#shut up shut up i hate you. you cannot blame the entire communities problems on someone who's writing an essay on the pearl

[dysaniadisorder]

i am so sick of all in-community homophobia & transphobia being blamed on teenagers shut the fuck up i was raised by a butch woman do u know the amount of 25-year-olds who have claimed to be elders and told me not to use neos or say the word queer. a lot ok

[susiephone]

Imagine thinking that wanting straight people to be accepting of gay people is a "trap" and not like, literally THE entire goal of the modern LGBT rights movement since its inception

okay. this is in response to me saying “respectability politics is a trap.” which it absolutely is.

but i’ll give you the benefit of the doubt here. let’s define respectability politics, shall we?

several people who are more well-spoken than me have talked about this. to quote this article on the subject:

Respectability politics is a school of thought that utilizes respectability narratives as the basis for enacting social, political, and legal change.

Respectability narratives are representations of marginalized individuals meant to construct an image of the marginalized group as people sharing similar traits, values, morals with the dominant group.

essentially, respectability politics is when people in a marginalized group (queer people, disabled people, people of color) wish to be accepted by the majority, and thus present themselves in a way and behave in a way that the majority deems acceptable - and pressure others in their marginalized group to do the same. for example:

“Not all bisexual people are sluts, I’m bi and I’ve been in a committed relationship for 20 years!”

“I’m gay, but I’m not one of THOSE gay guys, I hate shopping and I don’t like to flaunt my sexuality at all!”

“Lesbians aren’t really all masculine, I love makeup and having long hair.”

(I’m using examples I’ve seen in the queer community because I’m queer; I know this happens a lot in communities of color, but I am not qualified to speak on that at all.)

this stems from a desire to be accepted by the majority; for the purposes of this discussion, straight people. we hear straight people say things like “i could never date a bi person, they’re all cheaters” or “i don’t mind gay guys, don’t just shove it in my face” and “why don’t lesbians act like women if they love them?” and, in response, some people go, “i don’t act like that!! you can accept me! i fit in! i’m respectable, i’m not like those guys, they embarrass us!”

there’s also a lot of people saying, “don’t reinforce the stereotype.” as if it’s OUR fault straight people stereotype us.

so this leads to shaming within our own community:

“You’re bi and polyamorous? Wow, way to make people think we’re all two-timing whores.”

“Makeup? Jesus, we get it, you’re gay, you don’t have to make it a pride parade every time you go out.”

“You look like a teenage boy, this is why everyone lesbians aren’t real women.”

and that all boils down to:

“THIS is the example you’re setting? This is the face you show to the world? Don’t you know you’re representing us? No wonder they don’t respect us.”

and that’s the real problem: telling other queer people, “it is YOUR fault you’re not accepted, YOU aren’t acceptable, YOU reinforce these stereotypes, YOU should try and be more respectable, more normal.” and the thing is, “normal” is defined by the majority. THEY decide what is acceptable behavior for us. and guess what? 

most of the time, that boils down to, “It’s fine if you’re different... as long as you’re as close to what I deem normal as possible. As long as I can’t tell you’re different.”

in the queer community, this sort of thinking has led to the exclusion of butch lesbians, femme gay men, nonbinary people, non-passing trans people, trans people in general, people who use any pronouns besides she/her and he/him, bisexual people, ace people, aro people, pan people, polyamorous bisexual people, people who have an active sex life, sex workers, people who have changed how they identify, and countless others. these people get shoved aside by the Good Respectable Gays, who are eager to say, “We’re not like them, we’re just like you!” in order to be accepted by the mainstream. and it still doesn’t work. even the most macho, would-never-guess-it gay guy is bound to face some level of oppression or otherness at some point in his life. it doesn’t matter how much he fits in, how much he distances himself from the Unacceptable Queers; it won’t work 100% of the time. how’s that for a punchline?

there is no point in trying to file off the “unacceptable” parts of our community just to please straight people. 

if a person hates all queer people, no matter how they act or present, they’re a homophobe.

if a person doesn’t hate queer people, just the ones who shove it in your face and sleep around and won’t shut up about it and buck gender norms and use weird pronouns and expect people to learn their new name and change their identity every week... they’re still a fucking homophobe.

and why the fuck are we trying to please homophobes, again?

so when people say lil nas x is bad, actually, because he “reinforces the stereotype” of gay people going to hell and thinking a lot about sex or whatever, they’re playing right into respectability politics. why can’t he just talk about his sexuality in a normal way? why can’t he express himself in a nicer way? why does he have to use that imagery? why does he have to make straight people uncomfortable?

lis nas x is a gay black man who grew up being told he’d burn in hell for being gay. and he made an awesome song with a legendary music video saying, “fine. i’ll go to hell, just like you want, and it’ll be great. i’ll take the damn place over and make satan fall in love with me. and i’ll have a great time doing it, because i’m proud of who i am, and i won’t apologize for it or be ashamed of it anymore.”

to see that and wring your hands, worrying that a straight person will see it and decide to be homophobic about it, and pinning the blame for that on nas is missing the point.

every time we as a community make ourselves lesser or change the way we present just to be accepted by the majority, they move the goalposts, and someone else gets left behind. and the beautiful thing about the queer community is that there is a place for everyone who is left out in the cold by the straight, cis majority.

“We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it” was the rallying cry for a reason. we’re different, you think we’re weird, you think we’re deviant, you don’t get us, and that’s fine, you don’t have to get us. we’re not going anywhere. get used to it.

respectability politics is a game you cannot win. so stop playing.

[heartsofbeskar]

the red wolf

chapter one: two swords

oberyn martell x fem!reader

WARNINGS: mentions and descriptions of violence (GOT canon typical), talk of death, language

WORDS: 3.5K

EXCERPT: Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

A/N: this is in second person, but the reader insert character belongs to a canon house which of course implies physical characteristics, including her being white! (ik this is a problem for some reader inserts being coded white so i wanted to address it here)

masterlist

next

Your hands trembled as they threaded through the soft, red locks. You used to do this when she was younger, you recalled, when she couldn’t sleep or was feeling ill or had a frightful dream.

It wasn’t just a dream this time.

Her shaky breath was warm against your neck, and you pulled her head closer in against you. Tears fell down the front of your bodice and you swallowed thickly, as you felt a familiar burn behind your own eyes. You willed the tears not to fall.

“It isn’t fair,” came her voice, impossibly small, against your bare skin. Her hands gripped tightly into the dense fabric of your skirts. “He wasn’t a traitor.”

You shushed her gently, your free hand ghosting up and down her back. You longed for the days when she was small enough for you to collect her in your lap, hold her close to your breast, as your mother had done for you both.

Another sob wracked her body, and you squeezed your eyes painfully shut at the sound. You hated it, you hated this. How you couldn’t protect her, or your father, or your brothers, or anyone.

“Sansa,” you whispered, taking her face in your hands, tilting it up to look into yours. Your heart shattered again at the sight of her, skin glistening with her tears, eyes and lips swollen and flushed from crying. You rested your forehead against hers, thumbs stroking her over delicate features. “You cannot say those things outside of this room. Tell me you know this, please.”

Your voice broke on the last word, emotion clawing its way up your throat. You loathed to ask this of her, to harden her once trusting and open spirit even further, but you needed her to know it. You wouldn’t give the Lannisters any excuse to hurt her, too.

“I do,” she choked out, fresh tears spilling over. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, pulling her back into your arms.

Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

“We are Starks, my sweet sister.” You resumed combing through Sansa’s long hair; you weren’t sure if it was a comfort to her or to you. “We will not yield.”

—

The great walls of Winterfell rose behind you, as your feet carried you through the tall grass that grew uncontrolled just outside the keep’s gates. Small creatures darted to and fro under its cover. A gentle wind blew across your face, pushing your hair to the side. You heard the call of a wild raven overhead.

Winter bounded past you, the direwolf’s strong limbs carrying him far ahead of you with ease, though his grey speckled coat made him easy to find against the late summer colours of the grass. He turned back to look at you, mouth wide open in a pant, then gave an impatient bark. You laughed, shaking your head.

“You know I cannot keep up!” You called out to him, as if he could understand your reply. But ever since Winter had been a small pup, brought to Winterfell by your brothers with the rest of the litter, it had felt like he could. All the time you had trained him, he had tilted his head at your affirmations and musings, and had burrowed into your side when you were upset. It was an inexplicable connection between the two of you.

He waited patiently for you now, tail wagging and legs bouncing in excitement. He always loved these excursions outside the walls, and it provided a convenient excuse for you. As much as you loved to blame Winter and his need to get out for air, the same desire always burned within you as well.

Your bow and arrow shifted across your back as you increased your pace. The tips of your fingers grazed across the flowers that periodically sprung up from the dense grass. You made a note to pick some on your way back, for Sansa and little Rickon. You knew they’d enjoy them.

The treeline seemed to swallow the sun overhead as you passed beneath it, relishing in the coolness of the air here. Of course, the air had become cooler and cooler with every day that passed now. Winter is coming, your father harped on. And he was right, as usual. The arrival of your first winter sent a trickle of excitement through your entire body whenever you dwelt on it. Mother and father and Uncle Benjen had told you stories of winter, of the endless white and sparkling ice which could drip from the overhangs in the courtyard.

Winter ran excited circles around you as you set your quiver against the ground. You signalled to him with your hand, a communication in the language only the two of you spoke, and he settled promptly down to the ground, back end still wiggling with excitement. But he knew the best was yet to come if he waited.

Pointing the bow at the ground, you pulled an arrow from the quiver, resting it and nocking it against the string. Hooking two of your fingers around the end of the arrow, you scanned your eyes across the shadowed forest floor.

Before long, a movement caught your eye. A small rabbit sat, just a few yards ahead of you, chewing on some of the greenery there. You brought the arrow slowly, silently, up to your eye level, barely daring to breathe, lest you scare timid the creature away. You gripped the bow tightly in your opposite hand. Bringing the string straight backwards to sit next to your face, you tried to envision the path once you released it. Taking one last deep breath, you snapped your fingers off the string.

The arrow flew, fast and long through the air, and finally — fell a few feet left of the rabbit, spooking it into running deeper into the woods.

“Shit,” you cursed, collecting the wayward projectile from where it had sunk into the earth.

“Now, I don’t think your mother would appreciate that language.” A deep voice emerged from behind you, exciting Winter to stand and jump once around again.

“Father!” You gasped, whirling around. “I am so sorry, I know I shouldn’t speak that way, I would never—”

He held up a hand to cut off your babble, a small smile settling on his time weathered face. “It’s alright. I have cursed too many times to reprimand it from any of my children.”

You mirrored his smile, moving to stand beside him. You looked down at your bow a little sheepishly. “I was just trying to practice a bit. You know how Jon and Robb like to tease.”

“I do.” He placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be out here alone, sweet.”

“I have Winter with me.”

He laughed at that, moving his hand now to scratch behind the ears of the direwolf still pacing eagerly between the two of you. Winter yipped in excitement, pushing up against his hand.

“Winter is about as ferocious as a newborn babe,” he teased. “The opposite of Greywind, might I add. Anyone but Robb approaches, and that wolf is on alert.”

“Winter just has a gentle heart, is all.” You drop to one knee, letting the direwolf nuzzle into your chest, stroking his soft ears.

“It’s not unlike the differences between you and Robb, truth be told. Strange, how you can share a womb with another living being, and yet grow to be so distinct.” He had a far away expression on his face when you looked up. You stood again, allowing him to grasp your hands in his.

“You’re not here just to chastise me for going beyond the walls.” You knew, too well, the expression on Ned Stark’s face when he had to speak of things he didn’t want to.

He nodded. “Sweet child … you know I have nothing but respect for you and your choices. But, I am afraid it has become an unavoidable truth. Your mother and I have discussed this, and we have decided that once we arrive in King’s Landing, we need to decide on a man for you to marry.”

Your face was impassive as you considered his words. You knew in any other family, in any other man’s house, you would have been wed as soon as you’d bled for the first time. But your father had allowed you to grow and mature past that, and you cherished those years, holding them close to your heart. You squeezed his hands.

“I know, Father. And I am happy to do my duty as the eldest daughter of the house. You needn't feel guilty — I know you won’t marry me to a monster.” Your lips quirked upwards. And it was true; you had the utmost trust in your father that he would choose someone kind, someone level headed. That he would make a match considering your wishes, too, and it would be a life you could grow to love a man in.

He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief. You wondered if the prospect of marrying his first daughter, his first child, was more difficult for him than it was for you. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re a good daughter. But still a mediocre marksman; come, let me show you where you went wrong,” he said, picking up your discarded bow and quiver.

—

You longed to be in those woods now, with your wolf and your father and your bow. In your home. All the beauty and splendor and opulence of King’s Landing could never erase the horrors you’d endured here.

You glanced behind you, where Tyrion and her handmaiden were trying their best to implore Sansa to eat something. There was an impressive array of foods strewn about the small table, though your younger sister touched none of them.

As you watched, her handmaiden — whom you suspected was no handmaiden at all, given her incompetence at her job — rose from the table, shooting a glare at Lord Tyrion.

“She needs to eat,” she quipped, looking up at you briefly before she left, her light skirts swaying gently as she retreated down the garden path.

You turned and sat slowly in her vacated seat, saying nothing. Sansa didn’t spare you a glance, her eyes vacant as she continued to look at the table in front of her, not really seeing it.

“I can’t let you starve,” Tyrion implored. You bit back the remark on the edge of your tongue. How amusing it was to think of a Lannister caring for a Stark’s wellbeing. Even if it was the Stark he’d been wed to. “I swore to protect you. My lady, I am your husband. Let me help you.”

“How can you help me?”

“I don’t know, but I can try.”

“I lie awake all night staring at the canopy, thinking about how they died.” This you knew to be true, as those past nights you had curled yourself around her, in her marital bed, unable to sleep, but equally unable to leave her alone in this place. Sansa continued.

“Do you know what they did to my brother? How they sewed his direwolf’s head onto his body?” You shut your eyes tightly, images of Robb coming unbidden to the back of your eyelids. His gentle smile, his awful jokes, his tenderness as you’d raised that very direwolf alongside your own. “And my mother. They cut her throat to the bone and threw her body in the—”

“Sansa, please,” you choked out. You could not take any more, or surely the tears you had so desperately supressed for days would finally emerge. She sent a cool glance your way, but stopped.

Tyrion cast his eyes down; you could tell he was carefully considering his next words. Ever the silver tongue. “What happened to your family was a terrible crime. I didn’t know your brother. He seemed like a good man, but I didn’t know him. Your mother, I admired her. She wanted to have me executed, but I admired her. She was a strong woman. And she was fierce when it came to protecting her children. Sansa … your mother would want you to carry on. Both of you. You know it’s true.”

Sansa didn’t make any indication she had heard his valiant speech. Good, you thought to yourself. She stood, hands lightly falling onto the edge of the table. “Will you pardon me, my Lord? I’d like to visit the godswood.”

“Of course,” Tyrion nodded enthusiastically, brows drawn together. The scar you knew he’d gotten during the Battle of Blackwater Bay was deep set above one eye. “Prayer can be helpful, I hear.”

“I don’t pray any more,” she said quietly, as she began walking away. “It’s the only place I go where people don’t talk to me.”

You watched her form as she walked away, knowing she wouldn’t want you to follow. Your heart felt like it was being crushed inside your chest at the sight of it, at the knowledge that you could do nothing for her pain. Nothing for your own pain, even.

Tyrion appeared conflicted, eyes looking between where his wife had now left, and you where you remained seated. You took a deep breath, straightening your back.

“You needn’t stay and pretend to care for me as well,” she quipped, jaw tense. “... my Lord.”

Another Lord, another Lannister even, would have struck you. But perhaps marrying your child sister had curbed that edge in Tyrion, for he said nothing else before taking his leave from you.

As he turned the corner in the path, you sighed, dropping your shoulders. You stood from the table, returning to your previous spot, overlooking the sea. You let out a shaking breath as you leaned against the short garden wall.

The sea churned beneath you, it's great waves smashing ferociously on the rocks below. It smelled of salt and wind and you tried desperately to fill your lungs with it, to wash away every other feeling inside of you.

“A wolf of winter in the summer gardens; a strange sight indeed.” A lilting, accented voice came up behind you. Turning, you saw a tall man adorned in mustard robes, accents of fine jewelry hanging from his neck, on his hands, wrists, everywhere you could see. His skin was tan, golden, in a way you had never seen before, and the top of his robe exposed the start of a golden chest. His neatly trimmed beard and hair were dark, but not as dark as his eyes, which bore into you now.

You noticed the red suns stitched into the fabric of his robes — House Martell. Your father would never forgive you if you forgot all those long lessons on the great families of Westeros.

“My Lord,” you inclined your head politely in his direction, willing your body into the proper posture. “You’ve arrived from Dorne, for the wedding I presume?”

The man raised an eyebrow at you, stepping closer, until he stood directly in front of you. One step forward and you would be in direct contact with the expanse of his chest.

“You paid attention to your schooling on Houses,” he said lightly. He reached down to grab one of your hands that hung by your side, bringing it slowly up to his lips. “I am Prince Oberyn, indeed of Dorne. Forgive my manners, but I do not believe I need an introduction to you, Lady Stark.”

His dark eyes held yours, as he leaned in further. You could feel his breath on your face. It was pleasantly warm, and smelled of … oranges? “I heard of the tragic events that befell your family, at the hands of your benefactors.” He spit the last word.

“I do not know what you mean,” you breathed out. You pleaded with him with your eyes, please don’t do this; don’t make me speak it where they can hear. “The Lannisters have been most kind and generous to me and my sister, more than we deserve even. My family …” You swallowed thickly; your skin felt hot despite the shade. “My family betrayed the crown, and has paid their price.”

Oberyn’s brows drew together in a worried expression as he studied your face. You didn’t look away from his gaze, holding him there, trying not to show a crack in the facade. He ran a light hand up your arm, and though he barely touched you, a shiver ran across your skin. It came to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric there.

“Little wolf, I assure you that the Lannisters are no friends of mine.” Something dark flashed in his eyes, for only a moment, so fleeting you weren’t even sure it had been there. “They have ripped apart my family with their teeth, also.”

You felt that particular burn in your eyes, and you pressed your nails into the palms of your hands, willing it away. You eyed the man’s hand where it still sat on your shoulder.

“Yet you break bread with them, do you not?” Your eyes were glued onto his as they cast downwards. “You come peacefully to King’s Landing, you bring wedding gifts for King Joffrey, and you drink from their cups.”

Your breathing was heavy now, emotion you had pushed into the deepest parts of yourself leaking out. You shut your eyes, shaking your head. This was a Prince.

“I … I am sorry, Prince Oberyn, I should not have—” He cut you off, gently pressing a hand to the side of your face. The skin of his fingers was rough, calloused, no doubt from years of fighting.

“You do not need to apologize, little wolf.”

“You shouldn’t call me that here.”

The side of his mouth quirked upwards at that, one delicate brow arching. It transformed the planes of his face, and you found yourself transfixed on the shapes and textures set into his tanned skin.

“I do believe we are alone here, little wolf.” Teasing now, he used the nickname with purpose. You liked the shape of it on his lips, though you still fought the overwhelming urge to peer over your shoulder at whoever may be watching.

“You don’t understand, my Lord.” You shook your head again, and his hand fell from your cheek. “King’s Landing is a pit of snakes. And they are always — always — listening. You are a Prince of Dorne and I…” You didn’t finish. I am nothing but a stupid girl who waited too long to marry, is too old for the King, is tainted and stained with the stench of my family’s rebellion. I am doused in their blood, being made to drown in it.

Your palm felt wet, drawing your attention down. Opening it, you saw blood welling from the four small crescent shaped tears that now appeared in the delicate skin there. Oberyn’s eyes followed yours, and they softened at the sight, cupping your hand in both of his. They were so large around yours, and steady.

“I am a Prince of Dorne,” he said, his voice quiet, not looking at your face. He pulled a handkerchief from the inside of his robe, next to his chest. Gently, he wrapped it around the palm of your hand, seemingly unbothered by the blood which immediately began to blot onto it. Many moons had taught you that blood never came off. Tying it secure under your knuckles, he met your eyes, lifting your head with a finger under your chin. “And if this is indeed a pit of snakes, it is a good thing you are in the company of the Viper. Your words — all of your words — are safe with me, little wolf.”

You wanted so badly to believe him, to think that there was someone in this wretched place you could trust, outside of your sister. That a man was really looking upon you with kind, genuine eyes, for the first time since they’d taken your father’s head from his shoulders.

The sea crashed particularly forcefully below, startling you. He leaned back now, pulling his hands away from you, and you immediately missed their warmth. As if he had carried the Dornish sun within his very body, all the way to King’s Landing. He kissed your unwrapped hand again, briefly, and he sent you another smile before beginning to retreat, hands clasped behind his back.

At the mouth of the garden entrance, he turned halfway, face playful now. “I should like to make strolling in these gardens a daily habit whilst I’m here; there is so much to see. Would you care to join me in that?”

You nodded, smiling; a small one, but the first smile you remembered giving genuinely to someone in a long time.

A/N: aaah this was so fun to do that i ended up finishing it waaay sooner than i thought i would! so excited to see what people think!! also it will probably end up being oberyn x ellaria x reader bc... i love her and i love bisexuals

taglist: @asta-lily @pedrostories

[rainbowsans]

Hi I’m semi new here and I love your art n good vibes here 🥺 I just wanted to know what’s the difference between sf! Sans and fs! Sans? And sf! Papyrus and fs! I wanna know more about their personalities if it’s not too much trouble! Thank u!

thank you!! umm well if you’re asking about MY interpretations of the characters that I use for this blog then here’s some basic differences

vice (sf sans):

has more experience with combat and his magic

extreme memory/dissociation problems. vice has completely forgotten most of his childhood but all he remembers is his younger brother.

he is very loud, because he wants to be heard

recites poetry to himself and to the people he tolorates.

will smite you if you even so look at him wrong. hell...he’ll smite you for even breathing.

overprotective and VERY bossy, but he means well. he just wants to keep the people he cares about safe, his entire existence should’ve been dusted when he got the scar in his eye but because of the sheer determination of wanting to be there for his younger brother, vice refused to die.

sir (fs sans)

has little to no experience using his magic or fighting and because he doesn’t practice using his magic when he was a baby bones. sir cannot handle or control his own magic and if he uses it, it will possibly and potentially kill him.

is a pacifist, has never once hurt or killed anyone and REFUSES to do so

he is selectively mute, he only speaks to people he is comfortable with but it hurts when he speaks for too long so he issues ASL to communicate generally

finds the entire world around him to be precious despite everything and everyone being shitty

while he does not kill or fight, in order to survive the “kill or be killed” rule in the underground he instead acts menacing to keep other monsters back. everyone thinks he’s “unsettling” to say the least. it’s effective even if sir hates it.

he may be kind hearted, but sir is sassy and can smite you if he so wanted, but he is nice.

rus (sf papyrus)

he learned to be a VERY good liar, you literally can’t tell if what he’s saying is true or not. he hates it.

while vice’s reputation proceeds him, rus is much more terrifying, nobody wants to get on his bad side but to vice, all he sees is a “lazy slacker”, rus doesn’t mind that.

he is extremely tired 24/7

it takes him a while to trust the human

rus is emotionally distant, and constantly puts himself at blame for what happened to his brother, vice. while his brother did manage to live, rus believes that he had truly lost him after that because he wasn’t the same so he blames himself for what happened.

rus also feels completely smothered when it came to vice, all he ever wanted was to take care of his brother but vice took the parenting too seriously and basically sheltered him for most of his life that he couldn’t even help him after the incident. vice continued to protect him, and rus couldn’t explain to his own brother what happened because if he did it could potentially cause a panic attack on vice.

despite everything, rus is a big sweetie.

rusty (fs papyrus)

co captain of the royal guard, he is both feared and hated in snowdin

EXTREMELY overprotective with his brother, but he keeps his distance.

rusty talks and talks too much about small things. It’s impossible for him to shut up because he can ramble on about nonsense for hours.

he likes to sit alone in the waterfalls and talk to echo flowers.

he views himself as an irredeemable monster because he follows the “kill or be killed” code in the underground while promising his brother when they were younger that he would never participate it. rusty only kills for the protection of his older brother, regardless if sir hates him. all he wants is for him to be safe.

rusty is not merciful, he makes every kill quick and efficient.

he causes problems on purpose.

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Can You Imagine? XII

A/N: So I'm... not *entirely* satisfied with this chapter, at least the back half of it, but I didn't quite know what else to do with it without rushing it XD Anyway, here it is, and I think the next chapter will be a lot better! Already have plans for it, and I think now that I'm back in the swing of things with this one it'll be better going forward xD Skål!

Summary: Freydis was dead. At least, when she’d lost consciousness, she’d been sure she was. But now she has woken up in a cold, sterile environment, one she is certain is not Valhalla, and the world as she once knew it has changed. People now have strange abilities, some of them, and people they call ‘scientists’ are trying to give them to her. The bigger issue, though, is the fact they have also woken the very man who killed her. Ivar the Boneless lives again as well, in the same way Freydis does, and if they want to survive… she may have to learn to trust him again.

Masterlist

--

What I Wish I’d Known

The silence in the room felt far less awkward than Ivar had expected it to be. It was no less anxious than any other silence had been between them, as they both had much to say, and yet very little idea on how to say it. They were sitting in their living room again, side by side on the sofa, slightly angled toward each other for ease of communication. Well, if only communication could come easily.

Freydis finally decided she had had quite enough of the anxious silences, and so she took a deep breath to start talking. Someone needed to start this thing, and if it wasn’t going to be Ivar, then she figured it would have to be her. Much to her surprise, then, the moment Ivar realized she was going to speak, he cut her off.

“Freydis,” he began. When she began to try again, he shook his head, reaching over to put a hand on hers, and lifting his head to look her in the eye. “Please, let me speak.” She nodded, swallowing. “Before this past month, I believed we would have all the time in the world to come back together, to say what needed to be said, but then…” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “I truly believed I had lost you, Freydis. And when you woke, I realized the Gods were giving us a third chance, giving me a third chance to do this right for you. I don’t want to mess this up again and lose you for good.

“I should not have handled… anything, with you, the way I did. You did not deserve for me to treat you suspiciously, or coldly, or to blame you for anything that happened. You are right, I did not know you. Not your favorite things, and certainly not your heart. And for all of that, Freydis, I am sorry. I did not love you how I should have, and if you would give me the chance now… I would like to love you how you deserve.”

Freydis couldn’t help but smile at his words, at the way he spoke them and what he said. “You can,” she told him. “And I don’t mean that I am just giving you the chance, but also that I know you can love me that way. Ivar, when I was asleep, I had a vision.” Ivar watched her curiously, nodding as if to encourage her to elaborate. 

“We were in Kattegat,” she said. “And… we still had Baldur. He was your son, and mine, and… and he was healthy. Our kingdom was thriving under our rule. Baldur grew, and then… King Harald came. He took you, and he took Baldur, and my life halted. I did nothing but try to find you, until Lagertha came, with your brothers Ubbe and Björn. They ended up helping me retrieve you and Baldur from King Harald, and we all came to a truce. There was peace in Kattegat again, and they lived among us happily. Everything was good.

“But it was a dream. A beautiful dream, but still… that was all it was. That is not to say it had no meaning. The Seer was there, and it was through talking to him, and… surprisingly Lagertha, that I came to realize the meaning. Beneath the anger, beneath the betrayal, and the hurt, and the fear, I still wanted everything we could have had. That was why my dreams had taken that form. My desires laid bare of any distraction or bias I may have. And then… the message.

“I still love you, Ivar. You had time after I died, to think back on everything, time I never had, and so… I cannot say yet that I am ready to forgive you. But I do hear you. I hear you, and I want to be happy with you again. I will just need time- time to learn how to trust you again. If you can give me that, then I will do all that I can to give you my heart once more.”

Ivar nodded, and though it wasn’t as complete a resolution as he had hoped for, it was a resolution nonetheless. They both wanted their relationship to work, now, which was far better than what they’d had before. He couldn’t begin to guess, nor even imagine, what it was her powers had done, what they had shown her truly, aside from the things she’d told him already. But, whatever it was, it was bringing her back to him, breaking the walls built between them down, the very walls that for him had been demolished in Kiev.

But, just as she had said, she’d not had any experience which would have brought down those walls, not until she was reminded by her own subconscious of what she lost in locking out any chance of being hurt again. Love meant pain. Ivar had learned that in loving Igor, who he’d had to leave to rule Rus, and in loving Katia, who had chosen to stay in Kiev. In loving Hvitserk, whose life he saved by sacrificing his own. To truly love another person, one had to be willing to risk being hurt. He had hurt Freydis, and in return, she had hurt him. But now, he knew he was open to her again, even if it meant she hurt him again, because he never wanted to love her less than she deserved. That, he would never do again.

When night came, Freydis didn’t shut him out again, instead choosing to let Ivar into her room- their room- and her bed- their bed. They were married, after all, and both had reason, truthfully, that would be valid cause for not wanting to trust the other. She had betrayed him to his brothers, he had betrayed her and killed her. And now, he laid on his back, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, her head laid against his chest. They were choosing love, even if there was not yet full trust. It would come, as they each continued to prove it could.

“I wish I had known you better then,” Ivar whispered softly, suddenly, as if speaking the words only into the night. “I think if I had, I would have been better to you. I would have loved you better, and I think we would have been okay.”

Freydis gave a small sigh, which turned into a hum, as she considered his words. “We cannot know,” she said. “Say you had known me then, known me better. Who is to say that would not have presented worse problems than what we have already faced?”

“Or it could have been easier,” he said. “I did not know all you say you did for me, but if I had not been so caught up in myself…”

“Then you may have known and killed me for it, as opposed to killing me for what you did,” she pointed out. “The past is set in stone, and should be left behind. We can learn from it, but we must always move forward, dear Ivar. Never back. We won’t find each other there.”

Ivar gave a small nod, and Freydis smiled up at him gently, something soothing to him in that expression. “I missed you,” he said. “Every day after the Siege when I killed you, I wished I still had you at my side. Even if I was constantly trying to keep you from killing me.”

Freydis giggled a little bit. “I might have been more creative than you,” she teased him, rolling up so she could look down at him. “Though, I can’t say I’d have promised to love you and weep for you once you were gone.” Ivar chuckled and shook his head, lifting a hand to brush through her hair.

“I hope you would now, though,” he said. “Weep for me. Though I hope more that I do not ever give you cause to weep.”

“I would have wept then,” she confessed. “I told your brothers I wanted to see you hung from a tree, but if I had ever truly seen that..?” Freydis swallowed, and laid her head against him once more. “I think it would have been the last thing my heart could have taken.”

“You looked at me as if you hated me, the day I killed you,” Ivar said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I wanted to, and I tried to, but if my dream revealed anything to me, it is that I never could,” she replied.

Ivar looked down at her thoughtfully, though he found that her eyes weren’t on him, but were focused on something that, if it were there, he was unable to see. He could tell things weren’t the same just yet, not the same as when he’d held her in Kattegat, before everything had gone so wrong. But progress was being made, and he hoped they’d get there one day. Even if it was something he fought for the rest of his life, he gladly would, even if it was only their last night on Midgard that they were finally truly healed.

Things were easier between them, after that night, and though they still took yet another step back from that place, the place which had allowed Ivar to hold Freydis once more, but he knew why that was. She needed time, just as she had said. And so, he’d give it to her, however much she needed. Just to see her smiling again, to live in the same place with her where she seemed happy, in some capacity, was good. He liked to see her happy.

Professor Andersen and Dr. Schmidt were also very pleased by this change. They’d come to visit as soon as they found out Freydis was awake, and upon knocking had heard her voice calling out for them to enter. Seeing her up cooking, and Ivar hovering over her, stealing pieces of the food she was making. In fact, watching her reach up and smack the back of his head, watching him laugh at this as she rolled her eyes and tried to shoo him away… Clearly, something had changed.

“You two seem very happy this morning,” Professor Andersen commented, leaning against the wall. “Something happen?”

“We had a good conversation, last night,” Freydis replied. “About… everything. I had a vision while I was asleep, and it changed much of how I see things now. There is still a long way to go, but…” She turned to smile softly at Ivar. “We will get there.”

Ivar smiled at her, and pressed a kiss to her head. “We will,” he agreed.

“Must have been… some vision, to have produced such results overnight?” Dr. Schmidt prompted. “Do you want to tell us about it?”

Clearly, she wanted it for their research. It was a shock to hear at all that Freydis had any vision, but if they could learn what exactly she saw, then that would be all the better. Freydis, however, shared a look with Ivar. They both knew what the vision had entailed, that it really hadn’t been a vision, that it had been Freydis’s subconscious, and the desires held there, that she had seen. Perhaps that would still interest the Doctor and the Professor to know, to hear how she had done it and to study what she had done, but neither Freydis nor Ivar truly wanted to give them that information. Something about it felt private and intimate, something they could share amongst themselves. And now that they were trying to grow closer again, it somehow felt important to start having those things again.

Freydis turned that knowing smile to Dr. Schmidt then, and shook her head. “No,” she answered. “I don’t think I will.”

It was the first time she had denied them. They were stunned, and shared a look with each other as Freydis called Ivar over to help her with something, and he did so gladly. As great an idea as they’d believed they’d had, in pairing up a husband and a wife as a team to work for them, they were now beginning to see the flaws.

Marriage meant loyalty, and if they were working out their marriage, choosing each other and choosing to stay together, then they were choosing that loyalty to each other. Loyalty which, if pitted against loyalty to those they were working with… They would choose each other now. The dynamics between the four had shifted again, and not in the direction Professor Andersen and Dr. Schmidt had wanted, or even foreseen. This could be backfiring on them.

But how could they even make an attempt at separating the two now? That would automatically create distance, but not in the desired way. Putting them together had clearly been a severe miscalculation, one they weren’t sure how to recover from.

When Dr. Schmidt and Professor Andersen had finally left, Ivar and Freydis felt relief. It was quiet, then, but Ivar was curious still about how Freydis had handled that question. No, I don’t think I will. And that little smile she had given…

They were on the same page with not wanting to share it, he could tell that just from the look they’d shared before she had declined Dr. Schmidt’s request for information. But why? Did they have the same thoughts on why that should not be shared? Or did she have some reason not to share, one that he couldn’t even begin to guess? The only way to have any idea was to ask. So, he did.

“I think I… do not want to share all things with them anymore,” she confessed. “You are my husband, not either of them. Why should I tell them all that I tell you?”

And so Ivar saw also that allegiances were shifting. It made him begin to think, and as he watched Freydis, he began to think more and more seriously about the implications of her words. There wasn’t one part of him which liked being held by these people, whose purposes and goals he couldn’t glean from what little information they’d been given. If it hadn’t been for Freydis, he may have tried to find an escape immediately. But if he could convince her to escape with him…

There was time. He wasn’t sure how she would feel about such a thing as escape, as making their way through this world together. There, locked up in that facility, there was nothing they needed to know of the outside world. If they escaped, they’d have a lot to learn quickly, but he knew he was willing to take that risk, if it meant they were free.

But in order to go anywhere, he would have to convince Freydis. He hadn’t come so far with her, gotten so close to having her again, to walk out now. If it would require him to leave or lose her, he wouldn’t do it. He’d made that call before, and he was never going to make it again.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @sylki-simp, @heavenly1927, @punkrocknpearls, @pomegranates-and-blood

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

[mikeo56]

If you believe in democracy, if you believe in science, if you believe in justice and workers' rights, well...you can just hold your breath

1. Donald Trump is, at his core, an authoritarian leader who does not believe in democracy.

In a democracy we can and will have strong differences of opinion on issues. As you well know, there are ideological disputes within the Democratic Party, and there are certainly very major differences between Democrats and Republicans, progressives, moderates and conservatives. But, up until the Trump administration, no president (except for Obama, Bush, Bush, Clinton, Reagan and many others) has ever undermined the very tenets of American democracy and tried to move us into an authoritarian society.

No president has ever suggested delaying an election because he is behind in the polls. No president has ever stated that he might not voluntarily leave office and accept the results of an election. No president has ever viciously discredited and undermined the election process warning, without fact, of massive voter fraud. Trump's admiration for authoritarianism becomes apparent as he has ruptured our relationships with long-time democratic allies around the world while embracing right-wing authoritarian leaders in Russia, Hungary, Saudi Arabia, Brazil, the Philippines and elsewhere.

(No people have ever been stupid enough and apathetic enough to elect such a piece of brainless pigshit.)

2. Donald Trump does not understand or respect the Constitution of the United States. (and most cops swear an oath to it having never read it with no clue what’s in it.)

Donald Trump, emulating demagogues throughout history, believes that he is above the law and need not follow the dictates of the Constitution. He was impeached because he has shown absolute contempt for Congress and the separation of powers. He has waged an unprecedented war against the concept of a free press and "fake news," and has repeatedly referred to the media as "an enemy of the people." He has violated the right of Americans to peacefully protest and is "normalizing" the use of federal agents to patrol and make arrests of American citizens in communities throughout the country.

3. Donald Trump is a pathological liar. ( - welcome to America, Bernie!)

We cannot have anything resembling a stable government when we have a president who lies all of the time and when nothing he says can be trusted. According to a recent report, he has made more than 20,000 false or misleading statements since he has been president.

4. Donald Trump does not believe in science. (And neither does many other politicians and many Americans...US of Duh!)

From the first days of the COVID-19 pandemic, Trump has rejected the advice of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and our leading scientists, which has led to the unnecessary deaths of tens of thousands of Americans and the highest per capita death rate of any major country.

And, as he's done for years, Trump continues to ignore the scientific community when it comes to the existential threat of climate change. Instead of transforming our energy system away from fossil fuel, he has pushed policies which result in more carbon emissions.

5. Donald Trump's policies benefit his billionaire friends, while attacking the needs of working families. (He’s had a lot of help from both sides of the aisle)

During his 2016 campaign Trump claimed that he would stand with the working class and "drain the swamp." He lied. He has appointed more billionaires to important positions than any other president in history while giving massive tax breaks to the very rich and large corporations. At a time of obscene income and wealth inequality, he continues to try to throw over 20 million Americans off the health insurance they already have, and do away with protections for pre-existing conditions. While the rich become much richer, his budgets have repeatedly called for huge cuts in Medicaid, Medicare, Social Security, education and nutrition programs.

6. Donald Trump is a racist. (- Donald and about half of America)

From the start of his 2016 campaign, until today, he has tried to divide us up based on the color of our skin or where we were born. He has strongly supported voter suppression efforts which make it harder for African Americans to vote, and consistently made ugly and disparaging remarks against African American leaders. Recently, he bragged about an executive order which makes it harder for minority families to move into the suburbs.

7. Donald Trump is a xenophobe. (Trump is many things that could be described with a psychiatric multisyllabic term. You should have left it at racist.)

Trump has tried, as all demagogues do, to demonize immigrants and blame them for society’s problems. He has used hateful and disgraceful rhetoric to try to dehumanize an entire group of people, and has used the power of the federal government to mistreat and terrorize immigrants at the border and in our communities.

8. Donald Trump is a sexist. (I think I would have mentioned Trump’s recent get-free-soon card to Ghislane Maxwell alongside some pictures of the bastard with his dumbfuck daughter in his lap.)

Not only has Trump led the effort to deny women the right to control their own bodies and defund Planned Parenthood, he has — throughout his adult life — made disparaging and condescending comments about women. It is not surprising that some of his ugliest attacks have been against strong women leaders like Ilhan Omar, Ayanna Pressley, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and Carmen Yulín Cruz Soto.

9. Donald Trump is a religious bigot. (- nah, christians are racists, supremacists and conservative and they need him and they are expedient. Donald really doesn't give a fuck about any christians or jews. He’d turn on them like a mad dog, if it suited him.)

One of the first things Trump did after taking office was sign an executive order for the discriminatory Muslim ban to prohibit people from several Muslim-majority countries from traveling to the United States. He has used the office of the presidency to demonize the Muslim community and to try to divide us up based on our religious beliefs.

10. Donald Trump is hostile to the LGBTQ community. (small shaft, so sad)

During his administration, Trump has waged continued assaults on the rights of LGBTQ people. He recently rolled back health protections for transgender people and previously banned them from serving in the military. He has also reversed protections that defend LGBTQ people from discrimination in the workplace and at school.

11. The Democrat Party is the same kind of shit as the Republican Party.

 Lying Joe Blow Biden, will enact the same fascist neoliberal anti worker, no health care policies as Trump but because Joe has dementia he’ll keep his mouth shut and won’t embarrass everyone as much. And, of course the useless DNC can and will mindlessly and insanely pretend to be our savior...

12....we’re fucked.

[clexa--warrior]

Hey, Have You Heard About This Coronavirus Thing? Crazy Shit, Right? (Ferret/Shower Cap)

History texts depicting this period will read like deranged Choose Your Adventure books written by sadists; no matter how frantically you flip backwards, you just can’t seem to find the page when you still had the option to vote for the really smart lady with the email server. Anyway, join me for a quick news round-up, it won’t take long, and when we’re done, I give you permission to run away to join a roving Thai monkey street gang.

(As always, find this post WITH nifty news links here: http://showercapblog.com/hey-have-you-heard-about-this-coronavirus-thing-crazy-shit-right/)

For those of you just waking up from a Rip Van Winkle nap, the United States is facing a massive, coast-to-coast, health crisis, whose tragic consequences have exploded exponentially because our Idiot Manchild President really believed, in that churning campground septic tank he calls a mind, that protecting his personal approval ratings by understating the problem was more important than the health and safety of the American public. I don’t know what you can call that but murder. On the one hand, it’s weird to say “wow, the President murdered a bunch Americans through boneheaded, unforgivably selfish, neglect,” but we already saw him get away with precisely that crime in Puerto Rico, so here we are.

Now, I have come to expect malice from the federal government under Hairplug Himmler, but sometimes their capacity for raw, senseless, evil still shocks me. This is my way of saying that, until they got fucking caught, the Department of, and Someone Should Slap the Word Out of Their Filthy Mouths, Justice attempted to remove CDC fliers offering potentially life-saving information regarding the coronavirus from...immigration courtrooms. My God. What a small but potent horror. Feels like the work of an ambitious intern in Stephen Miller’s office, doesn’t it? Trying to impress the boss? Just a sinister little trick, to spread a little more pain, a little more misery, a little more death in an already vulnerable, and whatta-coincidence-nonwhite, community? Fuck these awful, awful, people.

It seems President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has been calling up leading Taliban terrorists on a secret U.S. kill-or-capture list, presumably to trade tips n’ tricks on how to undermine the USA at home and abroad. Now, negotiating with these murderous dirtbags is a big diplomacy no-no (and of course Donnie Dotard got rolled anyway) but in all honestly, if I had access to a secret kill list contact sheet, I’d probably give in to the temptation to make some prank calls. “Is your refrigerator running? Yeah? Are you sure it’s not a FLEET OF DRONES ABOVE YOU RIGHT NOW?”

For Jeff Sessions, the wages of sin turned out to be a faceful of Trump-branded fecal matter, as the Candycorn Skidmark, whose campaign Ol’ Beauregard embraced way back before fascism was cool in conservative circles, endorsed his opponent in the coming Alabama Senate runoff. How must it feel to have been the very fellow who flipped the switch on the Rube Goldberg/Mousetrap Board Game device that destroyed America, and to watch the machine work its destructive magic for years, only to realize it’s also got one special crotch punt in store for just you personally. I’d feel bad for Bilbo Bigot, if it he weren’t, y’know, one of the very worst people alive.

Alex Jones got arrested for drunk driving, and, upon his release, got right back to work selling...sigh...selling some bullshit toothpaste that he’s telling the rubes magically cures the coronavirus. Authorities are cracking down on Jones and fellow charlatan Jim Bakker over their odious snake oil peddling enterprises, but I don’t know what’s more shocking and disappointing to me, that there are such vile fuckwads in the world, who seek to profit off the fear of the misinformed during times of crisis, or that said fuckwads have so many blind, willing, disciples?

Speaking of fuckwads, Ron Johnson seems to have backed down, for now at any rate, from his quest to stage a show trial for Hunter Biden in the U.S Senate. And that’s awesome and all, but never forget how ready, how eager, RoJo has been, to corruptly manipulate the vast powers of the government for his democracy-stomping Turdlord’s political benefit. Ron is the kind of fellow you’d have found stamping documents outside trains bound for Dachau.

But yeah, I suppose the big story is still that coronavirus thing. Great choice on evolution’s part, the way symptoms don’t necessarily manifest right away, so we can spread that shit around without knowing we’re even infected. Anyway, I made sure to thoroughly disinfect tonight’s blog before posting, and medical professionals inform me that though the virus can linger on plastic and metal surfaces for as long as days, it cannot survive on a poo joke, so please rest easy, knowing you can safely consume this content in comfort. Unless you're reading it next to somebody with the coronavirus, but that's on you, kid.

The Shart Administration has actually slowed progress in this crucial fight, by classifying high-level coronavirus meetings, because they’re more worried about congressional oversight of their crimes n’ fuckups than they are about OUR LIVES, and y’know what, I do believe I’ll be voting Democrat this November.

And of course, many conservatives are more concerned with blaming the virus on the Chinese than preventing its spread; by gum, there’s no need to abandon yer principles, even when your ineptitude is getting countless folks sick and/or killed! “We may be a cabal of dangerously incompetent assclowns, but let none forget that we are also RACIST assclowns!”

With the stock market finally catching up to the rest of the world in noticing a pudding-brained twit had inexplicably been placed in charge of the most powerful nation in history, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot oozed into the Oval Office for a prime time speech, and if his goal was “fuck up the entire world as much as humanly possible in ten short minutes,” then he succeeded beyond his wildest imaginings.

It was a speech that completely failed to reassure, instead reminding the world that this drooling manbaby, this bathtub drain hair clog in an ill-fitting suit, truly is President of the Entire United Fucking States, and not only is he light years out of his element but he’s probably spending most of his time practicing his “the world is ending, you have to go out with me now” phone call to Salma Hayek rather than pursuing desperately-needed solutions.

Despite being on teleprompter, with the text of the fucking speech right fucking in front of him, Dorito Mussolini somehow managed to catastrophically misrepresent his own administration’s policies, dropping one more cartoon anvil on the stock market’s already-throughly-bludgeoned ballsack. This is, of course, on top of nonsensical non-solutions like banning travel from Europe, when the virus had already had weeks to spread throughout the country thanks to presidential bungling and neglect.

For 73 years, this cretin has somehow never encountered a problem he couldn’t lie, buy, or bully his way out of, but COVID-19 doesn’t care how much money your daddy gave you, little man. And may I say, on behalf of the thousands who are about to become sick, fuck you. Fuck you eternally with a rusty shovel, for daring to take on such an important job without the skills, temperament, or character to execute its duties. Asshole.

In contrast, Smilin’ Joe Biden gave a speech of his own; calm, collected, solemn, and filled with concrete steps to address the problems facing the nation. And America collectively went, “Oh right, it’s actually highly abnormal to have a gibbering, rectum-mouthed, dolt for a President, and we can actually have a decent, competent, one again! Soon!” It was like leadership porn. I got aroused.

Meanwhile, our already-hopelessly-overmatched Golf Cheat in Chief is multitasking, lobbing missiles at Iran-backed militias in Iraq. I’m just hoping the buttons on his desk are clearly labeled, y’know? Or at least that there’s somebody hanging around who can tackle him before he bombs Seattle and launches 500 respirators at Tehran.

So, um, in the midst of this once-in-generation shitstorm, I guess Sarah Palin dressed up in a bear suit to perform “Baby Got Back” on a reality television program. I’m not a religious person, honestly, but I’m increasingly open to the idea that there is a God, and that s/he’s been on a meth bender since mid-2016.

Social distancing is the zany new anti-dance craze sweeping the nation as we all do our damndest to not get sick and die! As a result, public gatherings are getting called off left and right. March Madness, MLB, NBA, PGA, SXSW, Broadway...personally, I don’t think I fully appreciated the scope of this crisis until I saw the XFL shut down their season. Like, are we even America anymore without one billionaire’s sad attempt to reboot his once-failed vanity project?

As sensible organizations all over the world made painful but obviously necessary sacrifices to, y’know, slow the spread of a deadly disease and save lives, naturally the Velveeta Vulgarian was among the last holdouts, canceling his precious hate rallies only grudgingly, because the safety of even his own fervent base is secondary to the sugar rush of their rageful cheers, filling, if only for a moment, that empty space within him where most people have a soul.

Now more than ever, I am brimming over with gratitude that we took the House back in 2018. Thank god there’s a little leadership, a little accountability, a little common frickin’ sense in Washington now. And thank god for Katie Porter, one of the standouts in a freshman class packed with absolute ass-kickers, cornering the CDC chief into exercising his legal authority to make coronavirus testing free for every American. Imagine if Kevin McCarthy were running the House right now. He’d be fleeing from reporters, in mismatched loafers, trying to sell the public on a bill bailing out nothing but Trump University and Marm-a-Lago.

Well, the Emperor of Hemorrhoids finally buckled and declared (acknowledged) a state of emergency over the coronavirus, which is admittedly a pleasant change from his previous “do everything I possibly can to help the fucker spread” position. We’re still woefully behind, and god only knows how deeply the virus has penetrated while the doddering old bastard diddled and dawdled, but the good news is, the President of the United States finally moved his bloated ass out of the road so we can get to work cleaning up his mess, which is, I suppose, as close to an act of kindness as he’s come in his entire misspent, treacherous, life.

In the middle of today’s press conference, Vice President Mike Pants paused to give Boss Turdworm a rhetorical handjob seemingly designed to last through an entire 14-day quarantine. Jeeeeesus. Mikey Hairshirt was a man once. Not much of one, to be certain, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of bored schoolchildren pouring salt on him, which would of course prove swiftly fatal in his current state.

A reporter asked Government Cheese Goebbels, “Hey, if you’re not too busy fellating yourself over fucking up slightly less than you’ve been fucking up for weeks, why the fuck did you close down the pandemic office, you nation-wrecking clod?” and he whinged that the question was “nasty,” before reiterating his refusal to take responsibility for the things that are, objectively, his fault. I truly do not understand how this trembling coward’s approval rating isn’t 0%

So Nancy Pelosi spent the week trying to hammer out an emergency bill with Steve Mnuchin, but Republicans naturally balked at many necessary measures. It’s a tricky spot for the GOP; they can’t risk the mass-extermination of the underpaid labor/consumer force that keeps their donor class filthy rich, but doing anything to improve working folks’ lives is just instinctually anathematic to them. But at the time of posting, it does appear as though a deal has been reached, let’s hope no spray-tanned morons fuck it up, right?

In conclusion, I am sick of typing the word “coronavirus,” and you are sick of reading it, so let’s let’s all retreat to our quarantines for the weekend, okay? Enjoy the solitude! Read that novel you bought back in college! Watch that 425-minute Russian film set in a fish cannery! Hey, you can even peruse the archives at showercapblog.com if you feel like reliving just how the fuck it all came to this! Anyway, if you don’t hear from me for a bit, fear not, I’m turning production of this blog over to Jared Kushner, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.

[light-of-being]

a very fkin long and incomplete exposition of my flaws as a human being

I've not really spoken about the probably most consequential event in my recent life (the ending of a long term relationship), and that's because I haven't really thought about it very much. At least, not in a clear-headed space not entirely filled with rage, fear, or initially, longing. So, I've mostly just been waiting for the intensity of those responses to wear out before I can go back and make sense of things in a sorta 'safe' way.

(These days it's mostly anger and/or hurt. Sometimes twinges of hatred, but those fizzle quickly. I know that attitude isn't 'true'. I tried to hate him, I really did. Things would be so much simpler that way — an obvious villain of pure evil, a mistake worthy of contempt. Put him behind me as someone I regret meeting and consider everything only as a flashing warning sign of what to avoid next time. But real life never is that easy, is it.)

Regardless, reading about miscellaneous psychological ~stuff, I realised that I know for sure now that there are sides of me that only come out in a close relationship, as they postulate. It's unfortunate that my exposure to this was only in such a toxic environment, and I'm not sure if or when closeness has any chance of happening again.

I suspect, based on what I have/haven't felt with him vs others, that I can (at least at this stage of my development) only really feel 'seen' by an antisocial/narcissist/schizoid (or something in that general direction), just hope to god it's a mature one next time. I might want to interrogate and possibly change that fact, I'm not sure it's at all a healthily arrived preference. But...

there is a degree of normalcy and social belonging in others that becomes a wall

I can relate superficially, cognitively and even 'deeply personally' (tho is all y'all's deeply personal shit necessarily relational?), have a good time and even feel 'connection' but there are parts that seem simply insurmountable.

The lack of relating to many things is the unifying factor between me and the specified groups: the shared experience of not having shared experiences

But yet, a more acute awareness of superficiality, and the drives and mechanics of human interactions, attitudes, identity and constructs, not taken for granted as default but built from the ground up (Most often out of either necessity or a desire to manipulate them, but still).

Actually, most straightforwardly, the shared experience of experiencing oneself as an outsider to society — whether people personally, accepted norms or expected attitudes towards self and other.*

Anyway, that was a whole semi-tangent I went off on (useful and relevant to the initial thought but not the point I was planning on).

Important point was...ah yes, insights!

...into how I behave under genuine relational circumstances. Due to aforementioned toxicity, I'm not sure how generalisable they are to relationships overall, but they should generalise to feeling-states.

1.

(a) Fear. Defensiveness.

Switches off my brain. Obvious? No. I have been actively strategic while having a gun pointed at me. I thought I had that down. Turns out, I cannot dissociate myself out of an argument most of the time.

Turns out, just the fact or even prospect of arguing activates panic and brain goes out the window. Which is really fucking stupid as an occurrence because how many of these could be prevented with a bit of mindfulness and thoughtful responding. But getting emotions to chill out for long enough to do that is tough.

(b) I am a stubborn dumbass. Kid me argued until they were attacked so harshly that they absolutely could not continue. The alternative presented was to just keep silent, one I did not then and do not now accept. Discussion where both parties partake in good faith have generally been fruitful, only neither of these situations were that. Both involved one person trying to dominate at all costs. To which I suppose keeping silent for the moment and then running tf away is an appropriate response. Idk. I'm not sure if this is a 'normal situation' to which I respond unhealthily, or an 'abnormal situation' in which you just do your best to survive. Arguments are normal. Idk if other people have a less aggressive approach that is less outright terrifying, in which I can modulate, but it does seem like people want to prove you wrong and get angry, which I perceive as aggression.

2. 

Which brings me to boundaries. Can I shut things down when I'm overwhelmed. In the present case, the answer was no. They both didn't stop and the fact that I asked for this was interpreted as admission of defeat.Oftentimes, getting out of the situation was more of an ordeal than dealing with it. [We stayed at a hotel the one time and he did things that made me very uncomfortable (in like a “things that I shudder at thinking about even now” kind of way; not sexual btw which this has made it sound). I thought I was as clear as I could’ve been by saying, “I’m going to legit have a breakdown if you keep doing that” but apparently it came across as a joke (gotta improve on communication as well). He stopped and apologised when he realised I was crying, but later blamed me for not being more assertive and laughed at my ‘exaggerated’ response and “meltdown”. At this point I wanted to leave and go home, but he withheld [my copy of] the key. He insisted and manipulated and coerced for discussion, said I could have the key if I “really wanted it, but do I actually want that”, until it was just easier to give in. The helplessness and feeling trapped of that evening haunts me to this day, and I want to be very sure to never be in any situation where that is even a possibility again no matter what.]

I need to get better at knowing what is and isn't okay and being strong enough to enforce that.

3.

(a) Attachment is a bitch. Utterly unfamiliar sensation, one I don't know my way around at all. The rarity of relation makes it seem so fucking precious, so fucking necessary to protect even to my detriment and his. Dare I tip the boat or will it sink. Should I be the dancing monkey to keep it from sinking. Should he.

(b) The feeling of giving a damn what someone thinks of me is also foreign and difficult. It also seems hella intensified by virtue of not existing elsewhere. Disapproval feels devastating. Criticism becomes attack. Everything feels like a continuous effort to establish worth. I'd imagined acceptance could be taken for granted, but I questioned it the whole way (obviously doesn't help when he demands changes).

(c) I have trouble distinguishing between personal issues and insecurities and legitimate reason to be upset. I think this is typical. But with trial and error, one can probably pick up on what you carry with you across differing people and circumstances. I don't have that data. I have nothing to compare against. I also suspect some parts of this is him treating legitimate reasons as being my distorted perceptions, which I'm pretty sure did happen for a few things that I believe are 'objectively' shitty.

5. 

I trust. Too. Fucking. Much. I take shit at face value. This is very often dumb and...bad in literally every sense, but I don’t yet know how to identify preemptively when that's the case. I also fail to be adequately 'suspicious' I guess to be alert to minor inconsistencies later on. Lies are especially devastating. I built my reality around you using that fundamental premise. Now you tell me it was false all along. Where does that leave me? I go back to substitute and nothing makes sense. I don't know if the initial statement was a lie or the claim that it's false was. I don't know if everything I remember is just distorted somehow. I don't know what to do. (aside: gaslighting? I’m inclined to say “effectively, yes”. The best explanation I have is that for many things he rewrote the narrative in his own mind and does not remember the things that blatantly contradict it. For other things, I cannot see that being possible and am forced to think it’s just pure lies). All of this could have been prevented if I accounted for people being dishonest.

6. 

(a) I lose sympathy. Genuinely did not ever expect this to happen. Enough hurt, enough deception and I stop trying to understand why. I assume malice. I expect malice in future interactions and misread situations as a result. In the beginning I made fucktons of effort to be understanding of things far from my typical range (hello, admissions of past violence and present homicidal ideation. Hello, talking someone out of real intention of ruining a person's life over a minor slight). Honestly, I think I overreached. Some of these things were not things I should have tolerated, accepted even. When I started walking on eggshells to not have him ruin my life, too, that was probably when I should've gotten out. He claimed that the people he cares about are exceptions. That's probably true, otherwise I would currently be in a ton of shit. But at some point I did stop believing it.

(b) I don't really think that most of the things that happened were malicious. Some, he admits, were. But mostly he wasn't out with the intention to hurt me, but he also didn't make the effort...not to. Even with me repeatedly complaining about things, he was defensive or dismissive, considering me talking about an issue to be me creating issues in his life. This is super shitty, his damage is caused by a stubborn ego fixation and sheer passivity, thoughtlessness (he has agreed to all of this in our final conversation), but it isn't exactly intentionally malicious. If he genuinely didn't believe there was a problem, that is an issue, and the fact that he utterly failed until the end to even consider the possibility of a valid complaint, is a very real flaw. He is bad insofar as "he is lazy and incompetent at being good". Which I can understand but nevertheless protect myself from. Ideally, sooner. At the point where I start feeling like someone is being shitty more often than not, something needs to happen. A discussion, a reconsideration, a run-as-fast-as-you-can... Something.

Idk. This isn't everything. But yeah.

.

.

.

* These 3 PDs are often used in illustrating the idea of pathologising difference: few of the criteria are about subjective distress and many about extrinsic value judgements of what a person should be like (lol, my clinical psych final had an essay question on this). I don't necessarily agree but it does speak to a shared thread of...something. That said, this characterisation is tbh still too broad for my liking. Importantly, it is definitively applicable to autistic people but I do not in general relate to that in the same way. Some specific manifestations of it, yes, but I have seen far too many excessively... 'human' autistic people to include the whole category. There are probably folks in the PD categories who are also like that but I think much less common.

[hanzi83]

Clearing the Clutter from My Brain

Before I begin, I have to clarify that anything that I put out there is not 100 percent true when it comes to what I assume is happening behind the scenes. I am mentally ill and while different communities will accuse me of using it as a crutch, I retort with this, since I am accused of saying the same shit, and maybe by saying the same shit I will eventually just turn into dust and disappear in mediocrity, but if these people at the top and their minions love to put it out there I am mentally ill and I am a piece of shit to dismiss any of my thoughts, then why can’t I use it back to my advantage since no matter what I say will not be taken seriously. I am not to be taken seriously they will fuck with my connection when I go on my platforms, so I cannot have a clear message, not like the actual speech from it is clear enough with my constant stammering, but at least with a blog I can at least intellectualize it a little better, even though it probably reads as someone in third grade and then throw in the mix of it being on tumblr with an outdated layout and format that I am too dumb to change, and even at the risk of it not being read by many, at least it is out there just like everything I have been transparent with in my life since everything WE all do is always monitored, and when the system decides it is convenient they will then expose whoever and whatever and create an elaborate reason why it has come to fruition.

So since I and others who choose to express themselves online get accused of being attention seekers etc, it normally comes from people who uphold the status quo and keep a limited narrative, even if they seem “woke” about certain things. I know anything I have said in my life and on all my platforms will come back to haunt me and the ones who perpetuate it are paid to bring it out because there is a system in play but since I already am blackballed from the rest of society and their secret rules that they swear does not exist, I have nothing to lose. They will either keep me this tortured and no one will pay attention to my delusional cries or eventually these people will push me to just fucking end it or maybe better they will actually decide to kill me. Since my computer has been hacked multiple times, I would not be shocked if they frame me for something since people in my life and the people they take orders from will fucking end me but not just destroy me, make sure I am here to endure the nonstop mental torture that no one will acknowledge and when it is too late they will then pat themselves on the back for pretending they care about something kind of like their soulless existence has to put on their best acting but since their act is so mediocre they don’t come off well but they sure do commit to the role of making it seem they are just like regular fucking people.  I rather express my thoughts, as stupid as they may come across then have to hide who the fuck I am and how irrational I am because I am still recuperating from being dumbed down for the majority of my life but it is clear I am not witty or smart enough to be a part of this world.

It stems from the fact that I think I figured out me and a select few are chosen targets to exploit and there are underground ways to exploit someone since they can organize your appearances without knowing you are making one because they organize in group chats and pass around information and will use it on someone who they can blackmail, hence why so many lowly type of individuals are always recruited to be trolled. That is why people react to these trolls because they are not regular people, they are government agents. I think there is a contingent of people who have cliques to fight back and that I can understand but the overall existence of this type of digital gang warfare is on some next level, and so much so they dumb it down by giving limited solutions like “Why don’t you just log off” not disclosing that even if you log off these people can harass you and invade your privacy, especially if you are outspoken about the system. They have censored and killed off so many leftists who have tried to expose the system but all you ever hear is about some fucking nazi not being able to get a rise out of the “SJWS” being censored while the internet organizes and makes you believe these fucking nazi supporters are the ones who are the victims.

I could have sold my soul many times, but I did not want to partake in paid propaganda. I know being on my own mentally might not be the best because I entertain so much shit that I might be spreading propaganda without even realizing it but I always put the disclaimer not to take my word seriously because it is clear I have no fucking idea of what I am talking about since the people at the top or people in my life have made it clear how mentally ill I am, so much so they will never take accountability for what they did and are essentially gangsters behind the scenes, and since they are sensitive as I am, they collectively can fuck my life up or others if I don’t comply with them. Even with me wanting to die, they will approach me privately and politic, if it is not trying to be my fucking manager, or telling me that I am needed here so that is why I can’t die. If I die, their connection to the system goes away so they rather make it seem they are inviting me places, which are limited, and people giving me attitude if I ask any questions about anything, but they do that so if anything good happens to me they can say they did this for me. These people plan this shit out and organize within group chats. I seriously think people from my past at the behest of the system will end up harming me and maybe even killing me when they don’t actually need me. It would not be obvious, it could be a simple heart attack and you would not even blink because “HELLO… HE SMOKES CIGARETTES AND EATS LIKE SHIT”  Maybe they have instilled so much paranoia into my fucked up brain by bringing up that my family and friends hate me and that they are partaking in torturing me, but even if that is the case is that not evident enough that I don’t belong on this planet? This is not some cry for help but sometimes I need to get this shit off my chest.

Not only do I have to deal with racist Stern fans who despise me and constantly remind me that Howard is paying them to watch me and fuck with me and if I dare take it seriously then it is that Howard does not know who I am, so you cause a shit storm of rage from me which I happened to manage well at times, even though I have my manic meltdowns and now lately since I have been vocal about the WWE’s corruption, I have certain cliques of the wrestling community to come after me because I dare think Roman Reigns’ cancer may have been exaggerated and any questioning in it has lead to these people who seem to be so caring and outraged of the idea that it could be fake they want to come across and seem like they are the ones who are thinking clearly while they still support a racist company tied to a racist president and has so many past scandals that have been thrown under the rug from paying people off or having people sign non disclosures. The worst part about it is how WWE have branded with certain minority groups be their employed shills who call out certain racism like a Lars Sullivan or Hulk Hogan and maybe a little performative outrage about the Saudi deal, but then ignore the hidden system shit that exists. It drives me crazy when it is people from a marginalized group because even though people got to make their money and this is the game, but the hypocrisy drives me nuts. I am not totally against the stuff the views they have because maybe while they shill out for WWE they do call out other racist elements in the industry, like Sinclair broadcasting or how AEW has ties to Trump as well since the owners donated too but it just seems they do it while protecting themselves in this neoliberalism, and whenever I call them out for being employed, the same ones will show up with the same insults, which then I use the same insults as well then they call me out for using the same insults. It is funny because initially when I did a stream the night Reigns came back and made the announcement, and after these supposed shills shut down some of these people who were questioning it and I happened to stick to my guns on it, these same caring people have no problem not showing remorse when I put it out there I am “feeling kind of suicidal” and then they tell me to go do it, and that is fine. I am not here to cry about people being mean on the internet in this instance, maybe in other instances but that is a different story, but to show these people are actually soulless.

It is going to be hilarious when at some point the scandals of this company eventually do catch up with them and there is an actual revolution into the business but so many people have upheld the status quo because they want to be included, and while I wanted to be included in general, not WWE in particular, I have become such an outspoken enemy to people in the industry, with government connection they would put the word out that someone like me will be coming to the States and they will use it as an excuse to detail in, so they will limit the moves I make while solely blaming it on me and making it seem like it is all on me, and I will take responsibility for the blame I share but the key word is SHARE, because I am not the sole owner of this fucking entire fucking dilemma. It makes me sick that even loved ones I have known my entire life can so easily master this effort that has been taught to them and they constantly lie to me and hold me in a position while they make the connections that exist because of me being a fucking prostitute on the fucking Stern Show, which bullies you to call back in and stay reliant on him, and the genius is the employed fan boys there can make it seem like it is on the whack packers for calling in and no one is forcing them.

No media outlet will ever look into it because Howard is powerful while still coming off as irrelevant into today’s culture. I see people who often talk about injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere and while I am not on the list of insanely even more important shit but since the media can focus on a celebrity using the N word and have nonstop performative conversations about it like it is the be all end all of all discussion on racial inequality, I am sure you could go for someone who has pimped out people mentally and maybe sexually under the guise of entertainment while creating chaos in these people’s lives. I relate to others in these institutions mentally even though I have not gone through what they have physically, but that is why is makes me upset that no one will ever take a stand against these bullies.

I wonder if I am supposed to call it out and these people at the top are now playing roles of the villains when they were once revered in a positive light and they have to make it real thus making us really want to rise up and maybe because other people who are not as big but still have prominence are kind of woke but still have to kiss the elites ass help normalize these people and sometimes they are misunderstood it makes you have a case of constant cognitive dissonance and because I am already dumbed down, it makes me not being sure and I just want to be left alone forever and never be seen because no matter what people will eventually become the bad guy. I am already seen in such a fucking negative light and will always be a fucking joke who is probably one of the most pathetic and ugly people on the planet, why should I be here? And no this is not me feeling sorry for myself or asking for your pity, just like I don’t need your retweets, likes, internet points etc I do this because this is what I am feeling and if you feel it then good, if not then fuck you.

Look at how this generation gets put down for being “entitled” when the same public figures and their sycophants don’t acknowledge the tantrums they have had or the amount of shit hey had to do to get their spot because they were not strong enough to say no and you have that fucking audacity to fuck with people who know their value and won’t let these corporations pimp them out and use them until they are nothing. You have the audacity to blame us for people being outraged and being about free speech but you never acknowledge the right wing who become outraged about shit. And it is like these employed fan boys of these public figures are being so transparently defensive of their every fucking move, and as someone who used to be dumbed down and buy into that, I have now seen it for what it is, and even though not everything warrants a complaint, the utter hatred for the people rather than the system organizing this reaction really shows why nothing will ever fucking change.

If I end up being right and Vince McMahon has to answer for past scandals like all these other public figures, who were in prominent positions, but have to answer for it and now have to be the heels, then I wonder what scary shit these trolls will do because it seems they are sending more recently towards me. They will either have to retreat or finally admit they are part of that establishment clique and basically run good PR for them. The entire AEW thing too has become annoying because it seems like there are insufferable people shilling out for them too but I guess they are lesser of the evils, but I await when the day they become the established enemy since we all go in cycles.

I have not called into other wrestling radio shows because certain ones I helped prop up have fucked me over and have become more like Stern Show with their tactics, and always wanting me to kind of snap if they keep me on hold until the end so if I say anything they will ban me, and they were already limiting my topics when I would call in like bringing up the Reigns cancer being fake, and since I did not get to be part of their 10 year anniversary I decided not to even give that show any of my time, even if they don’t want to admit that I had more to do with the success, because you can’t have me buying into my own fucking hype. They have to keep me at a level, so I got sick of it and now I can see they will probably organize my platforms to fuck up so I won’t have a voice to speak on shit about the industry, especially if I don’t keep it within the parameters they would like me to.

At least the old youtuber that harassed me for the last year or so is paying the price by being exposed by his new reddit community that he used to clean up his image and do videos reading stories and since he could not help himself in not politicking to destroy someone with a bigger audience his community put two and two together that he was actually someone who was banned from youtube before. It was probably the funniest thing that I have laughed at since the remainder of shit in my life is completely sad. I wish it was Stern being exposed even though they have trained you to start thinking Howard was evil, by focusing on him in the Lorena Bobbitt documentary on Amazon but painting him as the main guy to build up John Wayne as this ultimate victim, like it was meant to take attention away from raping and beating her and Howard being one of the main voices to say she was too ugly to rape, and it is so funny that it fooled me because all these liberals etc who are against that type of insults would pal around with Stern. See I am such a fucking dumbed down person that never could think for himself and just see what would be around me, in my house, school, television, movies, radio etc and just change my attitude according to whatever I felt kind of made sense, even if it was intellectualizing ignorance. I have to live with it every day but Stern and Vince McMahon are 2 of the people who helped poison the water supply into this culture. Would it be fair not to mention the good things they have done? Sure, but we blindly have given them credit for decades, and now it is time to point out there is more to this.

I will always be a fucking target and the best part is no one will care because literally everyone behind the scenes who knows of me, and even the people in my life probably have such a disdain for me and it is probably likewise since they could be protecting me but since they have inside information on my path, and not disclosing me it makes me envision the worst and it makes me think they will fucking end up harming me after a while or maybe it is just in my head. I feel like the more I look forward to these people go down from their throne, these people know any vindication will not be good for them because they won’t be able to control me like they have and tested my patience and mental health in the previous years while pretending they care about my mental health. I will pay for writing this blog and they will ensure that people continue to fuck me over.

I will never forgive any of these people who are supposed to be progressive not even bringing attention to what evil Howard Stern is, maybe because the last person who hinted Howard bought a car for someone who was not his girlfriend that reporter ended up being dead within a year so maybe people have learned to stay in their lane. Hopefully Stern and someone like Vince plot to kill me and they can get away with it. Don’t worry ITS MY MENTAL ILLNESS SINCE YOU GUYS WILL BE SAYING I AM MENTALLY ILL WHO NEEDS HELP AND IT IS NOT HELPING MY CASE BY TYPING IN ALL CAPS LIKE A FUCKING MANIAC AND IT HURTS SO MUCH I BEAT YOU TO THE PUNCH BECAUSE YOUR JOKES AND INSULTS ARE SO PREDICTIVE, and also the fact you think because you pitch these jokes in your shitty group chats that they are funny, because you have other people starving to be funny telling you that it is good so you laugh at their jokes in return like it is some kind of quid pro quo deal, so now you think putting those insults online toward me will actually mean anything. Okay and even if you are funny then who gives a shit I am a mediocre irrelevant Pakistani in his mom’s basement who has no value but for some reason a bunch of trolls have to show up to tell me that when the irrelevancy should speak for itself correct? And if it does speak for itself then I can just type my opinions out without anyone making a fuss, until it is convenient since most of you are given permission when to be outraged about limited issues that does not give you the full view.

I hope you read this entire grammatical and spelling mess and it gives you a headache but most likely you will convince yourself to say you did not read it, even though you hang on to every fucking word like the doggies you are.

I was not going to post this shit but now the employed WWE stans are all in my facebook page leaving comments and I will repeat a line I said before, and I will repeat it over and over until WWE changes their creative since they give you the same shit all the time but calling me Mr. Potato Head is not really creative but since you are employed WWE stans, it tells you probably have some kind of say in the fucking creative. Keep spreading rumors of others being shady in the business while completely ignoring the systemic shit the company you stan for does. You better hope the Reigns shit is not a façade because I am fine looking stupid, I have looked stupid since the birth in this shit world, but are you prepared to look stupid and is it supposed to be this transparent that you are projecting onto others?

[master-sass-blast]

Henlo, it's me, your local trash monster here to say I love Hannah and I can't wait to hear more about her?? That being said, GIMME ALL THE SAD GOODS ABOUT HER. But also add in something happy about her in the end! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ ((Also sending hugs! I know things have been stressful the last few days so just know I'm rooting for you !!))

Holy fuck I think this is the first time someone’s ever told me to cut loose and just SAY ALL THE THINGS AND I’M SO EXCITED!!!! :D

(Answers under the cut because I just went with the entire list. I have no self control.

And thank you for the hugs and encouragement!)

1. What is one word to shut them up: Okay, for some context, Hannah is a lawyer. She has a thick skin (unlike me, heyoooo). It takes a lot to shut her up; she’s an HBIC and she owns it.

But if someone starts talking about her scars (she’s struggled/struggles with self-harm), she shuts down. It’s a part of her she’s still self-conscious about, and if someone mentions it she’ll literally stop mid-sentence and mentally exit the conversation.

2. What is the thing they feel the most guilty about: Again, she’s got a pretty thick skin, so she doesn’t hold onto too much. Life happens, you make mistakes, and it’s better to learn from them rather than beat yourself over the head for something you can’t change anyway.

If there’s something she’s going to feel guilty about, though, it’s fights or incidents she’s had with family members/close friends where she’s hurt them with something she’s said or done. She holds herself in high accountability to ensure that she doesn’t step all over people, and when she does she fails not only them but her expectations for herself, so yeah. Guilt.

3. What is the worst pain they’ve ever experienced: Physical pain? Probably different injuries from her career in martial arts. She’s a tough cookie, but some of that stuff just hurts.

Emotional pain? Anytime she fails her expectations for herself. She has very high standards for herself, and when she can’t reach them she becomes very depressed (more so than usual).

4. Describe their worst nightmare: Actual dream? Anything where she’s drowning or running out of air. She almost drowned a couple times as a child/preteen, and the trauma still emerges in her adult life from time to time.

Real life “this is a nightmare” scenario? Any point where her depression gets so bad that she stops being functional. Things just start piling up and get overwhelming very quickly.

5. List 3 fears; one “surface level” fear, one “repressed” fear, and one “deep dark” fear: 1.) Drowning, which runs pretty deep but it’s an obvious one that she’s done a lot of therapy work for, and she doesn’t mind talking about it with other people. 2.) Wasps. She accidentally got locked into a shed with an active wasp nest in it as a child. She made it out alright, but the sheer terror of the situation made her repress the memory. She’s heard the story from friends and family, and “gets” why she’s scared of the fuckers, but can’t actually recall the incident itself. 3.) The dark. A side effect of depression is paranoia, and when she’s alone, in the dark, she can’t shake the feeling that there’s some sort of creature watching/following her. When her depression gets really bad, she has to sleep with a light on to keep from flipping out.

6. What is something that never fails to make them feel sick: She’s not naturally squeamish, but the sounds of belching (ala college frat boys, y’all know what I mean) make her stomach churn.

7. What feature (physical or otherwise) do they hate most about themselves: Her scars. She’s very ashamed of them, and goes out of her way to wear long sleeved shirts so she can hide them.

8. Do they have anything that triggers them: Feeling like she’s failed her own expectations/expectations others have of her, accidentally inhaling water, the ‘buzzing’ sound bees/wasps make.

9. What is their greatest physical weakness: Her height. She might be a kickass lawyer and an even kick-assier martial artist, but she barely clears five feet.

10. What is their greatest mental weakness: Her struggles with self-hatred. She’s her own worst enemy a lot of the time.

11. Do they have any vices: Not really. Not as far as serious vices go. She’s pretty grounded.

12. Have they ever done something illegal? What was it: Nope. She knew she wanted to be a lawyer from day one and made sure her record was spotless.

13. Which of the 7 Deadly Sins best describes them: Pride? I think that one comes closest? Again, since she really doesn’t have a vice or a thorn in her side, it’s hard to pick something for her.

I think Pride comes closest because she spirals when she fails to live up to her own expectations, which I think often comes with a bit of ego (at least in my experience with that sort of thing). She’s also got a lot to be proud of (lawyer, martial artist, financially independent), but she’s not a walking ego either?

Idk. This is a weird question, lol.

14. Are they prone to outbursts (of violence, extreme emotion… exc… ): Not really. Don’t get me wrong, she can get there, but it takes a lot. She’s very collected (and usually swings the opposite way; she’s more likely to cold shoulder you if she’s mad).

She does threaten to shove her Prada stiletto sideways up Hank Pym’s ass, though. So there’s that.

15. Who do they hate the most: Guys who use her height against her by cornering her into spots while they try to ask her out/talk to her about something. It’s the fastest way to wind up on her shit list.

16. Is there anyone who makes them feel inferior: Herself. She’s her own worst enemy.

17. What sound always gives them a headache: Her coworker Tracey’s text/notification sound. Which is always going off because Tracey’s always talking to someone.

18. Is there a certain flavor that disgusts them: Not really. She’s half Japanese, half ethnic Jew, and a practicing Jew to boot, so she grew up on a pretty broad flavor palette.

She’s tried a bacon cheeseburger once on a dare, though, and she hated it.

19. Do they consider themselves ugly: Not really (outside of her scars). She’s pretty confident in her appearance.

20. Do they consider themselves unloveable: Again, not really. She’s spent a lot of time in therapy, which helps, but she’s always had her feet pretty well on the ground.

21. What is something that causes them great anxiety: The prospect of losing. She’s very competitive.

22. Do they have any mental illnesses: Depression.

23. Have they ever been assaulted/abused/raped: She’s run into the usual guys that like to try and use her size against her, but they usually wind up worse for wear than she does.

24. Do they fear the possibility of being assaulted/abused/raped: Yes. She’s five feet tall and doesn’t clear 110 lbs. She’s very aware that she’s got “TARGET” written across her back.

25. Have they ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust: Fortunately, no. Most of her close relationships come from communities she knows well (school, work, the temple she attends in LA), so she hasn’t had to deal with too much betrayal.

26. Have they ever been seriously injured: Yes. Even outside of her struggles with self-harm, she’s a martial artist. She’s broken a few bones over the years from that.

27. How many times have they been in the hospital: Five. Three for some pretty drastic self harm incidents, and two from sparring injuries.

28. Is there a certain type of person that disgusts them: Obviously, she has frustrations with asshole guys, racists/anti-Semites, but she cannot stand people who work in organizations that prey on the disenfranchised (ala military recruiters going to schools in impoverished areas to fill their quota because they know how to trick the kids into trying out and all that). It gets her blood boiling fast.

29. Does what they cannot see scare them: Yes. Again, this shows perfectly with her fear of the dark.

30. Have they ever been bullied: Yupp. For her heritage, her beliefs, her mental health struggles, her size... High school sucks.

31. Do they have self-confidence or self-image issues: Yes and no. Again, she’s pretty confident about most things in life, but she does have certain weak points (her scars, living up to her own expectations, her height).

32. Do they have a bad relationship with their parents: Actually, no! She has a good relationship with both her parents and her extended family!

33. Have they ever been in a relationship that didn’t work out so well: Not in the drastic sense of things. She’s been through a few break ups, sure, but nothing that was abusive or crazy.

34. Have they ever self harmed: Yes. It’s something she still struggles with as an adult.

35. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be: Her scars. She’d make them disappear.

36. Are they in control of their emotions, or are their emotions in control of them: She’s pretty well in control of her emotions.

37. Have they ever had their freedom taken away: Not really, no.

38. Have they ever been imprisoned: Nope.

39. Have they ever been accused of something they didn’t do: Not in any serious sense. Her reputation for toeing the line was too well known for her to be accused of something she didn’t do.

40. Do they often blame themselves for other people’s problems: She did as a teenager, but dutiful therapy and self-care has helped her outgrow that habit.

41. Do they get sick often: Nope! She’s pretty healthy.

42. Are they comfortable with where they are in life: She’s content, but not complacent.

43. Do they wish that they could change their pasts: Yes. Again, she doesn’t like her history with self-harm. If she could erase that, she would.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t: Travel. Her job’s pretty demanding as far as hours go.

45. What is the emotion they most commonly experience: Melancholy. No matter what she’s doing, it’s sort of always hanging around her, like a tiny cloud.

46. Have they ever contemplated suicide: Yes. Unfortunately, it’s a side effect of the depression.

47. Have they ever gone so far as to attempt suicide: A couple of times, when she was teenager.

48. Is there anyone that they would willingly kill: Outside of self-defense/the defense of others? No.

49. If [name] was put into ______ situation, they’d rather die than live to see it through: Being forced to reject her identities as a Jew/person of Japanese heritage. Her families have made it through so much (internment camps, persecution, the Holocaust), and she’d rather die than erase her own identity.

50. Create your own: Alright, I’m gonna put the happy one here so we end on a high note!

She’s a firm believer in the need for “mah” (the Japanese word for “emptiness), or a moment to pause and do nothing. It’s easy to see that reflected in how she practices meditation, follows Shabbat, or takes time each day to simply be.

However, she also believes that the principle of “mah” is what makes her and Luis work so well as a couple. She is the silence to his constant chatter and helps him keep his feet on the ground. Likewise, he keeps her from living inside her head and helps her connect to the world.

They’re just such opposites attract. Ugh, I love them so much!

[spoopercorp]

In my opinion, the majority of the Supergirl cast at SDCC was being more ignorant and insensitive rather than homophobic.

You have to be open to the possibility that maybe you’re misconstruing the situation, that what you see from the other side may not be an accurate representation of what actually happened, but yes, there is always the possibility that you are right.

Jeremy Jordan released two public apologies via Instagram that received backlash.

The first:

This one, I believe, received the most backlash for a formatting that is closer to that of a non-apology, of which I can see to an extent. It may be messy and imperfect, but he is human and can only learn from his mistakes. Many people did not like the fact that he said, “My track record for years has proven my love and utter devotion to the LGBTQ community.” because some people believe it is the equivalent of, “I have gay family/friends, I can’t be homophobic.”

But he is, I think, absolutely genuine with his intention in the apology, and the second part is more sincere, if you will.

He admitted his mistake, promised he would be better, and I personally have no doubt that he will try to do so in the future.

I said before that when you are attacked or criticized or hated, you are more likely to defend yourself. That is how humans work. If someone you knew was generally a kind and sweet person, but made a huge mistake, you are more likely to blame it on the person’s character. If it was the other way around and you made the mistake, you are more likely to blame it on external circumstances.

Mehcad Brooks’ apology is similar.

Yes, he made a comment similar to Jeremy Jordan’s “my track record” comment, and said something equivalent to “I cannot be homophobic, I am black”. And maybe he did not mean it to come out that way.

That is also another thing to address, because people who are gay can be racist/sexist and people who are black can be homophobic/sexist and people who are feminists can be homophobic/sexist. Most people know that being oppressed does not mean you cannot be the oppressor.

This is not trying to excuse what they did, but acknowledge that there are absolutely many variables within the situation at hand.

In the musical recap, they were having fun.

Okay, not a great reason, but everyone knows that when you are having fun, in the spur of each moment, you will not know if you are spouting anything out that is rude and offensive. They were not targeting the LGBT+ community, but maybe the actions they partook in are considered homophobic, but they are likely not themselves. They were being silly, having fun with each other, and laughing is scientifically proven to be contagious - it is a social thing whether or not you enjoy it, because most humans thrive off of it, and therefore, desire to be accepted. But, again, I know it does not excuse what they did.

Their intent was not to invalidate the LGBT+ community, but it did regardless, and you have every right to be upset. But think, just for a few seconds, to consider all sides. If you create something as an artist that you are so proud of and put so much time in and it is overlooked towards something you unintentionally created, you will likely feel upset. That one thing that you did not mean to do and put as much work in is being praised rather than the actual thing you are so proud of and want compliments for. Imagine that it is what the majority only talk about, it can get annoying.

Then there was the unnecessary interjection Chris Wood made about sexuality only being about perception of others. Again, ignorant and insensitive, but to his defense, he did say he was being sarcastic right after. I personally believe that was a homophobic comment. It is unfortunate for him that he is receiving a ton of hate attacking his personal life (because his character, Mon-El, is nothing like the comic counterpart and portrays someone who seems abusive), and when you shout at someone, you are likely to be shouted back at with the same force. Again, not excusing him, but more trying to develop an understanding of all sides.

To reiterate, I create art, whether it is in written or visual form, and I will likely be proud of my feat. There will be blatant haters, but when a fan articulately and professionally comments on how my work is portraying something unhealthy, it is a red flag. It is my job to at least take a second for myself to contemplate their words and the possibility without bias and acknowledge that though I did not intend to make it that way, it still had that affect.

They were also tired.

Okay, perhaps also not the greatest excuse for most.

SDCC panels are stressful for everyone, and I also believe it is very much so for celebrities attending. David Harewood makes a point that people may be “unfair” and “over the top” and blasting the situation out of proportion. My only qualm with his tweet is that he refers this outburst only originating from shippers when it is the entire LGBT+ community that has been affected. They might not be homophobic, but their actions could be read that way and will be used in the future to hurt the LGBT+ community and they are responsible for that.

They are also celebrities, they are constrained and choked in a suffocating environment that many fans burden their shoulders with.

Expectations. Ideals. Presumptions. Many unrealistic.

They are stuck within a tiny box of those specifications and the moment they resist or reach past it in any way, they receive hate. They are people, and like many other people, they may be agreeable on some matters and disagreeable on others; they have their own views. Those perfect ideas of humans people have, not just idols nor icons, are bad and unfair for both sides.

There are so many things that infuriated people at Supergirl’s SDCC.

From the announcement of The Ray and how it made Jewish coded characters like Supergirl and the Flash actual Nazis.

Which I personally loathe, so I cannot be as impartial on that matter.

To Melissa Benoist’s statements that Kara Danvers “lost her first ever boyfriend” as well as comparing it to her “losing her entire world”. She completely omitted a great black man in the first season that the latter was so head over heels with and seems to have compared a loss of a boyfriend to her losing her entire world - by extension forgetting that Kara Danvers still has Eliza, Lena, James, J’onn, Winn, and her sister Alex (I believe the Danvers sisters’ relationship is the most powerful in the show).

To the questions and panels circling around Mon-El constantly with barely any input on the Danvers sisters and the involvements of other important lead characters.

To the lack of addressing the problem with Mon-El’s character, which has been a huge controversy in numerous articles as well as plot holes with the rushed and messier writing.

To the theorizing and speculation people are making by watching videos, like the musical recap.

They are videos, you cannot really determine emotion nor intent and all they will ever be is speculation, because people are sharing statements that there is now cast drama (which I hope not) due to this incident. Katie McGrath and Odette Annable are receiving the least hate out of everyone (I am referring to cast members who were present, so I am leaving Chyler Leigh and Floriana Lima out) because (and some of these are fan speculations and may or may not be ridiculous to you)...

- Katie McGrath repeated that fans could take anything they wanted from the show and apparently Mehcad Brooks told her to “shut up” in Italian (zitta).

Honestly, the audio is not great and neither are human ears and it is just speculation. I do not know.

- Katie McGrath “dragged” the rest of the cast members by stating, “I brought it back to reality, you wanna go back to singing again?” as in referring to the musical recap in the video as well as leaning away and apparently tackling Chris Wood’s comment earlier about sexuality only being about perception and Odette Annable showing her support.

Again, speculation as I analyze with a neutral lens. Katie McGrath could be comfortable in that position. Or maybe she was actually uncomfortable with the situation. And the cast was singing shortly beforehand, it was probably not meant as shade. I do not know.

- Odette Annable did not laugh at the musical recap nor when the cast sang again about Daxam I think.

Maybe she does not find singing to be amusing? Or maybe she really thought the cast members were being rude about the musical recap. I do not know.

- There is a photo of Katie McGrath and it looks as if there are tears and people speculate it was due to her statement during the musical recap that allegedly went ignored by other cast members or something and now she is being ostracized.

More speculation, maybe she was so happy with fans she teared up, maybe the lights were too bright and her eyes were too dry. I do not know.

I do not know. No one knows for sure what is going on and hopefully everyone’s speculations above are wrong because the idea of supposed discourse and schisms within a cast of grown adults is honestly sad (someone said that cast members for a show were arguing before an interview, I do not know how reliable that information is).

If you have a problem with what happened, give your statements.

Don’t attack the actors’ and/or writers’ personal lives.

Most people will not pay attention to something that sounds aggressive or hateful. Educate them on the consequences of their actions in a professional manner, and if they shoot back with something immature or block you, then you are wasting your time and theirs. You are the consumer, you can move on and invest your emotions, money, and time on something that you consider is more worth your while.

[tisfan]

I have an IronDoon prompt : After Civil War Doon rescued Tony that loses his memories and make him his "Queen"

Dear Nonny,

SPOILERS FOR THE COMMUNAL KITCHEN IF YOU HAVE NOT READ END OF TOMORROW AND INTEND TO DO SO. (spoilers and story below the cut)

I’m almost positive this is NOT what you had in mind. Sorry about that.

If you’ve read the Communal Kitchen Series, this story takes place in the “2047 Future/End of Tomorrow” timeline, after M.O.D.O.K. has taken over the world. Somewhere around 2022, or thereabouts.

For the rest of you: TAKE HEED THE NOTES (which are below the cut for spoilers)

Nothing is explicit, but this is a deeply disturbing little snippet of what life was like for Tony while under M.O.D.O.K.’s mind control. Consider it pre-trash for the contents. It’s very heavy angst and depressing as shit.

There is no happy ending. For this Tony, his future just gets worse and worse for the next 25 years or so and his happy ending is self-sacrifice, knowing that he’s fixing the world.

This author has regrets.

Til Death Do Us Part

Hewas kneeling.

He was kneeling at his master’sside and trying not to think.

The armor was comfortable, even ifhe would never feel safe inside it again. It couldn’t protect him anymore. Hesometimes wondered if it ever had, or if it had just made him a greater target.If he hadn’t created the armor, would his master’s eyes ever turned on him, or wouldhe have been dismissed, as he had always been before, as a rich, bratty,party-boy. Not worthy of anything but scorn.

Certainly not worthy of the honorof kneeling at M.O.D.O.K.’s side.

He was trying not to think becausethinking was painful. Thinking was remembering. Thinking was…

Well, thinking was. Wasn’t it?

“Your majesty,” the seneschalsqueaked, then screamed, then didn’t make another sound.

Von Doom strode into the room,unannounced and unacknowledged because he’d just murdered another doorman.

His master would not be pleased atthe disruption, but M.O.D.O.K. wouldn’t care about the poor man who lay in acrumpled and bleeding heap to one side of the throne room. Not quite dead. TheHUD popped up all the relevant medical data. The man could possibly even besaved, if he got treatment in time.

“Master?” he said, his voice lowpitched, keeping the audio as far down as he could. The suit’s voice modulatorhad been adjusted to make his tones as servile as possible. He’d discovered hismaster was more… lenient, that way. “Master, the doorman?”

His master didn’t acknowledge him.Continued to poke at the holographic display.

“Von Doom to see you,” he said,that statement compelled from him. Part of his standing orders: protect hismaster, serve his master, announce guests, kill when commanded. Kneel.

“Good,” M.O.D.O.K. said. He shutthe display with a wave of one sticklike arm.

“How dare you summon me?” Von Doomdemanded, as he drew closer.

“Master?” he managed again. “Thedoorman, please?” It was hard, asking for favors, and he knew what it wouldcost him.

M.O.D.O.K. spared him a glance,then at the dying doorman. “Summon aid,” he said, moving his hands in thatgesture that was the best M.O.D.O.K. could do for a shrug, not having shouldersto speak of. “Then get our esteemed colleague a chair.”

A flick of the eyes, and a medicalteam was alerted to the problem in the throne room. He tried not to sigh withrelief. The doorman had been someone he knew, once. Not someone who was afriend, but an employee. Someone who’d been kind. He couldn’t remember thename. It didn’t matter. A sacrifice to the altar of not thinking. M.O.D.O.K.was running out of captives that he knew.

Von Doom was all the way to thethrone.

He knew what was expected of him.Forcing his master to make it an order, forcing M.O.D.O.K. to use the implantin his spine to gain obedience would be in no one’s interest. Especially afterhis master allowed aid to be summoned.

He sighed. At least his face washidden by the faceplate. He shifted up onto his hands and knees, crawled infront of the hoverchair. Listened to the whirr and thrum of the repulsors underthe chair. He’d built those, adapted them to the tech that M.O.D.O.K. needed.

When he was exactly whereM.O.D.O.K. wanted him to be, he locked his elbows, ducked his head.

Von Doom took his offered seat,resting his ass and muscular thighs across the slave’s back.

Von Doom wasn’t heavy; not whilethe slave was in his armor; the suit bore most of the weight. It was thehumiliation that weighed heavily on his heart.

Not thinking. Not thinking. Juststay right there. Don’t draw their attention. Just be a chair. That’s all.Nothing more.

“How dare you summon Doom?” VonDoom snarled. It was a mock snarl and the slave knew it. Doom was the weaker ofthe two in the room. He survived primarily because M.O.D.O.K. did not considerhim enough of a threat to bother with, and he’d been useful in the past.M.O.D.O.K. didn’t hold much with gratitude, but he did get a lot of pleasureout of making Doom angry.

“M.O.D.O.K. is going to give you agift, old friend,” M.O.D.O.K. said. “You’ll like that, won’t you? A gift, andboth Doom and M.O.D.O.K. will be satisfied.”

“What sort of gift?” Von Doom wassuspicious. The slave didn’t much blame him for that. Gifts were not much inM.O.D.O.K.’s good graces, even when they were being given to M.O.D.O.K..

“To solve the problems,” M.O.D.O.K.said, laughing. The slave hated his master’s laughter. It was cold and cruel.“The problems that this one causes M.O.D.O.K..”

Von Doom put a hand on the armor’stasset as if petting the slave’s ass possessively. “Doom thought Stark couldn’tcause you problems, anymore.”

The slave shuddered. He didn’t likehearing his name. His name meant thinking, meant remembering. Meant… he had tosteady his elbows. If he dropped Doom on the floor by crumpling to the ground,there would be trouble. He didn’t want trouble.

“It resists,” M.O.D.O.K. said, asif the slave couldn’t hear. Couldn’t understand. “Destruction, it can beordered. Kill. Kneel. Stand here. Go there. Eat, don’t eat. Things thatM.O.D.O.K. can tell it to do, it does. M.O.D.O.K. cannot tell it to create.”

Not thinking. Not thinking was theonly weapon the slave had found. His master couldn’t order him to imagine.Couldn’t order him to love. Creation came from love, from imagination, andif the slave didn’t have those, M.O.D.O.K. didn’t know how to unlock hispotential.

M.O.D.O.K. had found a few ways todraw cooperation out of him.

Hurting someone that the slaveknew, or cared about, or could be persuaded to care about.

Hurting the slave didn’t compel himto anything except a vague sense of hope that the torture might be carried toofar and that he would die and be free. Too much hurt could damage the brain,and it was for the slave’s brain that he’d been taken in the first place.M.O.D.O.K. wasn’t willing to make that sacrifice. Not yet.

The only other weapon M.O.D.O.K.had was remembering. He could order the slave to remember.

Not thinking.

The slave counted the flagstonesunder his fingers. The tiny shifts in posture of the man who sat on him like hewas furniture.

“So, it’s useless, then?”

“No,” M.O.D.O.K. said. “Just…M.O.D.O.K. doesn’t understand some things about humans. But M.O.D.O.K. thought,friend Doom might be the key to unlocking some potential. If Doom still wantsthe pretty for himself.”

“You promised Stark to me yearsago, when we–”

“M.O.D.O.K. knows. M.O.D.O.K.remembers,” his master cautioned. “So, you want it, still?”

“You’re going to give Stark to me?”

“If you want it,” M.O.D.O.K. said.“Proper, and right. It is not your toy. You will court it, take care of it. Youwill… marry it. M.O.D.O.K., Doom, and Stark. The Triumvirate.”

“Marry it?” Von Doom’s voice wasincredulous. The slave shuddered again, remembering against his will. He’d beenmarried, once. He’d loved… loved once. “Why dress it up pretty? Marriage isabout a partnership. This one… Stark’s not going to do what Doom requires ofhim, not without force, so why not call a slave a slave?”

‘Doom forgets what M.O.D.O.K. cando,” M.O.D.O.K. cackled, gleeful. “Doom wants its love? Wants its body, givenfreely? M.O.D.O.K. can make it do that.”

The slave wondered if its mastereven knew what love was. What love could do. If M.O.D.O.K. had any idea aboutthe power of love, his master would not have been so quick to use the slave todestroy–

He bit down, hard. Stifled thesoft, keening whine that leaked from his throat.

“It’s hardly voluntary if you’reforcing him,” Von Doom said, shrugging. His entire posture projectednonchalance, but the slave could feel the new tenseness in Von Doom’s thighs. Anticipation.

“Does Doom need love?”M.O.D.O.K. mocked, voice crooning and sickeningly sweet, “or does Doom merelyneed a willing vessel?”

“He’ll cooperate? Doom won’t needto tie him down?”

“Doom can tie it up, if Doomwishes,” M.O.D.O.K. said. “M.O.D.O.K. does not care about that. But it will dowhat Doom wants. Conditionally.”

“What conditions?”

“Doom must not hurt its mind. No permanent damage. No bones broken. Does Doom agree to this?”

“Doom is in agreement.”

“Stand up,” M.O.D.O.K. ordered, andthere was no mistaking it for an order. “Doom should not sit on his affiancedbride. Not outside the bedchamber.”

The absence of Von Doom’s weightwas terrifying.

“Get up, Stark,” M.O.D.O.K.commanded. The order went through Tony’s spine like lightening, jolting intohis brain. He was on his feet before he had a chance to control his own limbs,his own muscles.

M.O.D.O.K. chewed his enormous,chapped lip. His master knew to be cautious by this point. Tony had doneeverything he could think of to circumvent orders. He’d nearly succeeded inkilling himself twice. Goaded Steve into nearly destroying him, which wouldhave been a relief, except that at the last moment, Steve had, what? Had anattack of conscience? Thought maybe Tony was still inside the body that washurting so many people? Whatever. Tony was deeply disappointed that Cap hadretreated, rather than finish the job.

“Remove the armor, send it away.”

Easily done, and he stood there, alittle cold, in his flight undersuit. His master preferred a chillier room thanmost, being so large. His feet were bare against the cold flagstones and itdrew a shudder up through his bones.

“You will not harm yourself,”M.O.D.O.K. crooned. Tony rolled his eyes back; the strength of new commands waslike the haze of morphine; he could feel pain, could feel his regret and his angerand his fear, but he couldn’t… care as much about them. “You will do nothingfor the next eight days to cause yourself harm. You will not harm anyone else.”

Tony nodded. He understood. Hewould be away from his master for a period of eight days. He understood. Hewould do nothing to harm himself. He would not hurt anyone. Why would he wantto hurt anyone? He never wanted to hurt anyone.

“This is your betrothed,”M.O.D.O.K. said. He gestured with one arm at Von Doom. “You care for him. Youwant him. You have desire for him. You have a week to indulge yourselves. Youwant whatever he wants from you. You will enjoy it. You will make sure Doomenjoys himself. Do you understand?”

There was a struggle; revulsion sodeep it made his bones crack and break. Loathing that boiled his blood. Fearand anguish that knotted his gut and drove him to his knees. He didn’t careabout Von Doom, he cared… he loved…he…

Got to his feet. Smirked at hismaster. Linked his arm with Victor’s; the contact felt good. It had been awhile since he’d been out of the suit and his skin ached for human touches.They’d have fun. A whole week of vacation; he hadn’t had a break in… quite sometime. Since before the Fall.

“Thank you, sir,” Tony said, givinghis master a little bow, jaunty. Turned, smiled up at Victor. Wished hisbeloved would take off that mask, it was harder to flirt with unmoving,uncaring steel. “So, what’s on the agenda? I hope it involves beaches, I’mconstantly freezing around here. Nude beaches are best.” He winked and slid hisarm through the crook of Victor’s elbow.

“Bring him back in a week,” hismaster said.

“Of course.” Victor removed onegauntlet and rested bare fingers over Tony’s hand. The touch was soothing,light. Affectionate. Tony sighed and leaned against Victor’s arm. It was so…nice… to be going on vacation. A week of privacy and luxury and time spent withthe man he… cared about. Victor touched Tony’s face. A glitter of a single tearlingered on Victor’s fingertip.

Was he crying? Tony couldn’tremember why he would do that.

“Have a good time,” M.O.D.O.K.called after them.

[theshrewdscribbler]

Me, Too - A Necessary Conversation

The first time it happened to me, I didn’t understand much of what was going on.  I didn’t ask to be touched or have my private parts stimulated with fingers or his mouth.  I didn’t consent to give a grown man fellatio.  I didn’t ask to view XXX pornographic magazines depicting lewd displays of men and women, including group sex. I didn’t know even know what was happening to me was wrong because the first time it happened to me, I was 2 1/2 years old and this man was my biological father.  This kind of abuse continued over many weekends for over four years.  

When I was 7 years old and walking to school by myself, I would chastise myself for forgetting to cross the street or to take the longer way home to avoid the landscapers who would catcall me as I walked by.  A first grader, whistled at, catcalled. 

When I was 9 years old, a next-door neighbor who seemed grandfatherly and kind enough knew I loved to swim but my grandmother who watched me while my mom was working didn’t get out much and couldn’t take me, so he offered to take me to the community pool. I remember feeling grateful to get the chance to go swimming more often.  I didn’t know I had to give him something in return.  Always touching me under the water, under my swimsuit, he delighted in seeing what he could get away with when other adults were around.  He would brazenly have conversations with other adults in the pool, adults standing right in front of us talking to him, while I would be on his lap, his fingers all the way up my swimsuit. Of course, I knew it was wrong by this point, but I wanted to go swimming so badly, I thought I could put up with all the touching, until that wasn’t enough for him anymore.  Next he wanted to shower with me after the pool, saying we had to get the chlorine off. He wanted to surprise me with his nudity after the pool, with the shock of seeing his full erection.  I wasn’t shocked. I had already seen this all before.  It was old hat by then at age 9.  I just tried to look away, until he tricked me.  “Help me find my swimsuit, I lost it.”  Then I turned around and his fully naked erect penis was right in front of my face. I stopped going to the pool.  I avoided my neighbor until I moved away but whenever he would see me with my mother, he continued to leer at me when she wasn’t looking. 

When I was 11, I was walking home from school and a car with two men inside slowed down and pulled up to where I was walking, taunting me, making lewd sexual remarks.  I started running.  Their car sped up.  I panicked.  I ran all the way home, locked myself in the house, and hid in my closet.  Their car had followed me all the way home.  I was in 5th grade.  

When I was 12 and playing at my best friend’s house, my friend dared me to take all my clothes off and stand outside on her roof overlooking her garage.  Not one to shy away from a dare, I did it, but my friend locked me out and left me naked on her roof.  Two 15 year old boys on the street above hers saw me and came down to have a closer look.  I had to jump down from the roof by myself because my friend wouldn’t let me in.  That’s when one of the boys approached me with his pants down and said, “You showed me yours, now you need to touch mine.”  He forced my hand to touch his penis. 

When I was 16, I went to a house party with my friend.  A boy at the party had been interested in my friend and had been trying to date her.  When she said she wasn’t interested in him, he asked me to come into his room and talk to him because he was brokenhearted and he said I was a good listener.  He grabbed me in the middle of our conversation, took off his pants and asked me to suck his penis “just a little bit” to make him feel better. He said it’s what he NEEDED to feel better about my friend rejecting him.  I had to use physical force to get away from him.   

When I was 18, my friends all liked to go to dance clubs to meet boys/young men.  I hated going but went because they liked to go.  No one ever asked me to dance.  I sat there watching my friends dance while I listened to the music.  I was taught growing up that it was hard for young men to get up the courage to ask a girl/woman to dance and so if you were ever asked, you needed to agree to at least one dance.  The first time I was finally asked to dance, I agreed.  The man had a full erection the entire time we danced and kept rubbing it against me. I couldn’t wait for the dance to end.  When the dance was over, I tried to go back to my seat but the man grabbed my wrist and was trying to overpower me, to lead me out of the club, to go to his car, his home.  I was afraid.  I had to yell to the bouncer by the door to help me letting him know I didn’t want to leave the club with this man.  The man muttered to me, “You frigid little cunt,” before the bouncer thew him out. I was scared to walk to my car at the end of the night.  

When I was 19, I was working my first “real-job” before going back to college in the fall.  I was working as a professional student assistant for a Foster Grandparent Program where seniors would be matched with a developmentally disabled person.  A “nice” older man in his 70s worked in the cafeteria there and when I worked, he would bring me special breads and buns he made, always thanking me for the work I was doing with the seniors and developmentally disabled.  I thought the man was my friend and I thought he was always so sweet to bring me something he had baked.  On my last day of work, before going back to school, the man asked me for a goodbye hug and kiss. I went to hug him goodbye and give him a kiss on the cheek but he turned his head and forced his tongue down my throat instead.  He said now that I wasn’t going to work there anymore, would I meet him tonight at a local bar so we could “continue this” later.  I was shocked and for a long time afterwards I examined what I did to give him the impression I liked him LIKE THAT.  I thought I had somehow misled him by accepting his baked items and what I thought was ONLY his friendship.  I was 19, he was in his late 70s.  What sucked about this one was I had liked him so much as my friend because if anyone knows me, you know I have a soft-spot in my heart for the elderly. He had been one of the reasons I had liked that job.  I felt really betrayed and felt like somehow it was my fault when I hadn’t done anything wrong.  I never gave him ANY other impression other than I wanted to be his friend.  He was 55+ years my senior. I had no idea he wanted anything other than my friendship. This incident made me question myself.  Made me wrack my brain for things I might have done to give him the wrong impression - ANYTHING that might explain this outcome.  I came up with nothing.  

When I was in my 20s, a man I had consented to sleeping with one time thought that was all the consent he needed to continue sleeping with me.  The next time he saw me, he groped me repeatedly and tried to hold my hands behind my back, taking what he wanted by force.  I had to push him away and get verbally aggressive with him to get him to stop.  He called me a “cock tease.”

I cannot tell you the impact all these events have had on my life other than to tell you I’ve suffered greatly, the worst pain imaginable.  So when we talk about “me, too,” know that this is happening to women everywhere, young girls, children, even toddlers. Perpetrators are their fathers, their neighbors, their clergy members, their friends, their lovers, their boyfriends, their husbands, their co-workers, their bosses, their Hollywood producer, and even their President.  Not all men are abusers.  Not all men take advantage of the women in their lives, but there are enough that do and this must stop.  

This culture and climate of abuse of power and sexual dominance of men over women must end. If we don’t tell our stories and ensure our voices are heard, the crimes and outrageous behavior continues.  People always say to me, “You share too much on a personal level with complete strangers.”  My response is, “It’s never enough.”  Also, the stigma and shame ISN’T MINE to bear.  I did nothing wrong - THEY DID! Why are we always trying to shut people up?  Silence them?  As long as sexual abuse, sexual harassment and sexual assaults continue, we MUST tell our stories in an effort to shine a LIGHT on this problem in our society.  

Certainly, we can agree that a 2 year old isn’t asking for it.  We can agree that a 7 year old wasn’t wearing inappropriate clothing.  We can determine that a 9 year old wasn’t too inebriated, too this or too that...can’t we? Why do we do this to young women?  We need to stop blaming the victims no matter what their age!  Those who are doing these acts need to be held accountable. It’s also time to realize you know women who’ve had these experiences.  They are YOUR daughters, your mothers, your wives, your girlfriends, your co-workers, your friends, your neighbors.  It’s time to put an end to the tolerance of these terrible acts and situations.  Sexual intimidation is wrong.  Taking a woman by force is wrong.  Abusing the trust of a child is wrong.  The question we all need to ask ourselves is WHY ARE WE ALLOWING THIS TO CONTINUE?  Stand up.  Take a stand.  Support one another.  I’m here and I’m listening.  I hope you’re listening too.  

[cayannamon-arts]

Finally got around to sketching out my fanders sides ( tagged by the glorious @finiteframe3​ ♥♥ ) Description and musings for each are under the cut~

Tagging: @grayscaleeternity @hauntedspacekiwi and any of my followers who’d like to give it a shot! You don’t have to draw or write, just have fun if you decide to do it ;3

by @cayannamon-arts / @cayannamon

DO NOT REPOST OR USE WITHOUT PERMISSION or REMOVE TEXT

Reblogs and Likes always appreciated!     /      More Art

Odette – My Graceful Side

She’s beauty, she’s grace, she will legitimately punch you in your fucking face.

Responsible for all my fancy clothing that I don’t own and instead only dream about

Loves heels, a lot. Has amazing balance and is not afraid to use them as both fashion statements and weapons.

She’s who comes up with my well-timed quips, though not usually my puns.

Makes sure I fluidly go through social situations with poise and manner

Believes that being kind, but firm is the best way to win a room

The best public speaker tbh

The reason people hate me for ‘being good at everything’ even when I’m not at all good at everything, ever. – In Odette’s thinking: “What’s the point of doing anything if you don’t master a little bit of everything you try?”

You think you can win an argument? Wrong. She’s stubborn as a mule. You will at least understand her thinking and opinions before the end of the debate, even if the two of you agree to disagree, or she hasn’t done her job.

Is the one who would shut up an entire room if she strutted in and she loves that power.

Is the one that everyone comes to for advice because they (for some reason) trust her, even if she has no idea how to help solve the persons problems, or better yet, even KNOW THEM??

A back tattoo of wings that Ive always thought about getting for myself.

Phathusha – My Creative Side

Pronounced “Fah-thew (rhymes with hue) -shaa”

A mess™, but a beautiful one

She’s the one who makes my puns, blame her.

Has at least 45 art supplies on her person at any given time

Has so many big ideas and dreams that its impossible to keep up with them all- sticky notes everywhere

The reason I never get anything done and take on too many projects at once

Is either the most fashion forward™ or a disaster™, there is no in-between

Very, VERY hyper; giggles a lot and just wants everyone to love everything and be able to bring something good into others’ lives with what she makes

Has paint, or food, or something splattered somewhere most of the time; she can’t be bothered to remove it unless she feels it will ruin something else

Is the animal whisperer of the group; she just knows what she knows, even if it makes no sense

Is constantly curious™ and gets me into all the Wikipedia articles and how its made and everything under the sun- she cannot be satisfied because anything could bring her a new idea

Is chill most of the time- at least until she’s had a bright idea™, at that point it’s best to just run and hide.

Violet – My Aloof Side

Tired, Stress, god she’s a mess™

Goes from not caring and giving zero fucks to causing me to worry about every little mistake I’ve made from kindergarten to now in high definition, repeatedly.

Wears hoodies almost constantly, if those aren’t clean she’ll throw on anything that isn’t ‘dirty dirty’ aka, been worn for three days straight.

Time is the enemy

Get her too stressed and she will bite your head off with every sarcastic remark she can think up, which is a surprisingly large amount

Listens to music to try and put herself into fantasy situations so she can constantly work out how I should act in situations; she must be prepared for anything that could or will happen.

Also, what plays on the headphones could be anything from dark emo music to Korean polka ya just…ya just never know.

Is the reason I rehearse “here” in my head during each and every class rollcall

Hates making mistakes, but not as much as Odette

Doesn’t show emotions in front of people, ever. That would be ridiculous.

Is sure that everyone hates them and that they're constantly talking about her behind her back

Trust Issues™

She’s the reason I will stop talking to people for about a month before coming back to them as if I never left- she needs her freedom and alone time y’all

Is Tech support for everyone

Dimitri – My Ardor/Zealous side

My most masculine side

Very secretive and reserved

Suave and sophistication

Doesn't speak much, but when words are said, they're probably really important so you should listen up

Don't let the book fool you; it's a 50/50 toss up of a novel series or fan fiction

On a dime, can turn into a passionate zealot when you least expect it; you bring up a common interest? Expect to be tackled and or spitting theories at 2 am

A good judge of character

Wants something… But has no idea what.

Responsible for my inability to make decisive decisions. Loves to play both sides of the problem or situation.

Has a matching tattoo of wings on back to mirror Odette’s

A good listener but awful at communicating openly- it's a work in progress

Hair typically tied back; if not, shit’s about to go down

Loves tight clothing

Is a mystery *insert ghost emoji and theme song here*

Funfact: The white spots on the legs and characters aren’t just forgetfulness; It’s my vitiligo, or as I like to think, my happy clouds ;3

[mercedesnameinlights-blog]

Para: Sancedes

Who: Santana and Mercedes

When: Tuesday April 2, 2013 (Spring Break)

Where: Finn’s Aunt’s Lakehouse

What: After Finn’s Announcement

Mercedes caught up to Santana, walking beside her for a few seconds before speaking.  “Want to go to your room or mine?” She asked her softly.  Yes, things were tolerable between Finn and Santana at the moment, but this was a huge deal.  Having someone you care deeply about announce they’re going into the military when things are not exactly the best around the world is terrifying.  She had an idea where Santana’s head was at, but she also knew she needed to let her bestie talk it out so it didn’t get bottled up and left to simmer.  Simmering might be good for certain recipes, but Santana could boil over and she didn’t want that for her.  Ugh. She loved Finn and all, but he really did have a timing issue.

Santana picked up the pace when she heard someone walking behind her. Though when she heard Mercedes, she slowed down again. That was the only person she wouldn't run away from. “Yours is fine.” If they had gone to hers, Santana was afraid that someone would burst in. Now they only had to worry about Sam coming in. She quickly headed to her best friend’s current room, slowly sitting down on the bed. “The fucking Air Force. Is he kidding me?”

Mercedes closed the door and then sat down on the bed beside her. “Yeah, that was definitely a shock. I never imagined he was remotely interested in the military. But maybe that’s why?  Maybe Finn really doesn’t have a clue, and a lot of people go into the military for that reason.  They don’t know what they want to do, so they sign up and see if that gives them some direction in their life?” She had known what she wanted to since she was about 10 years old, not everyone had that feeling.

“If he didn't know what he wanted, he could've just went for some general education shit at a random college. He doesn't need to go god knows where to get his fucking hand blown off.” She ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated with the entire situation. “I can't even say anything about it. Like, It's his decision and I have literally no say. But I… Am really freaked out about it.” Santana figured she could just be honest and let it all out. She knew Mercedes wouldn't tell anyone.

“Hey, he’s still your friend. And regardless of who he’s dating now, you’d still feel this way, and there is nothing wrong with it.  You have a right to be scared for his safety, I am too. I’m willing to bet everyone in that room is on some level.  This isn’t about having a say in what he chooses to do with his life, this is about being concerned as his friend.  And it sucks, but he is doing what he feels is best for him.  We ain’t gotta like it, but as his friends, we need to support him.”  Santana was more than a friend, at least she was, but that whole Finn and Santana kinda sorta relationship had gone down in flames.  She still felt deep down that Santana loved Finn, to the best of her ability, but that was neither here nor there at this point.

Santana shook her head. “If I said something, him and Barbie would act as if I'm committing a crime. Especially Quinn. She’d somehow find a way to make it about her and claim I'm bullying her or some shit.” She bit down on her bottom lip to keep herself from getting, or sounding, too emotional. “You're so lucky I love you because I never would've came on this trip in the first place. I hate that everywhere I turn I somehow bump into them, and how I can't even be all up on Puck without feeling like an absolute monster yet they get to be cuddling on the couch like it's not big deal. And now with the whole military shit… I don't want him to go, Cedes. I really don't.”

“You don’t need to say anything to him with Quinn around. Give it a few days, wait until you can speak to him solo.” She knew things with Quinn and Santana were definitely not good, and she wasn’t going to get in the middle of that insanity.  “And it definitely needs to be said in person, and calmly.” She wrapped her arm around her and hugged her. “I know, and I thank you so much for coming here.  I know it seems silly, but all of you are the only real friends I’ve ever had, and in a few months, it’ll all be over.  We’ll be leaving Lima and each other.”  She sighed softly. “I know you don’t, and I wish I had the right words to say that would make it easier, but I don’t.  What I can tell you is that as his friend, one of his closest friends, just be there for him and let him know that as much as you hate the thought of him being in danger, you will support his choice.”

“Yeah but even if she isn't around when I talk to him, I'm sure he’s gonna fill her in. It's like I can't say anything to him without it going to her.” She rested her head down on her best friend’s shoulder. “You know you're not getting rid of me though. I'm still gonna be the biggest pain in your ass.” Santana groaned at the thought of how this was all a mess. If only things had just stayed the same. There would be no huge friend fight, and they definitely wouldn't be so divided as they were right now. “Am I really one of his closest friends though? Let's be real here. Most of what I say to him doesn't matter anymore.” Figuring she did enough arguing against Mercedes’ point, she chimed in once again. “I guess I can try talking to him eventually.”

“Maybe so, but you talking to him about this, as a friend, is something that needs to happen before graduation.”  She replied with a slight shrug. “Crap went bad between y’all, there is no denying that, but I can’t imagine he has erased all the years you two have been friends.” She began braiding small sections of Santana’s hair.  “You thinking things you say to him don’t matter is not the same as him not listening. You feel that way because he isn’t doing what you want him to do, and guess what, you can’t fault him for having a mind of his own.”  She knew that may not be what she wanted to hear, but Mercedes never tried to sweeten things up for Santana, if she was being crazy, she’d let her know, but she was always in her corner.  “Girl, I’ve got so much ass I don’t even notice when you’re being a pain.  Maybe I’ll feel a slight prick on the bubble of my left cheek,” she chuckled softly.  “We’re going to be in New York, Tana.  I still can’t get over that.”

Santana rolled her eyes as Mercedes mentioned Finn having a mind of his own. That was something she knew, of course, but it was also something that frustrated her. All she wanted was for Finn to think the same way she did. It’d make relationships much easier if that's the way things worked. “But I can totally fault him for playing the victim and always making me out to seem like a fucking Disney villain.” She playfully slapped her friend’s leg when the other girl mentioned having a lot of ass. “Shut up. Your ass is fucking golden and you know it. Plus I'm a big enough pain to be everywhere at this point.” As the conversation turned to New York, Santana perked up a bit. “It's gonna be so great. Everyone's gonna be super jealous of our hot asses as we walk along.”

“Yeah, but you know good and well you’re not trying to be the Disney princess anyway, that isn’t you. You’re not evil either.  At the end of the day, y’all weren’t communicating. He did wrong, you did wrong, and two wrongs can’t make things right. All you can do now is try to walk away with your friendship, and that is going to take a lot of resolve on your end, but I know you can do it.”  She shoved her softly when Santana slapped her leg. “I know my booty is phenomenal, but even I know I got more than two handfuls. Booty for days!”  She grinned wider as she thought about walking down the sidewalk of NYC. “I cannot wait until the weather gets cold there, I am strutting in some chunky heeled boots, wrapped up with my scarf, oh so chic.”

“I could've done the whole princess shit if that's what he wanted,” she said softly. “Though I know it wasn't. Our only problem was my lack of emotion… He wanted someone that was gonna out right say they loved him while my version is trust and simpler shit.” Santana was pretty disappointed from how their relationship turned out, but she wasn't trying to focus on that anymore. Instead she just wanted to move on from almost everyone in their town. Santana loved the fact that she would be able to stay so close to her best friend. The two hadn't been apart since they were really young so they weren't about to start now. “Maybe I'll quit guys all together and be your super hot, trendy lesbian bestie.”

She snorted as she laughed. “Girl, that much hot in one relationship would be against about fifty laws, plus I have this really hot boyfriend that has these really amazing lips.” She knew she didn’t want to rehash the whole Finn thing, and she didn’t blame her.  “Besides, you know good and well you’re going to have so many guys and girls after you in New York that I’m going to have to make you notes to remember names.  And you’ll have variety too. This little town is full of the same kind of folks, and we know them all pretty much.  I mean, it’s no coincidence that my first boyfriend is a guy that isn’t even from here!”

Santana laughed and simply shook her head at the mention of Sam’s lips. Hopefully what Mercedes was saying was right. She’d find some new people to hook up with and date, and the whole sinking feeling she felt when she saw Finn would disappear. It wasn't smart of her to be in the same friend group. “You can be my sexcretary. So whenever I hook up with someone new, I'll tell you so you can keep track of who they were and how good they were. Can't be fucking crappy people more than once.” She chuckled a bit when Mercedes talked about Sam not being from Lima. “You have a point. Why didn't we get any transfer students for me? Bullshit,” she teased. She was happy for her best friend.

“Ooh, sexetary, I like that.  I’ll need to get a cute suit for this job.  We’ll have an impeccable filing system, bad lays go to the bottom of the list.  The guys that are gifted and know what they’re working with will get the gold condom of approval from you.  Which by the way, thank you so much for explaining why there were gold condom wrappers out in the world.”  Sex education via Santana Lopez was far better than any book or class.  “I think the heavens took pity on me and said here, let us bless you with this southern dipped tall taste of deliciousness.” She shimmied and then started to giggle.

“Congrats on your new job! I just need you to keep being your fabulous self and maybe you'll be promoted.” She laughed as the conversation moved a bit to their condom talk. That was one of the funniest, but exciting, things Mercedes had ever asked her about. “I obviously need to keep my bestie updated on the latest, best condom options. You want that gold, boo.” Santana scrunched up her nose in her best friend’s direction. “Don't make me start thinking of you and blondie’s sex life! That is something I don't need to picture. I just need the quick details.”

“Ssshh, you’re the only person that knows,” Mercedes whispered, her cheeks brightening slightly with warmth.  “We decided everyone didn’t need to know all our business.  You get to be the exception, and he got to tell one of his friends if he wanted.” The condom conversation had been insane, but Mercedes was truly curious because why wouldn’t all condoms be in gold wrappers? Or why wouldn’t all guys want the cool, shiny gold ones? Her mind had truly been blown that day needless to say.  “Oh I got the gold, believe that.”

Santana laughed again when Mercedes seemed to get so embarrassed of the conversation. “We’re the only ones in here! I won't tell anyone.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “Do you know who he told? We’re like our own little group.” Her eyes grew wide when she brought up getting the gold. “You suck. I was gold until… Puck’s average, if you're wondering.” Santana leaned over to gently bump into her best friend. The talk with Mercedes had helped lighten up her mood.

“If he told anyone it would be Blaine, but maybe he didn’t tell anyone. He’s such a southern gentleman. I know it’s silly, but he’s literally everything I could ever want in a guy.  And he’s so talented, I can’t wait to see what he does with his art career.”  She knew she was doing that goofy, doe-eyed thing she did when she talked about him, but she couldn’t help it.  She wrinkled her nose and then made a face. “Nooo!! I don’t want to know!” She started laughing. “He must know what he’s doing if he does the job for you.” She knew Santana did not tolerate being unsatisfied sexually.

Her eyes rolled playfully as her best friend started gushing about her boyfriend. “He’s just sunshine and rainbows, you know?” Even though she was teasing, she was genuinely happy to hear the pure happiness in her friend’s voice as she spoke about Sam. She deserved someone like him. Someone that made her happy and knew how to treat her right. “Oh, he totally does. I mean, it’s not a bad size or anything. Plus he knows what to do with his mouth so that makes up for it.” Santana wiggled her eyebrows a bit with a smirk on her lips. “Speaking of, just fast, I need to get laid. Like, I’m holding off on this weird trip and I’m not feeling it.”

“Don’t make me whack you with one of these pillows,” she chuckled.  She knew more about Santana’s sexual activity than she needed to, but they didn’t keep secrets from each other for the most part, so it was par for the course. “Girl, go grab your dude and do your thing, just don’t let anyone hear you, because we don’t need that added drama up in here. No one has to know if you handle yourself discreetly.”  Everyone knew her and Puck were having sex, mainly because they put it out there for everyone to know, but that didn’t mean everyone had to know when they were having it. Especially if they were in the same house!  “If we get an apartment together at some point, I’m going to invest in high quality noise cancelling headphones.”

Santana shrugged a shoulder, not bothered at all by any of their conversation. “I just feel bad, I guess. Like, I’m obviously not dating him or anything but I feel like it’s rubbing salt in the wound if I’m heard at all. Or if I do anything remotely touchy with Puck that can get back to him.” She knew Finn had moved on, but she still felt weird about having sex with one of his friend’s. “Maybe I can convince Puck we should disappear on some long walk somewhere… Is there a basement in this house? I haven’t looked around.” Santana smiled and then fell onto her back on the bed. “Maybe I’ll get you nice headphones for graduation,” she joked. “I can’t make you spend money if you need them to drown me out.”

It was weird all the way around to be honest, but Mercedes tried not to judge people’s relationships.  “There are a lot of places you two can sneak off to around this place.  There’s the boathouse where they keep the canoes and stuff, there’s a zillion trails. Heck, take the car and have at it up the road.” Santana could get cranky when her needs weren’t getting met, and no one wanted that. “Please, I want awesome headphones for the studio anyway, I have them on my graduation wishlist, so maybe my brother will get me some.” She looked at Santana and smiled. “You gonna be okay, beautiful?”

“I’ll have to see if there’s a free time where no one would really notice if we were gone.” She didn’t want things to be weirder than they already were. If she had to wait until they got back from spring break, so be it. “Well, if he doesn’t then I’m snatching that gift idea right up. Actually, just pretend we never had this conversation and I’ll ask him myself.” Santana figured that was a pretty decent idea for a Mercedes gift. That and something else, of course. She sat back up and offered her best friend a genuine smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It sucks, but you know me. I hang in there anyway.”

“You’re sneaky, I know you can come up with something,” she teased.  “Royce is still refusing to believe we’re graduating, he says we’re still 14 years old in his mind, the crazy fool.  I already know what my parents got you for graduation, and no I am not telling, but you’re going to love it.” She had helped pick it out to make sure it was perfect.  “I do know you.  Make sure you come get me if you feel like you’re about ready to lose your cool or you just need to vent.  Sam knows when the Tana signal goes up, I’m off like Batman.”

Santana shook her head. “He’ll get over it eventually… You know, right before our college graduations when he switches to not believing that that’s happening.” She waved her friend off a bit. “I’ll be fine. Seriously. I’ll probably head back to my room and relax for a while and then find someone else to go bother.” She chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m hanging on. I’ll be back to my obnoxious ass self when we get home.”

Mercedes just shook her head and laughed. “Just a few more months, and then you’ll be busy planning your New York social life.  Royce will indeed get over it.  I mean, he finally got over me having a boyfriend.” She pulled Santana in for a hug. “Now go, get some rest and limber up for whatever mischievousness you end up getting into later.”

[tessatechaitea]

Detective Comics #957

Let's all read a bad comic! Let's all read a bad comic! Let's all read a bad comic! And curse James Tynion V!

This right here is at the heart of what's wrong with the modern age of comic books. Superheroes are supposed to be inspiring! They're supposed to save people. Fuck this cynical bullshit where dozens of people die while the hero saves the day after which their relatives become super villains and blame the heroes. Then they attack the heroes and keep the cycle going because writers are lazy and/or think they're being clever by questioning things like "What if Superman had to fight in the real world instead of a stupid made-up world where he saves the day and makes people happy and causes readers to feel better about their lives and the world around them through the hope and inspiration of their actions?"

If I hadn't read so many James Tynion IV stories in which Batman was portrayed as being wrong while his youthful sidekicks all knew what was right and how to do things better, I might just think, "Spoiler will surely learn a lesson here! At the end, she'll be thinking Batman is the bee's knees!" But I'm fairly certain this will end with Spoiler proving something to Batman while Batman eats crow and admits he could probably be a better person. Because that's what the Patriarchy should be doing, right?! Shutting up and listening! Although I don't know how they can shut up and just listen if the shit they have to listen to is akin to the shit coming out of Spoiler's mouth in this comic book. By declaring she's no longer a superhero, Spoiler decides that her way is better and it'll allow her to save people from becoming innocent victims of Batman's war on crime. After Spoiler Narration Boxes her speech to whomever the fuck she's speaking, it's time for Wrath to do the same thing! He's also going to explain how Gotham City works and he's going to agree a bit with Spoiler. He agrees that the first thing you have to do as a super villain is to defeat Batman. You can come up with a criminal plan after that! Wrath is the anti-Batman. He's usually used in Batman comic books to show what Batman could have become if he allowed himself to use the tragedy in his life as an excuse. I bet this time he'll be used to show that there isn't really any difference between Wrath and Batman at all! Even as I was typing that, I was thinking, "Don't type that! That's such a stupid conclusion to make! There's not way even James Tynion IV would write that story!"

You mean you attempt to solve the hardest problem first and then you spend the next few years in Arkham Asylum wondering why you just didn't rob a bank on Staten Island.

At the beginning of the Wrath scene, he kills one of his own men. Later, he threatens to kill one at random for every minute they go over a deadline he gives them. Who would work for this asshole? The pay and benefits must be unfathomably generous!

So you constantly lose? Because there's no way you got through the level of Arkham Asylum that I grew bored with and quit because you have to be stealthy or you start over! And I'm fairly certain some levels of Thief, even when playing on the "Oops! I've been noticed and have to now murder an entire castle full of guards!" difficulty still forces you to be stealthy on some levels.

That previous caption was where I exceeded my "This comic isn't too bad!" threshold and decided I needed to vent. Spoiler continues to mention how so many innocents got hurt due to Batman and his Bat-Family stopping crime. She thinks (or Narration Boxes, actually), "Who's there to stop my friends when they go too far?" Um, you could be, you coward. She continues, "To say how many losses are acceptable?" Have you met Batman? Zero losses are acceptable! I mean, you know, in Bat-Theory! If anybody dies, it's not because Batman did something that caused their death. It's because somebody else did something that caused their death and Batman wasn't able to save them. I suppose in the world I described earlier where lazy writers only ever have villains attack Batman directly, you can, if you want to be a dick about it, put the blame on Batman. But once more: that's not Batman's fault! It's the fault of shitty writers! Spoiler's conclusion is that super heroes brought about super problems. Fuck you, you idiot. This is the worst hot take in comic books and it has continued to hang around for decades. Writers who continue to use this trope should be shunned from the comic book community. Spoiler is all, "I'm going to use my super training to prove that Gotham doesn't need superheroes!" And Batman will, hopefully, be all, "Fuck you, dummy!" The last story arc was to show that Cassandra was better than Batman. This one is to show that Spoiler is better than Batman. How is she better? I'm not exactly sure since she takes out Wrath pretty much exactly how Batman would have taken him out. I mean, if Batman were being written by somebody who didn't have a grudge against the Patriarchy. I mean Batman! I suppose Tynion's Batman would have exploded all of the walls and toppled the building with his raging hard-on to battle Wrath and all of the hostages would have died. Afterward, Batman would have been all, "It's a shame that Wrath killed so many and it wasn't my fault at all! I had to stop him by any means necessary!" Which totally isn't a Batman thing to do so I don't actually know how Spoiler thinks her version of stopping Wrath was better than the way Batman, being written honestly, would have done it. Spoiler's entirely plan is to save the day and let the police take the credit. So she's trusting that the police will be dishonest bastards who lie about their jobs? That's a great message! Anyway, she somehow thinks that if super villains think the cops are stopping all the crime, they won't want to do crime anymore! Especially since — thanks, again, to the lazy writers — all they actually want to do is beat up super heroes. She'll see how stupid her plan is when super villains continue to do whatever they want (even more so!) when they think all the heroes have left Gotham. Anarchy shows up at the end to be all, "That was great! What a great idea! This story wasn't stupid at all! Spoiler isn't a terrible character with stupid thoughts after all!" That's when I throw up. The end!