

Luther: Allison, what are you doing down here? You should be in bed. Allison: LET HER GO Luther: I can’t do that. She hurt you. Allison: MY FAULT Luther: I’m sorry, but she’s staying put. Just until we know what we’re dealing with. She stays put. Now, come on. Come on. You need to rest.

It’s easy to read this scene as Luther adopting a patronizing attitude toward Allison (“Oh ho ho, I know what’s best for you, silly girl”) or adopting a vindictive one toward Vanya. However, I think both of those interpretations fail to account for the most important piece of the puzzle here: Until very recently, Luther blamed himself for all the awful things Reginald did to him. 

Think back to his reaction upon learning he was sent to the Moon for no reason: “I wasn’t a good enough Number One? I couldn’t cut it?” Luther had just discovered evidence that something awful had been done to him, and he immediately assumed it was a result of something he did. While it’s never explicitly stated that he blamed himself for Reginald mutating him, I would say that based on how Luther reacted to the reveal on his Moon mission, it’s very likely he did blame himself. If only he’d been more careful. If only he’d paid more attention in training. If only he’d done some minor thing that allegedly would have turned the tide in his favor and prevented his near-death. 

And now here’s Allison, who narrowly survived having her throat cut, robbed of her powers and reduced to writing short messages on a notepad—and she’s looking at the woman responsible for her state and saying MY FAULT. 

To Luther, this probably bears a striking resemblance to the self-blame that was his constant companion for years. 

I think that’s why he doesn’t listen to Allison. Not because he thinks he knows what’s best for her. Not because he wants to hurt Vanya further. He’s telling her that Vanya stays put because he believes that Vanya was responsible for her condition. And honestly? He’s right. Allison has received a lot of undeserved ire for her attempted Rumoring of Vanya, but as I pointed out in my previous installment of this series, Allison had no other defense. Vanya was out of control, and Allison had absolutely no idea if catering to Vanya’s demand would allow her to leave that cabin alive or if it would simply prolong her death. What happened to Allison was not her fault. Responsibility for Allison’s state lies with Vanya and Vanya alone. 

Luther wasn’t at that cabin. He didn’t see what happened. But even without firsthand knowledge of what left Allison powerless, he’s still able to recognize self-blame when he sees it. His response to that recognition is poor and leads the family closer to tragedy, but it is rooted in empathy—not spite. 

*********

Our next trauma mention comes from Vanya, who is….technically talking to herself, although it makes sense in context. Regardless of how difficult it is to quantify something like this, I feel as if what Vanya says here is disregarded in favor of the context in which she says it—that is, fandom tends to woobify Vanya for having a psychotic break and ignore the rather unsympathetic motivations she reveals. 

Young Vanya: They’re still afraid of us. Even after all these years. Afraid of our power. Vanya: You’re not real. Young Vanya: We killed Leonard. Vanya: Because he lied to us. Young Vanya: Not about everything. Vanya: What are you talking about? Young Vanya: You know. You’ve always known. Our brothers and sister, they’re just like Dad. Driven to keep us down. A muted voice, isolated from the group, never in the limelight, never the center of attention. It will never end. Not until we act. Vanya: But they’re our family. Young Vanya: They fear you now. They’re gonna keep you in here forever. Vanya: No. Young Vanya: Do you remember what that was like? Staring at these grey walls, hour after hour, day after day while they played together? Do you want to live like this for the rest of our lives?

Much is made in fandom of the fact Vanya is trapped in this anechoic chamber, but very little is made of what she says while trapped in there. While I’d like to give fandom the benefit of the doubt, I’m inclined to believe that the dialogue in this scene is excluded less by oversight and more by design, because this dialogue surgically dismantles the popular image of Vanya as an innocent victim who is neither dangerous nor at fault for what happened in the cabin. 

First, note what she says to her childhood self about Leonard’s murder: “Because he lied to us.” No hesitation. No remorse. No attempt to justify what she did with claims of self-defense. Leonard lied to her, and so she feels she had a right to kill him. 

So many people in fandom have pointed out Luther’s childish moral code. Sometimes this is done to make him appear less sympathetic; sometimes it is done to point out how his proximity to Reginald stunted him, but it’s done quite often. However, Vanya’s moral code is equally childish—if not more so—and I have yet to see anyone point that out. 

Luther’s moral code: If it hurts people, it is an enemy. If it helps people, it is a friend. This is why he locked Vanya up: She hurt Allison, so she is an enemy and not to be trusted. It’s also why he defended Reginald all those years: Reginald saved his life and gave him and his siblings a roof over their heads and three square meals and material possessions and an opportunity to develop their powers, so he was a friend. This completely discounts Vanya’s remorse and the abuse Luther and his siblings suffered, and the harm this code does is clear. 

Vanya’s moral code: If it makes me feel special, it is good. If it makes me feel ordinary, it is bad. Good things should be held close and defended at all costs; bad things hurt me, so I can hurt them back. Leonard made her feel special for most of the series, so she defended him despite all evidence pointing to the fact he was actually a creepy stalker. Allison made her feel ordinary simply by virtue of having access to and knowledge of her powers while Vanya lacked this, and so Vanya felt justified in punishing her with verbal put-downs and abuse and—eventually—open threats and shows of force. 

One thing I’d like to call attention to, before we go any further, is that Luther’s moral code, while childish and leaving no room for reform or wolves in sheep’s clothing, is fundamentally focused on others. He believes it is his duty to protect others from danger, and from those who wish to do harm—no matter the cost to the person he believes is causing harm. Vanya’s moral code, on the other hand, is fundamentally focused on herself. She judges good and evil, right and wrong based on what people do to her and how they make her feel. Luther’s moral code leaves room for selflessness, or a form of it anyway; Vanya’s moral code is fundamentally selfish and cannot be focused outward. 

Another thing I’d like to call attention to is that in this moment, Vanya has nothing to hide and no reason to conceal her motives. She is alone, and hallucinating her childhood self. If ever there were a time to be honest, this would be it. This is when we get to see her motivations, when we get to learn how she feels about her siblings. And we do.

“You know. You’ve always known. Our brothers and sister, they’re just like Dad. Driven to keep us down. A muted voice, isolated from the group, never in the limelight, never the center of attention. It will never end. Not until we act.” 

So often she is portrayed as a lost and broken little girl who only ever wanted love. Her rampage is made out to be the final snapping of a girl who learned she would never gain the affection she craved, but that assumption is torn to pieces by the words of the very character who is so misconstrued. Vanya is not motivated by a longing for love. She never was. She is motivated by a longing for attention. 

Think about it: Leonard never made any overt displays of love, like flowers or candy, but he did shower her with attention. He listened to her more than he talked, put her center stage, wanted to know everything about her and celebrated her triumphs. When Vanya walks in on the emergency meeting and assumes she was excluded, love was never part of the equation. Attention was what they failed to give her. When she bought the typewriter with which she would write her autobiography, it was the comic book featuring her siblings in the pawnshop window that caused her to snap. The world was still fawning over her siblings; she decided it was time the world listened to her for a change. When she goes on her rampage in the next episode, she doesn’t try to find her siblings and scream at them for never loving her; instead she dons a suit and goes to play her concert. Her rampage, like everything else she does, is not a brokenhearted reaction to a lack of love. It is a blatant attempt to make the world pay attention to her and what she can do. 

I don’t think this is indicative of a character flaw in Vanya, or even her fault. Reginald Hargreeves was not an affectionate man, and his favor toward his children was measured in how much attention he lavished upon them. Luther, as the favorite, received the most; Vanya, being excluded from family life, received the least. It is natural that Vanya would crave attention more than she craves love, or even conflate the two. But it is important to accurately name her motivation. Misconstruing it as heartbroken retaliation for a lack of love fails to adequately explain her actions. 

Another thing worth noting: Vanya doesn’t argue with her childhood self’s assessment of the situation. When her childhood self says “They fear you now. They’re gonna keep you in here forever,” Vanya doesn’t bring up the lack of fear on Allison’s face or the fact she wrote LET HER GO on her notepad for all to see. You can argue that, without the ability to hear what was said, Vanya could have mistaken Klaus’ horror for fear and Diego’s anger toward Luther as anger toward her, but it is impossible for her to misinterpret what Allison wrote. Yet she doesn’t mention it, not even for her childhood self to refute it. 

Nor does she bring up the reason why she’s locked in that chamber: the near-murder of her own sister. She flew into a screaming rage because of her own selective memory, cut her own sister’s throat and spent much of the previous episode assuming Allison was dead at her hand—and that doesn’t even enter her thought process. Yes, she now knows Allison is alive, but she also knows that Allison’s powers are gone because of her. She nearly murdered Allison because Allison took her powers away; yet now she knows she has taken Allison’s powers away, and if she feels any guilt over that, we don’t see it. She only thinks about her siblings in the context of how their actions will impact her. 

Finally, her childhood self reveals a lot about how Vanya sees her siblings’ abuse: “Do you remember what that was like? Staring at these grey walls, hour after hour, day after day while they played together?” Her book (shown in a few blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scenes, and in slightly more detail in the comics) mentions that her siblings were experimented on. She knows they went through training. Yet here, they were just playing. Nothing more than that. Playing without her, having fun in her absence. 

I cannot for the life of me understand how Luther has a reputation in fandom for insisting he had it worse than anyone when Vanya is the only one who calls persistent abuse and experimentation playing. It’s true that she was kept at arm’s length and so this misconception was allowed to grow unabated, but it’s telling that in the ten or so years since she’s left home, she hasn’t reconsidered her adolescent perspective on what her siblings went through. 

********

Episode Ten: The White Violin (aka Apocalypse Vanya) 

This episode is primarily the conclusion of all the story threads introduced thus far, and the only moment I’d like to discuss is the montage where Vanya walks through the Academy hallucinating childhood versions of her siblings rejecting her and treating her as if she doesn’t belong. 

Or, so fandom tells me. 

Here’s what actually happens. 

Vanya opens a door and finds Allison and Luther sitting on the bed about to kiss. Allison hears the noise, turns, and screams at Vanya to get out. 

She opens another door and finds Diego sitting on his bed. He looks up and says, “What do you want?” in a rude, demanding tone. 

Behind another door, she finds Klaus and Ben suiting up for a mission. Ben looks to her and says, “To go on a mission, Vanya, you have to have a power.” 

In the parlor (or a parlor—the Academy is fucking huge) she finds her father and siblings posing for a photo. She watches her teenage self beg Reginald to let her be in the photo; he persistently refuses. Her siblings stand mutely as the photo is taken without her. 

Other users have pointed out that these instances of alleged cruelty are actually normal in families with siblings, and I’m inclined to agree. Vanya interrupted a kiss—possibly a first kiss—and I would say Allison is well within her rights to be angry and upset about it. 

Diego’s reaction is a bit less sympathetic, on the surface, although not uncommon in families with siblings. She intruded on Diego’s privacy, which is annoying in families where parents respect the privacy of their children; but if Reginald believes he has a right to walk in and out of his children’s rooms as he pleases, then Vanya’s intrusion is tantamount to a small betrayal. I speak from experience—I grew up in a household where, when we moved into a house with locks on the bedroom doors, it was made abundantly clear that we were never to use them. My parents rarely knocked, and became belligerent the few times I asked them to. As a result of this, my brother and I treated privacy as sacred. We knocked when the door was closed, we knocked when the door was open, we asked if we could come in. When a much younger sibling of mine would traipse into my room without knocking, I would remain angry about it for much longer than was normal or healthy. Point is, Diego’s annoyance could be normal sibling irritation over a failure to respect his privacy, or it could be something more. Either way, it’s understandable. 

Ben’s reaction is blunt, I’ll say that much, and definitely rude. I could see how Vanya would be hurt by this. However, he’s right. At this point in their childhoods, they both believed she didn’t have a power. If she went on a mission, she’d die very quickly. What Ben says here is less bullying and more brutal honesty—and while the line can definitely blur between the two, I’d say he’s more on the side of honesty than on the side of bullying. 

Reginald is the only one who acts out of malice, refusing to let her be in the family photo. While this is par for the course for him, her siblings say nothing in Vanya’s defense; but I don’t think this is a count against them. Yes, they are all probably powerful enough to take Reginald down almost instantly, but he has conditioned them too well. They obey his authority and fear his retribution. None of them are going to risk his wrath by ruining the family photo. 

I think there are two ways to view this montage. 

These are the worst memories Vanya has of her siblings, the most blatant examples of their bullying, as evidenced by the fact they have stuck with her this long and are painful enough for her to destroy whole rooms as a result of them. 

These are not the worst memories she has of her siblings; rather, they are simply the first to come to mind. Her siblings did far, far worse things to her as a kid, but for some reason, she remembers the mildest ones as she walks through the Academy. 

Personally, I think the first option is more likely. Vanya has spent the entire series ascribing the worst possible motives to her siblings’ actions, even when those actions were either friendly or unintentionally exclusionary; and since she’s already in a heightened emotional state, it seems odd that her mind would move to the mildest memories of their alleged bullying when far worse ones exist. Additionally, the one her mind dredges up about Reginald is pretty awful, so it seems her mind would go for memories of her siblings it considers equal to that of Reginald. 

In other words, I think Vanya is an unreliable narrator when it comes to the suffering her siblings inflicted upon her, and I think this scene is evidence of that. 

I don’t think she is fabricating events out of thin air, and I don’t think she’s twisting details regarding her siblings. When she’s storming out of the Academy, ranting to Leonard about how “nothing is good enough next to their holier-than-thou, weight-of-the-world bullshit,” Vanya doesn’t fabricate snatches of conversation and pass them off as fact. She doesn’t change anything about the details of what happened. She does ascribe motive, and the worst possible motive at that. She does the same thing after Allison’s confession: Rather than presenting an entirely new version of events where Allison tosses off some parting shot (”That’s for taking Dad away from me” or some such) Vanya instead presents her own interpretation of events that directly counters Allison’s recollection of her own motives. 

I believe Vanya is doing a similar thing here. I think the events she is hallucinating actually happened. I do think she walked in on Allison and Luther about to kiss, had Diego rudely rebuff her when she entered without knocking, and heard Ben say she couldn’t go on a mission without a power. But I think her interpretation of them is wildly inaccurate—that is to say, she is assuming that these rejections of her presence were an intentional and willful rejection of her as a person and a member of the family; when in reality, they were actually something far more mundane and, while perhaps not quite benign, not actively malicious. 

I do think her siblings participated, to some extent, in Reginald’s exclusion of her. In an earlier episode, we see Allison confronted with this fact as she witnesses Vanya in the security tapes, always off by herself while she and the others went about their training. Allison is surprised and saddened by this. If she participated in an intentional conspiracy to exclude Vanya, I think she would have made some excuse for it (“Well, she didn’t have a power, so what were we supposed to do? Let her play with us and get herself killed?”). Instead, she is disgusted by the actions she took as a child—actions she evidently didn’t put much thought into at the time. 

I think this is at the root of Vanya’s exclusion: Her siblings did exclude her. They didn’t fight back against Reginald’s cruelty toward her, and they didn’t make a lot of effort to try and include her in their daily activities. However, they didn’t do so out of malice, or even a dislike for Vanya. 

In some branches of Christianity, theologians differentiate between sins of commission and sins of omission. A sin of commission is a conscious choice to do something you know is wrong. You choose to steal. You choose to fudge your taxes. You choose to gossip about a person you don’t like. A sin of omission, on the other hand, is a failure to do what you know is right. You don't go to church. You don’t listen to sound advice. You don’t reach out to someone who desperately needs a friend. I may have some quibbles with Christianity now, but I think this principle is a sound one.** 

From all the evidence we have, it seems Vanya’s siblings excluded her in an act of omission. They knew it was right to include her in more than their late-night donut runs, but they didn’t. Maybe they meant to do it and never did. Maybe they were too afraid of Reginald to reach out. Whatever the case, they should have tried to make her feel like a sibling and not a stranger, and they didn’t. 

Vanya, however, sees this act of omission as an act of commission. Where her siblings know it was tragic oversight that led to a childhood of exclusion, Vanya sees it as intentional. Complicating matters is the fact Reginald’s treatment of her was an act of commission, of willful cruelty and a desire to punish her for something beyond her control. Because her siblings were closer to Reginald than Vanya ever was, and because they too excluded her, I think she came to believe they possessed the same motives as he. This isn’t true, but Vanya has believed it for so long that she now sees every act of omission as an act of commission, and every act of commission as monstrous and unforgivable—even when the person sinning against her is working off of incomplete knowledge and a desire to protect others. 

Running count of trauma mentions (cumulative of all episodes thus far)

Own Trauma: Vanya 11*, Luther 11

Trauma of Others: Vanya 5, Luther 5

*I could count the montage where Vanya wanders through the Academy as a trauma mention, but since she doesn’t technically talk about it to anyone—and in fact, no one sees it but her—it doesn’t quite fit the criteria I used to include Luther’s mutation and exclude Vanya’s book. However, I felt it was crucial to my overall analysis, so I included it in that. 

**I have nothing against it as a religion. If you consider yourself a Christian, great! I think it’s a good faith, and I’m glad it works for you. It just didn’t work for me. 

Read on to Part Ten

[nastybuckybarnes]

Bodyguard  -  Two

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky X Politician!Reader

Summary: As a young and controversial politician, you face some opposition. After a death threat is made and your security is at risk, you agree to get a bodyguard. You don’t expect him to be the most irritating and attractive man on the planet. With a history so deep and twisted you never thought you’d figure it out, a terrible corporation is determined to take you out of the political picture; using any means necessary. The only question is, how far is James willing to go to ensure your safety?

Warnings: Angst, Violence, threats, injuries, kidnapping, drugging, political talk (not a lot), terrorism (Wait for the plot twist tho guys), Smut, Fluff, PTSD, (More to Come)

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: And part two!! Slow for now, but wait ‘till the next chapter. oh looooords

BASED OFF OF THE NETFLIX ORIGINAL: BODYGUARD TAGLIST IS OPEN MASTERLIST Part one

~*~

"Three attacks in nine months. How does that make you feel, Madame Secretary?” You think about the interviewer's question for a moment before answering.

“It saddens me that so many innocent lives have been lost. But it also makes me curious about the reason behind the attacks. Why attack the train station and the bus stop and the coffee shop? What’s the connection? What is the point? These attacks are targeting innocents, why? What lesson is being taught here?” He nods and glances at the screen over your shoulder.

“What do you plan to do about them? Many have said that these are attacks from foreign countries in the Middle East. Should we reintroduce a ban on Middle Eastern people?” You scoff out loud, shaking your head at how stupid he sounds.

“What would that solve? There are speculations built on fear, that the terrorists were not white. However, there is absolutely no proof that the terrorists weren’t Americans. I will not advise a ban on an entire group of people, based on incidents of the past. If we count up all the casualties from terrorist attacks by white Americans, we’re looking at thousands of deaths and hundreds of thousands of injuries. I refuse to allow the fear of a few sways the opinions of many. To make myself explicitly clear, there is no proof of any race being responsible for the terrorist attacks. There is also no ban on any race thus far. We are not banning anyone from our country, so long as our laws are being followed and our rights are being adhered to.”

The interview ends shortly after that and you couldn’t be happier.

“Thank you again for coming in, Madame Secretary.” As the reporter goes to shake your hand, a man bumps into him, causing him to bump into you and spill your coffee all over your blouse.

You gasp, the hot drink burning your skin, and jump away from the man.

“Shit! Jesus Fucking Christ!” You glance at your ruined blouse and pinche the bridge of your nose.

“I’m meeting with a representative of the President in half an hour!” You try to calm down and think of how to fix your shirt.

“Where’s Wanda! Have her bring me a fresh blouse!” You order, glaring at the man behind the interviewer.

“There’s no time,” Sergeant Barnes says from behind you, tugging his tie off and slipping out of his suit jacket. You watch as he sheds his white shirt, eyes fluttering to his left arm.

It’s made completely out of metal.

“My shirt has been altered to fit over my vest. The chest to waist ratio should be compatible.” His eyes flicker over your torso for a moment before returning to your face. “Shirt is fresh this morning, Ma’am.” You offer him a smile and take the warm white shirt from his hand. He pulls his suit jacket back on and buttons it up to cover his white kevlar vest.

“Here, I’ll show you to the restroom.” You follow the interviewer, Sergeant Barnes a step behind you.

The shirt is warm and incredibly comfortable when you put it on. You tuck it into your pants and situate your Jacket to make it look more like a woman’s shirt, then leave the bathroom.

“Can’t even tell,” Barnes says, nodding to your new outfit. You smile a thank you then follow him out of the building and into the car that’s waiting for the two of you.

~

“Madame Secretary,” The PR says, shaking your hand firmly. “Mister Sitwell. Always a pleasure.” He nods and sits down with you, eyeing your bodyguard wearily for a moment.

“It’s a shame President Pierce couldn’t join us,” you say, trying to ease the tension.

“Yes. It is. However, he trusts that we’ll be brief but thorough.” You nod and start talking about what to do.

“The current terrorist threat level in America is at High. We want to get back down to Elevated at the least. I recommend being more thorough at all Airport security checkpoints and all borders. I also think it would be good to have more security throughout the country in general. At bus stations and train stations. Places with high civilian counts. I have a meeting with the Prime minister of Canada and I also will be speaking to the Home Secretary of the UK. After these meetings, I’ll have more information on what our next course of action should be.”

Sitwell nods and glances at his watch. “Keep myself and the President notified on any changes we must take. The safety of American citizens is our number one priority.”

The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur of conversations that you’ve grown tired of.

When the meeting’s finally over, you relax, eyes falling closed as the car drives smoothly towards your house.

~

You’re just stepping out of the shower when an odd feeling washes over you.

“Sergeant Barnes?” You call softly, turning off the lights in the bathroom and walking slowly to the window.

“Ma’am?” He knocks on the door then slowly opens it. His eyes find your towel-clad form but quickly move away when he sees the way you’re looking at the Window.

He presses on his earpiece and glances at you.

“Control, 10-12, stand by. Assistance may be needed at the southeast second-floor window.” He moves along the wall to the window and slowly glances out the blinds.

“Copy that, Barnes. Were on our way. ETA two minutes.”

“Control, 10-61. Man, late thirties in the tree 1-0 feet away from the window. Large camera in hand.”

Your heart beats faster as you realize they might catch the man who's been giving you so much trouble.

“Copy, I’ve got eyes on him. We’re closing in. Find a secure location inside the house for her for the time being.” Sergeant Barnes takes you by the arm and gingerly pulls you out of the bathroom.

“Get dressed quickly.” He turns his back to you and you stare at it for a minute. After deciding he won't turn around, you grab a pair of pyjamas and change quickly.

“Alright. We’ve got a 952 (suspicious vehicle) driving down her street. Licence plate Hotel-2-Delta-6-Romeo-4.” He mouths the words to himself a few times, trying to memorize them and their configuration.

“Barnes?” You ask softly, voice wavering slightly.

“Come with me.” You follow him to the guest bedroom, almost stumbling in the dark. When you finally reach the room, he sits you down on the bed, one gloved hand resting on his gun.

You bring your knees up to your chest and take deep breaths, calming yourself down as your bodyguard listens to whatever’s going on in his ear.

“He’s running! 10-80 (chase in progress). I need- oh shit!” Sam’s voice gets cut off by the sound of gunfire.

You squeak on the bed at the loud noise, pressing your forehead to your knees.

“Control, what the Hell’s happening out there?” He looks over at you then glances out the window, trying to see something. Anything.

“10-32 (man with gun), keep her inside. Suspect has a gun and has opened fire. Move to the basement, Barnes.”

He takes you by the hand and pulls you out of the room and down the stairs, catching you when you miss a step and almost eat shit.

“To the basement,” he whispers, eyes darting around the house. You hurry down another flight of stairs and watch as he scans the area before deeming it safe.

You sit down on the ground and lean your head against the wall, overwhelmed by everything that’s going on.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay.” You nod with his words, knowing you won’t be hurt. This is all mostly a huge inconvenience anyway.

“Control, Suspect is -oof! Contained. We have him.” He exhales deeply and smiles to himself.

“They’ve got him, Ma’am. You’re safe.”

~

A gunshot.

Tires squealing against concrete.

Blood splattered everywhere.

A car flipping and rolling rolling rolling.

A dead man in the front seat.

A child, terrified in the back.

Screams erupt, more shots are fired.

He’s dead already.

There’s blood all over the child’s face. In her hair.

She’s crying. Screaming and terrified.

~

You wake up with a startled gasp, eyes darting around your room. A few moments pass before you remember that you’re safe.

As the anniversary of his death approaches, the nightmares are growing increasingly realistic and frequent.

You sigh heavily and climb out of bed, navigating your way through the dark house and putting the kettle on.

You put your face in your hands as a tear slides down your cheek, trying to stay silent and not wake up your bodyguard.

“What are you doing up, ma’am?” You gasp at his voice and spin around, clutching your shirt and panting. “I-I...” you trail off and look away from his intense gaze.

“You’re safe here. I promise you that.” You shake your head. “It’s not that. I... ugh.” You find yourself embarrassed to admit this. “I sometimes have nightmares. Nothing major. I make myself tea and do some work or something.”

He watches you for a few moments before speaking. “I... understand the feeling.” You look back up at him, shock clear as day on your face.

“I was stationed overseas during my time with the military,” is the only explanation he gives.

You nod and look back at the kettle.

“Would-would you like some tea?” The world freezes as soon as the words roll off your tongue.

The clock ticks once, twice, three times before- “I’d love some. Thank you, ma’am.”

~*~

TAGS:

PERMANENT TAGS: @smolbeanbucky @wildefire @inumorph @impalatobakerstreet @nanna022 @mummy-woves-you @m-a-t-91 @wtfholland @bookgirlunicorn @beautifulwisdom2001 @deep-sea-glitter @mrhiddles-81 @iamwarrenspeace @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67 @unlikelygalaxygiver @agentlokidottir @viarogers

MARVEL: @fallenangelfangirl @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @cliffordasparagus @april-14-blog @potteritis @momc95 @shakzer00 @inkedaztec @cal-ifornication @heartislubbingdubbing @my-suga-kookies

BUCKY: @chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight @dragonrosegardens @saharzek @fandom-princess-forevermore

BODYGUARD: @the-surviving-revolutionist @spnsquirrel @alohafromhell1 @loki-ang-batang-heneral @emilysallysmith @farfromjustordinary @rebbie444 @mylife-love-and-other-things @lumar014​ @goldtsunami @casuallydarktiger @iammomohearmerawr @tayahs-blog

[mojavejourneys]

Katamari Apocalypse - At the Castle

The Fallout/Katamari crossover shenanigans continue with this instalment!

Read on the AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497513

Summary: The Minutemen have just retaken their old base, the Castle. He tries to tell General Matsu, Colonel Maxie and Ronnie Shaw about how things were being cleaned up so fast, but they were skeptical. Now he has to prove it.

No additional warnings needed.

After finally retaking the Castle, the Minutemen had their old base back. While the new members were working on rebuilding the structure, Preston and Ronnie were having a talk about various arrangements that had been made prior.

“Alright, so...” Preston held up the small rainbow-patterned studded ball, nodding to Ronnie. “This... this is what we need to keep hold of. Haven't had chance to tell anyone else, but this is our key to bringing back hope, and rebuilding the Commonwealth.”

Ronnie seemed skeptical but she took hold of the strange ball and looked it over, noticing the lion design at the end of each stud. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Preston? I just... I don't want another Quincy situation.”

“This is different. But when I've gone over everything we need to do with the General and the Colonel, then I'll tell you what this is for. Meet us on the northernmost bastion when I call for everyone.” Preston took the ball back and headed out of the room, going to one of the rooms that had been repurposed into an office.

Two men had been waiting inside. One was dressed in slightly battered road leathers and was fully human, while the other was dressed in repurposed raider leathers and had scales covering one side of his body, a long Deathclaw-like tail and a pair of large scaled wings. Preston nodded to them both. “General Matsu. Colonel Maxie. Glad you stuck around.”

The hybrid man moved to lean on the desk, returning the nod. “Course we did. I mean, we did take back the Castle, and we got a decent number of settlements all built back up. In record time as well. We dunno how you did it, 'cause I'm sure it weren't just Matsu's leadership doing it.”

Matsu chuckled then, shaking his head. “I did what I had to. Because we left Sunshine Tidings just three weeks ago with a handful of people, then we came back last week and it was... so much cleaner! Sure, some of the buildings were unfinished but there was no debris anywhere! I did say for people to clean up but they wouldn't be able to move all those big bits of rubble even if they all teamed up...”

“I was just about to get to that.” Preston spoke up, pulling the rainbow-coloured studded ball from his pocket and holding it up. “This is... probably the only proof I have of what's really been cleaning up the Commonwealth. I was given this in Concord by the King of All Cosmos.” Maxie and Matsu were now both looking at Preston like he'd grown a second head, though Maxie eventually shrugged. “I know this all sounds really crazy but just hear me out. The King said that he was working with his son and his niblings to clean up Earth. Something about finding his fans or something, I forget exactly what, but as we were leaving Concord to head up to Sanctuary, I caught sight of a strange magical ball, a lot like the one I have in my hand, that was picking up rubble and debris like it was nothing!”

Matsu blinked. “Are you serious, Preston? This sounds like what someone would see on a chem trip...”

“And I'm very familiar with chem trips.” Maxie added.

Preston sighed. “Look. I know this sounds crazy. But I know what I saw out there.”

After a few moments, Matsu took a breath. “Well... why are we even fretting about the hows and whys? It's clean, right?” He looked over at Maxie, then at Preston. “We shouldn't worry too much.”

“Well, yeah. Who cares how it's cleaned up when it is being cleaned up? It means that I've been able to focus on the people side of things.” Preston nodded to Matsu then. “And also it's part of the deal that I struck with the King. I promised that I'd keep up the people side.” His attention then turned back to the ball in his hand. “Speaking of, I need to tell the King about our recent progress, especially now that the Minutemen have their main base back.”

Matsu tilted his head. “I'm still not sure on any of this. If the King of All Cosmos is real, what's he like?”

Preston chuckled. “He's alright. Just don't mess his tights up. He doesn't like that very much.”

As the trio headed out to the courtyard area of the Castle, Preston called to Ronnie to join them on the north bastion because he was about to show them all something. When they were all at the top, Preston took out the strange ball and threw it down at his feet.

In moments the sky above was filled with rainbow lights. Maxie, Matsu and Ronnie looked on in awe until they all had to cover their eyes as it became too bright. Preston removed his hat.

As the lights faded away, the King of All Cosmos was stood before them, arms folded as he looked down at the group. “Ah, Preston. We see you've been busy. Working hard, We presume?” Maxie and Matsu looked between one another, noting that the King's voice had a distinctive record-scratching sound to it. Then they were drawn to his attire, noticing how form-fitting it was.

Preston bowed his head before replacing his hat. “You can say that, Your Highness. The Minutemen have reclaimed their old base and we've made good progress on the people side. You're actually here at it right now. This is the Castle.” The King nodded in response, then prompted him to continue. “Well, I'd like to introduce you to several of my most trusted individuals.”

“We were wondering who the new faces were.” The King waved a hand lightly. “Go on then. Tell Us who they are.” Preston nodded and introduced Ronnie first, then Matsu, then Maxie. “We see. If you trust them, then We will trust them too.” Then his attention was diverted when he saw where the General and the Colonel were staring. “And what exactly do you think you're staring at?”

Maxie had to stifle a laugh. “Um... I can't help but notice that you're, um... y'know, pretty well-endowed. I wouldn't mind a taste of that, Your Highness.” At that point Preston stared at Maxie with wide eyes.

The King was unimpressed. Dark eyes glared daggers. “And what exactly makes you think that you're worthy of getting into Our tights?” Maxie blinked as he felt one large royal finger bop him on the head. “... Normally... anyone who dared to say that to Us would be crushed into stardust. But We will refrain. One, Preston trusts you. And two, We will admit that you were very brave to open with such a line.”

“I-I mean...” Maxie faltered briefly, suddenly feeling his whole body start to shake. Taking a few deep breaths, he managed to right himself enough to speak. The King's presence was far more imposing than he'd initially thought. “Fuck. Sorry. I, um... well, I-I mean your attire don't exactly leave a lot to the imagination. 'Specially, y'know, the tights.”

Matsu stepped forward then, trying to remain collected. “What my other half means, Your Highness...” He looked up at the King even as his arm wrapped around Maxie's waist. “...is that your attire is very regal, yet so form-fitting that it's hard to take your eyes away from certain areas.”

“Is that so? We see.” The King's expression revealed nothing as he turned back to Preston. “... When were you going to tell Us that they were of that sort?”

Preston shrugged. “I... honestly didn't even know they were gonna go there. Took me by surprise too, Your Highness!” He looked apologetic.

“... We should have seen it coming.” Had the King deadpanned for a moment? Nothing about his expression or his intonation revealed anything. Even Matsu couldn't tell, and he was usually good at reading people. “After all, before all this happened... We were surrounded by fans. So many of them! And some of them were... well, let Us just say, rather forward. Not unlike these two here.” A vague gesture towards Maxie and Matsu then, though Matsu insisted that he'd only been thinking it and wouldn't have said it as explicitly as Maxie had. “Oh, We could tell that you would have said if you could.”

All this time, Ronnie had been very quiet and had simply listened while being rather awestruck. Now though, she'd found the courage to speak up. “If I may speak...?” The King nodded to her in response. “I will have to apologise on behalf of the Minutemen for this. But... I have to say that the General was not wrong about your attire.” A brief pause. “Not that it's a bad thing, of course!”

Maxie raised his hand to speak. “Your Highness?” The King nodded to him and gestured for him to speak. “I ain't gonna say anything bad. But Preston told us about this deal that he struck with you, and I wanted to ask for more details.” Ronnie gave Maxie a look, then stared at Preston. Neither had told her about this deal.

“You haven't told them yet?” The King's voice had a clear note of disappointment as he looked down at Preston. “And here We thought that everyone would be on the same page, yes?” Although it wasn't explicitly said, the King was hinting for an explanation.

Preston let out a soft sigh. “My apologies, Your Highness. I did try to tell them about the deal, but everyone was skeptical because they didn't believe that you were real, so I had to prove that first. Now, everyone knows that you are indeed real.” Everyone else nodded in agreement.

“Very well, We understand.” The King then snapped his fingers once. “Now! We will tell everyone here of the deal that We struck with Preston here. Our agreement was that he would take care of the people side of this mess while We worked on the physical cleanup of Earth with Our son and his niblings.” There was a bit of chatter amongst Ronnie, Maxie and Matsu while they wondered how it was possible. Preston simply nodded to them. “You won't need to worry about how We're doing it, that's for Us to know. However... We do expect that you'll continue your work as We're doing with Ours. We don't want any slacking if We're to restore Earth to how it was before, yes?”

Matsu frowned a little at that. “If I may, Your Highness?”

“Go on. We'll listen.” The King nodded to him lightly.

“This may sound a little unbelievable, but I know what this place was like before the war. And I did not like it. I was subjected to things that I absolutely despised, and I wouldn't want to rebuild back to... whatever the fuck that was, pardon my language.” Now he looked more thoughtful. “If anything, I think everyone should take this opportunity to rebuild society to be a better, brighter society, where people can be what they want and with who they want. Don't you think so, Your Highness?”

“Ah, but are We going to be given the recognition We deserve for this? Our fans were so supportive of Us before all of this...”

“Better, I think.” Matsu tried not to get too irritated at the thought of trying to appeal to the King's ego. “Look, if anything, I'd say you'd have an even bigger and even better fanbase if you helped to rebuild society to something far better than what it was before.”

Maxie raised his hand to speak. “I'm with Matsu on this. I got some background of what things were like before the war. Don't remember much of it, but it was real shitty. If we can build up society to be even better than what it was before, I reckon that you'd have the most supportive fans around. So... how 'bout it, Your Highness?”

The appeal seemed to have worked. The King stroked his chin in thought. “Ah, We see where you're coming from. This could indeed work. In that case, We'd expect the two of you to be working with Preston to ensure full cooperation of the people side of things, yes?”

Maxie gave a nod. “Course we will. We wouldn't be part of the Minutemen otherwise! You can bet that when you're next here, you'll see a big improvement. Right?” He looked to the others as they all nodded in agreement.

“We would hope so! We will be holding you to that. All of you, so don't disappoint Us!” At that point the King took a small step back. “However, We need to get back to Our part. There's still much to be done, not just Our bit, but yours too! Preston, you know how to call Us when you next need to speak with Us, so We will leave that to you. We'll return later to see the progress!”

As the King took the Royal Rainbow back up to the Cosmos, bathing the entirety of the Castle in sparkling rainbow lights for a few moments, Preston turned to face his fellow Minutemen.

“Looks like we still have work to do.”

Matsu nodded in agreement. “At least most of our focus can be on the people side, setting up shelters and uniting people.”

“You should get on with that then,” Ronnie said to the group with a nod, “since I'll stay here with the folks we've got here and continue work on rebuilding the Castle.”

Preston tipped his hat to Ronnie. “We'll do that then.” He turned back to Maxie and Matsu, nodding to them. “Right, well, our next job is up at Sunshine Tidings. The folks up there said they were having a mole rat problem.”

“Let's go then.” Maxie nodded, waving to Ronnie before going to grab his bag and his gun, heading out of the Castle with Matsu and Preston.

[mellz117]

Hello and welcome to the start of Mellz Plays Kingdom Hearts Re:CoM on the Playstation 2; Riku’s campaign

If you haven’t seen my thoughts on Sora’s story, why not start with Part 1? For the 5 of you who’ve been following along since then, welcome back! Check out the rest under the read more! I’m playing on standard difficulty so if I’m having a hard time, I just suck.

So we, as Riku wake up in the basement of Castle Oblivion. How did he get there? Sora just waltzed in like it was no big deal. Riku has to materialize in a cold basement and be woken up by the disembodied voice of an all too familiar bastard… Who has a new voice.

Thanks for the card, voice of Ansem, “Seeker of Darkness”. That ain’t him. It’s been almost 10 years and I don’t remember much of this game but I know that new Richard Epcar voice ain’t Ansem.

Riku’s got no time to waste, he’s a man on a mission.

So we get a melancholy scene with Riku happening upon the room Maleficent gave him during his association with her in the first game. Memories he’d rather forget.

After progressing a bit, the disembodied voice returns once again to taunt Riku. “You cast aside your home, your friends, the darkness. What else do you have? Nothing. Your heart is as empty as your old room.”

It’s so weird playing as Riku but I hope we get more of that beyond KH3 (ReMind hasn’t released at the time of writing this)

Alot of this game so far has been me saying “I don’t remember this”… …So I don’t remember Riku’s level up system being this different to Sora’s.

…well that’s bullshit. I vaguely remember that. The fact that I can’t even edit the order my cards appear to me in battle is even more bullshit. I like to organize my cards by type and value until I’m forced to use a different method.

So I dont have to wait for the reload gauge to count down, it’s immediate and I dont lose a card on every reload like I thought I remembered… What’s the catch? I don’t trust like that.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

We meet up with Maleficent at the end of the map. She’s 100% aware she’s a figment of Riku’s memory. Riku is none too pleased to see her.

I love his sass

Riku’s ready to kick the asses of everyone corrupted by darkness, including his own, he says. Time for a dragon fight because otherwise Maleficent isn’t a threat apparently lmao. I don’t think the mcguffen card even showed up.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Oh look it’s that asshole. Or is it? Dun dun dunnnnn. God his lips look soft. Why was this necessary???

So who has dominion over this castle? Marluxia, or Ansem?

This fucker is like “Sonny, you couldn’t even win against Sora. You don’t stand a chance against me”.

You have a teenager lying on the ground... Please reword your demands.

Oh my god it’s Mickey Mouse! well… sort of. He’s a bright light. Gives Riku some nice words to keep him going.

Knowing what I know now about the Guardian heartless bro, everything is so much worse…

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Ooh first scene with the boys in the dark room. “Don’t I even warrant a hello, Lexaeus?” I don’t remember seeing this as funny before but now, like 10 years later I appreciate how funny it truly is. Zexion sounds so insulted.. Lexaeus is a man of few words. Then Vexen shows up and he’s getting right down to business. Zexion’s like “Nice to see you too. We all used to be so close, what happened?”

Vexen’s all offended about that and gets pissy about “rank this, rank that, ooh I’m number 4, you shrimpy child.” as if your number indicated rank. Xigbar is the 2nd member but Xemnas’s 2nd in command is Saix (from my understanding) so sit your ass down, Vex.

So Zexion’s special talent? He smells people.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Riku smells people too?. Oh ok he can smell the darkness in his skin. Take a shower! …When was the last time he even got the opportunity?

Mickey appears before him and tells him some words of encouragement. He’s transparent because he can’t fully manifest in the castle right now. So where’s the other 50% opacity hanging out at?

“We shook hands in our hearts” omg… 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Let’s go to Neverland first yay. I did a team attack with Mickey. I remember that!

Imagine being in Riku’s stupid, dumb, giant, anime boy shoes… addressing a giant, bipedal mouse as “Your Majesty”……….. Actually my sister and I used to do that back in the day when we both were obsessed with the series. Regardless of context we’d call him “King Mickey”. It makes me cringe thinking back on it.

Oh I was gonna try to challenge myself to avoid using the dark power but I guess I dont have a choice but to use it. Might as well put points into it if that’s the case.

uses Key to Beginnings, is immediately thrown into a battle with Captain Hook oh I guess we’re not focusing on any events in these worlds they’re literally just to pad out Riku’s story. Riku is officially less Disney than Sora.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

How does Zexy know who Riku is? “Riku is here because Sora is here”. Vex that makes zero sense. What else is new?

Agrabah. Uneventful. Riku is not good at hitting small targets. Had a hell of a time fighting Jafar, or rather beating Iago to a pulp, in comparison to playing as Sora.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Next scene, and immediately like NO breath between the fade in and the scene itself, Vexen appears. And in even less time after he appears, “I take it you’re Riku?” This mofo has no time to waste. He’s a busy man.

Riku’s already tired of his bullshit and is ready to FIGHT. Same, Riku. Same.

I had him stun locked during most of this battle.

I JUST LOVE RIKU’S COMPLETE LACK OF FUCKS GIVEN HE’LL BEAT VEXEN’S SHIELD WITH HIS FISTS AND POMMEL

Vexen is a fucking twerp. And seems alot more crazy, mad scientist-y when interacting with Riku than Sora. Emphasis on “mad”. He cray

Why do they hang out in the dark? I mean, why no lamps? All I can imagine is them hanging out and barely able to actually see each other. The only way anyone knows who’s there is because Zexion can smell people, everyone else just assumes Lexaeus is there, Vexen won’t shut up about something something science, and Axel likes to hear himself talk.

Fat boi

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Zexion and Lexaeus are talking about what’s going on,  I’m still not sure what they’re doing here. Like, do they want Sora for the Organization? But Marluxia wants Sora as his personal puppet? What about Roxas? Isn’t he like, in a coma or something? Just kill Sora, Roxas will wake up, and SOMEONE’S got a Keyblade wielder again. Lex says Vexen hates Marluxia and things with the replica could turn out disastrously because of it. What IS Vexen’s beef with Marly?

Ok I know it’s to pad out a second campaign but why does Riku go to SORA’S memory worlds? Unless Riku stalked him throughout the entirety of KH1, or had so visit them for darkness missions, and those are his memories as well? Idk, it doesn’t have to be explicitly stated

Oh no Riku, it’s you.

So at this point he’s aware hes a copy? Does he forget later? With Namine’s meddling? How does Vexen create a living, breathing entity out of battle data? Like, where did the body come from? Did he have it on standby for a while until the right moment?

“You’re afraid of the dark” Repliku states.. Lmao yeah, Riku- he still sleeps with a night light. Don’t tell Sora.

Repliku is like, a worse Riku as far as personality goes. The punk-ass bitch Riku from KH1 but worse. Repliku is quick to ditch the double pants with suspenders and ankle belts for a muscle suit and grass skirt. I’m not sure which one’s worse.

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! I got two level ups out of that!

I high key love Repliku’s laugh here when Riku tries to attacks him again RIGHT AFTER THEIR FIGHT. It’s adorable, hilarious, and creepy. GG David Gallagher! Check out that video if you want. [video]

Dutch angles make everything more dramatic. Unofficial rule no. 1 of cinema. Repliku peaces out and we give chase up another flight of stairs and another cutscene plays. Repliku joins Zexion, Lexaeus, and Vexen in the dark room and they talk about introducing him to Sora.

Riku finds himself alone on the next floor, yelling at empty air. Ansem shows up to taunt Riku again. This dude just doesn’t quit. God forbid he learns no means go the fuck away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Oh hey we’re in Atlantica! Maybe Riku can wash that darkness smell off his skin. Oh wait the water doesn’t really exist. And hes just a human, not swimming like a mermaid. Give me mer-Riku, you cowards. Twiggy mer-Sora is funny, twiggy mer-Riku with buff arms would be HYSTERICAL. I had a difficult time with Ursula because poor card management and I’m avoiding battles to get this game over with, which kinda shoots me in the foot as I’m not leveling up.

Yeah I was right, he ends up thinking HE’S Riku. I honestly feel bad for the guy… he’s so scared and betrayed. I know I was shit talking him just a bit ago but I need to protect Repliku. [video]

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Give Riku a Halloween Town outfit, you cowards.

This scene between Repliku and Namine is so bittersweet. [video] Just listen to how gentle he talks to Namine. Oh, my heart cannot handle it.

This game makes me so sad. Poor Repliku, poor Namine… Larxene continues to be The Worst. Like, the ABSOLUTE worst. Was Elrena like this?

(I keep getting progressively more and more angry because I can’t upload a video file to this on desktop but I can on mobile, but if I post a video on mobile I can’t edit a read more on desktop. AND I HAVE THREE VIDEOS I WANT TO PUT IN. SO I MADE A BLOG SPECIFICALLY SO I CAN POST THEM THERE AND LINK THEM HERE)

See you in part 2, where I will continue to drag Larxene.

[claritalunaluna76]

When Bob Donnelly entered the music business as a lawyer in 1976, payola, or pay-for-play, was standard in the radio industry.

“When I first started, it was hookers and blow [to help get songs on the air],” Donnelly says. “Then that disappeared and it became sports tickets, trips, sneakers and the like. It changed over time so that it became much more sophisticated. At the end of the day, the labels still wanted hit records and the radio stations wanted cash.

While some radio promoters today liken those days to the Wild West — a distant past — conversations with more than 30 people in the music industry familiar with the modern radio business indicate that payments to influence airplay are still a significant feature of the radio landscape. “It never went away,” says Paul Porter, a veteran of “urban” radio who discusses his experiences with payola in his 2017 book, Blackout: My 40 Years in the Record Business. “The old days of coming in [to a radio station] with a 12-inch [record] full of money [and offering] trips and cocaine are all gone. Now everything goes to LLCs and cash apps.”

“Everyone knows it’s there,” adds Allen Kovac, CEO of the rock-focused Eleven Seven Label Group. “It’s a game that should’ve gone away a long time ago. [But] it’s prevalent enough that you’re not gonna get into the Top 15 without playing that game.”

Pay-for-play is at least as old as rock itself. The first congressional hearings on payola in the radio industry were held in 1960, resulting in the prohibition of undisclosed pay-for-play. But pay-for-play did not end. Donnelly heard so many stories from fed-up artist clients about payments to DJs and radio stations that he decided to alert Eliot Spitzer, then New York’s attorney general, to the state of the industry in 2004.

Spitzer’s investigations revealed that payola was rampant in radio. To influence airplay, money and other “valuable considerations” moved among labels or middlemen known as “indie promoters” and radio stations. “It was the early stage of people using email, so [labels and radio programmers] were pretty straightforward in terms of what the deals were and the transactions that were being cut,” Spitzer tells Rolling Stone. In 2003, for example, one program director asked Columbia Records, “Do you need help on Jessica [Simpson] this week? $1,250? If you don’t need help, I certainly don’t need to play it.”

As a result of the New York investigation, each of the major labels agreed to pay multimillion-dollar settlements. Radio chains like CBS and Entercom also paid financial penalties. In addition, the major labels committed to significant “business reforms” in the ensuing deal with the New York attorney general’s office. The most important of these was a promise to “not use … [contests or giveaways, commercial transactions, advertising, artist appearances and performances] in an explicit or implicit exchange, agreement or understanding to obtain airplay or increase airplay.”

Despite these agreements, pay-for-play transactions persist in the industry. One manager, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, recently spent approximately $10,000 through a third party directly paying radio DJs in the “urban” and rhythmic formats to play a single. The payments were strategically employed to boost the singer’s spins. When a label signed the artist, the manager was able to earn his money back.

That was a relatively cheap investment. Another music-industry veteran who requested anonymity claims that he spent five times as much to try to break a record in the rhythmic format. “I bought all my spins at the right places,” he says. “We spent about $50,000.” He got around 800 plays, mostly in mix shows.

Four radio insiders say there are small-market stations in the Top 40 and “urban” formats that appear so susceptible to influence that their playlists cannot be trusted when trying to gauge the success of a single. (Program directors often consult their colleagues’ playlists when making decisions about whether or not to play a song; few want to step out on a record without seeing it working elsewhere first.)

Stations like this exist “in every format,” says “Tom,” a label promoter with cross-genre experience whose name has been changed to protect his anonymity. “Say a song is Number 20 on the Top 40 chart [ranked by spins], but it’s Number 40 in audience [reached],” Tom continues. “You’ll probably see stations pop up with a high concentration of the spins overnight [when barely anyone is listening]. They’re getting something in return. They’re not doing it every single time just to help somebody out.”

“Take a look at the Mediabase chart and look at how many people got one, two, or three spins [a week],” adds the veteran who spent $50,000 buying spins. Songs become radio hits only if they get played in bulk; a couple of spins a week is not enough for a track to become familiar to casual listeners. “How do you break a record spinning it once a week?” the veteran asks. “For $300.” A rep for Mediabase declined to comment for this article.

In addition to direct payments to people in programming positions, industry veterans say that money passing from record labels or artists to radio stations for the purpose of influencing playlists often takes a subtler, more circuitous route. Payments are fuzzily described as promotional, and funneled through independent promoters who are frequently compared to “consultants” or “lobbyists” for hire.

In radio, this form of lobbying is reminiscent of behavior that was explicitly prohibited in the Spitzer settlements. In 2006, the New York attorney general’s office wrote that “in an effort to dodge the payola laws, record labels and radio stations have also enlisted the services of so-called independent promoters … middlemen who act as conduits for delivery of the labels’ ‘promotional support’ to the stations and help perpetuate the fiction that this support is not actually being delivered by the labels in exchange for airplay and therefore does not violate payola statutes. Many independent promoters receive compensation from the labels for each ‘add’ they obtain.”

Today, some indie promoters establish special rapport with specific stations. Then, thanks to their exclusive relationships, these promoters develop a certain amount of clout — they serve as gatekeepers to the stations in their flock. In the Top 40 space, two promoters are known for allegedly having a number of stations under their influence.

“Jane,” a former major-label promotions executive whose name has been changed, explains that “some independent promoters claim to record labels, ‘You won’t get access to certain radio programmers because there are too few hours in the day and they’re not going to take calls from every single label out there. If you pay me to promote your record, yours can be one of the eight tracks that I’m working. These programmers return my phone calls.‘”

To promote a single in the Top 40 format, “you’re probably gonna hire 10 different indies on every record,” Tom says. “There could be one guy who has one station you want, another guy who has 12 stations that you want. I don’t think there’s any way somebody could have a hit at radio without having to do that.”

In the case of one prominent radio network that allegedly has an exclusive relationship with a single promoter, “he gets the adds, and then you pay him 3,500 bucks,” says “James” (not his real name), a second promotions executive with extensive major-label experience. “We call it the toll — everybody has to pay it.”

Unlike the old days, when a programmer might take home $1,250 for spinning Jessica Simpson, “the toll” doesn’t always go into the programmer’s pocket today. Instead, “what [the stations] need the money for is to go toward marketing, quote-unquote,” James says. That might include buying advertising time on the airwaves or billboards in the market, or putting money toward products like T-shirts and bumper stickers that publicize both the radio station and the record label.

Again, this behavior was uncovered — and prohibited — in the New York attorney general’s investigation more than a decade ago. “In addition to employing the traditional device of delivering bribes to radio programmers … record labels endeavor to gain airplay for their songs by providing such inducements to the radio stations as ‘promotional support,’ ” the attorney general’s office wrote.

To the extent that program directors even acknowledge the existence of seamy promotional behavior — which they rarely do — they hasten to say it’s concentrated in formats that are not their own. Multiple people working in the pop space pointed fingers at “urban” or Latin radio. Another program director who spoke on the condition of anonymity singled out country music for “get[ting] away with fricking murder.” “Everyone thinks they’re sweet boys because they got missed on the big sweep that happened with Spitzer,” the program director adds. “All the pop stations got their hands slapped, and everyone looked at us like we were a bunch of pigs. Country just skated right on by.”

Insiders claim there are notable differences between radio’s behavior today and the disguised payments that were uncovered in the Spitzer investigation.

Two people working in promotion point out that major radio chains like iHeartMedia and Cumulus have tried to distance themselves from pay-for-play, mostly by refusing to work with indie promoters. Since those two chains control many of the stations that make up the radio charts, this distancing limits the impact of any payola-type activity. A spokesperson for Cumulus said that the company has “a strict ‘no independent record promoters’ policy dating back to the 2005 Eliot Spitzer investigations”; iHeart noted that “we don’t typically work with indie promoters because we have so many other opportunities to work directly with labels and independent artists.”

Promoters also note that there are times when spending money on “promotional support” can be entirely above-board, especially if a singer in the station’s rotation is planning an upcoming show in the area. “One legitimate reason for a record label to advertise on a radio station is if they’re doing tour support,” says Jane, the former major-label promoter.

In addition, several radio and label officials argue that most promoters’ influence is indirect or advisory. “There really are people who just call people and have good relationships and can cite good facts [about songs they are hired to advance],” Tom says. “There are people where there is no quid pro quo.”

“There is still a way to structure this so it works,” adds a lawyer in the communications industry. “What the indie is obtaining from a station is the right to meet with the music director every so often and tell them about the latest records he’s promoting. One other right he’s allowed to have: When they do add one of his songs, [the station] tells him first. For these agreements to be legal, that’s all the [rights the] indie has. In return, he can give promo items to the station because he’s only getting the right to meet with them.”

Multiple people note that promoters with exclusive relationships work carefully with attorneys to make sure they are “buttoned up” — secure in the eyes of the FCC. “My sense is it’s extremely common for there to be some kind of financial transaction taking place between the station and the label,” says one FCC source. “But they just package it in a way that passes muster under our rules. The way they do it is basically exploiting loopholes in the law.” That makes radio “a very tricky area to take enforcement in.”

“On the surface, it looks sleazy and cheesy, and at times it is,” sums up James, the promotions veteran. “But it’s also on the up-and-up.” Recently, however, he says he refused to pay “the toll” to a station that had a relationship with one of the prominent independent promoters working in pop. As a result, James claims the station refused to put his song into rotation until it already went Number One.

The last line of defense against improper radio promotion behavior is major-label compliance departments, which were set up after the Spitzer lawsuits to “monitor promotion practices and develop and implement an internal accounting system designed to detect future abuses.”

Many of the people who spoke for this story pointed to the paperwork they have to sign — forms that declare that no money was exchanged for airplay — and the compliance training sessions they attend, suggesting these measures serve to curb any inappropriate behavior.

Representatives from two major-label compliance departments said the indie promoters are required to certify that they adhere to the rules laid out in the settlements with the New York Attorney General’s office every year. But “we don’t get involved in whatever relationship the promoter has with the station,” one major-label compliance officer says. “There’s nothing in the agreement that prevents us from working with independent promoters who have exclusive relationships.”

That suggests that majors may not have enough information to ensure that the indie promoters are acting in the correct manner: How can a compliance officer determine if an indie is using improper methods to influence a station without knowing the relationship between the two parties?

And even if compliance officers do have the correct information, they don’t seem able to do much about it. “The tools we have are the certifications from the independent promoters, educating them about their obligations and any information I get [about improper behavior],” says one major-label compliance officer. The annual compliance certification for one major label, reviewed by Rolling Stone, is relatively toothless: If an indie promoter violates his or her agreement with that label, it “could lead to disciplinary action up to and including termination of employment.”

“Clark,” a second former major-label promotions executive whose name has been changed, described the compliance agreements as “some bullshit, but you keep it moving.”

“Who’s regulating this, and who’s going to enforce it?” he asks.

The labels aren’t going to police themselves?

“Fuck, no,” Clark responds. “Why would we do that?”

It’s hard to find anyone in the radio ecosystem with good things to say about any of the variants of payola. “Labels don’t generally want to pay money for airplay; they’d rather get their airplay strictly on the basis of merit,” Jane says. “To the extent that payola has been a recurring form of corruption, it has been a cost of doing business competitively that most labels would prefer not to have to pay.”

Kovac, the indie label head, throws the blame back on the major labels for perpetuating “an old system that shouldn’t even be around anymore.” “If you’re a promo guy, and you’re bonused on charts, what’s the problem with incentives?” he continues. “They work. If you’re [Universal Music Group CEO] Lucian Grainge and you said to all the presidents of all your labels, ‘Tell your head of promotion from now on they only get paid on consumption [rather than spin-based charts],’ all of a sudden you’ve changed the incentive.”

Many in radio claim not to be fond of the current system either. “We hate it on our end,” James says. “But again, they sign documentation saying that there’s no money being exchanged for airplay. I guess there is money being exchanged for airplay, because you have to pay it. [Radio stations] have a choice of so many different records that they can play [instead of yours]. You’re either in or you’re out.”

Promoters and programmers say radio stations with exclusive promotion arrangements do stand to benefit from them. Phil Becker, EVP of programming for Alpha Media, says these exclusive relationships help streamline a hectic process for overworked program directors. And someone who worked at a group of radio stations notes that exclusive arrangements also drive revenue and promotional benefits for stations — especially valuable in smaller markets.

“In effect, radio stations are selling airplay to record labels,” says Gabriel Rossman, an associate professor of sociology at UCLA and the author of Climbing the Charts: What Radio Airplay Tells Us About the Diffusion of Innovation. “A lot of it is for promotional support: If the 10th caller gets concert tickets, that sort of thing. It’s a transfer from the labels and the artists to the stations.”

Artists can benefit from this transfer, since power is hyperconcentrated in the music industry. Say an artist doesn’t have a major-label deal, and his team does not have a longstanding relationship with Spotify and Apple Music’s small number of very-hard-to-reach playlist “curators.” In that case, lobbying radio might still allow this artist to get his music in front of a wide audience. That was the case for the industry players who directed strategic payments to DJs.

But even if radio serves to bring attention to unknown artists, it’s a tough game to get involved in without deep pockets — or, more likely, major-label support. To have real success promoting a song to “urban” radio, experts say you have to be able to put up at least $100,000 to $125,000. Pop radio has many more stations, so promotion there is more expensive.

One interpretation of the modern radio system suggests that the high price for airplay is the whole point: It creates a barrier to entry that favors major labels. In 1990’s Hit Men: Power Brokers and Fast Money Inside the Music Business, Fredric Dannen’s detailed history of radio promotion at its most corrupt, the author wrote that “the large record companies understood on some level that if radio airplay were not free, it would mean a major competitive edge.”

Rossman sees it differently. In 1960, he says, “the pre-rock labels were convinced that the only reason rock was played was the indie labels bribed all the DJs. By the 1980s, the dominant narrative was that the major labels compete unfairly through payola. I think it’s just [that] this is how labels compete. There’s a valuable resource, and they bid up the price.”

This is a game primarily for the rich, but playing it still has risks. For one thing, it’s streaming, not radio play, that drives monetization today, so labels largely don’t expect a direct return on their investment. Instead, they hope that the radio exposure they are shelling out for at high prices will boost clicks on Spotify or Apple Music.

But the math might not work that way. A song that is played heavily at radio but not consumed otherwise is known as a “turntable hit.” If an artist has to pay $3,500 for an add in one market, radio play needs to create roughly a million streams in that market to break even. “You’re spending a lot of money in tertiary markets that are playing songs in overnights,” Kovac says. At the same time, “the revenue that would come out of broadcast radio airplay has been reduced by three-quarters, two-thirds, due to the evaporation of CD sales and ever-declining digital sales,” according to a third promoter who spoke on the condition of anonymity. “You’re not seeing the same revenue return from radio airplay because the amount of streams you have to get to make back your investment in radio promotion spending is greater than the short-term return.”

Payola may also complicate marketing strategies. If radio play causes streams to jump, it isn’t easy to determine why they increased. “Is it for the right reasons [e.g. people like the song] or the wrong reasons [e.g. anything else]?” Jane wonders. Plotting the correct next step — the follow-up single, the tour routing — depends on understanding the initial source of success. Pay-for-play practices obscure that.

“It’s not a good thing for the artist,” says one longtime East Coast DJ. “It’s not a good thing for the labels. It’s not a good thing for the integrity of our radio stations.”

But the fate of pay-for-pay-like practices may ultimately be tied to the health of radio itself. “As long as [radio] maintains that hold on breaking new artists [and] new music, there’s always going to be a competition for those limited number of spots on their airplay list,” says Donnelly.

“People are just going to do whatever they have to do to get a play.”

Source (August 7, 2019)

[nickireadstfc]

The King’s Men, Chapter 16 – A Team Of Particularly Good Finders

In which I find a new favourite team, Kevin’s angrier half makes an entrance, I find a new favourite team, keys are distributed, faceclaims are suggested, and I find a new favourite team.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The King’s Men.

             Saturday morning Wymack stopped by Fox Tower with a guest. (…)

             “Thea,” Kevin finally said, and scrambled to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Oh HECK YES.

I’ve been waiting for this gal ever since she was first mentioned, and my dudes my pals my homies, let me tell you – her presence does not disappoint.

Thea Muldani is big and buff and bench-presses male egos for breakfast, but also wears pastel makeup, braids and dresses like Beyoncé herself gave her fashion advice.

A certified Boss Ass Bitch, you say? Absolutely.

A definite, definite Venus Williams faceclaim, you say?

Alternatively also Serena Williams?

Absolutely.

Like Kevin, Thea also left the Ravens, but she seems to have quite a different relationship to them than he does.

             Even though Thea graduated from Edgar Allan almost three years ago she still wore her Raven jersey number on a pendant around her throat.

Interesting.

Neil then wonders how ex-Ravens fare out there in the Real World, and he voices my thoughts precisely: Do they recover? Do they hang on? And if they do, is it because they’re broken, or out of choice?

This is Interesting Shit that I am very, very much intrigued to know more about. Since I’m not sure we’ll have quite enough time to get into this in what’s left of this book, if anyone has any fic recs dealing with this (= post-Raven recovery), hit me the hell up.

However sadly, Thea is not here to answer my deep psychological musings, and is instead very much here to tear Kevin a new one.

Or five.

             “I always wanted to talk, but it was complicated.”

             “’Complicated’,” Thea echoed. The air quotes she threw him were angry and mocking. “’Complicated’ is having to find out from a press conference that you broke your hand and left the line-up. ‘Complicated’ is finding out the hard way you disconnected your old number and having to hear from Jean that you didn’t want anything to do with any of us effective immediately. Don’t you dare use ‘complicated’ against me. I deserve better than that.”

OH SHIT.

Exy Venus Williams is mad, y’all – and completely in the right, because Kevin, you done fucked up.

Anyone who figuratively leaves his girlfriend on ‘read’ for two years deserves to have the shit bitched out of them publicly.

However, Kevin has a magic trick to at least somewhat calm his angrier half down:

Fellow ex-Raven and resident human ground beef Jean Valjean Moreau.

They go see him, but like puppies left out in the rain we don’t get to go with, which is a damn shame because I’m getting increasingly interested in how our favourite baguette is going to continue his trauma-filled existence.

             “You assume [Nicky] will survive until summer [because he’s annoying the hell out of Andrew with his Andreil shipping],” Andrew said.

             “You break him, you owe me a new defenseman,” Wymack said.

Bahahahaha.

Found this chapter’s #dicksoutforwymack, that line was gold, small as it was.

             “You have one at Abby’s house.”

DAMN RIGHT. Anyone up for some Fox!Jean? Yes? Yes?

Apparently, not Kevin and Jean, who have irreparably damages their athletic compatibility at the Batcave of Extra, so Fox!Jean is a thing we may have to keep to fanfic.

Again – a damn shame.

What is decidedly not a damn shame is that Wymack has a lil something for Andrew, and when I found out what it was I may or may not have shed a lil tear of pride.

             Keys jangled as they hit the carpet, and Neil stared in disbelief. He couldn’t be right, except last summer Wymack had given Neil three new keys, too: a set for all the important doors at the Foxhole Court. (…) “Kevin said to give you those.”

KEVIN IS TRUSTING ANDREW WITH STADIUM KEYS.

KEVIN IS EXPLICITLY INVITING ANDREW TO COME PRACTICE WHENEVER AND UNSUPERVISED.

KEVIN IS STARTING TO BELIEVE IN ANDREW’S FUTURE AS A PROFESSIONAL SPORTSBALL PLAYER EVEN IF ANDREW MAY NOT BE.

KEVIN IS TRUSTING ANDREW WITH STADIUM KEYS.

KEYS!!!!!!!!!!

This has got to be the fourth or fifth time this series has made me emotional about fucking keys, what in the absolute fuck.

             [Neil’s] heart was pounding. (…) He thought about fighting for a spot on the US Court and facing the best the world had to offer, Kevin at his side and Andrew at his back.

When will the Kandreil feels end, my money is on fucking never.

With this preliminary banter done, we move on to what’s really important in this chapter:

The first NCAA Exy championship semi-final; University of Southern California Trojans vs Palmetto State University Foxes.

Or, as I like to call it – USC Hufflepuffs vs Kevin Day’s Boner.

So much has been promised about this team, their human sunshine of a captain and their infamous Too Good For This World cinnamon roll-ness, I was buzzing in my seat waiting to get to know them.

             “[Think] about what you’re going to say in pre-game.” (…)

             “How about ‘We’re gonna own these lowers’?” Nicky suggested.

             “And that’s why you’re not allowed to talk to the press,” Matt said dryly.

Bahahahaha.

Nicky, my boy, never change. <3

However, I immediately opposed any ‘loser’ insults as I finally, finally met –

The one, the only, captain of Trojans, idol of Kevin Days everywhere, the OG Cinnamon Roll™ – Jeremy Fucking Knox.

             “Kevin, you crazy fool,” he said, less formally, and clapped Kevin’s shoulder in a cheery greeting. “You never cease to amaze. You’ve got a thing for controversial teams, I think, but I like this one much better than the last one.”

Hi, marry me.

Again with the characterizations through first lines in this book, aye? Pretty sure this guy is the only one in the entire world who could bro-hug Kevin, call him a crazy fool to his face, and come away with his nose unbroken.

(He says a little bit towards Wymack before that, but we’re gonna ignore that for the meme.)

But apparently, Jeremy is not the only one who gets to say unexpected things right now.

             [Kevin] only said, “I have a backliner for you. Do you have room on next year’s line-up?”

… Does this mean what I think it means.

I THINK IT DOES.

I THINK IT FUCKING DOES.

My dudes, let me tell you, my ass is HERE for Trojan!Jean. Trojean. TROJEAN.

Seriously, if you want someone with a trauma caused by abusive competitive toxic teammates to recover, a team that’s known for being the friendliest, kindest and fairest motherfuckers on the planet is pretty much the absolute Way To Go.

Operation Trojean is the best rehab anyone has ever thought of, ever, and I will hear no other opinions on this.

I was already enjoying this tremendously, good things all around, how much better could it be – when Sunshine Boy decided to pull something so spectacularly Hufflepuff that I swear to fuck I heard badgers singing.

Y’all are not ready.

I was not ready.

             “Our line-up,” Jeremy explained. “It’s late to be getting it to you, I know, but we were trying to avoid as much of the backlash as possible.”

Why, what’s happ–

             “Two goalies, three backliners, two dealers, two strikers,” Jeremy said. “You’ve made it this far with those numbers. It’s time to see how we’d fare in that situation.”

WHAT

THE

FUCK.

You have got to be kidding me, Sunshine Boy.

You are giving up your gigantic team, your sure-as-life win, your One Big Strength – just because it’s fair? And because you want to learn from your opponents more than you want to win?

I’m out. This is too much. This team is TOO FUCKING MUCH.

             “You’ll lose tonight if you play like this.”

             “Maybe,” Jeremy agreed, unconcerned. “Maybe not. Should be fun either way, right? I don’t remember the last time I was this psyched for a game.”

There is no way in hell I’m not faceclaiming this guy as known Puff Champion Cedric Diggory now.

No. Way. In. Hell.

             Neil finally understood how the USC Trojans had won the Day Spirit Award eight consecutive years.

Bitch, me too, the fuck.

             “I take back what I said about earthquakes,” Nicky said weakly. “I have a new favourite team.”

BITCH, ME TOO, THE FUCK.

And with that, the game is on, and I can’t remember the last time I was so pumped for a good ol’ match of Orange Murder Sportsball.

Despite their Line-Up of Dreams, the Trojans pretty much wipe the floor with the Foxes in the first half, as was to be expected.

But in second half – well, let’s just say I ain’t never seen a badger run a marathon.*

             USC could have taken control of the game in a heartbeat if only they’d rethink their strategy. If they pulled their three subs from the sidelined players the Foxes’ night was over. But the Trojans had made up their mind and they weren’t backing down.

HELL YES.

BECAUSE THEY’RE THE FUCKING FAIREST BEST FUCKING SPORTS IN THIS ENTIRE DAMNED LEAGUE.

(*For the record: Foxes don’t exactly run marathons either – according to the mighty Internet, foxes can run up to 55 km/h and badgers up to 30 km/h, but both only over short distances. A human Trojan would definitely outrun a fox (or a badger) over a long distance. So much for brand accuracy.)

But then! Oh, who would have thought! This is so completely surprising! The Foxes catch their wind on the second half! Amazing, they start to dominate the game! And – and – and it’s a win! Win for the Foxes! WIN FOR THE FOXES!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy and excited for them and all, but as if we didn’t absolutely see this coming.

             “Is this what dying feels like?” [Alvarez] asked, and called over her shoulder, “Babe, I think I’m dying. Do I still have legs?”

Things like these make my sports-ignorant ass realize just how hardcore the Foxes playing full halves actually is.

No subs, we die like men.

Also, Alvarez’ “babe” turns out to be Laila Dermott, which makes me love the Trojans even more – and I truly did not think this was possible – because Exy Lesbians.

             “That was fantastic. (…) I want to do it again. Next year, maybe, when my legs grow back.”

             “Stop being such a baby,” Laila said.

This banter is giving me life.

If anyone has any fanart of these two buff buttercups, please send it my way pronto.

             Neil didn’t care how many hearts they broke that night. They’d beaten USC. (…) The Foxes were going to finals, and that was the only thing that mattered.

HEEEEEEEECK YEEEEEEEEES.

Before we move on to post-semi-final celebrations, allow me to gush about the Trojans one last time, and then I promise I’m done melting into a puddle every time one of them so much as speaks.

             “[Jean] will be back in the fall. He just won’t be back in black.” Jeremy flashed his toothy grin. (…) “He’s transferring to USC for his senior year.”

This is one of the best ideas anyone has had in this entire book. Four for you, Trojean, you go, Trojean.

(And none for Riko Moriyama, bye.)

             “We’ll have to get him some sun this summer, though! He’s a little pale to pull of red and gold right now,” Jean laughed.

[To the tune of California Girls] California puffs they’re unforgettable…

Also, in which Jean is #me in summer, all day err’day.

Tanning is for weak people, we sunburn like true Germans.

             Nicky (…) cut the TV off. “I’ve got a theory that Renee and Jeremy are long-lost siblings. What do you think would happen if they ever joined force?”

             “They’d get murdered,” Aaron said. (…) “War’s profitable; no one wants their world-peace nonsense.”

Gee, thanks, you absolute walnut.

For the record, I agree with Nicky, and I’m also counting this as the reason I immediately fell in love with Jeremy.

What can I say – in a world full of Angst, Drama, Angst, Infighting and More Angst, ya girl loves herself some good sunshiney optimists.

As for post-semi-final celebrations, the gang makes good on an old tradition and goes into town for another Fun Night of Debauchery for what I’m assuming is the last time in this series.

To think that a year ago the prospect of this would have made me break out in protective Neil feels, and now I’m actually looking forward to it.

Man, we’ve come far.

Speaking of – Andrew now apparently has no need for cracker dust anymore(!!!), has nothing against being touched in public (!!!!) and doesn’t seem to mind his Bartender Pal Roland calling him out on his Very Much Gay, Very Much Official Relationship (!!!!!).

Man, we’ve come fucking far.

             “How’d you know [about Andrew being gay]?”, [Nicky said.] “Is your gaydar more advanced than mine is or – “ Nicky’s jaw dropped as he clued in. “Wait. No way. No way! Did you two –?”

BAHAHAHA.

LAUGHTER.

BIG FAT LAUGHTER.

Andrew hooked up with Big Intimidating Bartender Pal, this is glorious.

             Neil’s clock was still ticking down, but his numbered days followed a different schedule now. Neil had all the time in the world, and that left a heat in his gut stronger than any whiskey could.

Fuck yes.

Fuck YES.

A very good ending to a very good second to last chapter.

...Oh shit.

Second. To. Last. Chapter.

EVER.

Next chapter will almost conclude this series (I’m told there is a short epilogue, so we’re not quite done). Next chapter will almost conclude this blog, holy shit.

We’ve been following the Orange Hellride that is this series for over a year now (thanks to my giant hiatuses in between, oops). This is insane.

I’ll get all emotional and grateful and weepy in the last chapter and final book recap, so dry eyes over here for now, but y’all – get ready.

This ride is about to end, and knowing this series, we’re about to go out with a fucking bang.

Oh dear.

Before I go - a quick note on the update situation for the last few uploads (meaning chapter 17, epilogue, book recap). This feels almost redundant to say after my schedule has been very loose (soz) these past few chapters anyways, but I will be taking some liberties for the finish line.

This blog has been one of my greatest pride and joys over the last year, and I really wanna stick the landing. This means I'd rather spend an extra day refining than update by hook and by crook. As a loose time estimate – expect the last chapter by the end of the week, possibly earlier.

Let me make this good for you guys. I'm way excited (and scared), and I hope you are too.

Peace and love, y'all.

[nicolekidmanwigfactory]

ok, so listen to the shit my psychiatrist told me yesterday because IT. IS. JUICY. (TW: eating disorders)

i need to vent but here’s a read more in case you wanna skip this because this is LOOOOOONG

i was describing to her how i’m currently pricing out personal trainers to help me start exercising again in a healthy, non-disordered way because the last three times (in the past 18-24 months or so) that I tried to start working out again, I found myself spiraling and getting overly anxious or unrealistic about my goals, so i’d either overexercise, restrict, and/or purge.

as i described the height of my exercise compulsion-- highest intensity elliptical for 60 minutes or 2000 calories burned (whichever came second) every single day, no exception (Sundays were my off day and I relished them)-- from seven years ago, which was worse than the actual bulimia at times, she just cut me off and said an hour a day wasn’t too bad, ignoring 1. the 2000 calories thing, 2. that i weighed about 130lbs less I do now, and 3. i was either severely restricting or compensating for binge behaviors from voracious appetite swings 4. caused by hormonal fluctuations 5. due to then-undiagnosed thyroid cancer.

BUT WAIT. THERE’S MORE. then she laid into my dietitian and said eating disorder dietitians in general are overly focused on “making sure their patients are comfortable eating” instead of losing weight (if they're ones who need to, of course). ummm...getting me less regimented in my eating is the fucking point. i’d eat something i wasn’t “supposed” to and then purge it somehow (exercise, vomit, restriction, etc.). <-- that’s the fucking basics of the fucking disorder, and that’s not even explicitly mentioning the mental illness aspect.

again, she told ME, A LONG-DIAGNOSED, DEPRESSED GRADUATE STUDENT WITH A HISTORY OF TREATMENT FOR BULIMIA AND OTHER EATING DISORDERS that i need to lose weight. Yes, i know that. does she really think i don’t know that? i wear my clothes and look in the mirror and have been in eating disorder treatment for the past five fucking years. what makes her think this is news to me? does she not think i don’t remember how I bust my ass off to healthily lose 100 pounds in college, and then gained it all back (and then some) in FOUR FUCKING MONTHS when my bulimia turned into binge eating disorder and my EATING-DISORDER AND QUASI-SUICIDAL MIND tricked myself into thinking this was the healthier option?! BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL REMEMBER. she does have the point that my weight is not healthy in the long-term (of course i know that), but neither is a fucking depression and any kind of eating disorder.

i WANT to lose weight but my dietitian agreed to work with me on the condition that my focus COULD NOT be on losing weight (she was gonna work with me no matter what, but she’s a genius with how she approaches her clients) until my eating patterns were stable and the frequency of my disordered behaviors dropped dramatically (which they have- i’ve only purged ONCE in the past year. My binges are not just far and in between but also much smaller and cheaper than they used to be). so if she’s gonna come after my dietitian, this psychiatrist is also coming after me because i would not be where i am without her (+ my therapist).

okay, i did expect some of this coming into the appointment though, so i did subject myself to this a little. she said some of this stuff in october at the first appointment i had with her but i was able to talk back against it in my head and discuss it with my therapist and i didn’t think about it again for a couple weeks. but the shit she was saying yesterday was just so much more inappropriate and insensitive that I only tolerate it for the refills on my meds.

i’m not saying she’s an awful psychiatrist. i just feel she needs to work on her bedside manner, or at least with her overweight eating disordered patients (because we already feel pretty shitty about that, and you don’t even need to have an eating disorder to feel that) or she needs more training in eating disorder treatment protocol. at one point in both appointments, she implied with the subtlety of a sledgehammer that it won’t be possible for me to have good self-esteem at my current size and weight, which completely defeats the point of body positivity and loving yourself at any size (FYI: Loving yourself at any size ≠ pro-obesity. Anyone who says otherwise is looking for a socially acceptable way to hate on fat people. The key word is “any.”).

All this said, she is a capable clinician. the medication regimen she has me on is working beautifully. my depression is so much more stable and the highs and lows of my mood are more like speed bumps and potholes than the mountains and ocean trenches of before. my anxiety is under much better control too (though a lot of that is because of the strategies I’ve been working on with my wonderful therapist) and the anxiety is also more situational. after all, i did go a gay bar by myself last weekend for the first time ever (it was at 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon, but i still did it despite the anxiety!). 

I am also so appreciative of her ADHD diagnosis. I was apprehensive at first because the diagnosis was so quick and not even the focus of the appointment, but the medication she put me on is working. i thought that high school killed any enjoyment i once had for serious, intellectual reading, but since the medication i’ve started paging through the plethora of books i’ve bought over the years but never read and gotten absorbed by random pages even though i don’t know what’s going on. I don’t remember the last time was able to concentrate for extended periods of times without a deadline or outside pressure. i can read lengthy journal articles in record time and still absorb the information. the only downside is they kill my appetite, which she admitted she is part of the reason why prescribed them for me. (this part i’m not that upset about since i have been on binge suppressants for years and I see this as an additional tool- I’ve had no urge to abuse them other than the ED voice that instinctually tells me to, but I’ve just ignored it from the beginning).

so even though she is highly insensitive to my needs, she is also a highly capable and otherwise qualified psychiatrist. however, during therapy today, i discussed her comments with my therapist and that I would continue to see her while i searched/waited for an appointment with a different psychiatrist, since I had to wait 7 months to see this current doctor. instead, my therapist jumped on the phone, called a couple numbers and was able to get me an appointment with a psychiatrist she trusted for right after the new year. so i only have to see this current one once more and that’s only so I can get refills and continue my current medication regiment, which been working wonderfully for me.

i didn’t mean to make this so long but it feels good to get this out. my clinician is gonna inform my dietitian (which is making me impatient for my next appointment because she was ready beat a bitch last time because of this doctor and i want to see what she has to say this time) and then, if i didn’t mind, she wanted to bring this up with some managers at her location. i don’t care if she informs some higher ups, i just don’t want my name to get back to the psychiatrist until after the next/last appointment. i’m also going to file a complaint, not for vengeance or anything, just so her superiors can hopefully let her know how other patients might interpret her comments.  

at least for me, this psychiatrist’s comments aren’t about me not being able to handle what i don’t want to hear. they were unprofessional, inappropriate, and frankly, uninformed and dangerous. if i hadn’t been further along in my recovery, i might have been liable to abuse my adderall as an appetite suppressant for weight loss purposes, start exercising and dieting again when i’m not mentally ready, or just accept her fat-shaming for what it wasn’t since since it was coming out of the mouth of an MD.

But I’m lucky to be in a place where I can recognize those comments for what they are. And I give credit to my therapist and dietitian, who’ve gotten me that place in the past year and a half (and I guess the current psychiatrist deserves some credit too for her medication regimen that was effective right off the bat, but that’s where I’ll leave it). And to the therapists, dietitians, and doctors I’ve have in the past five years, but mostly to my current ones, because they got me back on track when I moved back to WI and then further along than I have ever gotten before. Their voices are nagging in my ear to myself credit to, so I guess I played my part too.

@lorinwasadiver let me know when you’ve read this bc i want to know your angry thoughts

[paranoid-fighter]

Chapter 7: Gabe teaches | Jesse learns

And Jack laments

Author’s notes: 1) My apologies for the delay - between work and my own health, it’s been hard to sit and write.  2) Feedback is welcome and appreciated 3) I hope you enjoy this chapter. 

Update: Here is the table of contents for the Gabriel Reyes stories: http://paranoid-fighter.tumblr.com/overwatchReyes

Word count: 4840-ish Overwatch and all its characters and settings are property of Blizzard. Original characters belong to me. 

Reyes nodded calmly. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to scream. He wanted to tell Jesse to run far away from the base and to never look back. He wanted to keep him safe from the disaster that he and Jack were about to unleash. He wanted to spare him from the fate that he had just brought upon himself. He knew that Jesse had just signed his life away...

...and he had given him the pen.

   "Good man," Gabe said; his voice was filled with a resolve that he himself did not have. "May I see your phone, Jesse?" "My phone?" Jesse raised an eyebrow as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He handed it over to his commander without question but sputtered in surprise as Gabe quickly took the case apart and removed the battery. "Boss! What're you doing?" "Now we can talk freely." Gabriel met Jesse's gaze. "Jesse, Jack, take note of the time. Ten thirty seven on Tuesday the 24th. If anyone asks, we were discussing a drill that will be conducted upon the Blackwatch base. It will be a security drill where a red team will infiltrate the base, with the end goal of breaking into my office. Do we all understand?" "Yes." Jack nodded. "Boss, I don't--" "Jesse, memorize what I just told you. In case anyone asks what we just discussed at this time, we all need to keep to the same story." He ran a hand down his face. "What Jack and I are planning is treason, on a global scale. We're trying to keep to a specific story for now, to avoid any and all suspicion if we start getting questioned.” He gestured down to the disassembled phone. “At this point, I don't trust our phones to not be bugged." He watched as Jesse stared in horror at his phone. "If we're caught," Gabe continued, "we'll be lucky if all they do is kill us." The commander ran a hand down his tired face. "Jack will be buying us new phones - they will have only two numbers in it. We will be able to communicate with each other on those phones. Anything related to this," he waved a hand between himself and Jack, "will only be discussed on those phones. If someone sees the phone we will give you, you must let us know and then confiscate the phone. It will be used to only communicate with us or anyone else that we explicitly involve." "It should go without saying," Jack met Jesse's gaze, "that no one else knows about this, nor will they. Do not tell anyone about this unless we both tell you to involve them. This is to be handled with the utmost secrecy--" "What?!" Jesse spluttered as he looked between them. "What the fuck are you two goin' on about? Look at you! You're talkin' like spies! I don't get it. What's hap--" "Jesse," Gabe sat up in bed as he looked to the young soldier, "you know exactly what this is about. You have seen the reports on my desk, I know you have. I made sure you saw them." "Well, yeah, but..." He sat back in his chair as he tried to get his thoughts to stop spiraling. "I went from agreein' to helpin' you to findin' out about treason. I mean, I ain't a stranger to that, but..." He shook his head. "You're sayin' that all the shit Overwatch has done, that we've done, hasn't been for, y'know, the benefit of the world?" Jesse blinked at the naivety of his own words before shaking his head again. "Ain't no one free from corruption, huh?"

  "No, no they are not." Jack sighed. "I had my suspicions, but Gabriel's research just confirmed it. I was in denial, I'll admit," he did not look to his lover, "but I cannot refute it anymore. Overwatch does do some work for the betterment and protection of the world, but it also works to the favor of the men and women who ordered its creation. Blackwatch is the exact same way." He met Jesse's gaze. "I--no, we--are tired of being used. We signed our lives away to become soldiers to protect the world in which we live. We did not go through the horrors of the SEP to become pawns, nor will we continue to risk the lives of our soldiers or ourselves for anything but protecting the innocent. We did this for the betterment of the world - not to line the pockets of politicians." Jesse frowned up at Jack, thinking that the man's words sounded perfect for a press release - or an omission of guilt. "You're talkin' like you've already been caught." He looked over to Gabe. "So what're we going to do?" "For now, exactly what we have been. This isn't something that we can hastily act upon. We need proof. More proof. Completely undeniable proof. We're going to keep doing what we have been, documenting everything along the way. When we have a case that cannot be refuted, we will act." "And do... what?" "We'll release the information to the world right after we disband our armies. We will not have our forces in place when we release this information - soldiers will be scattered across the world on different 'missions' that we'll order them to go on. As soon as that information is released, we'll go into hiding. All of us." Gabe fought to keep his expression as neutral as he could; he did not want Jesse to see the fear in his eyes. "And I am afraid that we may have to spend the rest of our lives in hiding."

  Jesse saw Jack flinch but he himself only shrugged. "Not like I've not done that before." He looked between the two commanders again. "So, for now it's just business as usual?" "Yes." Jack nodded. "Gabriel and I will be discussing this more at length during the rest of his recovery. We will determine the proper course of action for us to take." "Jack, go ahead and get the phones. It’s late enough that no one should question you leaving the base for a while. Do you have enough cash on you to get them?" "Yes." He pushed himself away from the wall. "I will see you two soon." He gave a curt nod before leaving the room.

    Gabriel remained motionless until the sound of Jack's retreating feet had faded into silence.

 He reached out to his soldier. "Jesse," his voice was as unsteady as his hands, "why did you agree to this?" "Because you asked me for help. You're my commander," Jesse held Gabe's hands. "You're my boss." "You've just followed me into hell..." "At least I'll be in good company." He gave his commander a small, crooked smile. Gabriel, despite the situation, returned the smile. "Indeed." He squeezed the man's hands once more before leaning back. "I'm going to call Lori in here. There's something that I need to do and I do not want to let it wait any more. You can take your phone back, but don't put the battery back in until after Jack returns with the new phones." "Alright." He returned the pieces to his pocket as Gabe pressed the call button.

 It took only three minutes for Lori arrive.

 She threw open the door and rushed inside, followed by two other scrub-clad men. Security guards, Jesse figured, judging by the outlines of the concealed guns. He watched as Lori came to Gabe's side before shifting his gaze back to the guards. They were standing between themselves and the doorway; both men looked like they were ready to jump into action at the slightest provocation. "Gabe, what's wrong?" Lori asked as she checked his vitals. "Nothing; I'd like to leave." "You ripped your stitches just a few hours ago!" "Yes, I know." Gabe's lips quirked into a grin. "But I'd like to leave now. Is there any real reason for me to stay here?" "Yeah - for rest and recovery!" "I'd rather do that in my own bed." Lori sighed. "Pain in my ass, I swear." She shook her head. "Gabe, I don't think you should leave just yet. You need to rest. At the very least, let that course of antibiotics," she gestured to a mostly-empty IV bag, "finish up, okay?" "There's about ten minutes left in it, yeah?" "Yeah. When that's empty, give me a call and I'll discharge you. But!" She poked his chest. "You better get your ass back in here bright and early! We gotta keep those antibiotics in you if we want to cure that infection, alright?" "I'll be back here at 7 am, sharp." "Fine." She looked to the two guards. "Go on; go back to your stations." They hesitated, not moving until she began to shoo them out of the room.

  Lori looked to the commander as she stood in the doorway. "Give me a call when the bag empties and I'll unhook you, okay? I shouldn't, but I know Jesse'll bring you back here if you get worse." Jesse gave a playful salute to the nurse as she closed the door.

  When the two could only hear the silence of the mostly-empty bay, Jesse looked up to his commander. "What are you gonna do?" "I want to change your duties. I want you with me at all times now. I have the feeling that I am going to be needing a body guard and I trust you more than I do anyone else." He gave a half smile. "I hope you aren't upset that we won't be announcing your new rank to the rest of the forces, though. "New rank?" "It wouldn't be right to have a sergeant standing at the side of a General, now would it?" "No...?" "Exactly. Congratulations, Major Jesse Gabriel McCree." Gabe's smile reached his eyes. Jesse mouthed the words in disbelief as he stared to his commander--no, his General. He knew Gabe hated the title, but it's what he was; Gabe wasn't just his commander...

  He was General Reyes of Blackwatch - one of the most powerful men in the world.

  Gabe watched Jesse processing this new development, all but laughing at the way he was blinking owlishly in confusion. "Jesse, when you find your feet, can you return to my room and bring me a change of clothes? I don't want to walk through the base in scrubs." "Yessir, Gener--" "Don't fucking call me that." "Sure thing, boss." "Much better." Gabe smiled as he settled himself down into the uncomfortable bed.

  His smile vanished the moment the door closed...

  Gabriel stared into the dark room as worry and guilt filled his heart; he had known that Jesse would agree to help him, had known that the kid would do anything he asked. He had held onto the vain hope that Jesse, for once in his life, would have told him no.

  He carefully drew his legs up to his chest and sighed. None of this was what he had signed up for when he had enlisted into Overwatch. He had thought he was simply going to be another grunt soldier, a standard Joe with a gun and a rucksack. He had not expected to ever rise to the point of leading troops, let alone to the point of commanding Blackwatch. And yet, he wasn't surprised that this had happened.

  He had dedicated himself to Overwatch all those years ago, just as he still did. Overwatch kept a roof over his head and food in his stomach. Hector's home had long since been sold and his mother refused to speak to him. His cousins, too, were not fond of him - he couldn't prove it, but he was certain it was because of his estranged mother. Overwatch was all that he had and he did everything he could to ensure that he wouldn't lose it.

  And yet, he chuckled darkly, funny how fast things change...

    Jesse passed Lori in the hallway and gave the frazzled woman a grin. "Take care of him," she grumbled as she gave Jesse a quick hug, "he's as ornery as they come right now." "How's that a change from the usual?" Lori gave him a half-smile as she went to go check on her other patients.

  Jesse stepped into Gabriel's room and closed the door behind him. He placed a change of clothes down on the bed and stepped back. "Want me to leave the room so you can change?" "I don't care." Gabe said as he pulled off the hospital gown. "Thanks for bringin--Jesse, what the fuck?" "What?" "These are not mine. Where the fuck did you find these?" "What?" Jesse asked, trying and failing to sound innocent. "Mijo, one of these days, I swear I'm gonna kick your ass." Reyes found himself staring down at a pair of black sweat pants with the word 'JUICY' emblazoned across the seat. He grumbled as he pulled on the pants and the shirt before sliding out of bed.

  Gabe hurried out of the infirmary, grateful that Lori was with a patient and couldn't see him. He knew that she'd demand pictures and the last thing he wanted was to have his pant-clad ass be the background on her cellphone again.

  Jesse followed behind him, grinning from ear to ear as he followed his commander - it took every ounce of willpower he didn't know he had to not wolf-whistle. Gabe might be his boss, but he could still appreciate a nice ass when he saw one...

    After a blessedly uneventful walk through the base, the pair found themselves frowning as they stood within Reyes' room. The blood had dried on the floor and the papers were still scattered across the entire room.   "Jesse, clean up the documents." He sighed as he went to fetch a towel. "Don't worry about putting them back in order right now. I'll take care of the blood." "Yessir."

  They worked quickly and silently to put Reyes' room back together. Jesse gathered the sheets and righted the upended chair as Gabriel cleaned up the dried puddle of his own blood. He did not comment on the way Reyes' hands were shaking as he saw the man's tight-lipped expression. He knew Gabe well enough to know that the man was fighting to keep his composure and he wasn't about to press the issue. If Gabe wanted to talk, he would do it on his own time.

  "He nearly killed me, Jesse."

  He just hadn't expected Gabe to talk about it now.

  "He nearly killed me." He said again. "He admitted it. He admitted he shoved me on purpose. He admitted he nearly killed me because I knew too much." Reyes was sitting on the floor, right next to the cleaned tile and the bloodied towel. "The man I love nearly killed me. I wanted to have my life with him, and he with me, and he nearly killed me." Reyes stared down at the blood on his hands - his own blood. "Jesse, I don't--I mean," he sighed, "that isn't Jack. The man you saw today? That's not Jack. I don't even know who that is, but I know that's not my Jack." He closed his eyes. "Just as I'm not his Gabriel anymore." "Boss?" Jesse's tone was low, eerily calm. "Are you honestly telling me he tried to murder you?" "Mijo, you are not allowed to leave my side right now." "What?" "For all of our sakes, you are not allowed to leave my side." "...Fine." "You're not allowed to lay a hand on him, either. Not yet." "Com--" "No, Jesse. No. Not yet." Reyes slowly pushed himself to his feet and picked up the towel. "When all this is said and done, and we're all safe, then I'll give him a ten second head start before I let you go after him. But, for now, we need him. He needs me, I need him. I need you. I need everyone to work together, because if we have any sort of rift between us, we'll all swing from the gallows." "...Fine." Jesse huffed. "Fine. But you better promise me that I'll get my licks in one day." "One day, yes. But not now." Jesse nodded, seemingly placated. "So what now?"

  "Now, I'm going to change out of these fucking sweats and we're going to go to my office." Gabe said as he made his way to his small dresser. He pulled out a pair of nondescript pants before pushing the sweats off of his hips. He went to step out of them, only to bite back a scream as he felt his newly-stitched incisions pulling. Jesse ran to his side and grabbed him, holding him steady as Gabe tried to clear the stars from his vision. He guided Gabe back to the bed and helped him sit, his young face contorted with worry as he saw Gabe paling from the pain. "Boss? Do I need to get some oxy?" "No." He hissed. "I need my wits about me. I'll take some ibuprofen, though. Eight hundred milligrams." "Sure thing." Jesse hurried into the small bathroom and began sorting through the pill bottles.

  He rejoined Gabe a moment later and handed him a large pill and a cup of water. He watched as Gabe swallowed the pill with only a sip of water before he closed his eyes. "We'll go to my office in a few minutes." His voice was thin. "At your leisure, boss."

   The two men made their way through the base, neither talking as they walked to Gabe's office. Most of the soldiers had settled in for the night, with only a few men and women milling about the halls. Jesse watched as Gabe unlocked the door to his office and followed him inside. He blinked at the alien sight of Mrs. Ramanaja's empty desk; he had half-expected her to still be there. "So, where does Mrs. Ramanaja live?" "On base." "What? Really? I never see her." "That's because she doesn't want to be seen." Gabe smiled wryly. "She's going to be a part of this too, Jesse. No way for her not to be. She sees everything we do." "But she's just a secreta--" "Before you finish that statement, do you want to know why it took me so long to find a replacement for Andrew?" "Yeah." "Because I wanted someone with a background in the Special Forces. Mrs. Ramanaja was a career soldier, but I'm not at liberty to disclose the full details or what army she served in. All you need to know is that she's a force of nature," his smile grew, "and she also makes a good cup of tea." "...understood." Jesse threw one final look over his shoulder as he followed Gabe into his office. He swore he saw the butt of a rifle strapped to the underside of the desk.

  Gabe sat at his desk and drummed his fingers on his knee as he waited for his computer to wake up. "The password changes every week," Gabe said without looking to the soldier, "every Monday morning. I'll tell you how to find the password later. For now, come here." He looked up to Jesse. "Follow what I do. If something happens to me and our operation is blown before we're ready, I want you to delete the records of this entire base. I'll show you how to do it. And I'll keep showing you until you can do it with your eyes closed." "O-okay," Jesse swallowed as he stood next to Gabe, watching as the man pulled up a terminal window and began to type. "I can't get to all of the backup copies from here," Gabe continued typing, "but I've got a contingency plan to take care of them. We'll go over that later and I'll tell you what you need to do to set that plan in motion." "Understood." Jesse's voice shook slightly. "If you can't do this, Mrs. Ramanaja can. She knows how and she knows when she'll need to do it." "Good." His tone grew a little stronger with the reassurance that he wouldn't be the only person saddled with this responsibility. He watched as Gabe began to walk him through the databases and how to navigate the tables...

   The next three days passed without much fanfare. Reyes began a new course of antibiotics and spent most of his days sick to his stomach and knitting in an attempt to keep his blood pressure down. Jesse spent his time sitting next to Reyes, talking with his commander as Reyes relayed everything he knew. Jack spent his time doing work within Reyes' office, managing both Overwatch and Blackwatch with the help of Mrs. Ramanaja.

The only interesting thing that had happened was the one thing that Jesse wasn't privy to.

  Gabe and Jack had changed their sleeping arrangements on the night they received their new phones. After plenty of arguing and a stern hand on his back, Jesse left the pair as he went to go get Reyes' medications from the clinic. When he had come back, he noticed that Reyes' room was nowhere near as crowded as it had been before. "Jack is taking a room elsewhere in the base." Gabe did not look up from his knitting. "Good." Jesse sat on the edge of the bed. "It's safer that way." "Indeed..." Gabe's tone was firm as his eyes were dour. "I am considering moving your room to be adjacent to mine. I will talk with the agents in the morning to see what we can do." "Alright." Jesse looked to the hat. "Y'really want me close, don't you?" "You do me no good as a bodyguard if you aren't here." "Yeah..."

  Gabe glanced up at the young man, his expression softening as he saw Jesse's glum face. "It's more than that, you know. I want you around me - now, more than ever." He lowered his needles. "This is a stressful time and we don't know who our enemies are. We need our allies and our family and we need them close." He nudged Jesse's leg with his foot. "Smile, mijo. We're fine for now." "How can I, boss? I mean, look at what happened! Jack nearly killed you and we're plottin' to overthrow Overwatch. Shit, next you're gonna tell me we're gonna go capture the president of England!" "England doesn't have a president." Gabe returned his gaze to his knitting. "And yes, it's bad, but right now, everything's fine." He shook his head. "Enjoy it while you can, mijo. I don't know how much longer it'll last..."

     The peace lasted for three days.

 Jesse stared down at the ball of yarn as he idly rolled it between his hands. This wasn't at all what he had expected when Reyes told him he'd be his new bodyguard, but he wasn't really complaining. He could hear the quiet hum of the ceiling fan, the gentle music that filled the room and the rhythmic clicking of Reyes' knitting needles. Jesse let his fingers comb through the unwound yarn as he exhaled. His head came to rest against the wall behind the bed. He found himself nodding off as he was soothed by the susurrus.

For right now, he knew, everything was safe.

  Here, in the quiet bedroom, there was no Blackwatch. There was no Overwatch. There were no unseen enemies, no fear and no threats of death. There were no monsters lurking in the shadows and there was nothing here that could jeopardize his life or the life of his commander.

  He glanced over to Reyes and found himself smiling. Reyes was focused on the hat he was knitting; his normally intense gaze had grown as soft as the cashmere yarn that wove between his needles.

  There was only peace here, he thought; peace and the steady sound of Reyes' knitting.

  Jesse's smile grew dewy as sleep settled itself onto his shoulders...

  He was pulled back to consciousness a moment later as a knitting needle poked his side.

  "Jesse," The young man bolted upright, his eyes wide and searching as his hand reached for the empty holster on his hip. "I did not officially change your duties so you could fall asleep beside me." "...sorry, boss," Jesse mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, "I just, uh..." He glanced down to the red yarn he still held. "I mean, can y'blame me?" Reyes chuckled as he resumed knitting. "Perhaps I should teach you how to knit. It might keep you occupied - and awake." "I dunno. I mean, if y'want me to be occupied, I could read--" "You fall asleep on your books on a regular basis." "--or I could help with the paperwork--" Reyes glanced over to him. "Are you telling me you want to do paperwork? Because that can easily be arranged." "...so, how 'bout that knitting?" Jesse turned to face Reyes, staring intently down at the needles he held. "How's this work? Hold two sticks, wiggle them a bit and then stuff appears?" "More or less." He smiled. "You're just wanting to learn so you can get away from paperwork, aren't you?" "Maybe." Reyes sat up a little straighter. "Do you really want to learn?" "Yeah." Jesse nodded. "I mean, you seem to enjoy it and I figure if you can do it for hours on end, it's gotta be pretty relaxing. Y'don't tolerate bullshit or tedious stuff for long." Gabe laughed at that. "Alright then. Go to the closet; there's a bag just inside the door. There's plenty of yarn in there and some extra needles - grab whatever yarn you want." "'kay." He did as Reyes told him and hummed to himself as he rummaged through the large bag. "Why do you have all this stuff, boss?" "Sandy gave it to me." "Did she know you knit?" "No. I didn't know how until about a week ago, actually. She gave me all of it and she taught me how to use it - she said it'd be something good for me to do while recovering." "Oh." Jesse picked up a ball of thick blue yarn and some needles before making his way back to the bed. "You're really good at it, especially since you just started." "Practice." Reyes yawned, "I can't sleep on these medications, so I knit." "Oh..." Jesse sat down beside his commander and looked up to him. "Y'know you can text me, right? I mean, I'd come keep you company if you can't sleep."  "I know, mijo, but I'll be fine." He glanced over at the yarn Jesse held and nodded. "Good, that'll be easy for you to work with. You ready?" "Yup." Jesse grinned.

    Jack ran a hand down his tired face as he made his way slowly to Reyes' room. It was only Friday, but he was utterly exhausted - he honestly didn't know how Gabe could manage the amount of drudgery with just himself and Mrs. Ramanaja. Yes, the woman was amazing at what she did, but she was just one person and Reyes was just another. How did they manage to have time to do anything besides paperwork? Hell, he had an entire clerical staff at his base and he still spent most of his day stuck behind his desk!

  He continued to grumble as he walked through the halls, his dark mood leaving him just long enough to return the salutes of the soldiers that he passed. They were respectful, at least, but Jack was still reeling from culture shock as he walked through the Blackwatch headquarters. This place was so very different from his own base. Everything at Zurich was done by the books and on a very set schedule. Here?

  He shook his head as he passed by the recreation room, trying to ignore the sounds of the Mockingbirds and the Hellcats. The Mockingbird unit was trying and apparently succeeding at defending their title of Foosball champions.

  For the tenth time that day, he swore that the Blackwatch base was nothing more than barely organized chaos...

  At long last, Jack reached Gabriel's room.

  He pushed open the door to Reyes' room and paused as he stared at the scene before him.

  Jesse and Reyes were both sitting on the bed, their backs against the headboard with knitting needles dangling from their limp hands. Jesse's head had fallen onto Reyes' shoulder; Reyes' head had come to rest on top of Jesse's. Both men were sleeping soundly with their laps covered by various balls of yarn and half-knitted pieces. Jack blinked at the sight of a poorly made blue hat on Reyes' head but remained silent as he pulled out his phone. He took a picture of the resting pair before he cleared his throat. "Look alive, gentlemen. We've got a mission to sabotage..."

[carolingcreations]

I’ve got something to say that I know I’m gonna catch a fuckton of heat for but I’m going to say it anyway.

More white people in the Agents of SHIELD fandom need to take more ownership of Grant Ward.  Here’s why.

When you look at Muslim communities and you look at radicalization and ISIS religious and community leaders have plans in place to reach out to at risk youth in their communities.  They actually work with anti-white radicalization in Europe combating nazi behavior.  

Fact.

Nazis are very real. They’re in power and they’re in the US government and throwing around the word as a descriptor is fine but using it to describe Brett Dalton and not making that explicitly clear is gross because it affects real people.

I propose however that Stand With Ward actually actively own that the guy is a nazi and there are thousands of at risk young men, possibly young women, and families who should be given an opportunity to see something better.

Let me tell you who I trust most in this world run by Donald Trump. Minorities and people who have come out as former nazis who want to do better.  You want to know why? Minorities are being oppressed day to day in and out and they need to take care of themselves but they thrive and work together.  They know what oppression looks like. Now the big one.  Why do I trust FORMER nazis? 

Because it takes balls of steel to admit that you were an oppressive fuckwit who abused and tortured innocent people and they STAY IN THEIR LANE trying to convince people that Hitler is garbage and nazism is bullshit.  They don’t go into minority spaces and try and influence people, they don’t virtue signal and say “WELL I HAVE BLACK FRIENDS/AM GAY/WHATEVER” they stay in their lane and try and work on positive white identity and if anything the sheer BULLSHIT that comes with Scarlett Johansson’s Ghost in the Shell casting which is wrong on multiple levels proves that white people need to start recognizing that there’s a white identity.

It is not all encompassing.

It must be addressed that the majority of it is related to hatred.

Look. Let’s face facts.

Nobody wants to admit they’re wrong.

So here’s a thought while we all go into this last half of Agents of SHIELD 4C.

IF YOU’RE THINKING THAT YOU WANT TO CALL WARD A NAZI - 

Fucking do it. The dude is. They made decisions with that character that made him a rat bastard.  Maybe preface it with the idea that Brett Dalton is not a nazi and if you think he is, if you HONESTLY believe that Brett Patrick Dalton is a Nazi here’s the southern poverty law center’s website:

https://www.splcenter.org/

Please report him to the authorities. Nazis are real. Nazis are sending out bomb threats.  You can’t throw around calling an actor a fucking nazi unless you’re prepared to back it up.

IF YOU’RE THINKING THAT YOU WANT TO JUST FORGET NAZISM AND JUST CALL IT BAD AND NOT INVOLVE YOURSELF.

Okay. Sure Jan.  I’m gonna come back to that.

IF YOU’RE THROWING OUT HATE BECAUSE OF HYDRA, DEFENDING HYDRA’S POSITION, OR JUST FEEL LIKE CALLING EACH OTHER NAZIS.

again. report anyone you think is a nazi to southern poverty law center in the US. Straight up. Cut this fucking shit out. 

IF YOU’RE THINKING YOU WANT TO JUST FORGET NAZISM AND JUST CALL IT BAD AND NOT INVOLVE YOURSELF.

You thought about it right? ok. Ask yourself this. Are you a member of a minority group? A person of color?

If you answered yes to this but you are not a person of color.  proceed to question two. If you are, have a nice day.

Are you Jewish?

If you answered no please proceed to question three.  Otherwise stop here and have a nice life, this post is not for you, all my best and god bless.

Are you white and non-jewish, still a member of a minority (Disabled, Queer?) and calling yourself “liberal.” or are you simply white and on this website.

You don’t get to ignore this.  Once you’ve punched nazis in the face it’s time to face facts. Your parents fucked up. Your mommy and daddy fucked up. Marvel fucked up and there are nazis. What do you do once you’ve punched them in the face? do you 

A- Say “well I did my part. I did violence against a person. It’s time to pass them into a justice system where WHITE SUPREMACISTS HAVE BEEN QUIETLY INVADING LAW ENFORCEMENT FOR OVER A DECADE and where the prison industrial complex enslaves black Americans and will probably make white prisoners into overseers and further black oppression...

(no really it’s true. look it up: http://www.pbs.org/newshour/rundown/fbi-white-supremacists-in-law-enforcement/)

B - I don’t know what to do with this why are you yelling at me I need a hug box I’m triggered!

Face facts. People are dying because of nazis in America and around the world. Persons of color are being oppressed. LGBTQ individuals are being killed. You do not get to pass this by and if you want to call yourself a fucking ally then you don’t just get to look at this and say “this makes me uncomfortable” or invade minority spaces in the hope that they’ll comfort you.

That’s what Get Out is all about friends. People wanting to be minorities cause they don’t own being white.

Here’s reasons why you need to be concerned about White Radicalization

https://afrosapiophile.com/2016/12/10/white-radicalization/

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/nov/15/alt-right-manosphere-mainstream-politics-breitbart

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/06/magazine/we-dont-talk-about-radicalization-when-an-attacker-isnt-muslim-we-should.html?_r=0

Grant Ward, Kylo Ren, Loki, Fandom has a history of problematic white men whose existence is excused purely because people either think they’re hot or they think they need to be pitied or people get angry and don’t think that they need to get involved when the concept of white radicalization and white terror comes up.  Whatever side of the argument you’re on, seeing them as human beings who have fallen and lost their way or seeing them as angry monsters, white people, we need to own them and we need to own their issues and their mistakes.

Face facts. If you’re anti-ward you need to own what he represents. If you’re pro-ward you need to own what he represents.  Instead of tossing around the word nazi  or living in a delusional fantasy wonderland maybe instead take five minutes to not just post angry shit about Nick Spencer or be very confused about Agents of shield (ith one WOC showrunner in a room full of white men?...still doesn’t excuse the white men bringing this shit back....)

I’m making plans to donate the cover cause of every issue of captain america that I bought to the holocaust museum and not buying anymore.  Me making this post is a reminder to myself to do that. I’m also donating to these organizations/volunteering when I have a chance.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/feb/02/facism-alt-right-activists-trump-milo-yiannopoulos

https://www.facebook.com/Anti-Fascist-America-138942436283079/

There are DOZENS of organizations in the UK as well that promote this. As Americans - given the sheer number of white terrorists who have shot up everything from a school to a movie theater to other places it’s time to own there’s a fucking problem.  We put a hitler wannabe in the white house and we’re going to get him out but if we don’t acknowledge the dozens of Grant wards baking in Reddit chatrooms or simmering and cooking on 4chan then there’s no fucking point in getting Der trumpkin out of office cause eventually he’ll come back.

Persons of color have their struggles. They know their communities. The first person who responds to this with “I don’t see color I just wanna listen to them” is gonna get their ass fucking smacked six ways to sunday. Why the fuck are you putting the burden on their shoulders after all they’ve been through? Own your issues. Either you sit down and get with the program that white people are sick and need help (and I say this as a white german american) or you allow nazism to linger and if you allow that to linger then sorry but I’m revoking your “I wanna bitch about HYDRA weeeh” card. HYDRA’s not real. Nazis are real and they’re out there and I’m fucking exhausted by all of you BITCHING about this.

So. Take the time. Volunteer and donate. If you hate grant ward take five minutes then come back and realize that there are probably five real Grant wards out there right now that you can actually HELP by donating to these organizations, getting out and marching, squashing their platform, and funding those people with balls of goddamn steel who own that they were a part of a hate group and are working to get others out.  Wasting your time harassing others for a fictional character and a fictional thing when there are real ways you could help people is fucking stupid. If you’re pissed about Nick Spencer volunteer and donate.  If you cut off the head two more will take it’s place but if you stab this shit in the heart then it’s gonna go away forever.

If you’re a Grant Ward fan don’t force your gross and creepy beliefs on other people, stop trying to beat a dead horse and let’s band together to do something GOOD to make this world a better place if we were that affected by this character.  I get what it’s like to want to pity the guy.  I’ve been there. I was abused. I was a rape victim. I was jailed and I fucking saw shit but coming out and seeing ward LOSE taught me two things. 1) there needs to be better representation for people who suffer from abuse and jail and it needs to encompass everyone not just cishet white dudes 2) I need to own that there but for the grace of god go I. Go we. Go ALL  of us.  Go every self-righteous white person who doesn’t feel connected and doesn’t have a solid family footing.

So take five minutes. Read about this. Acknowledge Ward’s a white terrorist but instead of just going about your day actually DO something about this because other communities.

I’m reminded of something Samantha Bee said the day after the election. “If Muslims have to take responsibility for all muslims then white people have to take responsibility for all the bad white people.”

So Coulson Fans, So FitzSimmons Fans, So Daisy Fans, So all y’all fans who are white - like it or not. Grant ward may not be your “Trash Son” but he’s your angry cousin who’s come home and it’s time for you to sit down at the dinner table with him and recognize what he represents.  A real systemic problem in this world that we can defeat if we work together.

So let me ask you. are you going to do what minorities have been asking us white folk to do for YEARS and have these uncomfortable conversations about what this character represents, what people like this represent and how we can stop it? 

Or are you going to bitch and ignore the issue. 

Before you do consider one thing. Shout out to my  fellow Americans. A lot of the people who are Ward fans are Germans from germany.

Take a look at what the US did to Germany after Hitler was in power. pause. reflect on that “digging up the mass graves of concentration camp survivors.” fact.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denazification

Recognize that they don’t want to see this repeated.  They’re maybe just going about this the wrong way.  That they’re thinking about shit we as Americans haven’t been taught to think of yet like that white people aren’t the center of the universe.  Think of all those Reddit folks who will drag the rest of us to hell simply for pepe and the lolz. You want to dig up mass graves of whoever Cheeto Jesus and his weird pal hate?

So I’m gonna ask again. Are you really a committed ally and ready to work to build something better and ask yourself these tough questions...

Or are you a liberal from Get Out.

Cause I have zero time for that shit.

And now it’s time for a brief Q&A:

Q: Where did this post come from?

A: Chloe Bennet’s right. Like it or not Grant Ward followed a nazi organization’s ideals. People should try and be better. What’s not right is the sheer number of people taking this as an opportunity to harass and belittle fans who liked the character.  Both sides of this debate are fucking ridiculous and neither are acknowledging the real problem.  Chloe’s got her own battles to fight and her own things she’s passionate about but people acting on behalf of one person’s idea of what a person should do without thinking for themselves is an awful lot like Hitler if you ask me.

Q: Did you just call me Hitler?!

A: Are you co-opting the spaces of minorities for your own personal gain? Are you leaning on your black friends or your minority friends when they need a space of their own? Do you bitch about 45 and not do anything about him or his followers? Are you following Bennet’s ideas because you “love her and want to be just like her physically or do you want to follow her ideals?” Do you just pick out Skyeward people because it makes you feel good to see other 15 year old sad sacks of shit on the internet cry like bitches? do you dislike Ward because it reminds you of an old boyfriend and everytime you post something hateful about an actor it’s like you’re kicking that ex BF in the crouch?

Give it a think.  I’m not in a mood to pussyfoot around.

Q: Do you donate and volunteer?

A: This is as much of a call to action for myself and others. I start here:

https://www.safetypinbox.com/

I sit and listen in minority communities and elevate those voices then go back to my community and own. my shit.

Q: You’re a horrible person and all of this is wrong.

A: Cool. At Me. Tell me I’m shit. I’m good with it. Doesn’t change the fact that this is a real issue.

Q: But I love Skyeward.

A: Accept that it’s wrong. Make a joke out if it. Laugh uproariously. Also Skyeward is dead.  This is another fake ratings grab on a TV show taking advantage of a pairing that really pisses people off on BOTH sides of the aisle. Skyeward is the donald trump of the marvel universe.  some people LOVE it. some people HATE it. Either way it’s divisive and tearing what should be a fun place apart.

Q: but I’m woke -

A: no white person is woke. We’re just fighting not to sleep deeper.

Q: I genuinely hate all the shit you’re doing kill yourself.

A: I used to be a lot like you. I sent hate. not in this fandom but in other places. get yourself right with god and examine why you’re so angry about this. Write angry letters, touch grass, go outside. If you’re that oppressed that you need to deal with others then cool. girl bye.

Q: I’m a Person of Color/Jewish and I’m offended by this.

A: I deeply apologize for offending you. I felt this was an issue that needed to be discussed beyond just spewing gobs of hatred about a stupid issue.  To be perfectly honest Ms. Bennet’s post, while correct, needed to be said and it hurt.  I’m working on de-centering my whiteness and my sense of self, can’t do that without acknowledging a community.  I don’t like that I liked a nazi.  In fact it bothers me that my favorite character turned out to be the kind of person that led the US Army to not let my grandpa carry a gun and actually fight evil.  nazism is evil. It oppresses me (I’m gay and disabled) and it has oppressed your communities since your conception.

I’m also American and our president is a shit stick turd and it’s time to fight back.  I do that by owning this. HYDRA is fiction. It’s not real. but the ideals it represents are real and I’d rather punch back against that because the more you try and push people like Nick Spencer or this framework idea the .....more it’s gonna stay put.

I’m done with cutting off heads. I want to stab this shit in the heart where it hurts.

Q: I’m a person of color/jewish and I don’t know what to make of this.

A: Please, feel free to share your opinions. This is the last I’m going to post on this but fucking hell I’m tired and I’m sorry that you have to go through Spencer’s shit and Marvel’s shit. Again, one WOC showrunner in a room full of white guys. I still wanna hold those white guys accountable for this crap.

This is the last I’m gonna post to this post. I don’t know if I’ll read anything (or if any of you will give a shit) but hopefully this might make an impact on at least one person and if it does? I’ll count myself lucky.  There’s a lot in play here that doesn’t have to do with this very real issue.  Egotistical fan groups, Angry social justice warriors who don’t fucking do jack shit.  I’m tired and I’m done with all y’all and this is step one of me breaking up with this pain that I have lived with for 3 goddamn years.

This is shit. I’m owning it. I’m gonna work to clean it up.  Will you join me?