#working/making deals with people you otherwise disagree with is just How Politics Works

[echo-and-dust]

now that my brain has somewhat unscrambled itself i have gotten most of my thoughts in order about season 3.

and the first thing i will say is: i loved it.

while it was gutwrenching and polarizing in some ways and i feel that i am entitled to financial compensation for what its done to my mental health, i loved this season for pretty much almost everything it did.

i cannot fault people for having issues with much of the characterization and plot choices made—that’s been the trend during the entire run of the show after all, and imo it’s a testament to the phenomenal way it generates nuance—but i wanted to share my feelings on the recurring opinions i’ve seen about some of these things.

first, i do not blame simon at all for the things he said in the final scene. he’s a child who has been receiving endless verbal and physical harassment on top of all the trauma he is still trying to heal from. he just watched his boyfriend lash out in anger and hurt—while not at him, but it must’ve been a close resemblance of how he might’ve seen micke act. at least, that's what i thought, though i've seen others say otherwise.

and yes, wille is not micke, but just because wille’s source of outbursts is different from micke’s doesn’t mean simon is wrong in drawing similarities. at least he's finally getting a true glimpse into what wille has had to deal with. i've honestly grown to like that they didn't have simon immediately comfort him though; wille's mental illness is not his fault, but it is his responsibility, and instead of pushing a message of unhealthy co-dependence, the show has simon be honest: "but i see that everything hurts you and that hurts me too." and to me, that's so important.

plus, it doesn't make their love any less genuine. wille is a victim of the circumstances; he is not evil, and he is not undeserving of simon. he just has a lot of growing and healing to do, a lot of unlearning and exposure therapy because he's still blinded by privilege even when he tries not to be.

speaking of, i have so many thoughts about wille that i feel like i need to save for its own separate post, but to sum them up: i'll still defend him with my life, and he needs to get the fuck away from that institution.

also, the fact that the responsibility of controlling simon's media decisions was placed solely on wille confused me at first like—why wouldn't they get a professional to give him proper media training?

then i realized, this could be the royal court's way of sabotaging their relationship. they knew that making wille the one to tell simon what he can and cannot say or post would create distance and animosity between them. despite the ramifications of simon's behavior on social media, it seems they still thought it best to have his boyfriend be the one to try to mold him into the system. because they knew that's how they could get rid of him. in conclusion, fuck the royal court (we been knew but still).

one of the standouts this season was their transparency regarding the show's politics. it not only works well with the show's arc (wilmon is public, everything's out in the open now and there's nothing to hide), but also it felt necessary at a time where censorship has been rapidly gaining momentum. it felt so refreshing for these characters to talk so openly about racial discrimination and queerphobia and class disparities, forcing both character and viewer to acknowledge that they exist and you should feel uncomfortable about it.

i don't think i can add much more to what was already said about it—most of the fandom is more eloquent and observant than i am anyway—i just wanted to reinforce how important this season is to myself and the story even with how controversial it is to fans right now. a lot of people may disagree with me and that's fine.

[peachjagiya]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/758985707150884864/i-have-seen-a-few-accounts-say-even-jimin-knew-tae

“Whichever way, I feel like Tae has a bullshit detector. He's been doing this for a long time, right? He knows all the shenanigans. My controversial thought is that this one moment, the only one in the entire episode, is the moment serious Tae comes out to play. Where he doesn't actually seem that amused by it and his laugh doesn't quite reach his eyes. His "really? Why?" is in a serious tone that doesn't actually seem like his mood for the rest of the episode. It's the only time I think he's having to participate in a narrative and he's not here for it. I also wonder if it's annoying being told what it's like to sleep with your own boyfriend.”

So I have question: Why would this happen? Why would they do this to TK aaall these years?!?!?! Is this necessary to go THIS hard?!?!?! I genuinely do not understand!!!

Well I don't know if this is just me thinking negatively, you see.

I actually think BH really presented the whole thing in a natural kind of way and I've been so happy with AYS so far.

So broadly, in terms of why things like this seem to have happened before and why these narratives are in place:

It's good PR. I think all celebrities kind of have these simple stories to pull out in interviews. Maybe it makes good sense to have a curated public image that provides a smokescreen for the private life that exists somewhat seperately. Does that make sense?

It creates a distraction. If you adhere to the idea that there's a same sex couple in this group in a conservative country and their reputation is at stake, they might not want people to look at that. So a distraction from the truth makes sense. So Jungkook being in Jimin's room a couple of times maybe turns into "he's always in my room at 3am" and suddenly nobody is looking at the contrary evidence that he's been with Tae.

Tae isn't supported and his designated character is Weird Loner. This is kind of more troubling to think about but I do personally believe there's been efforts to isolate him in the story. Him being super close to Jungkook doesn't support that.

And you know, I don't think it's a tinfoil hat conspiracy theory that this happened. All of this worked. It did exactly what it was supposed to. There are people even now absolutely convinced that Tae and JK didn't spend any time together over certain periods when we know otherwise.

I don't know why they had to throw particularly Tae under the bus with it by going this hard. It's also put JK and Jimin in an awkward position. I also don't know how they don't see the Streisand Effect of it.

If this is what happened here, and I do completely think it was blessedly isolated in the episode, there's a reason for it. We needed to know they shared a cabin for some reason. Maybe they didn't actually share a cabin and that's not in keeping with the vibe of the show. Maybe it's something as simple as keeping up appearances. Even in a show that seems to be dismantling a lot of previous ideas, it doesn't make sense for your road trippin' besties to not share a cabin? (Even though late twenties and wanting your own space is pretty normal, I think) I don't know, just theorising.

I'd love your thoughts on it. I may have delulu'd too close to the sun.

Thanks anon 💜

Just a thought and unrelated to anon: I don't know why I've suddenly come over all insecure and nervous but I feel kind of bad for putting a negative idea out there when we're having such a lovely time with this episode and since Hawaii really! I try to treat this as my blog to say my genuine thoughts in but I do feel a lot of responsibility to say the right things sometimes. But with all the love in the world, I'm assuming everyone knows that if they don't love any of my energy, they can curate their space accordingly. Or possibly you've interacted with me enough on here to politely disagree in the comments and we'll know it's no big deal. I'm just yapping here, I guess. Maybe I just feel a little way about harshing the buzz with more "narrative" talk. 💜

[96rh]

hey folksss!! im ser n im super hyped to get to know everyone + also bring ryu han to the dash. i have a skeleton of a profile here / an intro underneath w some quickfire plot ideas but otherwise feel free to like this and i'll hit u up to plot, or alternatively feel free to dm me first :^)

ryu han, 27, 2nd year masters' student in criminal law currently living in yellow hall with the power of necromancy, commitee member of together for daehan

only son of the ryu family, a pretty big name in the corporation world (idk what they do exactly but they'own a conglomerate so we can start there)

his family is also notorious for being in a lot of shady dealings though, of course, a paper trail is rarely left so there's never quite enough evidence to accuse them of anything

shoved into the law division of the company where his abilities manifested at 11 during a hit-and-run case (details withheld but it wasn't pretty)

linked his app above regarding his powers but tldr (tldr in a tldr ik its outrageous sorry) he can raise the undead momentarily and manipulate them

as the only one with an ability in his family his parents were super stoked until he left home when he was around 18 because he disagreed with his family's criminal actions and their moral alignments

kindaaa big news in the business world that followed with a lot of "wow he isn't like his parents maybe there's some hope left for them"

in reality, his leaving-the-family was basically orchestrated to get the public slash ryu family enemies on his side. he's still loyal to them in every way, receives money from them, is in contact with them etc but maintains a facade that he lives away on money he earned solely by himself

post-undergrad, started to intern (and still does) at a not-so-big-deal law firm (that pay for his residence, living cost etc but this is basically a paper law firm that's controlled by his family in the end. people just don't know)

takes part in a lot of cases that aren't really national news but are subtler parts of his family's plans ie the factory worker who saw something they shouldn't have getting into a truck accident, the disappearance of a secretary who questioned too much -- he "uses" his power to mitigate the fallouts of those deaths ie by telling the families he communicated with the undead, passing on last words etc but it's just all soppy stuff to get them off their trail

or he summons the undead so they can do the dirty work for him .. the feeling of blood on his hands is sort of physically and emotionally difficult to wash off

literally at university so he can make a bigger name for himself (hence his participation in student politics) and get deeper into the legal system for his parents @_@ can't really imagine a life without them nor is he willing to acknowledge how deeply evil his whole family is but he'll cross that bridge when gets to it

spoiler alert: he is never getting to that bridge

personality wise he kinda thrives off making people feel subtly uncomfortable. doesn't break eye contact when talking, makes off-handed comments that you only realise the biting undertones of five minutes after you leave the conversation, smiles a little too much and especially at the wrong times. not really likeable, not really dislikable, either

all this to say he seems like a walking paradox. you might know he renounced his family's evil ways and chose the life of a just, morally righteous lawyer -- but why does it seem like there's something inconsistently unsettling about him?

regarding how much guilt he feels about participating in his family's dirty dealings -- growing up going to church every sunday means there's a lot to grapple with in terms of religious guilt and whether he's doomed for hell but once again he will cross that bridge when he gets to it and he is never getting to it. it's much easier to pretend he doesn't feel bad and that evil is rooted in nature, not nurture.

quickfire plots include: someone who knew him before he "left" his family; someone who's understandably suspicious of him but can't seem to figure out why; alternatively someone who completely believes in his facade and thinks he's the absolute apostle of justice; ex-friends that fell apart; an ex-friend whose relationship deterotation between them hurt a pinch too much; fwbs; someone he has a soft spot for because they remind him of his younger sister (who's currently 15); someone who he leans on when he overexerts himself and ends up sick; someone who wants to use him to get to his family; someone who keeps seeing him with nosebleeds in the library and isn't sure how much more spare tissue they have left

[real-chinq-tmblr]

I know that what he did was wrong....but I can't help but see a child rather than some "scary unhinged monster" he is usually painted to be. Or a joke. A meme. Didn't win the race and allat.

When I first heard his music and then saw that he immediately went to jail, I felt strange. I could hear the talent in his delivery and had he been given the right guidance and resources, he would've gone on to create something great.

But you know, I wonder if he would've wanted to do that, even if he was free. I sometimes notice that people who have lived that life have no interest in arts, just what is infront of them, what is reality to them. Does it make money? Does it prevent them from being in danger? That type of stuff.

Because it seems like the arts is like....a fairy tale to them? Kinda like how poverty is a fairy tale to upper middle class/upper class people?

I know that the victims of his actions suffered real pain. I don't deny that at all and I don't mean to trivialise it. Sure, he should pay for his crimes. But I genuinely feel like...he's not the problem, he's a symptom of it. I mean, he's 15. The thing is, he should've never been holding a gun or living that sort of lifestyle in the first place. So how did he end up in that position?

And it's so messed up that we glamourise this type of stuff. We like it. We encourage it. We want to see young children holding guns, following the footsteps of their older counterparts, "carrying the mantle". What mantle? Violence? Ignorance? Like I'm sorry but that's what it really is. It's like people joining the military for legacy reasons. Except it's on the streets, it's "colored", it's "poor", and therefore it's illegal.

My grandpa and my dad was like that. Not that they lived that lifestyle but they were surrounded by people that did, and whether they realise it or not they internalised similar values and passed them down. I had to do a lot of inner work to undo it and I still haven't managed to undo everything. I can't imagine myself having a child because I'm scared I'll pass something down to them myself. Because I'm not gonna lie, I can't disagree when I say that violence and ignorance has a lot of appeal. I mean, a lot. And in some circumstances it's scary to be otherwise, to not be aggressive, to not be angry. Because it could mean you're vulnerable, and vulnerability is incredibly scary depending on the context. (Because there are environments that encourages and actively requires some form of "vulnerability", or at the very least a feigning of it, or else you're a "threat" and a "delinquent".)

But at the end of the day, at least what I personally realised was that, we just all want to be seen and treated as human. That's all. Violence is just a means to it. Just like feigning vulnerability or politeness.

And it's funny cause what happened to Tay-K in the end as he strived to uphold those things (that at this point, could be considered "tradition", because I define "tradition" as "peer pressure from your ancestors/predecessors")? Incarcerated for 55 years and won't be eligible for parole until 2047, especially since his "friends" took a plea deal and threw him under the bus while he kept his mouth shut, and he also became a bit of a joke/meme. Or sometimes people just think it's a cool thing to say "free Tay-K!" but really, it's just a trendy motto moreso than anything said with sincerety.

It reminds me of a quote from Sanyika "Monster" Shakur, who said in an interview how people that "shine the brightest" end up incarcerated forever or dead so "what you really want is a nice little glow".

And think about the song he blew up from. "The Race"? He made that song/video while actively trying to dodge arrest and then the video went up on the day he was captured. It blew up because of the hashtag #FREETAYK and debuted at #70 on the Billboards. Then a whole bunch of other musicians, with nothing to do with his lifestyle or his experiences, remixed his song and capitalized off of his hype. The hype from his arrest and "authenticity" of the "gang lifestyle" behind the song or whatever the fuck. Like....is it just me? Do none of ya'll think there's something sick about this?

(But that seems to be a running theme for musicians/cultural icons anyways, especially the ones that had any sort of message. Like Bob Marley or Tupac, they're just icons to put on shirts or whatever with quotes, to sell merchandise and to "act cool" with.)

I tried to choose photos where Tay-K wasn't holding a gun or trying to uphold some image. Because I think he's human and that's how he should be seen. (I know he's doing "American Sign Language" with his hands but lets be honest, who wasn't this ignorant as a child? I have a few photos looking this stupid myself. I know, I'm such an adorable farty potato fairy today but I had my moments.)

I don't know. The older I get, the more minstrelsy and anti-human the whole "culture" feels. Well, not necessarily the "culture", but rather the people perpetuating whatever ideas they have of it whether it is that they "sell" or "buy" the "product".

Here's a few joints from Tay-K that I like:

[alarrytale]

Regarding the McDonald's thing, the issue is that it's useless tiktok activism centering Westerners who wish to feel like they're helping rather than people who actually need help. People are congratulating themselves for somewhat impacting a fast food restaurant which has nothing to do with anything when they could be donating or writing their local politicians. And it is sadly one or the other because the average person isn't going to do more than a few small actions. I know you talk about Louis' image often so I rate you for openly saying it's about how this will be perceived, but on Xitter and Tiktok they insist it's about being disappointed in him and holding him accountable, and then when the facts are raised (that the boycott isn't actually doing anything) and their opinion doesn't change, it becomes clear that it's actually about how well they can promote him and defend him against H*rries and locals. Certain solo fans were absolutely loving holding this issue over H fan's heads and are simply disappointed they no longer have that card to play, and the whole thing is just really distasteful.

Hi, again anon!

Why is tiktok activism useless? I think tiktok is helping to spread information about the atrocities happening in Gaza to a group of people who otherwise wouldn't know, because they don't read or watch the news. It has a far reach and engages young people who were formerly apolitical and makes them aware, engaged and wanting to help. They are are also learning what to do to help out. It's centering westeners because Israel and Gaza is in Europe. There is war happening in Europe, so it's particularly relevant to europeans and westeners. I don't know what you mean by "westerners who wish to feel like they're helping rather than actually people who need help".

Like i said in the previous ask, not everyone is in a position to help out monitarily. Some live in countries with corrupt politicians or some have governments already helping. People will never feel like what they're doing is good enough when there is children dying. I also am pretty sure that if you're one of the people who has donated to Gaza, you won't go to a McDonalds for a meal afterwards if you're aware of the brand's involvement in the conflict. You absolutely can donate and avoid McD at the same time. You can also not buy a Sod* Str*am or other isr*elian products as long as you're aware of what to avoid buying.

Also, lesson learned for McDonalds is that your brand and reputation will suffer if you support genocide. Even if it's just one branch out of thousands doing it, it will hurt the brand as a whole. This is also lesson learned for other brands. So this might have prevented other brands from supporting I*rael. At least where i live, i see brands pulling out of deals and companies cut connections to Isr*ael everyday. Tiktok activism does help. Singning petitions helps, voting helps. Even if all you can do is spread the word, it helps. Everything helps. So do what you can to help. If the only thing you can do is avoiding McDonalds and telling others to do the same and explain to them why, then that helps too.

I still very much disagree with you that the boycott isn't helping. It is, both as a "see what happens when you support genocide" statement and as a warning to other brands to not do the same. The politicians do notice the opinions of the masses. And tiktok is an opinion forming place where you can influence and reach the masses. I happen to think that tiktok activism is more helpful than you picking up the phone and calling your representative. The threshold for a 14 year old girl to call a 60 year old man and lecture him in politics is also high. If the alternative is nothing or doing something, then do something. Boycotting works.

Fans are allowed to be disappointed in Louis. He's obviously not paying attention to world politics, discourses or public opinion. That's disappointing in itself. His ignorance is currently hurting his own brand and reputation. People aren’t happy with him. And again, i disagree that the boycott isn't helping (it is!). So when people are holding him accountable it's valid. He's promoting a brand currently feeding I*f soldiers while the children of Gaza is starving. He needs to be aware of it to protect his own brand. I'm pretty sure if he was aware he wouldn't do it.

[darkerthanblack-666]

I assume that you don't very easily relate to other people or consider things from their point of view. Rather, if someone says that they disagree with you about something or that something you said makes them uncomfortable (like comments about sex or shipping or gore), your instinct is to tell them to fuck off. You also have a little bit of main character syndrome as you always feel the need to comment on everything to make it about you and tell how you feel about the matter, and you prefer talking to listening. You have very strong opinions and tend to always think you are right and have the correct facts, even when you don't. I assume you are not big on self-reflection and tend to blame others every time a conflict happens. Most likely you are going to tell me to fuck off as well.

First of all, a trigger warning to you anon, because you clearly don't like when I talk about myself, but you sent a detailed message with assumptions about me, so it's just a response to it:

I tell to fuck off (tbh I probably should tell you that, because that last sentence is a guilt tripping attempt, not a very healthy way to communicate) to someone who either doesn't tell me directly what's up (I don't know how to deal with vague messages, they seem dishonest to me), or when I feel it might be disguised prejudice (there are certain kinds of ideologies that give red flags and if I feel like someone might support one of them, I'm rude on purpose, because such things don't deserve any debate on my side, so I'm unwilling to discuss that, I already see enough prejudiced comments in my country's local politics and minority stress already affects me enough... so I don't want to deal with similar kind of thought patterns, because I know some people can't be reasoned with no matter how hard you try and I'm tired of having debates with people who have bigoted views... if you don't know what I'm talking about, double check which country I'm from). tl;dr - if I suspect someone might be an anti/homophobe/purist I don't want to have a discussion, because local politics already makes me feel like crap, I don't need more of that in fandom spaces

As for making people uncomfortable, it's only easy to make everyone happy if someone either likes only "safe" things, or when they're having a private conversation and that person in particular wants to avoid something (and they communicate it, because no one can read minds). Otherwise, someone at some point will always dislike something and it's not possible to please everyone. Even when I try to be nice and accommodating, I accidentally say something that offends another person. Believe me, I've tried to work on it and I used to be even worse than I currently am. I just struggle with social cues a lot and I'm desensitized to most things. Sometimes an innocent comment in my mind is a big deal to someone else and I don't understand it. But people are just very different from each other and communication goes in two ways. If only one side communicates, it's never going to function well. tl;dr - in places with too many different people your stuff will always bother someone and it's hard to tell what it might be, I also don't understand social cues

So about my feelings... yeah, I know what's going on in my head and only that. Making serious assumptions about other people is very invasive and I expect the other person will fill that empty slot instead of assuming I'll read their mind. That's because I only know what I think, I can only speak for myself. So yes, I do talk a lot about my feelings, but not for the reason you assumed about me. I just think it's not nice to decide for other person who they are, what they're like, and I honestly have no idea what people think until they tell me, because my perception of them will always be distorted by my own thought patterns. So my expectation is clear communication, I don't understand non-verbal cues and vague messages. If we've ever had a problem like that, perhaps you need to re-think your communication methods? tl;dr - making serious assumptions is rude in my opinion, so I expect the other person to share their mindset and feelings with me instead of expecting I'd guess, and that's why I explain what's in my head

I do talk a lot on here, yes. That's because in the real life I hardly talk to my family and I just want to socialize, even if it's just dumping my thoughts and emotions. In the real life I'm not always allowed to express them, so I don't know how to do it in a healthy way. Perhaps it's sometimes excessive. Emotional dysregulation is an issue that I don't know how to handle it. It's not fun when regular activities (music, fandoms, etc) don't help. tl;dr - tumblr is often my only way to socialize, so I talk here a lot

Main character syndrome - it's not even an insult, because I always say it about myself. Though don't get me wrong, I'm not arrogant, I just get excited easily, need to chat, and I think my comments are funny and enjoyable. If something clearly is a joke, I just want to be entertaining and I think it makes people happy! (and it often does, my humor is not for everyone though, I know it)

Do I think I always have the correct facts? No. Quite the opposite, I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't always want to discuss something, though. Depends on my mood. When it's bad it really is better to just leave me be until I'm better. But really, everything me or you think is distorted by our own thought patterns. No one ever knows all the facts and there's always more than one truth.

Also, I already blame myself too much for everything. So outside it might seem like I blame others. I used to be that kind of a person who always apologized, for everything. I'm trying to be different, to stop feeling guilty every damn time. I constantly say something, then delete it because I get anxious.

In general, your assumptions only scratched the surface. I don't think you know me well, I'm more complex than this. I do struggle with handling many situations, that's true. But that's not on purpose, I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing 😅. I also forget things 0,5 second later. My attention span is non-existent unless I'm emotional/passionate about something.

I'll end it with good old guilt tripping as a payback for yours: but you don't really care, do you? After all, there's always more than one truth.

[hermits-crab]

BACHELORS & THEIR SWEARING HABITS — SDV HEADCANONS

SUMMARY: The bachelors and if they swear, what swears they use, and their opinions on it!

CONTAINS: sfw (?), coarse language, a little sexually suggestive in some parts

NOTES: This is a remake of an old post from my old dead account. I think I have a better understanding of the bachelors than I did when I made that post (because I was still new to SDV). I’m sorry if this isn’t great, I haven’t done this in a while :’) Enjoy!!

— ELLIOTT

• He’s the least likely to swear and you’ll almost never hear him do it

• Unless he’s very passionate about something or feeling very intensely, like if he’s very angry or sad

• I think he was more likely to swear when he was younger but the older he gets, the less he‘s prone to

— When he does swear, it holds that much more weight and meaning compared to someone who swears frequently

— It’s kinda sexy when he does too 👀🤭

— Also funny, depending on the context and situation

— Like I’ve said before, I believe that when he’s drunk, he has a lot less of a filter, making those the most likely times you’ll hear him swear

— “Oh, fuck me—so sorry, darling!” “I’m quite ‘shit-faced’, if you will.”

— He just has a way of always sound polite, despite what he’s saying

— He’s overall not opposed to swearing and he doesn’t mind or care if other people do

— Elliott has a wide vocabulary and therefore, more supplements for swears

— But he also understands that some situations call for swearing and that certain words can’t be replaced

— But that doesn’t mean he believes he’s better than anyone because he doesn’t! Swearing just doesn’t work for him

[ HARVEY ]

— He’s absolutely dropped a few swears while working

— Harvey is a doctor and he understands better than anyone that swearing can be healthy

— Swearing can help cope with pain or deal with situations that someone might otherwise feel they have no control over

— He’s definitely been in stressful situations where mumbling a ‘fuck’ under his breath helps to center him enough to stay focused

— He understands there’s a time and a place, of course, he wouldn’t just drop an f-bomb in middle of your annual check-up lmao

— You’ll likely only hear him swear when he’s angry or stressed, but he will apologize soon after, even if it’s unnecessary

— Or during sexy times 😎 to which he doesn’t apologize

— Other than that, those type of words just don’t seem to frequent his everyday vocabulary

— He also kind of prides himself on being professional and swearing just isn’t

— Like Elliott, Harvey swears so little that when he does, it’s kind of off-putting and holds more significance

— Like if he swears while reprimanding you for passing out in the mines, you’ll be more likely to listen because it’s just that jarring

— It’s not that he feels one way about swearing, he doesn’t even think about it

[ SAM ]

— You might disagree with me but he rarely ever swears

— In a lot of the fics I read, he does and it makes sense to me, him being a 20-something year old guy and all

— But I also think his parents have it so ingrained in his mind that swearing is bad and impolite, like it’s a cardinal sin or something

— They also want him to set a good example for Vincent, which Sam does

— But when he was younger, he’d get Vincent to say swear words and then crack up, only encouraging Vincent more

— Yeah, his parents were not happy lmfao

— Nowadays, he only justifies swearing to himself when he’s singing a song with swears in it

— He feels a little alarmed at how freeing it feels to swear when he sings at first, and he kicks himself for enjoying it

— He’s likely to swear the most when he’s with his friends (Sebastian is not a good influence on him in this regard lmao)

— Sam says the family-friendly versions of swears unironically, like ‘freak’, or ‘shoot’

— He was probably also the type to flip people off in school with his ring finger so that he technically couldn’t get in trouble (I literally did the same)

— He’d probably benefit mentally and emotionally by swearing more often if he didn’t take so much pride in trying to be perfect :(

[ SEBASTIAN ]

— I mean. Let’s be real.

— He’s a moody teenager who hates his family and everything around him (not literally), of course he swears, and frequently too

— Playing a lot of online games with voice chat while he was growing up, he started picking up swear words pretty quickly

— Demetrius corrects him whenever he does, and because I believe Seb likes to piss him off, he intentionally swears in front of him lol

— Robin doesn’t care so much, unless it’s in front of Demetrius then she’s like, “Seb, c’mon.”

— And he just looks at her like “😏”

— Now that I’m thinking of it, he probably learned some swears from her as well

— Like if she was arguing with his dad on the phone or accidentally hurt herself while wood-working

— Despite Robin’s warnings that those are bad words, she couldn’t keep him from repeating her, so she instead told him the ‘time and a place’ rule

— They’re similar in the way that they probably don’t have much of a filter and Sebastian probably influences her more than she realizes lol

— He doesn’t really have a set way of swearing, he just does at any given time

— As a kid, he’d influence Maru to swear and then act all shocked when she did and his parents blamed him lmao

— Sam too, which Jodi was very upset by, considering Seb to be a genuinely bad influence on Sam

— As an adult, he no longer does that anymore and has developed a major soft spot for the way that Sam “swears”

— I think Sam unconsciously influences Seb to be less vulgar with his language

[ ALEX ]

— He actually canonically swears the most of all the bachelors! If you consider ‘damn’ to be one

— Like Jodi, the Mullner’s have taught Alex that swearing is impolite, but not necessarily bad

— I can imagine Evelyn covering her ears when he does and saying something like, “oh, my poor old ears cannot handle such harsh language!”

— He doesn’t have much of a reason to anyway

— He remembers his dad swearing a lot at him as a kid, or when he would yell at his mother so I think those kind of words can trigger bad memories

— He’s very aware of trying to be better than his father and if swearing is something his father did, he doesn’t (at least, not nearly as often)

— He’s careful not to swear in front of his grandparents, which I think is all their really concerned about anyway

— To them, it shows respect, and he respects his grandparents very much!

— I think they let it slide if he’s cheering for a game on the television or if he’s complimenting his granny’s cooking

— “Damn, granny! That’s incredible!” And she just smiles and scolds him half-heartedly

— You’ll probably hear him swear the most in the bedroom 🤭

— Or if he stubs his toe

— Equally arousing, if you ask me

— He sticks to the less harsh swear words like ‘hell’, ‘ass’, ‘damn’, and occasionally ‘shit’

[ SHANE ]

— You know CA wanted to make this man say ‘fuck’

— Swears the most out of the bachelors, regardless of… well, anything

— There’s ZERO filter on this guy

— Unless Jas is around, then he’s mindful of what he says

— Not that he or Marnie are worried about her picking anything up, she’s a good kid and very well-mannered

— If Shane does slip up, she’s the first one to scold him lmao

— He’s glad though, he feels like this means he’s doing well raising her

— He swears when he’s happy, sad, excited, angry…

— Seriously. No filter.

— He probably doesn’t even realize it much either

— I feel like when he and Jas first moved in with Marnie, she was quite strict about him swearing, especially since he’s raising a child

— But overtime, she’s grown accustomed to it, she probably even swears slightly more now because of him

— Jas has helped him to be less crude and he can now catch himself much better before he slips

— “Are you fu-” *Jas stares daggers into him* “freaking kidding me?”

— It is Shane after all, and people have learned to expect it

— When he was new to town, it definitely surprised people

— Pelican Town is small, no one really ever swears and swearing isn’t taken very lightly

— And then this guy just walks in and swears so casually

— It shocked people at first, to say the least

— Overtime, the townsfolk have come to learn that’s just how Shane is and that he’s a good guy once you get to know him!

— All that’s not to say that Shane just throws out swears all day, everyday though

— He is respectful and polite and only swears when it’s mostly appropriate, like around friends or in the comfort of his own home

— He’s just not shy about it :)

— HAVE A REQUEST? SUMBIT IT HERE!

[noisyinternetballoon]

Saw a random post on x complaining about the 3H fandom having a bad rep or people not wanting to talk about the game, and how gatekeeping 3H fans and saying they're not true FE fans is bad. And tbh, I agree with a lot of the points it makes but the one thing I disagree with is the idea that every fandom has a toxic fandom or bad apples so it shouldn't affect your opinion on the work.

Spoilers, it does affect your opinion on the work cause art and entertainment is subjective i.e deals with emotional resonance and personal feelings. And if your feelings towards a work is tainted by people being assholes just because you like a character they don't or you decide an opposite route is your favorite and they attack you for it, then it is going to affect how you perceive the work. Like putting aside my biases for Rhea, Dimitri, and Houses Claude, the main issue at the end of the day is people conflating one's preferences in fiction, be it their fave character, route/arc, storyline, etc with their personal politics which invites all sorts of toxicity because politics most of the times by design causes divide and othering.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is if we stop saying shit like this: "You like Dimitri and AM? You're a centrist who supports the status quo", "You like Rhea or the Nabateans, then you support colonialism and oppression", "Genocide and terrorism is okay if it's done on the right people and they deserve it", "You don't agree with Edel or you think she's the villain? You're a misogynist", "You like Edel and CF? You're a fascist tankie", "You like Ingrid and Hilda? Then you must be racist", etc, and stop harassing and sealioning people off the fandom for having different fictional preferences, then maybe people would talk and discuss about 3H more. Otherwise, if you're going to deflect and be like "well every fandom has some bad apples, so it shouldn't be a big deal", then you can't complain if people don't want to talk about 3H anymore and look at it in a negative light.

[maeve-is-annoying-about-books]

Light From Uncommon Stars, April

I do love this brief history about Caputo's Pizza. One history and tradition slipping into another. I can imagine Evan and his group from way back in February turning their nose up at "an Italian restaurant trying to make inauthentic Chinese food." But we can see, by way of this change being allowed to happen at all, that the community around Caputo's has accepted the changes, and even loved them. It has become its own thing, with its own special history and quirks.

I do wonder if this is a bit of an echo to Katrina's own transition, changing more into her own self now that she has her studio and stability.

Tremon Philippe is once again the picture of an editor that is leaning on the deadline. He knows the end product will be good but is similarly frustrated it can't be rushed. He wants this grand, astounding finale to Shizuka's works and is stymied that his usual routes for getting it aren't working. At the least he's a very polite demon, he's picked up the tab.

I really do wonder what his opinions on intergalactic society and the Endplague are. Does Hell care about other planets? Or do they just operate locally? Would he like a galaxy full of madness and torment or is he of the opinion that mindless strife is boring and useless outside of Inferno? I can hope we get some answers for these, I'm really curious.

Speaking of the Endplague, I now know it a bit better. The emotional bit here, comparing it to the arcade game Stargate, was brilliant. Me, knowing how arcade games feel to play, at least. An endless progression that you can only get a "game over" on. Yet people play them all the same. And all the time. It's something Lan marks as a curious human behavior. Seeing humanity from her eyes is always a treat. I like how we're the communication aliens. We literally just can't stop talking about bullshit with one another. We care so much about wooden sound boxes and clumps of pixels drawn in a vacuum tube or accountings of a history that has never happened.

This is really Lan's first time dealing with triviality. The fact that we can wake up to unimaginable, ever-present horror just so that we might see a flower or a smile in the infinite cosmic soup. It's appreciable. It's what I appreciate in humanity, is being able to love such a small piece of the world so deeply.

Deeply enough to sell your soul for it. Shizuka's secret is out, to Lan's family and Katrina. I do want to say, I think it's incredible that Shirley already cares for Katrina to the point that she would intervene on her behalf. The problem is that Katrina already knows.

The details never mattered. Katrina knew that by going with Shizuka, she would pay in some way. There is always a price to be paid. The book frames this as knowledge that living as queer bequeaths, and for my part I can't help but agree. Living as myself had a price within my family. The tolerance of others is paid with palatable silence from me. So it goes.

To see Katrina's resolve to pay for her own voice with her soul, is such a sorrowful beauty. I would like to take the chance to speak more of how some friends of mine who left the church so they could be themselves have gone through this feeling. Imagine believing in Hell all your life and now, no matter how much you may disagree or know otherwise, being unable to shake the what-if of internal torment. Literally deciding that a chance of falling to Inferno is worth it if it means being able to be yourself.

For my part, I'm a pagan, essentially. the metaphysical concept of punishment everlasting isn't in my beliefs, and I still feel so sharply for Katrina's answering song. M voice was bought with the hell of marginalization and public scrutiny over my lifestyle, after all. Something I definitely don't feel I'm alone in feeling, either.

Gosh this scene... this scene. I want to keep talking about it but at a certain point I'll just flood out the rest of the chapters.

Ahem.

Of course, Shirley found out about the Queen of Hell and the frightening potency she's been erased from everything with. And she told her mother, of course. Lan's not wrong to be concerned, I should think. Of course she's not! She just learned her love interest is going to condemn her wonderful student to endless torment. And it's only when Katrina tells Shirley, through her music, that she knowingly entered this deal, that Lan finally realizes. She's never asked. Never sat down to listen. To Shizuka or to Katrina, to the intricacies of relationships and meanings. I do wonder how she'll grow, because even after listening, I do not think Lan would want either of these women consigned to Hell. Not when she's already been there. Not when she returns every night.

This month ends with a lesson now that Katrina is frustrated with the safety, the "meekness", of her newfound voice. "...In your hollows. In your nothingness. There is where your music gains its life."

Aye. It really does. The plucking sounds can't convey without the opposing nothing. In writing, at least, I find that the pieces that echo the most are the ones that are surrounded by quiet.

[shatar-aethelwynn]

Thank you for providing such a wonderful example!

Now, an uncharitable, react-first-think-later response might be "this person just disagreed with my post!" But clearly, if we take 2 seconds to think about it, this is a sarcastic or joking response, albeit a somewhat bitter joke which may be expressing frustration. This is, of course, highlighted by the tags:

#I work in text based support this is my life every day#in a PROFESSIONAL SETTING

This reply gives voice to the way we take the circumstances, both physical and mental, that we are in at the time we read something, and unwittingly read into what someone says an attitude or intention that is not there. The reader is probably used to hearing "Well, ..." in a certain tone from their ex which triggered certain emotions, and perhaps earlier that day something happened to bring those memories or emotions to the front of their mind. They are now primed to read that tone of voice when they see that familiar word. They may not be able to control that. But they can control how they respond. They could take a moment to take a breath and consider whether the person at work meant to convey that tonal implication, or whether it could possibly be accidental before they choose to respond with unwarranted hostility. (Warranted hostility after intention has been confirmed is a different matter.)

Just the first sentence here can be read with different intonations if spoken. Is this person intended an simple inquiry out of curiosity? Does their facial expression convey that they know exactly what I mean and are angry about it and about to go off on me? Or is there tone and expression dry or clearly conveying sarcasm (which is highly reliant on culturally specific cues to detect, many of which are culturally dependent and rely on familiarity with the speaker in order to discern) - either to mock me, or to agree with me? None of those options are carried by just the plain words of the text.

Is it possible that I am wrong? Absolutely! This could be the response of someone disagreeing with me. But isn't it kinder to assume otherwise? Isn't it so much less stressful to read this as something other than a verbal attack? And all it takes is pausing for just a few seconds to ask, "is the tone I imagine for these words the only one possible, and is it in character for the person making them?" Is the person you're dealing with actually being rude or angry? Or are you just reading a tone of voice into text that isn't there, because they're just being formal and polite? Are they being mean? Or are they making a joke with friends that you just aren't in on when the post crossed your dash? Is it possible that there are cultural aspects to their language that you are unaware of? Did the recipient of the message take it in the same way you did? Because maybe there's context - circumstantial or personal - that you aren't privy too. I know it will shock some people, but not everyone in the world speaks the same form of English, or words things exactly the same way.

Text is a terrible medium for conveying intended tone of voice, so please give other people the benefit of the doubt and be charitable toward them.

There's an common example of using the sentence "I never said to kill him" with emphasis on a different word with each repeat, to show how just tone of voice changes the meaning of a sentence. Some people here should really sit down and try it some time.

gd some of you people need to learn that tone doesn't carry in text and stop assigning the worst possible option instead of assuming people are trying to be polite and have different cultural backgrounds on what that looks like

[fanfic-scribbles]

Crash Pad

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You’re just minding your own business when the Winter Soldier crashes into your life. Literally.

Quick facts: Romance – established past Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes leading into Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight mention of blood

Words: 7801

A/N: I started writing this a few months ago and almost finished when my life got fairly shook up. Still, I’m quite proud of being able to eke out an ending. For anybody who only cares about this story, feel free to skip this note, but for anybody following my other stuff: writing is going to be slow for the time being. My mom died and things are pretty topsy-turvy right now. Writing is still a comfort, but head to hands isn’t working the same right now. Thanks for your patience; I hope this is a pleasant read for you in the mean time <3

  ~

 You’re getting ready for bed and have just turned off the living room light when you hear a clatter on the fire escape. You haven’t gotten over to shut the window yet and you wince at the thought of maybe coming face to face with a giant rat, or a raccoon, although you haven’t yet seen a raccoon and you’re pretty sure they don’t live in the city but it would probably be better than a rat the size of a raccoon–

What you get is much, much worse as a fully grown man falls through the curtains, knocks over a side table and potted plant, and crashes onto your living room floor with a wheezed (but emphatic), “God damn it!”

You freeze, unsure of whether to run or yell or maybe both. However the man flounders on the floor, unable to otherwise move much as he holds his side and– is that blood on your floor?

“Are you okay?” you ask despite everything.

He yanks his head back to look at you and grimaces. “Fuck, I–” He tries to get up, slips in what you are almost positive is blood, and slumps over with a little sigh and a handful of muttered curses that might be in another language. “I am really sorry about this,” he says lowly, like he's embarrassed to be bleeding out in a stranger’s living room. Then he shifts a little more and moonlight gleams on his arm. His very…shiny…completely metal arm, and you find a whole new way to be concerned.

You should have known the reasonable rent was a goddamn trap.

You take a few steps back, barely avoid hitting the counter, and flick the light back on without taking your eyes away from the man on your floor. He squints at the brightness and shows you a face that is, both fortunately and unfortunately, familiar. Fortunately because Captain America and the Avengers somehow got him pardoned for potential war crimes and treason even without him being present for any of that circus of a trial. Unfortunately because…war crimes. And treason. And that is definitely blood.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out and looks a little woozy. “There were sheets– I thought the building was empty.”

“The sheeting is for the building right next to us,” you say and sigh. “I’m going to guess you are not in favor of me calling an ambulance?”

He just blinks at you a few times. Maybe he is secretly a raccoon.

“Please don’t,” he says, some life returning to his eyes, and he looks you up and down. The rubber duck pajamas must put him at ease because, while he is still tensely holding his midsection, his shoulders relax a little. “I’m so–”

“Sorry, yes, I know.” You point at the bathroom. “I’m going to get the first aid kit and hopefully I won’t have to explain to the coroner’s office why Captain America’s boo bled out on my floor.”

You’re just opening up the cupboard that hopefully contains at least some band-aids when he calls out, “What the hell is a ‘boo?’”

~

Two old t-shirts, one and a half rolls of dusty gauze, and his own homemade stitch kit later, the man is finally all patched up. “How are you not passing out from blood loss?” you ask, eyeing the mess on the nice hardwood that has definitely just lost you your deposit. But there’s no corpse to deal with, so at least things aren’t as bad as they could be.

“I’m built pretty hardy.” He sits up a little more and groans. Before you can beg him not to split his side again, he extends his hand. “James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

You shake his hand (gently) and tell him your name. “Do you let everybody call you Bucky, or just the people whose floor you bleed all over?” Something moving catches your eye and you sigh at the sight of your inexpensive (but still nice) curtains blowing slightly, showing off their new stains. “Floor and drapes…”

“I’ll clean it,” he says. “I can get blood out of anything.” He winces. “I…that sounds worse than it is.”

“I imagine getting blood out of anything is a good skill for an international spy-assassin to have,” you say.

Bucky scowls. And, you think, blushes a little, though how he has enough blood to do that you don’t know. You look at the spot again. It looks big to you but maybe you’re making a fuss over nothing. No, wait, there’s still dried blood on your floor. You’re allowed a fuss. “So you know who I am.”

“Your boy made it hard to miss,” you say.

He grumbles to himself, then says, “He’s always such a drama queen. I didn’t need to be pardoned.”

“Really,” you say and look at the bloodied handkerchief wrapped around a bullet he dug out of himself. “Looks like at least one other person disagrees with you.”

“This was Steve’s fight, not mine.” He huffs. “Story of my goddamn lif–”

He suddenly falls back and you reach out instinctively to catch him. He recovers quickly, wild-eyed and stiff and you scoot back just in case. He takes a few deep breaths and seems to force himself calm. It doesn’t look very effective and you’re honestly starting to worry. “You really–”

“I did not faint,” he snaps and maybe he has more blood than you thought, or maybe absolutely all of it has come to collect in his face.

“I was going to say you really need a hospital,” you say. “But yeah, you did.”

He grumbles under his breath and then, as if predicting your protests, stands up quickly enough to waver. Serves him right, you think, but when he scowls at you, you wonder if maybe he’s psychic too. “Try not to pass out on your way home,” you say, because if he wants to leave there’s really nothing you can do to stop him.

“Funny,” he says. He clears his throat and adds, much more sincerely, “Thanks.”

For the t-shirts, for the first aid kit, for not calling the cops, for not calling the Avengers so Captain America can hone in on him like a cartoon hound, for not bitching about the floor too much– the list is many and varied and so you give him a simple nod and hope you can get even a little bit of sleep tonight because work tomorrow is going to be hell without it.

He goes back to the window and before you can point out you have a perfectly good door, Bucky slips out onto the fire escape again. You shrug to yourself and go over to firmly flip the lock. You’ve done your part– in the event he slips and hits his head, someone else can be the good Samaritan. You’re going to bed and tomorrow this is going to feel like a weird dream, if there is even a single good deity in existence.

~

You’re not sure if it’s proof of or a mark against the existence of said single good deity when Bucky shows back up in your fire escape the next evening and taps politely against your open window before he lets himself back in, scooting your new plant just an inch out of the way.

“I have a door,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

“Your hallway’s too well lit,” he says, much more hale and hearty and obviously not suffering major blood loss. His hair even looks like he just got out of the shower, all soft and shiny and bouncing a bit as he twists his upper body to start pulling stuff out of a backpack hanging off one shoulder. “I got stuff to clean the floor, and a replacement first aid kit. You outta keep it better stocked, so I got you one of the good ones.”

“O…kay,” you say, for lack of anything better. There’s a hysterical laugh building up in the back of your throat as the Winter Soldier brings out some rags and a cleaning solution for your bloodstained hardwood floor, but you cough it out and say, “Thanks,” when the formerly-feared international assassin looks at you like you’re crazy before he gets on his hands and knees and starts scrubbing.

It’s not fair no one would believe you. You’re not quite sure this isn’t an elaborate daydream, but then, you like to think you’d imagine something more fun than this. You clear your throat. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thanks,” he grunts, glaring at the floor and rubbing at the stain like it has offended him personally. It’s a little worrisome when he goes at it hard enough to maybe rub a hole right through the floor– you’d rather deal with the stain– but there’s a hard edge to his eyes that make you think maybe it’s a good idea for him to work it out in a productive, non-violent way. And if it turns violent, hopefully he has some home repair skills to make up for it.

You busy yourself with making tea, using the nice pot and the nice cups you never get to break out, and by the time it’s almost done steeping Bucky isn’t rubbing quite so hard and, in fact, seems to have made the stain do a disappearing act.

“Nice,” you say. “You want some tea? I made plenty.”

He lifts his head and tilts it as he squints at you, like he’s still not sure of you. But he shrugs, says, “Sure,” and stands up, rolling his shoulders. He looks down at the floor and nods appreciatively before coming to sit on the other side of the counter. “It’s almost gone; just a little bit more and it’ll be like I was never here.”

That last part could have been a decent joke, but he said it so seriously you just clear your throat. “Thanks,” you say and start pouring. “My landlord is going to have to find some other excuse to try and keep my security deposit.”

Bucky snorts but otherwise makes no noise. At first it’s nice, if a bit awkward, as you don’t really feel the need to fill the silence, but it becomes clear by the way Bucky glares at the plant sitting in front of him on the counter that something is eating at him. You’re not sure whether or not to pry, but it seems polite to at least ask, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grunts and leans even lower to the surface of the counter.

You stare at him. “I appreciate what you did, but you didn’t have to come back,” you say gently, because a pissed-off former-assassin isn’t really a problem you want to have on your hands. “I’m not awful enough to actually expect you to clean up your own blood the day after you nearly bled to death.”

“What?” He blinks and then scowls and shakes his head. “No, it’s not that; it’s…” He picks up his cup and downs all of it, despite the fact that it was still steaming. Tentatively you pour him another cup, to which he says, “thanks,” before loading it with sugar again. “It’s good,” he says and this time he sips it.

“It’s one of my favorites. Very soothing,” you say. “Normally.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I wish anything was soothing. You know Steve almost ran into a goddamn minefield today?”

You didn’t know that, you don’t think anything the Avengers do is any of your business, really, and where does one even find a minefield in New York City– you don’t say any of that, but you apparently don’t need to, because Bucky is off like a shot saying more words than you’d have thought possible for him. All of it is ranting about what a reckless dumbass Captain America is, and a Brooklyn accent increasingly comes through, egged into existence by sheer aggravation. You sit and listen, transfixed not so much by the details (they’re too fleeting and sparse) but by how annoyed Bucky is with Captain Amer- with “Steve goddamn pain in the ass Rogers” and you’re never going to be able to see him again without snickering.

Bucky sighs heavily and rests his chin on the table. He looks very tired, all of a sudden. Maybe a relaxing tea and enthusiastic rant wasn’t the best combination. Then again, he also looks less tense, so perhaps it’s fine. “Why don’t you stop for the night and go get some sleep,” you say and take away his cup. “You can finish up tomorrow.”

He squints at you, squints back at the floor (that you honestly can’t tell is any different from the rest), and looks back at you. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you say and stack the cups. “When you come back refreshed you can tell me why Steve Rogers can never walk past that animal shelter without ducking his head in shame.”

Bucky’s smile is lopsided and he shakes his head. “Maybe,” he admits and hops off the chair. “I’ll just…leave the stuff here then, if that’s okay?”

You nod and he quickly picks up and puts the supplies in the empty bottom space of your side table. He goes for the window.

“I have a-!”

And he’s gone. You roll your eyes. If Steve Rogers really is as much of an asshole as Bucky says he is, then those two deserve each other.

~

For all that the Captain America mythos has been debunked for you, you’re still brought up short when you suddenly encounter Steve Rogers the next night.

On your fire escape.

He knocks his head against the railing in his scramble to simultaneously get up and face you, curses, and lifts his hands defensively. “I can explain.”

You rub your face with both hands. They definitely deserve each other. “I doubt that,” you mutter and sigh heavily. Thank goodness there haven’t been any actual fires; you don’t know how you’d get out with all these buff superheroes hanging around outside your window. “Have you lost something?”

Captain America looks at the ground for a moment, and then flashes you a smile. “…Yes?”

God, he is a smartass. “Do you want to come inside or do you want to risk some Nosy Nancy from the building across the street seeing a big shadow and calling the cops?”

That would never happen, but he slips inside almost immediately and then there he is, in all his uniformed, shield-holding glory. It’s too weird to think about, and you step back to give him (and you) space while you close the curtains. “Thank you,” he says politely and looks around. “Your apartment is lovely; it’s very…green.”

You’re not sure why he hesitates, until you see him looking at your yellowing majesty palm. “He’s coming back,” you say and go to adjust the plant for lack of anything else your nervous hands can do. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you,” he says and stands with his feet shoulder wide and his hands clasped down in front of him. It is perhaps the least comforting thing he can do and for one ridiculous moment you wish Bucky was here to be in between you. You wish the Winter Soldier was here. To protect you. From Captain America.

You clear your throat. “So,” you say and grab yourself something. “Do you lurk outside everyone’s apartment at some point, or am I just special?”

For all his military posturing, Captain America squirms like a schoolboy. “I swear I wasn’t– okay, I guess I was but not intentionally? I was…looking. For something.”

“Something you dropped?” you ask him.

“A person,” he says, staring elsewhere. For a moment you have a paranoid thought he’s staring at the space where Bucky had fallen in that night, but no, he’s just looking at the window. At least you remembered to change the curtains.

“Pretty sure you can see one of those without squinting into the grates,” you say.

“He might have passed through on his way somewhere else,” Captain America says. “Have you seen a man outside?”

“Other than you?” you ask. He blushes even harder than Bucky does– and think of the devil, you have a moment where you’re not sure what you should say, but quickly come to realize that whatever is going on between the two of them, you do not want to get stuck in the middle.

You’re prepared to lie your ass off, but he apparently takes your response as a rebuke. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you feel unsafe.”

“It’s fine,” you say. Despite his previous answer, you lean into the fridge to get him a bottle of water. “I’m pretty sure Captain America isn’t going to murder me. And if you decided you wanted to, well, there’s nothing I could really do about it.”

He chokes on the drink he’s just taken. You instinctively lean in so you can slam his back but after a couple of hits he covers his mouth and waves you off. “Sorry, sorry,” he says and grabs a nearby dishcloth to wipe up what he just spit on the counter. “That was just…really dark.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not the one lurking on fire escapes,” you say.

He rolls his eyes. The nerve. You laugh and he actually grins. Asshole. His smile softens though and he says, “I’m really–”

“Sorry,” you finish for him.

“Am I that predictable already?”

You shrug. You want to tell him it’s because he and Bucky seem very much alike in that respect. You want to but…you don’t. Whatever Bucky’s problem is, he seems to want to deal with it himself, and it’s not your place to get in between them and start snitching. “You seem the type. Don’t worry about it so much. You…look pretty worried. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Thank you.” His lips turn into a sad sort-of smile and he takes a slower drink. “I guess I am pretty worried. This man I’m looking for, he’s…important to me, and he’s been through a lot, and I just want to know he’s okay.”

You stare at him. He looks down. And looks down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to babble like that,” he says and glances at you with a strained smile. “I don’t normally do that.”

“Hm.” You stare at him for several seconds and notice he is blinking an awful lot. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m a little tired,” he says, quietly, and some of the posturing seeps out of him and he lets himself slump a little more. He suddenly shakes his head and sits up straight again. “Thanks again for…” He looks around and settles for shaking his water bottle.

You hold back a laugh. “Sure. I uh…do you need me to call you a cab?”

He shakes his head firmly and, to his credit, he’s pretty excellent at pretending to be okay. You almost believe him. “I can get home all right.”

“Well, please make sure you do. I can think of a lot of people who’d be sad to think of you collapsing on the way home because you wore yourself down to the bone,” you say. “And from how you seem to worry about your friend, I bet you can think of at least one.”

He blinks, like he’s surprised, but a smile curls onto his face, warm and true. “Good night,” he says, and because you’re so nice, you don’t stop him when he goes back out the window. At this point, it’s beginning to feel like a lost cause.

~

“What did you say to him?”

“I know you don’t like the door,” you say, not even turning away from the plant you’re watering. Any time you put down the canister you forget where you left off and you are not going to kill these plants by overwatering. Not again. “But maybe you could at least tap on the window when you decide you’re going to enter my apartment.”

“Why do you leave your window open?” Bucky huffs. You can hear him sit at the counter behind you. “You know what kind of creeps can take advantage of that?”

You finish watering the last plant and turn to stare at him. “I’m starting to get an idea.”

Bucky scowls. “I’m not a creep,” he mutters.

“Polite society encourages doorways instead of windows,” you say. “It’s okay. Captain America, apparently, is also a creep.”

Bucky sits up straighter. “What did he say?”

“Not much,” you say. “He was squatting on the fire escape like he could make you spontaneously materialize. I invited him in for an explanation and after a little while he went on his way.”

“After a little while,” Bucky repeats and squints at you suspiciously.

You shrug. “He likes to vent to complete strangers, apparently. But I didn’t tell him anything about you, it doesn’t seem fair to tell you anything about him. If you want to know, I get the feeling you can go ask him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but he stands up and stretches. “You said I bled on the drapes?”

“I already scrubbed that out, if you can finish the floor,” you say and go for the tea pot. “Do you like green tea?”

“As long as you do it right,” he says and starts scrubbing again. “I hate it all bitter.”

You go for the good matcha and start preparing it while he works out his frustrations on your floor. You glance at him a couple of times but he seems fully focused on his task, until you finish the tea and call him back to the bar.

“Steve Rogers is a pain in the ass and don’t let anyone tell you different,” he grumbles, but it’s soft and there’s a troubled look on his face as he takes his cup.

“Do you miss him?” you ask and blow gently across your drink.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Just as you're about to apologize for overstepping, though, he speaks. “It’s hard to go back when you’ve done the shit I have, you know?”

No. You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to live as a free man after decades of literal objectification and being used as a murder weapon for fascists. But it doesn’t seem very helpful to say that, so instead you say, gently, “I can’t even imagine.”

Bucky bobs his head and takes another sip of his drink. You’re delighted he seems to be drinking it fairly quickly, but also a little dismayed because a good matcha latte takes a decent amount of work and it’ll take a little time if he wants another cup. “I want to go back but I can’t yet. I wish he wouldn’t be so goddamn stubborn about it is all. Just because he thinks I didn’t do anything wrong doesn’t make it true.”

You nod, like any of this makes any goddamn sense to you. But maybe– maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe Bucky’s saying all this because you’re an outside entity with no personal stake in, or knowledge of, what counts as treason, or what’s needed to lack culpability, or what it means to be an absent friend.

He rambles, a little bit, and though about half the words are proper nouns you don’t recognize, you nod along, and when he finishes his latte you make him another one, and when he leaves, you don’t mention the door. Even though you want to.

~

You’ve actually forgotten how nice it is to have someone come through the door. Case in point–

“Um, I hope this is all right,” Steve Rogers, dressed in casual civilian fare and holding a small pot of flowers, says as you can do nothing but stare at him. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you again for being so understanding. May I…come in?”

That snaps you out of your funk and you quickly stand aside. “Of course; sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting you.”

“I was just going to leave the plant with a note if you weren't here, but I’m glad you were,” Captain Rogers says and walks in, and sets the pot down on the counter.

You walk over to the fridge. “Would you like something to–” As you turn to finish the question you see him glance furtively at the window. Ah, of course. He looks down guiltily and you can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh. Well, he did come through the correct entrance and brought some pretty flowers. “All right, you did knock on the door this time; go sniff around the fire escape all you want.”

“I’m just checking something I forgot,” he says quickly and goes to the window. He’s only outside long enough for you to brew some tea and he comes back in just as you’re pouring his cup. It isn’t until he’s about to take a sip, however, that he says, “Oh– I know it looks bad, but Bucky– sorry, James Barnes– I swear he isn’t dangerous.”

“I know. I saw some of the trial stuff,” you lie. Well, you did see some of it, but it wasn’t until you heard Bucky mutter “Martha Stewart was right,” while fussing at some of the blood on his shirt that you felt safer. Strange as it is to think.

Steve relaxes his shoulders like some of the weight is off of them. “You have no idea how good that is to hear. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people say to me. I can’t really punch people anymore because I’m so much stronger now but it’s so tempting sometimes. At least when it’s online I can mime punching them.”

His annoyed tone allows you to laugh a little. “Maybe imagine the block button is a punch in the face?” you suggest.

He grins. “My friend Clint suggested printing out the most irritating comments and taping them to a punching bag. It didn’t really work but the thought was nice. The block button as a punch to the face though…”

The guy doesn’t really need more violence in his life, but he genuinely seems pleased with the idea, so you let it be. And when he starts ranting in detail about some of the comments he gets about Bucky, you make a new pot of tea– chamomile. For the both of you.

~

You don’t know how the flowers are dead already– it seems like Steve just brought them and they were so pretty you immediately looked up care instructions and followed them to the letter. Or so you thought. But now, only days later, you have a pot of dirt and withered petals.

And Bucky sulking at your counter.

“I told him I was fine,” he says petulantly.

You sigh and bring the pot over to the sink and think about what to do. “Did you tell him in person?”

“In a letter. He knew it was from me.”

The soil looks nice, so you’ll dig out the remains and try to plant some replacement seeds. Maybe that was the problem– maybe the flowers were sick or something. “Well reading and seeing are two different things.”

“He knows I cover him in fights.”

You slowly look at Bucky. His oh-so intelligent response is to bristle like a cat and go, “What?”

You roll your eyes. “He’s desperate to see you, knows you’re near when he’s fighting, and you wonder why he’s “so goddamn reckless?’”

Bucky just glares. Yeah, these two morons absolutely deserve each other.

You hope Bucky figures it out sooner rather than later.

~

He doesn’t, but he keeps coming by, as does Steve, and you resign yourself to hosting two pining idiots who keep dancing around each other.

Bucky drinks anything you give him without complaint. However he drinks the lattes and almost anything green tea a little quicker, though he tries to hide his cup from you when he does. Whether he’s ashamed of going through them so fast or embarrassed you don’t know, but you start to give him bigger cups, and that seems to help.

The first time you give Steve a cup of apple pie spice, he gives you a severe glare– which he then completely undermines by liking the blend immensely.

“I swore the next person who offered me apple pie would get popped,” Steve says, an amusing mixture of half-bluster and half-shame as he sips from the classic teacup you hope not to regret handing him.

“Lucky for me it’s not actually apple pie,” you say. “Do people really make that joke?”

The eyeroll Steve gives that is 200% sass. “You have no idea,” he says, deadly serious, “–how funny people think they are.”

~

This becomes…oddly normal. Listening to Steve talk about anything that’s on his mind, giving Bucky new tea blends just to see how he reacts to them; your apartment is no longer just you and a bunch of greenery that seems to wilt more often than not. Everything seems warmer, and better– even your plants seem healthier. (For that, though, you suspect Bucky is giving them a special mixture of something after you catch a glance of him messing with one of the pots. You want to ask him what he’s doing, but you don’t want to admit that he’s better at taking care of them than you are.)

It’s so normal, that you feel the silence only after the first few nights without a visit. They don’t visit every night, but they visit often enough that you know they’re off somewhere even without them telling you. For a couple of weeks you try to pretend the quiet doesn’t bother you, but you check the fire escape twice every night, and then once more before you go to bed.

~

The next time you see Bucky is during one of these checks. There was no tapping, no noise to otherwise alert you, he’s just suddenly back, sitting next to the window, hunched over in black clothes nearly blending into the darkness and staring out at nothing in the night.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and crawl out to kneel next to him. “Are you hurt again?”

“No,” he mutters and continues to glare at some imaginary point in the distance. “Steve was, though.”

It’s a little harder to swallow. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbles and buries his mouth further against his arms. “He’s fine, strutting around the hospital like a- like a- …” He huffs and sits back to wave his arms before he curls back in on himself. “But it was close, and he’s an asshole.”

“Mm,” you say. “Chamomile mint?”

He sighs heavily but he gets to his feet and starts to enter, only to stop and hold open the curtains for you.

“Thank you sir,” you say with only a hint of sarcasm and go on ahead to get the tea started. Bucky snorts but doesn’t say anything and you use the time the water needs to heat up to take care of some of your plants.

“Stop it.”

The snap comes so fast from Bucky you immediately stop what you’re doing. He doesn’t look as angry as he sounded, but he’s frowning pretty hard. “You're overwatering that one; jade plants are succulents. You don’t need to drown it.”

You look at the plant and set the watering can down. “Oh.” You knew that. You think. You’re just nervous. “Did you see him? In the hospital?”

“Briefly. I didn’t talk to him; just made sure he was all right,” Bucky says. “And he is. I wouldn’t leave him if he wasn’t.”

That does assuage some of your concerns. Steve is nice. You want him to be okay. And Bucky is– also nice, but god, they’re both so fucking frustrating. “You couldn’t have just–”

“Don’t start with–”

“I’m just saying–”

“And I’m telling you not to say–”

“I pay the rent for all that you sublet my fire escape; I’ll say what I want,” you manage to finish to Bucky’s consternation. You lift your head proudly and he frowns to one side. And then he…smirks. You’re not sure you like that.

“Crappiest space in the city,” he says and sits up. “You could at least get a chair.”

You roll your eyes and dole out the tea, fixing it the way Bucky likes. No sugar for this one, but plenty of honey. “If I ever have to leave for an actual fire, I’ll be in enough trouble trying to get around you.”

“Nah. I’d carry you out,” Bucky says and lifts his cup in a silent ‘cheers.’ He takes a sip and the sigh sounds content, so you assume you did it right. For a few moments a comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you sip warm drinks surrounded by greenery (that is mostly green) and life goes on in faint sounds outside the confines of your home.

Bucky sets his empty cup down with a sigh. “Do you think, if I show up to throttle him, that he’ll actually start watching his own fucking back?”

You give that some serious thought. “Will you give him time to moon at you first?”

Bucky sighs with disgust and flumps back onto the counter. “This is stupid. This all feels so stupid.”

You open your mouth because you do have a lot of opinions about honest communication and using innocent civilian apartments to dance around each other, but Bucky shoots you a glare to let you know that a, he knows, and b, he doesn’t appreciate it. You roll your eyes and go back to drinking your tea. It is a very good blend, and you’re not going to let it go unappreciated because two early 20th century boys can’t get their shit together.

Not that you’re complaining, really– you’re starting to feel like less of a disaster by comparison. Or maybe letting two strange men into your apartment makes you just as bad by default. You rub the bridge of your nose. Yeah, no one is getting out of this looking sane. You feel like that should bother you more than it does, but it’s just a fleeting thought before you go back to worrying about Steve and pouring Bucky’s cup back to full.

~

The next night when someone knocks on your door, you’re only mildly surprised to see Steve on the other side. And most of that surprise is because you can see fading bruises on his face, and also because he is holding a fairly big potted plant with tall green and yellow-edged leaves.

“Hi,” he says and lifts the pot slightly. “I got you a present.”

“Uh, wow; thanks?” you say and quickly step back to let him in, momentarily forgetting he can probably carry it around with ease. Steve places the plant on the floor near the end of your couch, where it actually looks fairly nice. He gestures at it proudly. “It’s a snake plant. The man at the nursery said it’s very hard to kill.”

“You’re not funny,” you say but you look at it appreciatively. It is nice, and you could do with ‘hard to kill’. Speaking of– “Should you be up? You look like you should be in a hospital.”

He shrugs and his face goes neutral. “I’m healing well enough that there’s nothing a hospital could do for me. And I felt so…restless.”

You nod. “Want some tea?”

“Please. I really like what you make,” he says and immediately takes a seat at the counter. Oddly enough, it’s not the one Bucky always takes. You don’t realize you squint at the space for too long until Steve looks curious and asks, “Is everything okay?”

You squint at the countertop. “Yeah, just…trying to figure out if that’s a stain or a spot.”

Thankfully there is a spot of spilled something and you quickly grab a towel and wipe it away. You think it’s a pretty good save, but Steve looks at you with a raised brow, like he’s figured something out. You freeze. “What?” What are you going to say? How is he going to react? What will you–

“Was that a coffee ring?”

You blink a few times, and then roll your eyes as your chest practically deflates. He smiles and winks. “I can’t believe you.”

“I am a layered human being who can drink many things,” you say defensively. “And if you want coffee you’ll have to ask another time. I’m not giving you anything with caffeine in it when you look like you got hit by a truck.”

“Train,” he corrects absently. “It barely clipped me.”

You sigh and go for the sleepy blend. One of you is going to have to bow out of this conversation due to exhaustion and at this point you don’t care if it’s you. However it might truly come in handy as Steve keeps looking out the window and shaking his foot. You set the cup in front of him and before you can ask what’s wrong, he takes the cup in both hands and blurts out, “I think I saw him.”

You look at the window and squint. “Seriously?”

“Not here.” Steve rolls his eyes. Like you’re the crazy one. He blows gently across the surface of the liquid and says, “Though it’s strange you’d think I saw Bucky out of your window.”

“Isn't that why you started showing up here in the first place? I distinctly remember someone with a big red, white, and blue shield lurking on my fire escape.”

“Oh, right,” he admits sheepishly, hunched over his cup. His eyes glimmer with mischief as he looks up at you through long lashes and asks, “Did I ever apologize to you for that?”

You’re brought up short by the amount of boyish charm this giant walking wall of muscle manages to pack into that look and you have to find your tongue to say, “I– y-yeah…”

Steve chuckles to himself and you give yourself a mental slap on the face. “Troll,” you mutter and sip from your mug. The liquid is piping hot and burns your tongue, giving you an excuse to grimace when Steve flashes you a beautiful smile.

~

You’re in trouble.

Not physically, not immediately, and perhaps someone on the outside might say you’re being dramatic about it, but they wouldn’t know shit about the situation. They wouldn’t know about how your hands felt as they slid over Steve’s when he handed you a new small pot of flowers; they wouldn’t know about the feeling of serenity that settled over you when Bucky abandoned some of his oh so careful control and rested his head on your shoulder for four long seconds; they wouldn’t know how it feels like you’re missing something until someone shows up at your door or taps at your window.

You’re falling in love with two people who have always been, and still are, desperately in love with each other.

Isn’t that just your luck.

~

In the end, Bucky takes your advice more to heart than you ever expected he would– you and Steve are quietly enjoying each others’ company, with you standing in the kitchen and Steve sitting at the counter as per usual, when the curtains move dramatically for Bucky to slip in, which makes Steve whirl around, and your hands jerk so hard from all the sudden surprise that your cup slips out and crashes to the floor.

“Shi-” You forget to watch your step and immediately catch a jagged shard that embeds itself right under the ball of your foot. “Ow, fuck!”

Your name is said in different voices but very similar tones of alarm and you suddenly find yourself gathered into Bucky’s arms, bridal style, and he carries you over to the couch. “Wh-” You swallow at the close proximity to Bucky’s chest and the way he holds you so effortlessly but so securely. “I’m fine; it’s just a little–”

Bucky sits down on the couch and doesn’t move you, which means you are basically sitting cross-wise in his lap. This is not something you need after your recent revelation, and it doesn’t get any easier when Steve comes back with the heavy duty first aid kit Bucky got you and gingerly takes your foot to examine the injury. His sympathetic look towards you gives you the warning you need to brace yourself before he pulls the shard out. It doesn’t hurt too terribly and he’s almost tender as he cleans your foot.

“Look at us, matching blood and all,” Bucky says lightly.

“It’s my floor I’ll bleed on it if I want,” you grumble, but you’re too distracted by how focused Steve is on fixing you up. “You…seem to be taking this well.”

“I knew he had been here since the first time I came,” Steve admits as he rolls the gauze around your foot. “There was a bloodstain on your floor still.”

“Seriously?” You had thought Bucky was being overdramatic about the supposed stain and humored him, but it…makes sense. Why else would he come back the next night. Why else would Steve continue to come by. And because Steve had kept coming, Bucky had kept coming, and…they won’t need to come back anymore, will they? They now have what they’ve wanted. Each other.

Someone says your name and you force yourself back to neutral as much as you possibly can. Steve looks curious though and Bucky says, “What’s with that look?”

“There’s no look,” you say. “And if there is, it’s only because you two have devised the weirdest meet-cute ever– decades after you actually met.”

“Hm.” Bucky continues to stare at you, but doesn’t say anything else.

~

They come back. And they both use the door.

You don’t know what you’re more shocked by– that Bucky and Steve, having come back to each other, are still coming around to you, or that Bucky is actually walking through the designated threshold. You don’t have a lot of time to think about it though because the place is…a mess.

“What happened here?” Steve asks as Bucky’s shoulders go up to his ears and he looks around the place like he’s going to find something unpleasant.

“It’s not that bad,” you say and glance around. You’ve cleaned out a few of the pots already and stacked them away in the closet, but some of the plants are still…slightly alive, for a little while. A couple are even doing fairly well– one of which being the snake plant Steve got you.

“What happened to the jungle?” Bucky asks, looking around shrewdly. You don’t like the sound of that. It feels so…probing, and raises your hackles. Why should he care?

“I wasn’t keeping them alive for very long.” You flick a yellowing leaf and keep your tone light. “I just got tired of it. What are…what are you doing here?”

You don’t look at Steve, but he clears his throat and his tone is similar to Bucky’s when he asks, “Is now a bad time?”

“For what?” You square your shoulders and face them. Like an adult. Like an adult who had two other adults just sort of crash into their life one day and start sharing space until such time as the two window-crashers decided they…didn’t need to come around anymore. “I’m happy you both found each other. You didn’t have to come back.”

Steve looks…well, he looks hurt. You don’t know any other way to describe it; it doesn’t show in his face so much as in his eyes, in the feeling you get watching the line of his shoulders lower. But before he can say anything, before you can explain yourself, Bucky speaks up.

“It isn’t like that,” he says.

You look down. It’s easier than looking at a man who feels rejected, and a man who has you completely pegged.

“What?” Steve asks.

“It’s okay,” you say, in perhaps the biggest bald-faced lie you’ve ever told.

“That’s not– no,” Bucky insists and lifts your chin. His fingers are warm and gentle and linger too long.

You pull back from his touch before you can embarrass yourself further. “You guys were literally circling each other.”

“Please.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to keep coming back here to be near Steve. I know where he lives.”

“And I leave my window unlocked,” Steve says. He aims a cheeky grin at Bucky and adds, “Guess I should have left it open though.”

“Shut up,” Bucky tells him but looks at you and says, “Point is: we weren't using you.”

Steve blinks. “Oh– no, of course not!”

“It’s all right,” you say, trying as hard as you can to assuage their discomfort even though you can’t put much into it. Even though you did very much want this meeting to happen, somehow you don’t feel very ‘all right.’

“No,” Bucky says and takes your hand in his. The flesh hand, which he runs up to the middle of your forearm. His touch is gentle and light, even when he grips. You can break away, but you don’t– you let him pull you in, close and closer, until there’s barely any room between you.

Steve crowds from the side and puts one arm behind Bucky, and one arm behind you. “If you only think we’re here because of each other, then it’s not all right,” he says softly.

“I know it isn’t– I know you weren't ‘using’ m–” You swallow hard. “And I know it’s not–”

They both swoop in for a kiss– for a kiss with you. Somehow they avoid bumping heads and the lip-lip-lip contact is barely there, with Steve at the corner and Bucky barely catching one side of your upper lip, but they're both there for a glorious moment that leaves you stunned.

“Oh…” you say, dumbly. You try to fight it, but a smile pulls at your lips. “Oh.”

“That good already, huh?” Steve asks quietly, slowly forming a small smile of his own.

You let out a little sigh that is immediately undermined by an uncontrollable laugh that swells from a bubble of relief at the base of your throat. “Bucky’s right, you are insufferable,” you say but you reach out to sweep your fingers in a gentle touch down Steve’s cheek and under his chin.

“You get used to it,” Bucky says.

You think about that. Even with how you’ve been, entertaining these two rotating planets over the last however many weeks or months, this would be an entirely new normal.

You think you can’t wait to get used to it.

[overthinkingfandom]

Cards on the Table - Breaking down the tactics in L'manburg Independence

/rp /dsmp

Much has been said in the fandom about L'manburg's independence. It is, after all, arguably the most important moment in DSMP's history, as the rest of the story wouldn't have existed without it. 

In light of the recent anniversary of it, yes I know I’m late, I wanted to throw my hat in the ring and add something to the discussion surrounding it. However, as the morality of the situation has been discussed to death I'll be taking a slightly different approach to it. 

Due to the nature of the DSMP's medium, the story has many unique quirks. One of those quirks is how realistic the tactics used in the story's portrayal of politics are. The independence conflict is a great example of it. While on the surface things seem to be rather simplistic in nature, there's a lot more going on that’s less obvious.

Both Wilbur and Dream are brilliant politicians who get to show both their strengths and weaknesses in dealing with an equally skilled opponent in this encounter. There’s actually quite a bit to go into, despite their interactions being so short.

When most people think about the L'manburg's independence, they think about the moment the declaration has been written up and the subsequent declaration of war. While this moment is certainly iconic, it's not really all that impactful in the grand scheme of things. Both declarations are the culmination of decisions that have been made beforehand. It's the moment when those decisions were made that really influenced things.

Conveniently, Wilbur and Dream only hold a single conversation about L'manburg before the declarations are drawn up, so we don’t need to look far in order to figure out where those decisions were formed. 

Wilbur has been working on L’manburg, collecting materials and building the wall surrounding it, for almost an hour when he spots Dream lurking. “Get [Dream] into the VC, I need to talk with him. He’s the leader of the other nation, I think we need to have a congress.” (52:44)

Dream: “Hello?”

Wilbur: “Hello Dream. Welcome to our great nation of L’manburg.”

Dream: “L’manburg?”

Wilbur: “Yes. We are seceding from Dream SMP. This is our own server now. This area, just this part [between the walls of L’manburg], is our server.”

Wilbur doesn’t waste any time before getting right down to business and talking about the matter at hand. However, the way he speaks about it here and in the rest of the conversation is fairly interesting. Wilbur is talking about L’manburg as if it’s something which already exists. They are seceding. This is their land. This conversation is merely a courtesy to give Dream a formal notice of their separation.

Yet, a bit later Wilbur shows he knows they need Dream’s acknowledgement in order for L’manburg to be its own entity. Independence is not a concrete thing that can just be taken or created on one person’s whim, after all. It only exists when the people with power agree it exists. 

Wilbur: “Dream, basically all we want from you is just acknowledgement that we are an independent nation now. That’s all we need.” (56:20)

So if Wilbur knows they aren’t independent yet, why is he talking like that? 

It’s because he’s using a salesman technique called an Assumptive Close. Instead of posing it as a question and putting the choice of agreeing or disagreeing in Dream’s hands, Wilbur acts as if it’s already true and leaves the burden of challenging his claims on Dream’s shoulders. He even moves on to ask secondary questions on how Dream feels about having embassies in his land (and notably he frames it as a question, unlike how he frames the topic of L’manburg’s independence) as if L’manburg is already a political entity. 

Wilbur: “Dream, I’ve got a proposition for you. How do you feel about having Tommy’s land being an embassy? Like it’s an enclave in your own land.” (59:01)

Wilbur’s use of this technique has an interesting side effect in that it signals to Dream Wilbur is taking a non-compromising position in this negotiation. In essence saying “L’manburg is independent, take it or leave it.” 

A non-compromising position is the game theory term for when someone goes, "I'm going to do that, this is going to happen and nothing can dissuade me from this course of action." It's a strong tactic which forces everyone to react to that person's position, reducing the others' options into a binary of either accepting that position or rejecting it. 

This is a very common tactic and various manifestations of it can be seen all over history and media. From Martin Luther who refused to recant or compromise with his famous words of “Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise” to groups who cultivate a "with us or against us" mentality to heroic characters who say they would die before giving in to whatever Evil the story focuses on.

This is the situation Dream is facing here. He can either accept Wilbur's assertion that L'manburg is an independent entity by either encouraging them or even doing nothing, or he can reject Wilbur's assertion by acting against it.

As we all know, he ended up choosing the second option but what were his considerations for doing so?

For that we would need to know what his goal was here, something we don't really get a sense of from his conversation with Wilbur. However, he ends up stating what it was in a later conversation with Skeppy. 

(Emphasis added by me and wasn’t part of the original dialogue.)

“Everyone can build wherever they want. [L’manburg] just decided to say that they get to determine where they can build and we can’t and we said well no, you can’t do that. And that’s what the whole war was over.” (31:44)

“[L’manburg] can’t tell us that we can’t go in their land. That’s all we wanted to say. That they’re not independent, they are a part of the Dream Team SMP. They’re just a delusional, small part." (34:26)

Dream lies a lot, so just because he says something doesn't mean it's necessarily true. However, this seems to be genuine. Dream has no problem telling Skeppy “we burned down their houses and blew up the whole land.” (32:36) later on in the conversation, so we can rule out that he's trying to paint himself in a better light, and there aren't really any other reasons for him to lie to Skeppy here about this. 

When looking at Dream's options with his goal we can see the choice is pretty much a no-brainer. 

Accepting is a total lose scenario for him. Not only will it fail to fulfill his goals, it would actively encourage the sort of behavior he doesn't want to happen, as Wilbur would set a precedent that so long as someone insisted hard enough and implied Dream is a bad person he would fold in negotiations and give them what they want.

Rejecting gets him far closer to his goal of railing against L’manburg’s exclusion. Going to war means he has to invest much more effort and resources into his reaction than if he just accepted as well as deal with the risks any war has, however the sheer difference in ability between Dream's side and Wilbur's side make the risk minimal. 

Going to a war he’s pretty sure he can win VS encouraging the sort of thing he disapproves of, isn’t really a hard choice.

This is actually the result of a mistake on Wilbur's part. CC!Wilbur called his character naive (37:49) and he's not wrong. Wilbur has a tendency to act as he wishes and not take into account that people might disagree or retaliate. We see it with him saying they could just ignore the Americans (1:51:17) or during the elections when he told Quackity his scheme and got blindsided by Quackity deciding to run against him. 

Historically, non-compromising positions worked best when the person who used it made sure rejection would be more costly than acceptance in one way or the other. In essence, narrowing down the options for others even more and leaving them only with acceptance. 

Wilbur may have managed to wipe off the table all other options and put pressure on Dream to accept with his use of Assumptive Close, but he didn't do anything to prevent Dream from rejecting. In fact, it seems like Wilbur didn't even consider it as a valid possibility as he outright dismissed it when Dream brought it up as an option.

Dream: “What happens if the rest of the server decides to take over your land?”

Wilbur: “They can’t. It’s literally not how servers- Dream you’re supposed to be smart man, that’s not how servers work. You can’t just take over another person’s server.” (54:33)

But, you may be asking, if it was better for Dream to go to war against L'manburg rather than grant them independence, why did he end up giving into their desire for independence in the war? Wouldn't it have been better if he just saved everyone the trouble and gave it to them when they asked for it the first time? Or maybe Dream’s obsession with Tommy and his discs is just that strong?

We can find the answer to all those questions at Punz’ video where he shows the behind the scenes of the independence war, including some of the planning which went into it from the Dream Team’s side of the war. Specifically, this quote:

Dream: “[The L’manburgians] are never gonna give up. So then in the end the resolution will probably just be, we won but they can think whatever they want, we’re just going to ignore them because they’re essentially like- You want to think you’re independent? You’re not, you’re still part of the SMP, but if you want to think you’re independent, you can.” (9:04)

“They’re never gonna give up.”

Whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter, as this is what Dream thinks and so this is what dictates his actions. Perhaps he’s overestimating his opponents here, or maybe he’s talking about how even if L’manburg is defeated this time they would try again for independence in the future. In either case, it’s clear Dream thinks the best case scenario for him - completely preventing people from fighting for L'manburg's independence - is impossible. 

So, he tries for the second best case. If he can’t prevent L’manburg, he’s going to allow it but only under Dream’s terms. That’s what his “they can think whatever they want” line is all about. He intends on giving them token independence here, something which would satisfy them but wouldn't pose a real threat. Which is exactly what he ends up offering them during the bow duel.

Dream: “Let me just clarify: if you win, we grant L’Manburg independence.”

Tommy: “Alright.”

Dream: “But we recognize it still as a part of the Dream Team SMP.”

Wilbur: “That’s fine, that’s a fine condition.” (40:54)

The token independence thing didn’t work out so well for him. L'manburg quickly grew to be seen as an entity separate from Greater Dream SMP by everyone, and so Dream was forced to concede and treat it as one as well. 

However, despite this part of his plan failing, overall the independence war was a glowing success for Dream. 

By giving L'manburg independence after winning the war, Dream sent a very clear message. L'manburg only gets to be independent so long as they stay on Dream's good side. If they don't adhere to the terms Dream sets out for them? He can and will kick their asses, as the war so aptly demonstrated.

This message is received loud and clear. During his entire presidency Wilbur went out of his way to treat Dream with respect and try not to piss him off. Something he clearly demonstrates a number of times, like when he asked if he should call Dream “king Dream” (59:08) or during the railway skirmish (24:16).

In fact, it can be argued that this message lasted all the way up to Tubbo's presidency. Unlike Quackity, who was perfectly fine with starting a fight with Dream, Tubbo knew first hand what a war against Dream looks like. He knew that they could not win a war against him, especially in their weakened state at the time, and that influenced his decision. 

As Dream once said: "L'manburg can be independent but it can't be free."

[communistkenobi]

just before I respond I want to put this post in context, which is that it’s part of a running commentary/liveblog of her work that I’m doing as I read through it. I’m still reading Whipping Girl and anticipate that she will be discussing these things more in depth. Second, I’m pretty sympathetic to Serano and like her work a lot, so I’m coming from the perspective of someone who wants to take her arguments seriously and understand how best to mobilise them politically (ie, to be used as an intellectual framework for trans liberation). 

One: I called it centrism intentionally because I think giving any ground to biological conceptions of gender, even in a trans-inclusive capacity, is a dead-end inherently and a bad compromise. I essentially agree with Butler on this, that gender is social all the way down, meaning that I do not believe there is any synthesis to be had with the social v biological debate. I believe gender is historically contingent (ie, subject to change throughout history) and based on material forces (ie, gender as a central building block of the the nuclear family, which is the base unit of capitalistic societies - reproductive and productive labour, the rearing of children, the partitioning of the private domestic realm with the public labour realm, etc are not based on biological truths about human beings but rather a technology of control that is reinforced through legal and political structures, the built environment, and prevailing social attitudes). I’m willing to concede the “biology” of people only insofar as to make the claim that human beings vary across populations and respond differently to social forces. So, when exposed to gendered social forces, people will have varying levels of acceptance or resistance to these forces. This produces not only trans people, but gender non-conforming people, people who are cis but reject the gendered roles ascribed to them, fully content cisgendered people, and so on. This explanation does not require the existence of a “subconscious sex” “a trans gene” or whatever else, just as one person wanting to be a librarian and another person wanting to be a career musician does not require “a reading/art gene” or a subconscious, pre-social desire for specific forms of labour

You could say that the added dimension isn't necessary, of course, but I think there's a pretty large number of trans people whose experiences don't entirely fit with the social constructionist framework, who mostly just try to fit it as best they can and deal with the cognitive dissonance otherwise.

I think this is a somewhat conspiratorial claim to make. The view that gender is purely social has very little political and cultural purchase in North America (the context of this book), and it is not the model that most trans people have to fit to be viewed as legitimate. I do not think there are masses of trans people who disagree with the social model but have to keep quiet and “deal with the cognitive dissonance” just to please others, because the social model of gender has, as I said, very minimal power in society. Transmedicalism is the hegemonic model of trans identity - our access to hormones, surgery, name and gender marker changes, all of which mediate our access to healthcare, employment, and housing all hinge on a psychiatric diagnosis of gender identity disorder (or most recently, gender dysphoria), and doctors evaluate our “need” for HRT or surgery based on either lifelong dysphoria (“ever since I was a child I wanted to be a girl”) or long-term dysphoria (“I’ve felt this way for years and no matter how hard I try to suppress it, it won’t go away”). If you want medical help transitioning, if you want to change your name and gender marker so you aren’t outted to your landlord, bank, school, and boss, you are forced into a transmedicalist framework. This medical conception of gender is founded on the biological authority conferred upon genitals, chromosomes, secondary sex characteristics, etc., which are seen as the default, which “naturally” indicate binary gender. Trans people are forced to navigate a medical apparatus that views us as deviations from the norm, as people who need to “correct” our sex to either male or female, as people who are only legitimate and recognised as “real” trans people once we undergo HRT and surgery. The concept of “passing” gets to the idea that we need to mimic cisgender conceptions of gender to such a degree that we “pass” as cis. I would like to live in a world where that isn’t a requirement to be seen as our gender, to be respected as full human beings regardless of our gender, and to live in such a world means destroying biological conceptions of gender.

On your second point, primarily I would say that we as a community cannot base our core understanding of gender on what we think is most politically advantageous when interacting with our enemies.

This is not a claim I’m making! I am a communist, I believe a scientific understanding of gender is fully realisable - it’s just that the discipline of biology is not equipped to give us the epistemic tools to reach that understanding. The only reason biology is an eternal part of this conversation is because cis people keep insisting that they are biologically real and we are not - we are all, always and at every moment, responding to the rhetorical framework of our political enemies. And secondly, as I said above, reactionaries are not talking about biology when they talk about gender, meaning we do not have to listen to them or justify ourselves on the basis of biology. Trans people are not “biologically real” because gender itself is not “biologically real,” it is socially produced and mediated.

I think your main argument here comes from the notion that Serano's framework is an attempt at appeasement toward transphobes, which it just isn't, so I'm not going to comment much on it.

I would say my position is that deference to biology in discussions of gender are assimilationist compromises, because any conception of gender that uses biology as a basis of legitimacy is inherently assimilationist. I do not think she is attempting to intentionally appease transphobes, but I think a lot of trans people (very understandably!) want to respond to claims of our biological illegitimacy with a counter-claim about how we are, in fact, biologically real. Which again, I do not think is useful. We do not have to let cis people control this conversation, we can eschew biology entirely and come to understand gender beyond it.

You use them to get a foot in the door and then pry it open for everyone else. So when the social constructionist framework has trouble accounting for their experiences and tries to sweep them under the rug, I think it's not only cruel, it's actively harmful to the broader movement.

Epistemic frameworks presuppose political solutions, by which I mean, the way we conceive of a problem (ie, how do we define gender?) informs how we go about solving it. If we think of homelessness as an “addiction problem” for example, the solutions that flow from that are to further restrict and criminalise drugs, or to open safe use centres, or to institutionalise homeless people who use drugs in order to “cure them” of their “mental illness.” All of these solutions remain in the realm of “what to do about drugs” and do not address the underlying social causes of homelessness, which is that access to housing is reliant on having access to money. Unemployment, disability, abuse in the home, evictions, rent increases, etc - these are not accounted for in the “addiction” model of homelessness, which means that conceiving of homelessness as an addiction problem will never ever solve the problem of people being violently unhoused.

Likewise, a biological conception of gender means that proof of our transgenderism hinges on biological evidence of transness, be that a psychiatric diagnosis, the idea that trans people have “the opposite brain” of their assigned gender, the idea that all trans people want to pursue HRT and surgery to go from one binary sex to the other, that we were “born in the wrong body,” etc. This is the current state of affairs, and produces untold amounts of violence, because our identity is being decided by doctors and psychologists, whose expertise is enclosed by incredibly expensive post-secondary education and the authority of the institutions to which they belong.

So I do not think that the social model of gender “sweeps people under the rug” because the social model is a response to transmedicalism, which is the current mechanism of medical and psychiatric violence, social exclusion, and social murder of trans people who fail to prove they are the gender they say they are in the doctor’s office, in interviews, to their landlords, to their friends and family, etc. And finally, even if that is the case, I am not overly concerned with the feelings of transmeds who feel threatened or left out by the idea that gender is socially produced as opposed to some biological essence within us, because their conception of gender is already the dominant, mainstream conception of gender.

I do not believe Serano is like, a radfem or transphobe or gender essentialist. Her work is very insightful and interesting, but I think any conception of gender as partially biological (even in an explicitly trans-inclusive framework) is a political concession to our enemies, and buys into the idea that when reactionaries and liberals alike talk about “biology” “the transgender brain” and so on, that these people are actually making actual biological claims or taking biology seriously, that gender has to be discoverable on biological grounds, and that we must be beholden to medical institutions in order to be taken seriously as human beings.

in Whipping Girl, Serano grapples with "nature vs nurture" "biology vs society" and so on, and she seems to fall into a sort of centrism where both models are wrong (or rather, only partially correct). her argument is that on the one hand, gender is very obviously socially mediated and (re)produced, and on the other, there is something within people that precedes the social and determines our comfort level with the gender roles we must perform in our lives - she calls this subconscious sex, this thing that everyone has, including cis people, but in trans people it produces this feeling that we are not living our gendered life correctly, that there is some disconnect deep down, that our assigned gender is dissatisfying in some intangible way that can only be resolved via transition. and this subconscious sex is maybe biological or maybe psychological, but it's something that can remain unmoved by the gendered social pressures we are forced to navigate, and therefore there is something "true," or at least compelling, about a partially biological conception of gender. It's not classical gender essentialism but rather a retraction of the essential element of gender away from our genitals and into our brains.

and i find this nature vs nurture dichotomy she explores extremely frustrating. first, for the obvious fact that it assumes a very limited experience set for trans people (a lifelong struggle with gender dysphoria that begins in childhood and culminates in a binarist transition from "one sex to the other"). this model is correct for some people, but it is also the model that medical and psychiatric institutions rely on when "diagnosing" us as "real" transgender people, excluding the possibility of exiting the binary altogether, of rejecting it outright, or of even experiencing the binary in different ways.

two, I don't actually think gender essentialists are making biological claims about sex and gender when they talk about the inherent differences between men and women, because the scientific consensus on the biological components of sex are far more complex than genitals = gender, a fact that has no bearing on reactionary beliefs about gender and sex. Gender essentialists are making political claims using the rhetoric of the biological, the natural. These people have political platforms and goals that are not even remotely restricted to the realm of biology - gender segregated bathrooms and change rooms as well as sports and competitive games, banning transition care for trans people, the violent enforcement of patriarchal & white supremacist western gender norms, the attendant political beliefs about the criminalization of sex work, and frequently, the banning of abortion - these are claims about the built environment, about entertainment & play, about medical care, about labour, about law and the role of the state in producing gender. What is "biological" to transphobes & homophobes is what is natural and unchanging, but paradoxically must also be violently imposed upon people in every sphere of their life in order to be maintained. You see conservatives do this all the time - they talk about natural law, about the rule of man, "survival of the fittest" being used to gleefully explain social murder, "natural differences in men and women", biological claims about racial superiority, and so on. These are not biological claims because these claims do not bear out empirically, they are claims using the authority of tradition cloaked in the authority of biology. "It's always been this way" is not about biology, it is a call to return to a mythical past, a past closer to the imagined "natural state" of human beings prior to the intrusion of "society" and its attendant degenerate tendencies that corrupt "pure" human beings (almost invariably articulated as antisemitic conspiracies about who "orchestrates" this societal degeneracy). They use biological rhetoric because of the supposed apolitical, objective, empirical nature of the natural sciences - they refer not to the epistemic discipline of biology but to the claim of objective authority conferred upon biology. biology cannot be countered with the social because it is outside the social. "facts don't care about your feelings" is a dead meme phrase by this point, but it is probably the perfect distillation of these peoples' worldviews. They are correct not because their beliefs are empirically proven, but because their beliefs provide a rationalisation for the world they want to build. It is the modern version of the divine right of kings. There is nothing "biological" about any of these discussions other than the fact that they argue about how human bodies can or should be used - which, if that's our standard for biological, then everything is biological.

Are trans people biologically their gender? I think we need to reject the premise of this question. It is conceding too much ground; it pivots the discussion to "proving" transness in laboratories, to arguing about our genitals or our chromosomes instead of health care or housing or labour or public space. It accepts as valid the rhetorical sleight of hand that bigots do where they mean "unchangeable" when they say "biological" - something that nobody believes anyway unless you want to also object to like, the sterilization of medical equipment or heart surgery. We circumvent and alter biology every day. Reactionaries do not care about biology even a little bit and we do not need to humour them by pretending otherwise. We have scientific understandings of gender that do not adopt a biological lens because that lens is unequipped to deal with what is going on in front of us.

I'm sympathetic to Serano's desire to locate an origin for the dysphoria a lot of trans people feel, particularly because it allows us to more easily justify our existence. I'm also sympathetic to the fact that when she wrote this book, the public discourse on trans people was very different from what it is today; she's not even close to the first person to engage with this nature v nurture debate because it's the debate all trans people are at some point forced to reckon with. but ultimately I think this conception of transness is both politically a non-starter and a concession to our enemies that we do not need to give

[astro211]

Developed vs. Underdeveloped traits

Take this with grain of salt. Its not a full list just small descriptions (mostly for fun) Use Sun  Moon  or Rising.

LIBRA

Developed: They are diplomatic and charming people. They can stand on their own and aren’t scared to disagree with someone, because they know how to do so in a respectful manner, and if that person has an issue with it, its okay because libra knows it’s not their problem to fix. They are be polite but more authentic. Certainly the type you can take home to momma. They can create a true balance between things/people. They easily see things from another’s perspective and are great at collaborating with people. They are wonderfully creative and use their creative and romantic abilities to create beautiful connections with other individuals. Low-key mind readers.

Underdeveloped: Can be way too concerned with finding someone to love/having someone love them. They can be dependent and as a result sacrifice authenticity for company. They don’t create real bonds because they may be too agreeable and lack an opinion becoming a mirror of the person/people they are with. They can struggle with the unfairness of the world. They can be shallow, flirtatious and flakey. struggle with being a door-matt. Lack backbone. They say things they think you want to hear. They deeply fear confrontation and are very avoidant and it can create a bad rep. Generally they may be basic and sooo corny. 

SCORPIO

Developed: Fiercely intelligent and their intuition is like a superpower. They can’t be fooled or its not an easy task. They are able to let things go and welcome the changes that come. They transform into something greater. The Phoenix is often referred to with scorpio/pluto. They have a need to change and transform, so they satisfy this by burning away the useless parts of themselves ~even if it’s most of them~ then they are reborn into what is greater and stronger than before. They can get to the root of things and can make for wonderful artists. They know their power (and boy do they have power) and wield it wisely. Charming babes, very perceptive and don’t have time for BS so they keep it real. 

Underdeveloped: Emo babies. They can be way too edgy and people may have to constantly tip toe around them otherwise risking being attacked. This is because underdeveloped scorpio placements can be paranoid, hypersensitive and perceive anything as a personal attack. They don’t know how to deal with the depths of their emotions, resulting in a hypersensitive edge lord that probably can’t handle any sort of lighthearted joke. They perhaps have yet to chop away at the no longer useful parts of themselves and this can result in a self-destructive nature. I predict a tendency towards the ‘fuck it’ mindset which ultimately fucks them over. Intense but in a manner that pushes people away.

SAGITTARIUS

Developed: Glorious sunshine babies who radiate pure joy and deserve to be beloved by all. (Im a sagittarius so I would know;) ). They are honest. They can see the truth for what it is. Even with the cruel realities of the world but they still remain joyful and optimistic. They know when/how to keep their mouths shut. They’re thoughtful and charming. They can see the bigger picture and how beautiful it is and they share that image with those around them, inspiring themselves and others to aim high. They bring up the moods of those around them. Funny and able to roll with the punches. They are fearless and focused. They work hard and their positive outlooks bring them good luck.

Underdeveloped: Blunt. Their honesty can be very misguided and it can create really awkward situations. They can be sooo laid back that they don’t even care about how they impact those around them or even what happens to themselves (similar to scorpios ‘fuck it’ I’ve seen this with both). They can be hotheaded and stubbornly preachy, insisting their way is the only and right way. They exaggerate often because they haven’t developed their inner storyteller. They procrastinate and escape any difficulties because they don’t know how to handle negativity in life. Their escapist nature can make them flakey. Not the best people to lean on because they’ll vanish esp. if they feel like there is too much responsibility on their shoulders.

CAPRICORN

Developed: These babies work hard and they kick ass! They have unstoppable self-care/ compassion for themselves. They don’t fear failure, instead they use it to their advantage and learn from it. They, like sagittarius, look to the future and can see whats possible and as a result they prepare and are very disciplined as they know hard work pays off. They evaluate people and things and easily can determine who and what is worth their time, and are disciplined about not wasting their time energy or resources. Once they decide someone/thing is worthy they are devoted. They are serious at times but its rooted in practicality. 

Underdeveloped: They can be stubborn and struggle to work well with others. Too prideful. They know what needs to be done and they don’t like the idea of other people getting in their way. They can be very cynical and this may skew their visions of the future, for their prepared nature is meant to help them but this may demotivate them instead if they are plagued by self-doubt. Their cold and bitchy when they shouldn’t be. They can be way to serious and constantly be putting a damper on things. Difficulty being open or vulnerable with anyone. They live life alone because its easier and safer than devoting yourself to someone who may stab you in the back and leave you bleeding in the cold. 

AQUARIUS

Developed: These guys are trend setters. Icons. They don’t need anybody’s approval. They change the world. They bring people together. Fearless when they fight for what they believe in. Nothing can hold them back, stares, words of discouragement; they know what they’re doing and not you nor anybody else can stop them. They’re very intelligent. Compassionate as hell and they really love hard. They are the masters of not giving a fuck. They are visionaries. Great leaders. They do their own thing and yeah they probably stand out and are very capable of influencing those around them. Authentic, cool and unforgettable. 

Underdeveloped: Lone wolf. Extreme in a manner that pushes people away. They have to stand out even if its for negative reasons. They distance themselves from other people. They’re too in their head and just observe instead of live. They might do whatever they can to blend in or people please. They want to be part of a group so much it stops them from being an individual OR they consistently keep people at arms length so they feel disconnected from people, and it fuels the idea they’re just too strange and unique for human connection. They may be very contradictory and confusing.

PISCES

developed: Confident, creative compassionate. These folks can create a whole new world and if you’re lucky you’ll be invited in. They have a healing nature/ their positive energy is intoxicating and brings people up. They take care of themselves; they extend their empathy towards themselves /past present future self/ which enables them to take care of themselves. i.e. forgiving past self to move forward// doing things now to help future self. Pisces high levels of sensitivity can make them rather magical. Fantastic artists. Big hearts.

Underdeveloped: Escapists. Cant handle the world, would rather eat, drink sleep, etc.  They isolate and dream but in a damaging way. The world drains them, perhaps because they have yet to emotionally figure out where they end and the world around them begins. They can take on a victim mentality. Lying is another poor energy this sign might lean into. Deception. Laziness. Hypersensitivity. They really need solid boundaries in order to flourish. sure, we all do but Pisces energy is particularly delicate to the energy around them so esp. for this sign.  Directionless and not fully present. 

Part 2

[phis-corner]

statue of ice

yes i am still updating this fic lmao

main masterlist ◈ maribat masterlist ◈ ao3 link

She only lasts a few weeks before caving and telling her brother that she’s Ladybug.

The Guardian – Fu is his name – was vehemently against revealing her identity again, already annoyed that she’d told Jason. Privately, Marinette thinks that Fu can “go fuck himself”, and maybe Jason would have said it out loud, but she does not.

Instead, she ignores his wishes and tells Tim anyway.

To his credit, her brother isn’t even surprised. He just quirks a smile during their scheduled video call and says in a light voice, “I guess it runs in the family, then, doesn’t it?”

Marinette is inclined to agree. After all, what are the odds that both of them ended up being protectors of two cities?

.o0o.

A week later, Tim calls her to confirm Marinette’s suspicions that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth.

“He’s slippery. Paid to have all the security cameras around his home removed, but I traced akuma sightings on social media and marked them on a map and what do you know, his house was right in the center of the circle. I also checked out the property. He literally has a butterfly window, Mari. Everything in his house is butterfly patterned. It checks out.”

“Thank you, Tim-Tam. I’ll take care of it from here,” Marinette says. Her mind is already working, forming a plan to take Gabriel down. Permanently.

It has to be public. The city wouldn’t believe it otherwise, and some are already accusing Ladybug and Chat Noir of creating the akumas themselves so that they can make themselves look good by defeating them.

Exposing Gabriel as Hawkmoth would cause the downfall of his company and result in the loss of thousands of jobs, but Audrey Bourgeois had a Parisian branch of Style Queen that was still fairly new and looking for employees, and she knows that Audrey would most likely hire all of Gabriel’s employees out of spite.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to help?” her brother asks. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

She knows. She wants so, so badly not to do it alone, to have her brother by her side as she faces down a magic user that could turn her into a puppet in the blink of an eye if she allowed herself to feel just a little bit too much, but she can’t bring him into this. Can’t bring anyone else into this. Tim already spends his nights stopping rapists and murderers and seeing all the horrors that Gotham has to offer. He doesn’t need to see what Paris throws at its people as well.

“It’s a miraculous matter, Tim-Tam,” Marinette says instead of voicing any of those thoughts. “Besides, bringing anyone else in puts them at risk of akumatization. It’s best to keep as few people involved as possible.”

“Okay then,” Tim responds, not fully managing to hide the disappointment and apprehension in his voice. “Good luck, Mari.”

The corners of her lips twitch upwards in a tiny smile. “I am the living embodiment of good luck, Tim-Tam. It will be alright.”

.o0o.

It is easy to poke and prod at Gabriel’s ego until he thoughtlessly lunges, crashing through his own window onto the street below when she dances out of his way.

Ladybug follows, dropping and rolling with a familiarity that comes from being forced to do that same motion countless times, and she toys with him, dodging, ducking, but never really attacking, until the news helicopters start circling overhead.

Chat Noir arrives just as she sweeps Gabriel’s legs out from underneath him, and he doesn’t quite manage to stifle his gasp of horror, all irritation at Ladybug for taking Hawkmoth down without him forgotten when he sees who is underneath the mask.

Ladybug may find Chat Noir (Adrien Agreste, she reminds herself,) a nuisance at best, but she is not heartless. She knows what it’s like, to want to believe that one’s parents are good people. She knows what it’s like when that illusion one tries so hard to maintain finally shatters, and it’s something that nobody deserves to experience.

Chat’s face hardens as Ladybug starts murmuring words in an ancient tongue underneath her breath, casting a spell on his father, who gave up the fight as soon as the butterfly was removed from his hands, to ensure that Gabriel will never be able to touch another miraculous again. He won’t be able to exist within three feet of one.

It’s a good thing she chooses that spell too, because it protects Gabriel from his son’s wrath.

As the authorities are cuffing his hands behind his back, something cold settles in Chat Noir’s eyes as he calls up a Cataclysm and lunges at his father, the clawed hand rippling with dark magic outstretched, ready to disintegrate a living, breathing human being.

Gabriel is yanked backward by an invisible force, pulled out of harm’s way, and Chat’s Cataclysm lands on a chunk of debris instead. The Black Cat is held back by his partner before he can try something else.

“Chat,” Ladybug hisses, as he struggles in her hold, still trying to go after his father, who is being put away into a police car. “It’s done. It’s over. He won’t hurt anyone ever again, and the justice system will deal with it.”

Chat Noir slowly starts to resist less and less at her words, and she takes that as a cue to continue. “It feels anticlimactic, and I know you want to do more. You think we should do more than just let them take him away, because you’ve been fighting on the front lines of this battle since the beginning. But our part is over. Our duty has been fulfilled. He won’t be acquitted, if that’s any consolation. There are mountains of evidence against him.”

Her partner turns around, suddenly, and buries his face into her shoulder as his body jerks with what she realizes are sobs. He’s crying,Ladybug realizes. He’s crying for his father. For who he thought his father was.

When was the last time she cried for one of her parents?

Ladybug reaches a hand up and awkwardly pats Chat Noir on the back for a moment before she spots the reporters.

“Let’s take this to our usual meeting spot,” she whispers to her partner, and he nods, composing himself in an instant. Janet would have liked Adrien, she thinks. Gabriel’s parenting style was evidently similar to how Marinette had grown up.

Five minutes later, they’re standing on the Eiffel Tower, overlooking the city they’d sacrificed so much to protect.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Chat Noir asks, turning to her. “This is the end? There’s no use for us anymore.”

Ladybug inhales slowly, taking in the view from above one last time and committing it to memory. Not that she needs to – her eidetic memory ensures that she’ll never forget. It’s for the sentiment, she supposes.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “We have to give them back now. Say goodbye to our kwamis.” She’ll miss Tikki’s company, she thinks, but not as much as she misses Jason’s. The kwami was sweet, yes, but she didn’t understand Marinette’s need to do something other than being Ladybug.

“Where do we even return them to?” Chat questions, and then she remembers that he’d never been told of the Guardian’s existence.

Ladybug unhooks her yoyo from her side, tossing it up and down one last time as she prepares to swing. “Follow me,” she says, and then she throws the yoyo and leaps off the side of the Tower.

.o0o.

Fu’s massage parlor is just as inconspicuous as ever, and somehow, no one is walking along the street when Ladybug and Chat Noir enter.

The Guardian has been expecting them – there are three cups of tea sitting on the table in front of him.

“Ladybug, Chat Noir, please sit,” he says in his wheezy voice. They oblige, but the tea remains untouched on the table.

“Chat Noir, it is time to return your miraculous,” Fu states, and the two of them stiffen, immediately picking out what’s wrong with that sentence.

“Why am I not included?” Ladybug inquires, her polite tone holding an undercurrent of danger. “There cannot be a Ladybug without a Black Cat.”

“Well, you see, you won’t be using the Ladybug,” the Guardian explains with a slightly condescending look on his face. “But there can only be one Guardian, and I’ve chosen you to be my successor.”

The sound of Ladybug’s palms slamming on the table makes the other two people in the room jump. “Absolutely not,” she declares as she stands up. “I did not agree to become the Guardian. This has never been discussed.”

Fu looks up at her with confused eyes. “But you became a candidate when you agreed to put on the earrings, and Chat Noir is simply not fit for the job.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Chat Noir wince, but he does not disagree.

“I put on the earrings because people were dying,” Ladybug growls. “Because this city needed something, someone, to look up to, and there was no other viable option. The Guardian is never in the light. They spend the rest of their extended lives hiding in the shadows to protect a box of magical jewelry. The Guardian is not a symbol of hope, because nobody knows the Guardian exists. I put on the earrings to be a symbol of hope, not because I wanted to, but because people needed one. The people don’t need one anymore, and I don’t want to continue doing this.”

“I was fighting a war, Fu,” she spits, furious words laced with venom. “I was fighting a war with one ally by my side and we were both children. Now that the war is over, I am no longer needed, so I am leaving. I want the shreds of innocence I had before this war back, but that is not possible, so I can at least try to move on from this instead. Let me move on.”

Without warning, she reaches up and carefully takes the earrings out of her ears. She would have loved to rip them off in one swift movement, but earrings were not that type of jewelry. The Ladybug suit disappears in a flash of pink, and then she is Marinette again, standing in a massage parlor with a pair of red-and-black earrings in her hand and two sets of wide eyes fixed on her.

“Marinette,” Chat Noir breathes. “Oh my god, I… I’m so sorry.”

Marinette drops the earrings on the table in front of them. “Are you sorry for being an ass, or just sorry because the person you convinced yourself you were in love with was an illusion?” she asks, not looking at anyone or anything in particular as she pivots on her heel and strides for the exit.

When she reaches the doorway, however, she pauses, eyes still fixed straight ahead of her. “Oh, and Adrien?” she calls, eliciting two identical noises of surprise. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. About your father, of course.”

Then she opens the door and walks through, never once looking back as she sees the city that once weighed so heavily on her shoulders from the ground looking up, instead of from above, gazing down.

.o0o.

She’d spent some time wondering how she was going to adjust to life in Paris after that, knowing what she knew about Adrien and Gabriel and what Adrien knew about her.

As it turns out, she only has to go through one week of feeling Adrien’s green eyes on her at every available moment in class and going out of her way to avoid him, because her mother dies.

It’s surprisingly anticlimactic.

Janet Drake was always such a formidable woman. Her mere presence in a room could make grown men cower. To Marinette, she seemed almost invincible – always superior to everyone else, untouchable as she lashed out with quick with and a sharp tongue and long nails digging into her children’s shoulders. If there were ever any cracks in Janet’s façade, if it even wasa façade, she’d never seen one.

And yet, in the end, it turned out that she wasn’t untouchable after all. She’d died because she drank poisoned water out of desperation, even as Batman was right there. Batman had arrived to save them, he had freed them from their bonds, and the first thing they did was drink water poisoned with nerve toxin. Jack had survived, though he was in a coma and paralyzed.

Janet did not.

And that was it. That was the end of a woman that had dominated Marinette’s life for so long, a woman whose voice still hissed and lingered in her mind, reminding her to sit still and be silent and never, ever let your emotions show on your face.

Tim – he’d never had that mindset thrust upon him as forcefully as she did. After all, Tim had a father that didn’t despise him for his gender. Jack took charge of molding the son, and so Tim is crying, when he tells her all of this. He thinks he’s being subtle, but she’s his sister. She knows better.

Marinette didn’t care for her mother much, but she supposes she could give the dead at least some modicum of respect.

So as she packs her bags and books the next available flight to Gotham City, Marinette honors her mother’s wishes and does not shed a single tear for Janet Lynn Drake.

statue of ice

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[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hey. I'm INFJ. I want to ask about relationship problems. The relationship in question is between my ESTJ mother and I. Generally, I would describe our relationship as close and loving, but there is a conflict, and that came from our opposite ideology and political beliefs.

I want to say before continuing that we are neither American or European, so our ideology and politics shouldn't be understood from the "western" side of things, though to simplify by comparison, my views could be described as leftist and my mother's as conservative. I should also add that I used to hold her worldview when I was younger, but changed once I was old enough to form an opinion of my own. This caused my mother to imply many times in our discussions that I am "brainwashed" and dismiss me as "too young" and "too ideological". I should add that the latter (ideological) is a valid criticism. Still working on that.

Otherwise, I often tried to persuade, then later find middle ground with her, to no avail. We ended up arguing many times, until we decided to not talk politics with each other anymore. So, what's the problem, you might ask.

Recently, the political climate in my country got intense. Heated, even. I won't go into details, but there are protests again the government by young liberals/leftists-equivalent of my country. Many of my good acquaintances joined the protest. The government used police force against them, and it got violent. There are young unarmed protestors who were teargassed, beaten, and shot with rubber bullets and high velocity water jets. Some protestors were heavily injured. Some protestors were arrested and incarcerated in horrible conditions. My mother and I agreed to not speak about politics, so I said nothing.

Until my mother, right infront of me, with another family member, openly mocked the protestors, made judgments about them based on the goverment's propaganda, called them a nuisance, and implied that they "deserved it". It's not about her discussing it, but it's about how unempathetic she was when she said those things, towards those young people my age, with similar ideology to me, and how apathetic she was when she said that "nothing's going to change anyway". It was the first time that I saw my mother in that angle, the complete lack of humanity in her words. It still haunts me until now.

So my question to you is, how does one deal with that? I love my mother, I think I always will. I also know that she loves me, or at least the part of me that's still her child. But for a moment, I loved her less, and that frightened me. I began to wonder, what would happen one day if we have to actually take sides, because things are getting worse in my country, not better. This adds to other issues I have in my life and made me more depressed. A part of me tells me that I should tell her about how I feel, but how do you tell someone you love that they're one of the reasons for your sadness?

I'm sorry if this is stupid. I'm sure that this feeling I have is one-sided, and I wonder if I'm being selfish or ungrateful. Maybe it's because I'm too sensitive these days, so I thought if I have an outside neutral opinion, it will help illuminate my clouded mind. Thank you. I hope you had a good summer break!

------------------------

The sentence that sticks out at me the most is: "It was the first time that I saw my mother in that angle, the complete lack of humanity in her words." I would argue that the problem doesn't lie with her. In fact, nothing about your mother had changed. She was still the same woman as before she uttered those words. The issue arises from your perception of her and the standards by which you evaluate her.

I follow world affairs very closely, so I think I know which region you are speaking of. One of the biggest problems in the manner that people think and talk about politics is the tendency to stereotype. Stereotyping is basically a form of cognitive oversimplification. It makes your thinking ability fast but also very dull and blunt, unable to understand situations with the nuance and sophistication that is required for good judgment and decision making.

It doesn't matter which country/culture you are from, there is always some variation of "right versus left". Why? Because in every society, there will always exist an underlying tension between those who don't want change and those who do. You may label these two opposing forces as right vs left, conservative vs liberal, regressive vs progressive, etc, but the fact of the matter is that these labels are gross oversimplifications of people's political belief systems.

When you divide people along an oversimplified dichotomy, it's too easy to stereotype them, in terms of believing that all people on each "side" hold all the same beliefs and values. Stereotyping goes along with the natural tendency of humans to be tribal. You start to view those on your side as being intellectually and morally superior to those on the other side. This leads to dehumanization and even demonization of the other side. In essence, you lose the ability to empathize with people, as long as you believe that they aren't on your side or the "right" side.

It seems that your political thinking has become too stark due to how extreme the situation has become. You have the feeling of fighting for your life because of the way that the situation has been handled by authorities, as they are indeed putting people's lives in danger. Your feelings about the situation are completely valid. But you fail to recognize that your mom's feelings about the situation are also valid. Certainly, there are hard-core fundamentalists and extremists out there that you can never reach because their beliefs and values are not based in any form of reason. However, I don't think your mom fits into that category, does she?

Do you know what it means to have no humanity? You are accusing her of something like psychopathy. Is that really true of her? I don't think so. She said: "nothing's going to change anyway". I don't consider this an expression of "apathy", as you assume. This is an expression of hopelessness. In that sentence, there is a real possibility that your mom is sympathetic at heart, but she disagrees that the chaotic actions of the protestors (i.e. the method) will lead to any meaningful change... and she may be absolutely right about that.

You haven't grasped the nuances of your mom's beliefs and values because your mindset has been so hardened by the extreme nature of the political conflict. This means that, when you engage in political discussion with her, you are unable to: 1) acknowledge how she feels, 2) acknowledge that there is some reason/merit/validity behind her beliefs, and 3) be open-minded enough to meet her halfway.

Put another way: If you met someone who wouldn't acknowledge your feelings as valid, dismissed all of your beliefs and values as completely wrong without proper investigation, and only sought to "convert" you, would you want to communicate with them? Probably not. This is the unproductive attitude that you now both bring to the table. This is the divisive attitude that arises when a conflict becomes too polarized and everyone is forced to "choose a side".

Unless one of you learns to listen and communicate more effectively, what will change? You say that you have tried to find middle ground with her but always end up arguing. Not finding middle ground is one thing, but getting caught up in interpersonal drama is a whole other thing. The option to amicably agree to disagree is always available. If you genuinely respect someone and respect their freedom to form their own beliefs, it shouldn't be hard to agree to disagree. Why do you find it so difficult to let her be her? Ultimately, you're not really interested in "middle ground"? You just want her agreement? Getting caught up in arguments all the time, especially on a recurring basis, indicates poor communication skills that stem from a troubling lack of objectivity. The more you argue with the intent to shame/change the other person, the more you push them away from your side, and the more myopic you get in your own beliefs.

You seem to have fallen into the trap of categorizing her into the tribe that you view as the enemy of your tribe, namely, the authorities that are cracking down on you young protestors. You've started to view her as the enemy, now you can't empathize with her, and even accuse her of having no humanity. You now consider yourself morally superior to her. If there is any possibility that she could be your ally, you've slammed the door on it.

You describe a very dire and desperate political situation that affects everyone, BUT, it doesn't affect everyone the same way. Different people have very different ways of dealing with intense emotions like fear, insecurity, grief, despair, helplessness, etc. Due to inferior Fi, ESTJs have extremely low tolerance for intense and uncontrollable emotions. Remember that one's ability to utilize the inferior function is not much better than a young child. If ESTJs can't neutralize or deflect their sense of powerlessness quickly, the burden of the emotions will quickly destroy them. I don't think you've really understood the thought process behind your mom's words and what is really motivating her "apathy".

Just because someone doesn't agree with your methods, doesn't mean that they don't have anything in common with you. Politics isn't just about good vs evil, as in, if you don't stand up for good, then you are evil. Everyone has their own way of looking at the situation because everyone has their own interests to take care of first and foremost, and everyone has their own ideas about the best methods to pursue. This is true for both you and your mom. It is possible to agree on beliefs but disagree on methods. For example, I'm assuming that you care about this cause so deeply because you care about your future. Sure, your ideas about the future differ from hers. But, certainly, you are both interested in securing your future, aren't you?

History has shown us that young people are always more willing to fight for causes because: 1) they would suffer less immediate material loss than the elder generation, 2) they have fewer life responsibilities, obligations, and commitments to take into consideration, and 3) their lack of life experience sometimes makes their thinking too simplistic when visualizing future implications.

Your interests aren't fully aligned with your mom's in this situation, perhaps because you are from different generations. However, this doesn't mean that your interests don't align in other important ways. At the end of the day, your mom is probably deathly afraid of seeing YOU on the news being beaten to a pulp and disappeared by the police, right? And it may be the case that she's passing harsh judgment on the protestors because she's trying to discourage you from meeting their horrible fate? That's hardly lack of humanity.

To be a good critical thinker, you need to learn to be more objective. Objectivity means understanding all aspects of the situation, or as many as you can manage. Objectivity and empathy often go hand-in-hand. You won't be able to empathize well unless you acknowledge that there might be some aspects of the situation that you're not seeing or understanding. When you take more time to get to the bottom of someone's thought process and why they really feel the way they do, you will discover all sorts of openings to influence their political beliefs in a friendly way. But when you can't even acknowledge that the other side might have an important point to be made, because you are so hardened in your stance, you've created a dead end for yourself.