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lilsnowpea93 · 2 months

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Essay time: I can pinpoint exactly why I’m frustrated w capitalism and this current system of how we work in the US. I’ve figured out my place in the world right, I figured out what my “work I should be doing” is (if that’s even necessary morally). But I’ve found the closest things to a typical capital earning career, things that I’m uniquely good at and have “something to offer society” (again just appeasing capitalists w this speak, I’m explaining how the system doesn’t work for some ppl who should be included in society actively doing their thing.) Ok so my shit is like, I do graphic design for friends, we make things. I also make affordable sliding scale art. I make music and encourage ppl to stream/download it for free. I make content online sometimes (way more of a hobby), and I also sell miniature skateboard decks for very affordable prices, or bartering. To summarize, I’m a creative person making stuff that handfuls of people enjoy. That is enough for me, I don’t care about popularity (now that I have other income thank you) and I just want to make neat things and be mentally and physically healthy. Not too much to ask you’d think. NOW, to make this all fit into the capitalist system we are in.. We can spitball, I would have to have so many design projects, from multiple wealthy clients. Or I would also have to somehow get lucky enough to become a somewhat recognized musician and/or artist. Maybe I would become a real content creator. Or I would make my hand crafted items full time. Probably a layering of constant monetary successes in these fields would have to happen for a livable income.

So let’s investigate my specific case. 1. my design caters to liiike, skaters, small brands, etc. You can’t invalidate those niches, they have influence on overall design and are where cool shit sometimes happens. So small doesnt equal bad, most of the time. But small DOES equal not having much money to spread around. 2. Getting famous from art or music is so bad. Trying to do it looks cringey, actually doing it probably sucks so much. Not caring about return is so much fuckinnnggg better !!! I cannot express this enough. U make better stuff. Maybe if u want to be creative, just making it and being proud of it should be the baseline, at least for me. And if a few friends like it, even better. There’s nothing wrong with aiming big I guess but, s2g if there was a way to know the likelihood of that shit, it’d be like wild disproportional. Fuck outta here with that “temporarily embarrassed millionaire” bs. And for me my art/music is kind of specifically me on purpose like I’m gonna do my thing and no one has to like it because I didn’t make it to be like other things or be palatable in a way we contemporarily think of as normal. 3. The content I make online is organic. It’s mainly centered around filmed skateboard tricks. I hope it’s entertaining, I try my best to come up with ones that I feel like doing and that not many people have seen before. I want to add to peoples inspiration when they’re choosing what tricks they want to try. Thinking up rare tricks isn’t something you can just “content” pump out, that would be so weird lol. Like ew being a content creator at shit ruins everything. It wouldn’t even be feasible to make money at that nuh uh. I did try YouTube art vlogs for a year or two but nahhh 4. Bruh do u know how many mini skateboards I’d have to make to equal even half a “normal” jobs pay? They take like an hour or two each no that’s not feasible. Especially the way I make them, more organic and less templates/fancy power tools. I prefer the result that way, it’s harder to get right and takes more time but it’s a skill I have and there’s an art to it so frick offff.

Ok having explained all that- I do believe what I do is a positive force in the communities I’m part of irl and online. I know for a fact that people interact with what I make and are happier because of it. That is very fulfilling. I make things to make them, typically, but that is a huge added bonus, and reason for living frankly.

U may also recognize the thread of affordability or free-ness that runs through everything I like to do. People don’t have random money for buying stuff that’s not for basic survival needs rn. Especially my friends. This is just realistic, like no one’s gonna buy my art if it’s over $50. They can’t afford it, hell I wouldn’t be able to afford it. I used to stress over this, now that I have a steady job I could care less. I’ll give things away for free idc. Cuz good creativity is worth so much and nothing simultaneously I guess lol.

Now, viewing all this from the American capitalist workforce etc perspective: all of these activities are difficult. I put a so much time and effort into each one. I’m kind of a perfectionist and I have very specific tastes. Not to say all my work is good or perfect, but just saying that typically I super care. So I’m passionate about my hard work that I do. A small but not insignificant number of people enjoy the work I put out. However, it does not make barely any income (not my motivation to do my life’s purpose lmao I just do the things I’m good at and like). SO, does that insignificant income part then mean that, I shouldn’t do this stuff? To certain people who understand creative careers they would say that my current path can be a stepping stone to a more real career. To that I say, I’ve been at this step permanently for 10 years, this is it. And also, how are people who are legit at the stepping stone thing supposed to survive?

Now, why I mention all this stuff super hinges on this reality: Currently I work a 30-35 hr full time job at 17/hr and that has made my life a bajillion times easier (I can’t express), but I can barely do the shit I actually want to do, and barely still have good personal and space hygiene and mental health and do easy hobbies like MAYBE sometimes playing a game. If I wanted my life to be upgraded like, having a car, buying a small house, being able to buy the clothes I want, eating out instead of only always spending time making food personally, etc., I would have to work 8 hr 9-5 and find a job that pays even better, but I doubt I could do that because my “real” skills are cleaning the floor/toilet and sometimes fixing things, I could easily get paid less for less hours. Working that 8 hr 9-5 job that’s in a different field I probably don’t like very much would 100% kill all the other things I do. I know this because sometimes I have to work that schedule. Nothing else gets done, apartment doesn’t get cleaned, I barely take care of myself, let alone express the skills that feel like my “purpose”. Maybe that’s a me mental health issue, it seems like some people can do it. Imagine having kids added on to that, this is why I won’t have kids. My past Christian culture really wanted me to have kids. Ur trippin. I regularly fail at taking care of myself.

So what all this tells me, is that my actual skills, which I am pretty good at due to years of experience, have succeeded at so many times in terms of people effected, measurable good done.. I kinda probably shouldn’t have done it, I’m getting good at the wrong thing, it doesn’t make money as its first goal. Meritocracy my assss bro. There’s worth in what I do. The things people like me do are part of the culture. Absolutely not saying I make any waves in that department lol, but I’m part of it, I add my two cents. The culture is what makes shit interesting, it’s what makes people happy, ppls days better, it’s human connection thru shared interests and progression of an art form. Like idk what to tell u I think it’s cool. But to the normal viewpoint, all my stuff is just hobbies. But they’re kinda more than hobbies right? Like I’m just trying to check the capitalist boxes, I don’t think everyone should have to hold their things they do to wild standards of almost fitting into capitalism like mine do. But still, I can’t do it in the way they want, even with the help of having the internet.. and I’m not about to ruin and taint what I love to make not even enough dollars to live from. I don’t even know what I want bro but all I know is that shit doesn’t woooork. Like for some people it does! But not for ppl like I’m describing, who are definitely worth having in society and letting flourish etc. To me creative ppl are a bajillion times more interesting than someone who works in business. Like they can do that sure, that’s probably their thing I guess, buuut idk what are u adding bro, when u die what will u have done. Better been like donating to charities or something. The ppl this system wants u to be are so boring and inhuman. It literally wants to suppress creativity. I hope I’ve proven that here, I know I’m a unique case w my weird shit I do that goes beyond music or whatever’s popular rn. Like I add to society in these ways.. and my regular job does too, I’ve always worked for non profits I like. But still, objectively trying to do both is really gnarly. If only I could be randomly famous for one of those things I like doing to support the rest, I say jokingly because it is not feasible and will likely never happen. Let’s be real there, for most creative people it does not happen. But they still add to their communities and are positive facets of life and society at large. They should be able to do their thing! I also recognize that this experience is very very common. Like I’m granularly describing mine but there are definitely so many ppl with similar things happening all the time. We’re not free to do what we want. The system tells u the opposite but eh there’s a big twist. Sure I could be less free. Literally hate that argument so much tho because it’s always in regards to human made systems like, yes, AND humans COULD fix the terrible instances where the poor people are mega oppressed. We should all be on a better page. We have the resources to be but we’re not. The system and ppl who control it aren’t interested in that I guess. Like, clearly, that’s the reason. Our lives are all a little or massively worse for it. Humans can’t human as effectively, society is less colorful and interesting. As humanity we have less to offer and show for our time on earth.. We don’t even have a clear reason to explain why we’re here or why we’re conscious entities. If I know one fact about reality, we’re not here to solely make money. I refuse to get obsessed with that. But we’re all coerced to be, and the system is built to clearly influence that desire, at the risk of punishment. Like, no, fuck u and fuck money. It’s so awesome that this attitude seems so worthwhile and also so antithetical to living within our system. Fuck all that man that’s terrible. Again, I’m sure we could figure out a way to fix this, but we don’t. We also have bigger problems we refuse to fix. Humans are so cooool hahaha I love us awwee. Sorry for cynicism lulz but it is worrying! Hard not to think about it all the time ya know.

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fishkinger · 3 years

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your tags are consistently killing me oh my gosh i need you to write a whole ass essay on dbz

Omg thank you sm... I have A Lot Of Thoughts abt tiencha and the whole cast as a whole so far.. ive been thinking about potentially starting a longer tiencha fanfic like following their relationship over the years and interacting w the cast so maybe that will work as an essay LOL

#ask #please feel free to dm me if u want to talk or spitball headcanons w me i dont bite!!#also i will continue to add an Excessive number of tags to things when i have Thoughts too if that's not annoying to people...#just. wow i love dragon ball #As much as I feel it necessary to complain that Toriyama does a poor job fleshing out characters backstories relationships etc #i actually also really love that he gives us enough genuine character traits and hints to see the general shape #but then leaves everything else up to us #it gives you the perfect amount of room to worth with in terms of filling in the blanks however you want... v exciting..#dbz #WAIT ALSO...#if this isn't how youre supposed to answer asks on here someone PLEASE lmk sjfhsjdhfjg #like if its impolite to answer them publicly.... idk the etiquette here.....#i spend like 95% of my time on twitter so idk the rules

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prof-peach · 3 years

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So I have slept and awoke, and I still can’t think of anything else besides the time travel idea y’all handed to me yesterday. I truly think I could try to write something cool to match up with the new legends of arcaeus game coming in. Would this be something of interest here? Like a reasonably regular comic, I’ll do my best to tie it all to the plot of the game, and include characters that pop up. However the games story usually go down a heavily child friendly route, which I may want to swerve away from at points if it gets a little dull.

I am just spitballing this, but honestly I’ve not been able to think of much else.

Would you feel this comic writing is possible here or would it be too far fetched? I’m not sure if I’d be able to do it justice, or if anyone would be into it, but it feels exciting???

Idk man, I’m just a little stumped on what next and that feels really fun.

Things I’d love to include:

-Peach first hand discovering ancient regional Pokemon, realising that she’s been taken back in time, freaking out.

-Val was the only Pokemon who was with her when she got pulled into the past, and is the thread holding peach together for a while.

-Soft peach moments, where she misses grey, and feels hungry and tired and hurt, and just wants to go home.

-meeting key characters and potentially changing perceived notions about Pokemon.

-NPCs being old fashioned, cursing a naughty Pokemon to a painful end for a minor crime, peach steals the Pokemon and runs from the town, befriends it.

- does time move forward in the world she left behind? For ease probably not, but also imagine her coming back and everyone thought she died or something, it’s been months with no trace of her.

-great excuses to showcase physical peach tactics

-returning to her timeline would mean leaving behind the Pokemon she befriended? Not sure about the logistics of bringing them home.

-does she lose the memory of what happened once home? Val remembers but she doesn’t?

Feel free to add stuff? Opinions, thoughts, feelings, I just need to indulge a comic, and this has presented itself with enough time to start planning and sketching before the game comes out.

#guuuuuys I don’t know haha #I want to?#but the blog is care #and the comic is...well #it’s a comic #so it’s lots of stuff #do I run the blog normally while peach is gone?#pokemon #prof.peach

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derekmorganscrocs · 3 years

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WAIT

WAAAAIIT

WAAAAAIIIITT

(ACE THEORIES: 2x5 SPOILERS)

Okay so I know y’all have seen the Ace is Joe Hardy theories. If not: there’s theories that Ace IS Joe Hardy. To be honest, I’m here for it. Except for the fact that Ace is a much cooler name than Joe. Sorry not sorry.

BUT. BUUUUT.

WE JUST SAW ACE CALL SOMEONE AND SAY HE THOUGHT THEY WERE BROTHERS. DO I SMELL FRANK COMING IN HERE?

First of all, Alex Saxon mostly matches Joe’s description. “Joe Hardy is 17 years old, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a muscular frame.” Assuming that time is flexible, Joe Hardy could be 18 or 19, however old Ace is. And he’s just called someone and dropped the bomb that they might be brothers. It makes sense.

AND!!! This one is a stretch, but the og Hardy Boys’ father is named Fenton which could be shortened to Tom. Ace’s dad’s name. And. Fenton is a PI, Tom is a police detective. Y’all seeing similarities? I am.

(This is still while I’m typing this)

Turns out it’s spelled Thom, my bad guys. Also he’s a police captain, my bad again. AND Ace is the only character, aside from the Hudsons and Sables, to not exist in the novels.

I don’t know, let me know what you think. I just hope he keeps the name Ace, because as sweet as Joe sounds, Ace is cool.

EDIT: more thought has gone into this, if we need to reason out why Ace’s brother wouldn’t remember him, there’s a few reasons: trauma suppression (to an extreme), head trauma/amnesia, feel free to add more. The brother could be the only one in witness protection depending on how their story would vary, whether the threat didn’t know about Ace, or his brother got into trouble alone. (Admittedly the second one probably wouldn’t work but who knows, I’m just spitballing here. Theories!)

#ace nancy drew #alex saxon #bess marvin #george fan #george fayne #nancy drew #nancy drew cw #ned nickerson #nick nancy drew #hardy boys #ace’s dad #ace #nancy drew theories #ace theories #ace nancy drew theories

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idyllias · 3 years

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why I think Wanda made a Faustian deal with Mephisto and how it’s affected the show so far

so I’ve seen a lot of people talking about Mephisto casually throughout the Wandavision tags but I wanted to document my take on the matter so here it is !!

So who is Mephisto?

According to the Marvel Database, Mephisto is an extra-dimensional demon who is basically a stand-in for Satan in the Marvel universe. He usually has the appearance of what you would imagine the Devil to look like (the red skin and whatnot), but he’s also a known shapeshifter, appearing as a snake in the Garden of Eden, as a fly in his earlier narratives, etc.

Among his powers he possesses superspeed, superhuman strength, stamina and regeneration powers, as well as abilities like magical manipulation, mystical deal and reality manipulation. However, these do have limitations. Here are some quotes from the Marvel Database that I felt were relevant to what’s happened in Wandavision so far:

“He is unable to force the subjugation of any sentient beings will to his own without that being’s deliberate submission.” (consent king)

“Moreover, Mephisto’s reality manipulation does not seem to be completely permanent...”

“He is also incapable of reading the thoughts of any sentient being.”

“Mephisto’s powers are linked with his extra-dimensional realm and his powers rapidly decrease the longer he is away from his realm. As a result, he typically uses or manipulates others into performing whatever plan he has in mind.”

This is where I believe Wanda comes into play.

Wanda’s strengths and powers make up for nearly all of Mephisto’s shortcomings. She’s able to penetrate people’s minds and control them without consent, something Mephisto can’t do. I’m not entirely sure what Mephisto’s plans could be, but it’s mentioned he manipulates others into doing whatever he needs.

Now take Wanda’s state of mind. She lost her brother, went into hiding for years and abandoned the one she loved, only seeing him in secret rendezvous, then had to kill him only to have him resurrected and brutally murdered in front of her. She’s grieving. And she’s vulnerable.

She’s a perfect pawn for Mephisto to accomplish whatever plan he has in mind.

He just had to offer her something she wanted. Maybe a quiet life in the suburbs, with the love of her life playing husband, cheeky neighbors always willing to lend a hand, her brother’s return, children... how would a grieving person say no to that? So Wanda made a deal with Mephisto.

Here’s how I think the timeline went.

SWORD was in possession of Vision’s body. This was odd from the beginning, considering Vision died five years ago, so I believe they probably acquired the corpse to study his body and replicate it. Wanda stormed SWORD headquarters to retrieve Vision. I’m not sure of her intentions then, nonetheless it led to his resurrection in Westview.

Due to Mephisto’s lack of mind control ability, Wanda was to take responsibility of all the citizens in Westview. Mephisto would then alter the reality in which they lived in. An interesting aspect about Mephisto’s reality-altering abilities is that they’re not permanent. I think that’s the reason why the show keeps switching decades: Mephisto can’t maintain the aesthetics for too long because his powers won’t allow him to.

Now, if Wanda is in control of the people in Westview, why are Billy and Tommy out of her control?

If you’re familiar with the boys’ origin in the comics, you know in a way they are Mephisto’s children. Tommy and Billy were conceived by the Scarlet Witch using slivers of Mephisto’s soul, and I think that’s the reason she can’t control them. At first I thought it was a children thing due to Agnes saying “Kids, you can’t control ‘em” in Episode 5, but Episode 6 has shown that Wanda is well capable of controlling them.

If we venture and say that Wanda can’t use mind control on Mephisto, then it would make sense that she couldn’t do the same with her kids, them being his offsprings (and I really think they are, considering Pietro literally called them “demon spawn”).

Which leads me to another point, which is probably irrelevant to most of you, but is actually a big reason of why I wrote this in the first place...

The Fucking Stork.

None of you know how much I racked my brain thinking about this fucking animal. I thought it was so weird, considering how everything that Wanda has tried to make disappear has been eliminated, but this motherfucker just flapped his wings and made the red smoke go away. It would be really funny if it just turned out to be irrelevant but I think the stork was Mephisto. He’s a known shapeshifter, and if he’s in control of the reality they’re in, it makes sense that Wanda wouldn’t be able to poof him away.

So what does Mephisto want?

I’m not sure yet. The Marvel Database does say this about his goals in the comics:

“Mephisto's domain is inhabited by himself, by lesser demons who serve him, and by the astral forms of certain deceased human beings, which have been trapped in the bodies of demons. These demonic bodies imprisoning human spirits have been magically altered to resemble the deceased's mortal human forms. Mephisto is continually seeking to add more spirits of sentient beings to his realm by inducing living sentient beings to submit their wills to his. Mephisto apparently seeks primarily to enslave human souls, although he will go after those of extraterrestrials on Earth as well.”

If I’m already spitballing about storks, I’d say he has some sort of plan to colonize Earth to add to his human soul collection. It could make sense, considering the people of Westview are already trapped in the Hex and its already expanded in the past episode. If this is his purpose, it’s just a matter of getting everyone to submit to his will, cause he is concerned with consent and all that. But I’m sure whatever it is, he’s already calculated Wanda into his plans to make up for all that which he lacks.

So yeah, this is what I think is going on with Wandavision so far. I’ll probably be proven wrong in like the next episode because these Marvel writers sure know how to keep people on their toes, but it’s always fun to theorize with what you have. If you have any other cool theories or ideas feel free to add on !! :)

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wanda maximoff #vision #tommy maximoff #billy maximoff #vision mcu #mcu #pietro maximoff #Wandavision ep 6

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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I was going to send you a link to a Kate bishop fic I love but then I realized that you wrote it 😬 for the questions thing, you have talked about how you hate when people add suggestions to your wips, what other things I do you hate? What can we avoid in our comments to you? And what do you like?

apweofhija;sklfda ironically that happens a lot because I tend to write a very specific niche in some things, so people get excited to show me when they see the same niche in the wild! Except it's not wild, it's just me.

Fanfic Writer Friday

Good comments to me are mostly like... emotional reactions that mention which specific thing caused the reaction, or address something about how I write. I got this on a fic two days ago and can't stop thinking about it because like. Just look at it.

I love this. Just the right balance of snarky and serious. I also love that they're Fulcrum and Vader, but they're also a little bit Snips and Skyguy, and there's tension and confusion in that but also the possibility of healing. I appreciate how you write the physicality as well; the posture and body language come through clearly.

Like, I thrive on writing banter and I put a lot of effort into talking about how characters move, so someone mentioning that the effort in question stood out to them? It made my day.

Unfortunately, I have a lot of vent-y feelings about this sort of thing so all the negative bits are going under a cut. I am so sorry, this usually goes into DMs for a reason. I'm a salty bitch who reacts very strongly to things that don't really need such strong reactions, mostly because I've been writing fic and getting this for like... half my life.

The vent post was in reaction to a very specific kind of comment I get, which most recently took the form of "three paragraphs of suggestions for what I could do, on AO3, on a fic I mentioned was already mostly written in the A/N," which is... rather egregious. So, uh, don't be that person. I got three different comments the other day that either gave a lot of suggestions or asked why I didn't do something that completely changes half the premise, again on a fic I'd said was already mostly finished in my drafts.

I don't want to discourage people from actually leaving comments, but here's the like... pet peeves: If it's on AO3 or FFnet, please no suggestions or "advice." I don't mind small things (e.g. if I've been spelling someone's name wrong or using the wrong rank for half the fic, feel free to tack on a 'hey, just thought you should know' at the end, that's fine), but if it's something where it's clear I've already put a lot of thought into the consequences and am writing as a fic, not just spitballing nonsense, then I'm going to react very differently to "oh, is [thing] something you've considered" and like...

listen, someone the other day took something I was actually scripting out as a proper narrative instead of bulletpoint bullshit and went "I'm going to turn this into a fix-it!" and reblogged with something that could have been it's own post, inspired by but not actually related to my own AU.

(And the other day I made a post that was like "Hey, what if I crackship Character A from this franchise and Character B from this other franchise for fun, how could we make that work?" and someone reblogged just to tell me that Character A should be with Character C from the same franchise. Do not do that please.) (A different post got recontextualized into someone else's AU, which was also... not great.)

Mostly it comes down to either "don't tell me what to do" or "stop hijacking my thing for your thing."

And a pet peeve that's a lot less "You should know better" at people is when I post a fic that has a reference or a stupid joke, and 90% of the comments are about just that one thing instead of like. Literally any other part of the story. (Recent example: Had some characters playing FMK. Had to go back in and edit the A/N because people kept telling me their own FMK answers instead of like... actually commenting on the fic, and I needed to ask them to stop doing that.)

#Phoenix Answers Memes #negativity #fanfiction #yeah I am... uh... I'm very easily irritated on some fronts

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ladylee13 · 3 years

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All right, y'all, I've had enough with shitty society. I say we start a cult called "Actual Inclusivity."

Instead of the center of the cult's teachings being some manipulative bullshit, it's literally just love, acceptance, and respect.

We buy some land and start a communal living situation but instead of the money going up to whoever is on top and making them rich, all the money goes toward upkeep and improvement for the whole community. The finances are transparent and available for anyone to see and anyone shown to be corrupt or messing with the money gets kicked out.

We keep a farm to feed everyone. We have high speed wi-fi and some apartments (maybe with communal kitchens, maybe with private ones, idk logistics aren't my strong suit but I wouldn't be the only one running this, so we'd work out the kinks)

Everyone gets to do what they enjoy. Artists make art (and they could do commissions and freelance work and stuff like that to help raise money for the community in addition to art for art's sake), scientists can do their science thing, people who enjoy gardening can tend the farm. Tech people can do tech stuff (idk, I don't do much stem stuff, but we wouldn't be amish, so there'd be upkeep for tech stuff needed, so y'know). Whatever else. Autistic people can spend loads of time focused on their special interests. Non-verbals are not expected to talk. Depressed people or people with anxiety are not expected to work on days when getting out of bed is too difficult. Anyone having a panic attack or PTSD episode while working immediately gets to put down their work, walk away, and come back when they are again capable of giving their work their attention, be that in an hour or not until the next morning. Everyone uses whatever pronouns they prefer, and everyone else uses the appropriate pronouns when addressing or referring to them. If swearing makes someone uncomfortable, people will be expected to respect that and filter their language around them. Everyone gets to love whoever they want with zero societal repercussions. If two people want to get married, they get to. If two people want to live together without getting married, no prob (living together pre-marriage is against my religious beliefs, so I wouldn't do so, but that doesn't mean no one is allowed to. Live according to your own beliefs as long as they don't hurt anyone else. The goal here isn't to make everyone believe same thing or act the same way. It's to respect each other, and hopefully foster more understanding for others and lower discrimination and hate). In that vein, polygamy makes me feel weird, (admittedly, I don't really understand it,) but if some people in a polygamous marriage wanted to join us and were willing to follow the rules, great! Hop in! Let's even have a talk about it. You can help me be more understanding. No one is allowed to force their beliefs into anyone else and if someone feels pressured by someone else, all they have to do is say so and the other person will stop. I've had enlightening and wonderful conversations about religion with people of other religions/also atheists (once even with a drunk atheists and that was great). And all those conversations were great because in no way did they expect me to change my beliefs and vice versa. There was just a sharing of perspectives. And afterward, I felt like I understood them better and they understood me better. And that's what I'm aiming for here.

We can have a few sensory deprivation tanks and weighted blankets available for people with anxiety/PTSD. We can have tons of fidget toys for anyone who needs them to help them focus. We can have anything people need to function their best (I don't know much about what people with neurological disorders that I don't also have need, but whatever they need we'd have). Everything written is also written in braile. There's elevators and ramps in every building. Guide dogs and ESAs are accepted anywhere except in the space of people with animal allergies (Like, the communal areas are regularly cleaned to prevent hair causing allergic reactions and such and there are signs designating pet-free zones). We could maybe have like an animal shelter in a nearby town that anyone can come into to help with and spend time with animals. There would be a prayer room for quiet meditation (with whatever anyone needs for their best prayer environment, like I know Muslims pray toward Mecca and I don't know if there's any ornamentations or anything that they would prefer to have, but if so, it would be there). There'd be a gym to give people access to exercise equipment. There'd be a big old clock tower with bells to indicate prayer times for anyone who needs them. There would be a church building for use by any religious denomination. There'd be regular community activities to give people the chance to have leisurely social interaction and also sometimes exercise in small or large groups, but no one is expected to take part. Everyone with any form of neurodiversity or from any minority group gets to be treated fairly and have their needs accommodated.

No proving you have a disability like you have to to get accommodations from colleges. No one telling you it's all in your head or it's not natural or you should try harder or you just haven't met the right person yet or treating you as being under them for your gender or skin color or anything else you have no control over. Just actual acceptance on every front.

Basically, you'd pretty much be able to live your best life under the principle I learned as a kid: "your agency ends where the next person begins." As long as your actions do not harm anyone, you are free to do as you like.

The rules for living here? Everyone will be expected to contribute however they can (no punching a time clock, but contribute to the best of your ability). There will be no discrimination or hatred toward others. That's pretty much it. It's not that complicated. You will be expected to respect others and they will be expected to respect you. Any crime of any kind would be punished (and I mean things like theft, which I expect would be far less likely to happen given that everyone would have their basic needs fulfilled, and not like things like drug addiction because criminalizing addicts doesn't really prevent people getting addicted and just makes the problem worse.)

I figure the system would be run by committee. Any issues would be put to a vote, and given the size of the group, everyone would get a vote and everyone's vote counts. There would be no one person in charge of the community. Not me, not anyone. Everyone is equally in charge. Issues of things like accusations of discrimination would be handled by a court type situation where a mediator is chosen and both people get to explain what happened (in case of false accusations, which hopefully wouldn't happen, but y'know), and if the problem is based on a misunderstanding or an unchecked or unevaluated privilege, maybe the discussion alone could help the two people work it out, and if not, they get a big meeting with everyone there, and they get a chance to give their side to the group and the group votes on whether or not the accusation is solid and if the accused person will be punished (idk 100% how the punishment would work, but I figure depending on the severity it could be like a first offense would get community service and some kind of lesson in bridging cultural differences or something and a second offense would get something harsher and a third offense would be getting booted from the community. And then something like rape would get an immediate boot.).

Straight/white/cis/NT/any other non-minority people would also be accepted and welcomed so long as they treat everyone there with respect.

And anyone who says or does something homophobic or misogynistic or racist or ableist or anything else along those lines gets first a gentle warning and a chance to re-evaluate their prejudice and if they refuse to check themselves they get kicked out with whatever money they came in with.

I know that no matter what system is in use, there will always be someone ready and willing to find holes and take advantage. So we'd run on a spirit-of-the-law system instead of a letter-of-the-law system, and with everyone getting a say and everyone basing their decisions on that foundation of respect, it would be easier to enforce.

And sure, maybe this is just a fantasy-land-pipe-dream, but come on. How cool would it be? No more forcing our triangle or star or pentagon or splatter-shaped peg asses into circular holes? I don't believe in humanity at large to implement large-scale actual acceptance, but a little mini-society? That seems a little less impossible, right?

This is all spitballing, but the more I think about it, the more I love it. Feel free to add on.

#admittedly that science part would probably suck up a decent chunk of money and we'd still have to apply for 3rd party grants and such #but like having a meal on the table and a roof over your head would almost certainly be a weight off their shoulders #and that would raise general happiness and make work stress seem less threatening and more managable #I'm sick of society #let's all go live in a mini-society of love and acceptance #fuck prejudice #neurodivergent #all inclusive #love and acceptance #lgbt pride #actuallyadhd #social anxiety #depression #a step in the right direction #i dont have all the kinks worked out #the criminal justice system probably needs some work #and I'm not a member of all minorities so I don’t know what other important cultural or religious things everyone would need

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Trouble (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [Smut]

Title: Trouble Rating: Explicit Length: 3400 Warnings: Angst (whatever you read just know that it will ALL BE OKAY) and Smut (bath sex, fingering, masturbation, stuff) Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in March 1997. Full disclosure this idea was brought on by an anon two nights ago and lots of spitballing with @grapemama. I had actually humored going this route at one point, but the anon tipped me over the edge. EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY. Our couple is solid 100%. Fear not. This will resolve itself over the course of 3-4 updates. Summary: Javier has trouble at school.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501@fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim@amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano

Javier had a funny look on his face when he got home from work. You could tell something was bothering him, given the deep crease between his brows, and the way his jaw worked occasionally like he was trying to figure out what he was going to say. After dinner he worked on unboxing the rest of the kitchen items — instead of helping you with Josie’s bedtime like he typically did.

By the time you had convinced Josie that it was bedtime and not playtime, Javier was still in the kitchen tinkering with putting together the spice rack you had purchased at Ikea. You watched him watching you out of the corner of your eye as you busied yourself with making a mug of tea beside.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” You questioned as you turned the kettle on to boil, “Or am I going to have to guess?”

Javier’s shoulders sank as he sat the little metal wrench down on the counter. “Some shit’s going on at work.” He admitted, the muscles in his jaw clenched so hard you could see a tick in it. “Baby, with your blood pressure…”

You crossed your arms across your chest and gave him a look. “My blood pressure will only get worse if you keep sulking around the house like you are.” You met his eyes. “What’s going on?” As far as you knew, he was doing well at the university… he likely wasn’t going to get laid off. That would fucking suck, considering you had just bought the house. But you both had savings, given the time in Colombia was nearly expense-free.

“There is a rumor…” Javier’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “That I am involved with a student.” He couldn’t have timed the answer better, given the high pitch whistle of the kettle as the water reached boiling.

You laughed. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

“You don’t—”

“No, of course I don’t believe it.” You rolled your eyes and shoved him out of your way to grab the canister of teabags. You knew Javier better than that. You couldn’t even humor the idea of him doing anything remotely inappropriate with any of his students. Maybe before… in the beginning, but now?

“Baby, I…”

You looped the label of the teabag around the handle of your mug, pouring the water into it. You grabbed a small plate and sat it on the top, turning back around to look at him. “Javier, I trust. I have for a long time. I know you’re not an idiot… If you pulled that shit you’d be buried in our brand new backyard with so much lye there won’t even be a stain left.”

Javier lifted his hands and raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s fucking awful.” He bit down on his bottom lip as he looked at you. “And I have no fucking clue who is running around spreading this rumor. The dean clearly knew…”

“Is this serious?” You questioned, your brows furrowed as you stared at him.

“I don’t know. The dean called me into his office mid-day… just to ‘let me know’ what was going on.” He laughed bitterly, turning away then. “All over a fucking rumor.”

“God, I hope the women at ballet don’t ever catch wind of this.” You shook your head as you turned back towards the counter, taking the plate off your tea and straining out the teabag.

Javier moved towards you, reaching into the cabinet above your head to grab the honey out for you. “And you believe me? You’re not just pretending?”

You turned to look at him, “Do I have a reason not to believe you?”

“No.”

“Well there you go.” You took the honey from him, squeezing some into your tea. “It’s probably just a stupid rumor. If the moms at ballet are any indication… you’re a catch Peña.” You gave him a once over. “Still figuring out why.”

Javier moved to stand behind you, resting his chin against your shoulder as he smoothed his hand over your stomach. “I was dreading this conversation all evening…” He admitted quietly.

You leaned back against him and took a small sip of your tea before sitting it back down on the counter. “Your daughter wanted you to read her a story.” You told him, reaching back to stroke his cheek. “But I didn’t want to impose on whatever this mood was about.”

“I was scared…” Javier breathed out. “I thought… I really fucking thought you’d believe it. With everything… before.”

You tilted your head back to rest against his shoulder so you could look at him from that angle. “Javi, that was a long time ago…” You brushed your fingers over the faint scruff that was growing on his jaw. “There is no part of me that is concerned about that.” You turned then, draping your arms over his shoulders. “You’re also oblivious to women’s advances, so I find it hard to believe that anyone tempted you to go astray.”

“No one tempted me to go astray, baby.” He insisted and you could tell from the way the corners of his eyes creased that it was tearing him up inside. “I hate this.”

“It’s just a rumor,” You reminded him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s just someone who has their wires crossed. It’ll blow over.” You chewed on your bottom lip, holding his gaze. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not going to murder me in my sleep?” He questioned with feigned humor.

“Only if you steal the covers.” You leaned up and brushed your nose against his while giving his shoulder three little squeezes. “I’m going to drink my tea before it gets cold.”

“Sit with me?” Javier questioned, his hold tightening at your hip. “The sun’s about to set.”

You smiled a little, “You’re being ominous again.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, “This day’s been hell and I just want to relax with you.”

“Alright.” You picked up your mug and nodded your head towards the back door. He took your hand into his, leading you out onto the patio.

“I’m looking forward to summer evenings out here.” Javier mused as he settled down on one of the picnic table chairs.

You took a sip of your tea, watching him for a moment before you looked out over the yard. The evening sky was awash with golden yellows, oranges, and reds. The haze of night starting to cast everything with shadows. “Me too.” You sat your cup down on the table, pulling out the chair beside him.

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head slowly. “We’ve got some fucking luck.”

“Hmm?”

“The doctor says you’ve got high blood pressure—“

“It’s not that high.”

“I’ve got these stupid fucking rumors to deal with.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Baby, I’m mad.”

You picked up your tea and took a slow sip of the hot liquid. Now you understood why he wanted to go outside. It had nothing to do with the sunset and everything to do with not waking Josie.

“And who are you mad at?”

“Fate. The world. God. Take your pick.” He seethed, slapping the tops of his legs as he sank back.

“Do you still feel like you’re being punished?”

Javier huffed, “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“Well?”

“Yeah.” He gritted out. “Of course I think I’m being punished. This shit? This rumor… The fucking irony of it all.” Javier’s shoulders shook with a humorless laugh. “You knew me in Colombia, you knew how I was—”

“Yep.”

“The happy perpetual bachelor.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, the strands falling loosely across his forehead. “I finally found ‘the one’ and now I have to deal with this shit?” He looked towards you then, his lips drawn into a thin line. “Baby, you believe me. Don’t you?”

You picked up your tea and took a sip, before sitting it back on the table. “If I didn’t believe you I wouldn’t be sitting here, Javi.” You scraped your teeth over your bottom lip. You really did believe him. You had no reason not to believe him. You knew exactly who Javier Peña was, but you also knew he wasn’t stupid enough to fuck a student.

You, Josie, and his unborn baby would be gone before he could even say your name.

If this had been ten years ago, you would’ve believed it. The man you first met wouldn’t have hesitated to get involved with some hot little co-ed, but ten years ago you probably would’ve encouraged him to. But the man sitting beside you wasn’t that Javier.

“Javi,” You said softly, scooting your chair closer to his so you could reach out and brush your fingers through his hair. He had flecks of grey in his hair now, a sign of the years that had passed since that first time you met him. There were laugh lines around his eyes, etched into his skin from five years of laughter and love with you and Josie.

You stroked the back of your knuckles against his cheek, “I love you.” He relaxed ever-so-slightly, his shoulders sinking as some of the tension eased from his body. “I trust you. Implicitly. There is no person in this world that I trust as much as I trust you.” You smiled at him when you turned to meet your gaze. “I trust you with my life, my body, my heart.”

Javier’s jaw rocked and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip. “I still remember the way you looked.”

“What?” Your brows furrowed.

“After Steve left… after everything.” He took your hand into his, squeezing it gently. “It was weeks later, I had already given up hope.” Javier looked away, shaking his head. “The informant. The one I slept with. You came into the office that morning and heard the tail end of my conversation with Tom and…”

You couldn’t look at his face, you lowered your gaze to stare at your joined hands. You remembered the way you had spent the rest of the morning wondering if you had been no better than that woman — if you were just another fuck for him to brag about.

“I felt like shit,” Javier admitted quietly. “Didn’t get any fucking information either.” He huffed, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “It made me realize how much I wanted you and I didn’t think I ever would.” He squeezed your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything to lose this.”

“I know.” You brought his hand to your lips and brushed them against each knuckle, before pressing a kiss to the spot just above the ring on his finger. “This will blow over, Javi. You can’t beat yourself up about something you didn’t do.”

Javier reached over and cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the rise of your cheekbone. “I thought you’d look at me like that again.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch. “I misunderstood the situation, Javier. We both did. I thought I was no better than your informants, your hookers… Just another warm body to help you forget that you were alone.” You turned and kissed his palm, before you sat back and stared at him. “We both fucked up in Colombia, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”

Javier nodded solemnly, “It’s all just fucking bullshit.”

“What if I come to class tomorrow?” You questioned, chewing on your bottom lip. “I bet I can figure out who started the rumor.” You wiggled your brows, trying to offer a moment of levity. “Nothing’s more intimidating than an angry pregnant woman.”

Javier laughed a little, shaking his head. “I’ll handle it.”

“I wonder if Monica knows.” You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “I could get her to fish around for information.” The girl owed you, you had helped her get an internship at the Miami PD.

“What if it’s her?”

You frowned. “Do you think it is?”

“The dean wouldn’t tell me who.” Javier shrugged.

“Well, if it is Monica she’s a fucking idiot.” You gritted out. “You don’t bite the hand that’s given you an internship of your dreams.” You folded your arms across your chest, shaking your head. “I hope it’s not.”

“I hope this just goes away.” Javier rubbed at the back of his neck. “You ready for bed, baby?”

“I think I’m going to take a bath.” You took another sip of your tea, before downing the lukewarm liquid. “You’re welcome to join me.”

Javier arched a brow, a faint smirk playing over his lips. “Go run the water, I’ll grab a beer.”

“You’re not gonna get in?” You questioned with a playful pout as you stood up.

“I might,” Javier stood, resting his hand on your stomach. He held your gaze as he stroked his hand along your side. “Thank you for believing me.”

You reached up and stroked the back of his neck. “There’s no question about trusting you.” You assured him, drawing him down so you could kiss him. Your lips moved gently against his, fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you, Javi.”

“I love you too.” He brushed his nose against yours, his shoulders relaxing as you ran your hands over them. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

You nodded your head, before you headed in through the doorway that led from the patio into your bedroom, while he headed through the doors that led back towards the kitchen. There were still a few boxes in the corner of the bedroom — you were slowly making your way through unpacking.

Did it count if you had mentally unpacked already?

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently about this situation. Tomorrow you’d probably spend the day plotting the demise of whoever had started the rumors. Right now, you just wanted to relax. The doctor had, after all, recommended that you take things easy. It wasn’t good for you.

You sank down into the warm water, slipping beneath the water to get your hair wet before reemerging. You sank back against the bath cushion, lifting your foot out of the water to turn the faucet off.

“That bathtub’s the whole reason you wanted this place, isn’t it?” Javier questioned as he stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He lifted the beer bottle to his lips, taking a pull before he moved to sit on the edge of the tub.

“You’ve learned my devious plans.” You laughed, stretching out comfortably beneath the water. “It’s relaxing. Especially now.” You rubbed your hand over your stomach, smiling at him. “Are you really not going to join me?”

Javier shook his head slowly, “I’m good right here, baby.” He sat the beer bottle on the floor, turning a little to look down at you. He popped the first three buttons of his shirt, sweeping his fingers through his hair. “Today was a fucking day.”

You reached up and rested your hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s probably going to get harder before it gets easier.” You cautioned him, “But I’m here for you.”

“I know you are.” Javier rested his hand over yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. He picked the beer bottle up, taking another swig. “You look good in the water.”

“Yeah?” You laughed, chewing on your bottom lip. You watched the way Javi’s eyes raked over your naked flesh and smirked as he followed the path of your hand downwards. “If you’re just going to sit there… maybe you’d enjoy a show.”

He took another sip of beer and arched a brow. “You’re going to make me regret not getting in there with you.”

“There’s still plenty of time,” You told him, breath catching in the back of your throat as your hand-dipped between your thighs beneath the water.

Javier’s tongue darted out over his bottom lip as he sat the beer bottle back down, his attention solely on you now. “Is that good, baby?” He questioned, his voice dropping an octave lower as he watched you.

“Not as good as you.” You countered, moaning softly as you rubbed a tight circle over your clit. “Javi.” You whispered, lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. God, the way he looked at you.

He unbuttoned his cuff, rolling the sleeve up his forearm. “Do you have any idea how fucking pretty you are?” Javier questioned, “And all mine.”

You traced your fingertips along your inner thigh, letting your legs fall apart wider as you held his gaze. He braced himself on the tub with one hand, while he reached down and cupped you beneath the water, stroking his middle finger between your inner folds.

“Are you all mine?” You questioned, mimicking his tone. Your fingers curled around his forearm, moaning quietly as he pressed two fingers into you.

“What do you think?” Javier questioned, his thumb circling your clit.

You let out a breathless laugh, your nails digging into his arm. “I think you need to remind me.” You urged him. “I didn’t want this big bathtub just for me.”

Javier leaned down and kissed you, his mouth slanting against yours. The kiss was fleeting, he pulled back and stood up. “You drive a hard bargain, baby.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he pulled his belt from the belt loops.

He didn’t even bother taking his shirt off, just his pants and his boxers.

You all but crawled into his lap, legs resting on either side of his hips beneath the water. Javier’s hands slid up your back, one hand tangling in your damp hair, while the other settled at your hip. Your mouth found his, tongue delving past his lips.

Maybe there was a fear, deep down. One you weren’t going to address. You had been so afraid, since the very beginning. But the distance, the years, since then had lessened that intrinsic fear.

A leopard never changes its spots.

But Javier had.

Your fingers gripped at the fabric of his now wet shirt as he shifted beneath you, the hand at your hip guiding you downwards. Your moan was caught between your lips, lost in the dance of your tongue against his as he rocked up — his cock pressing into you.

“Fuck.” You hissed out as you moved above him, sliding down the length of him before rising up on your knees.

Javier lavished your skin with open-mouthed kisses, teeth lightly scraping over your collarbone, before his tongue swept over the marks left.

Your fingers gripped at his hair, a wanton moan slipping past your lips as he gingerly cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples. You tugged at his hair, meeting his eyes. “Fuck, yes.” Javier grunted out, his hands sliding down your waist, grasping at your hips as he rocked up into you.

The water sloshed in the tub as your bodies moved together. There was no doubt in your mind when it came to Javier. He was yours and you were his. No one could come in between the two of you. They could try, but they would fail.

You pressed your forehead against his, overwhelmed by the sound of your name on his lips. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him as close as he could given the swell of your stomach.

“I love you.” You whispered, fingers cupping his cheeks as you kissed him.

The slow grind of his hips sent you careening over the edge, clenching around his cock as the pleasure rippled through you. Javier followed right behind you, body tensing as he came apart deep within you.

Javier smiled lazily at you as he leaned back against the tub. He pushed your wet hair off your cheeks, his eyes alight with adoration as he looked up at you. “I love you too, baby. You know that, right? You’re it for me.”

“I know I am.” You kissed his forehead. “We’re going to get through this. Whatever happens.”

There was so much going on. The move, your pregnancy, pressure at work, this new crisis with Javi, the drama involved with reaching out to the press about everything that happened in Colombia. There was no wonder that your blood pressure was high. Nothing seemed to go easily for either of you.

But you’d get through it. Together.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #pedro pascal x reader

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neuxue · 4 years

Text

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 2

Perrin and Galad deal with leadership and its consequences, and I continue to not deal with the narrative conspiring to make me like Galadedrid Damodred.

Chapter 2: Questions of Leadership

With a title like that, this can only be a Perrin chapter.

Because average leader questions himself 10 times per book factoid actually just statistical error. Wolfbrother Perrin, who lives in a tent and questions himself 1000 times per book is an outlier and should not have been counted.

And that might be a new low for this liveblog, which is saying something.

A few days ago, the pervasive cloud cover had turned black, darkening like the advent of a horrible storm.

Luckily for you and the rest of existence, that particular meteorological phenomenon masquerading as a man decided against total annihilation of everything. *shakes head* Weather forecasts. Can’t trust ‘em.

(The science nerd in me now wants to write, like, a short story or something in the form of a journal article called Impact of localised heroic systems on global atmospheric chemistry and I think perhaps this is a tangent).

Anyway, we are indeed with Perrin, who’s been having a great time lately dealing with mud and plague. Yes, well, aren’t we all.

Both Asha’man had nearly died

Yeah well they’re used to that by now, surely. All in the job description.

Perrin you’ve had a month to work on that blacksmith’s puzzle in your pocket and you haven’t solved it? Just – give it to me. There. Solved.

(I used to love these puzzles. Haven’t come across one in ages though.)

Perrin’s taking in refugees because either he’s lying through his teeth or he’s ta’veren enough to slightly counteract Rand’s spoil-everything-edible influence, maybe.

He had bigger worries to bother him, not the least of which were his strange dreams. Haunting visions of working the forges and being unable to create anything of worth.

Is this the blacksmith equivalent of dreaming you’re suddenly sitting an exam you’ve not studied for, and also you’re naked?

Moving so many refugees was slow, even discounting the bubble of evil and the mud.

Hey at least you’re not also dealing with border walls and immigration control.

Everything took longer than he expected, including getting out of Malden.

Oh, TELL ME ABOUT IT. Me? Still bitter about the Malden plotline? Whatever made you think that?

All in all it seems like a pretty standard Tuesday for Perrin: slogging through mud, questioning his ability to be a great leader (not to be confused with the Great Leader), and trying to keep four nations’ worth of soldiers and refugees away from each other’s throats. Only one we’ve not ticked off the list yet is denying his wolfpowers, but there’s still time.

“Find out where they’re from, learn whether they did serve a lord, see if they can add anything to the maps.”

In which Perrin Aybara invents the census.

Oh hey! The road’s getting less muddy! Which is definitely not symbolic or anything.

“Where are the others?”

“They went on ahead, my Lord,” Fennel said, bowing from horseback. “I volunteered to stay behind, for when you caught up. We needed to explain, you see.”

I’m sorry, hold the phone, forward-thinking and communication – a plan specifically about communicating, even – all in one statement? Well. You know the apocalypse is coming when.

So everyone Perrin sent ahead has taken a detour because there’s mud up ahead, which may be the Pattern’s way of saying ‘we’re running out of time can you please just go where I need you for once’ or may just be bog-standard (see what I did there) geology and meteorology, but will, if the glimpses of Perrin through Rand’s special colour vision last book is anything to go by, result in a collision course for Perrin and Galad, which I’m… weirdly looking forward to.

“But from the look of things here, you decided to bring the entire town with you!”

Think bigger, Fennel. ‘Nation’ bigger, at the least. More likely plural.

Perrin does briefly consider splitting the party army nation(s) at his back, but the Shaido are conveniently in the way so instead I suppose they’ll all just make their way, amoeba-like, to wherever they can engulf Galad’s own group. Or be engulfed by. Alliance, phagocytosis; to-may-to, to-mah-to…

No I’m not sure where I was going with that either. Moving on…

He himself could Travel back to Rand, pretend to make up – most people would still think that he and Rand had parted ways angrily

This strikes me as being strangely sad, and I’m trying to figure out why. Maybe it’s because there’s a secondary reading of this which is that their ‘making up’ would be as much a pretence as their ‘fight’ because both of those have friendship as a prerequisite, and are they even friends anymore after all this time and all that has happened and all that lies between them?

Especially because, in terms of timelines, right now-for-Perrin, Rand is… not really in a place to be anyone’s friend.

I wonder, though, because I’m a terrible person who finds opportunities for Suffering even in things that should be entirely free of it, whether Rand-after-Dragonmount is in a better place to be anyone’s friend. I think yes, because that was very much the point, but I feel like there’s a bittersweet potential to it where ascendance is just as bad as damnation for maintaining a normal social life.

Or, less flippantly, there’s a strange loneliness to the messiah’s role, to being a force of nature and a champion of fate as much as or more than a man. He is known to all and all look to him and he stands, surrounded, at the centre, and he has learned to see the hope and promise in that rather than just the despair but there is still the sense of being alone on a mountain, alone on a pedestal, existing alone on a level that is not quite human but not quite divinity, touching all but no longer, quite, as a peer. Forces of nature don’t have best friends, even if they turn towards benevolence.

I mean, I’m spitballing here, because I’ve seen exactly one chapter of Rand-after-Dragonmount, and in fairness he seemed at peace with himself and his role now, but I still can’t help but wonder. And by wonder I mean wish. Because see above re: Suffering.

I guess mostly what I’m looking for is something along the series-standard line of you can’t go back, you can only go forward. And even when forward is better, even when forward is healing, even when forward is hope, it’s not the same as what you had or who you were before, and sometimes there is a sadness to that.

Sorry, this is a Perrin chapter and here I am going on about Rand, but I just… like thinking about all the friendships and relationships between all these characters, and how they change over time, and how those ties can be so altered and sometimes strained and yet even then they can also be what saves them all.

(“My best friend turned into the world.” “That’s rough buddy.”)

Faile was back now, and it appeared that his truce with Berelain was over.

NO.

*throws book at wall*

WHY. Damn it I was so glad when that finally died and Perrin and Berelain got to just work together and appreciate each other’s competence! Why must we return to this? Don’t you know that you can’t go back; you can only go forwards? WHY THIS. WHY ME.

The Prophet was dead, killed by bandits. Well, perhaps that was a fitting end for him, but Perrin still felt he’d failed.

Probably just because he doesn’t know that Masema was Faile-d.

I’m sorry. I’ll see myself out.

(That’s a lie; you’re just going to have to put up with me and my bad puns for at least another book).

His duty was done, the Prophet seen to, Alliandre’s allegiance secure. Only, Perrin felt as if something were still very wrong. He fingered the blacksmith’s puzzle in his pocket. To understand something… you have to figure out its parts…

Because you’ve only done the middlegame part of your duty, Perrin! You still have to get ready for the ending! And that means… *dramatic hammerstroke* forging. But, you know, metaphorically.

Perrin feels awkward around Faile now because when you’ve focused your entire life and self and nation, waking and sleeping, on achieving a single goal, and rewritten your entire world around that goal, and then you do achieve it, it’s sometimes hard to know what to do with the reality of having achieved it, of having that person back at your side but an emptiness ahead of you where the idea of them once occupied everything. Or at least that’s my suspicion but Perrin when this is all over you may want to, I don’t know, talk to someone about it.

Seriously, a qualified therapist could make a killing setting up shop in this world.

“I should start turning them away.”

“I suspect they’d find their way back to our force anyway.”

“Why should they? I could leave orders.”

“You can’t give orders to the Pattern itself, my husband.”

Perrin: “WATCH ME.”

Maybe you could ask Rand to, as a favour? He seems to be on good terms with the Pattern these days. Er. These days in his timeline, I mean.

Yes, Perrin, this is you being ta’veren. Or have you been living under a rock for the last several books? Denial’s not going to last you much longer.

“And so coopers learn the sword,” Faile said, “and find they have a talent for it. Masons who never thought of fighting back against the Shaido now train with the quarterstaff.”

It’s such a ploughshares-to-swords image, and I still just love the way this is how Perrin’s ta’veren-ness manifests specifically: the one who was so careful lest he hurt someone, the one who tries so hard to deny his capacity for anger and ferocity, the one drawn to the Way of the Leaf and a dream of peace, is the one to cause that rippling of peace into war, farmers into soldiers, a quiet nation into a waiting army.

Because on one level there’s the sadness of it, of the only one who returns home bringing that home back out into the world with him and leaving it forever changed, of the one who wants gentleness rousing a people to follow and fight… but even that then ties into the deeper issue of acceptance. Of realising that the potential has always been there – for a ploughshare to be a sword or a blacksmith to be a warrior, or a man to be a wolf or a town to be an army – and that drawing that potential out and allowing it to exist and be used doesn’t negate what was there before. That man and wolf can coexist, that anger does not preclude gentleness, that fighting a war for survival does not negate the hope, one day, of peace.

And so Perrin’s ta’veren power becomes almost another level in playing out what he will eventually need to accept about himself. Just as Rand’s darkness and then light spread out to touch the world around him, it’s as if Perrin’s lack of acceptance of aspects of himself keep these people from truly coming together (the dreams of forging things that don’t come out right), whereas if he can accept what he is, and accept all parts of himself, forge them into unity, then the part of the world he affects – the people who follow him – will be forged together as well.

At least he acknowledges to himself that Faile’s right about this one. That’s a good step.

“Once we have gateways again, I’ll send these people to their proper places. I’m not gathering an army.”

Sigh. Or not. Two steps forward, one step back.

Understand the metal and the tools and the puzzle in your hands, Perrin. Look at what you have. Not at what you wish you had, or think you should have. Look at what the pieces can and need to be made into, rather than forcing them into what you want them to be made into.

“A man’s got to see a thing for what it is. No sense in calling a buckle a hinge or calling a nail a horseshoe.”

The hilarious thing here is that he’s making my point, whilst thinking he’s disproving it. Because Perrin, seeing a thing for what it is means looking at all these people around you and realising you’re their leader and they’re following you and you’re headed for Tarmon Gai’don. No sense calling a buckle a hinge, or an army a random group of refugees. (Well, they are that, too. But if you try to return them home now, soon they will have no home at all).

I do appreciate that he sees and acknowledges some of his flaws from when Faile was gone. He’s a little too hard on himself in places, and misses out others, but it’s a kind of humility and self-awareness and ability to recognise where he could be better that I like.

“It’s not [Berelain’s] fault,” Perrin said. If I’d been able to think of it, I’d have stopped the rumours dead. But I didn’t. Now I’ve got to sleep in the bed I made for myself.”

Perhaps not quite the idiom I’d have chosen in this particular instance, Perrin, but…

When she’d been a captive, nothing had mattered to him but recovering her. Nothing. It didn’t matter who had needed his help, or what orders he’d been given. […]

He realised now how dangerous his actions had been. Trouble was, he’d take those same actions again. He didn’t regret what he’d done, not for a moment.

Well… partial credit for self-awareness, I suppose?

Frustrating as this is, though, it also feels quite realistic. And there’s a certain kind of maturity in the devastating honesty it takes to look at something you’ve done and say ‘I shouldn’t have done that, but in the same situation I’d make those same choices again’. Even if it’s a mistake, being able to acknowledge that about yourself is… impressive.

You couldn’t make a drawknife into a horseshoe by painting it, or by calling it something different.

Yeah, and you can’t make a ta’veren lord, leader, wolfbrother, and warrior back into a simple blacksmith’s apprentice boy by sheer force of denial, but don’t let that stop you.

“I’ve been thinking on this for the last few weeks, and – odd though it seems – I believe my captivity may have been precisely what we needed. Both of us.”

*throws book against wall and lets out an Elayne-like scream of pure rage*

ARGH.

WHY.

‘It’s fine, Perrin, you see I actually think it’s good that I was just used as a plot device to further your character development because I was tossed a bit of character development as a last-minute consolation prize, so really it’s all good!’

Sigh. Okay. I mean, in-story and in-character… I get it. It’s over now, it’s past, and they’re both trying to move on, and Faile has always been one to try to find a pragmatic angle – even an optimistic one – on a situation. And she’s strong enough to say this and make it sound (almost) believable. To look back on harsh lessons learned in harsher circumstances and appreciate the fires that forged her.

Which of course puts me in mind of Rand and his if a sword had memory, it might be grateful to the forge fire, but never fond of it ‘gratitude’ towards his imprisonment in Far Madding, but with Rand and that thought, we are given fairly obvious narrative cues that point to ‘yikes, Rand, that’s maybe not the healthiest of responses to trauma’, and we know full well that we’re not supposed to think ‘ah, yes, being locked in a cell with his worst nightmares was good for his character development so everything’s fine’. (Which is not to say we can’t enjoy it, because sometimes you just want to see your favourite character broken and bleeding and chained to a wall, but that’s uh. Neither here nor there).

But here, it’s as if we’re supposed to take Faile at face value. As if we’re supposed to nod and think ‘yeah, actually, that probably wasn’t fun but it was What She Needed’ (which… wow that is an entire pile of yikes, because yes, what a female character in this genre needs is to be held captive and sexually coerced and deprived of all agency… is maybe not a point you want to be making?). It feels like trying to hang a lampshade on that travesty of a plotline and say ‘but look! It brought them both character development! So it’s fine!’

Anyway I’m still just bitter about the way Faile has been used as a plot device for Perrin’s character development across the last few books, and this… while entirely understandable from a character and story perspective, from an external perspective feels like salt in the damn wound.

Moving on.

To Galad, apparently.

Galad who is bound and in pain after being tortured. I’m listening.

(Why am I like this)

All was dark around him, but pinprick lights shone in the sky. Stars? It had been overcast for so long.

Huh. There’s something almost sweet about how closely this echoes that chapter in TGS when Gawyn is wishing he could see the stars. I mean I’m certain it’s not actually intentional because it’s a spurious connection at best, but it’s just a kind of sweet-sad note of similarity between two brothers who haven’t seen each other since they both got lost trying to find their way, and are still trying and wishing, just for a moment, for the stars for guidance.

They’re not actually stars, just pinpricks in the tent, but that’s beside the point.

What’s not beside the point is the inventory of Galad’s wounds because honestly, it’s as if everything from then he did dance, all his grace turned in an instant to fluid death onwards has been a targeted attack on me as a person by going down a list of all the things I like to see in a character and going ‘do you like him now? What about now? What about now?’ and I’m mad about it.

Galad did not fear death or pain. He had made the right choices. It was unfortunate that he’d needed to leave the Questioners in charge; they were controlled by the Seanchan. However, there had been no other option, not after he’d walked into Asunawa’s hands.

I’m not sure why I find it so fitting that Galad’s experience at Asunawa’s hands is not unlike Morgase’s in the end, but something about it just works for me. There’s a whole set of connections here that this bookends, between the two of them and their fall from and rise to power, and choices, and Valda and Asunawa and the Seanchan, and for whatever reason it feels satisfying to have this coming to an end much like it began. Though Galad is spared Morgase’s…………… choice. But I suppose there’s almost an irony here in him avenging Morgase in one way but then sharing her fate in another.

Or maybe it’s just back to the classic ‘I like fictional characters in pain’.

Soon the Questioners would come for him, and then the true price for saving his men would be exacted with their hooks and knives. He had been aware of that price when he’d made his decision. In a way, he had won, for he had manipulated the situation best.

STOP. TRYING. TO. MAKE. ME. LIKE. GALAD. DAMODRED.

I just. Damn it. This is such a good look! And yet it’s Galad!

Standing, beaten but unflinching, determined and himself, ready to face whatever they do to him. Well. That’s how Morgase began, too.

Oh hey it’s his friends! Which means probably no more torturing of Galad, which is kind of a shame (I’m sorry), but is also not entirely unexpected.

Oh wow Asunawa’s dead. Okay. Can’t say he’ll be missed, though it’s just a shame Morgase didn’t get to kill either him or Valda herself. Ah well, can’t have everything.

And it wasn’t Galad’s men who killed him, so now he has won the Questioners to him as well. Questions of Leadership indeed. I see what you did there.

It is an interesting contrast in this chapter, to watch Perrin constantly second-guessing or trying to deny his leadership, set against Galad just… accepting his.

I will give Galad this: he has won his leadership by being entirely and unrelentingly himself, and true to his convictions, and standing, despite everything thrown at him, despite the corruption around him, as a determined and unassailable symbol of what the Children of the Light should be. What they can be. He doesn’t try to steal power, doesn’t outright challenge their ways; he just leads quite literally by sheer force of example.

Galad nodded. “You accept me as Lord Captain Commander?”

But also, I just have to remind everyone that he’s buck-ass naked throughout this entire scene, and some juvenile part of me finds that absolutely hilarious.

“We were forced to kill a third of those who wore the red shepherd’s crook of the Hand of the Light.”

What a pity. No, really. I’m weeping. How sad. Terrible.

None of them asked whether he needed rest, though Trom did look worried.

Again! Characters beaten and exhausted and hiding their pain in order to just move forward is a whole Thing, and putting that on Galad and throwing it at me is just unfair.

Galad didn’t feel wise or strong enough to bear the title he did. But the Children had made their decision.

The Light would protect them for it.

(The fact that ‘Galad’ means ‘light’ in Sindarin is just an added bonus here, really).

But I like the way his thinking about this runs: he doesn’t feel wise or strong enough, but that’s not the part that matters. The part that matters is that they chose him. As Galad sees it, what makes a leader isn’t what the leader thinks of himself, but merely the fact that others choose to follow.

He is their leader now, and whether he wants to be or not, whether he feels up to it or not, is irrelevant. There’s an interesting question here around choices, and the lack thereof – that he has no choice, in a way, but to lead. Because whether or not he wants to, people have decided to follow him, and so by definition he is their leader now. And so the only thing to do, because it’s the right thing to do, is to lead them as well as he can.

Next (ToM ch 3) Previous (ToM ch 1)

#forever annoyed with Galad #but torture is a good look on him #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

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jmeelee · 5 years

Text

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Stiles and Derek’s Cat

Sterek Week 2019 • Mystery

Rating: T (for swearing and lite innuendo)

Word Count: 2.1 K

***********

Derek flips on his blinker, and the taxi driver riding his ass swerves around the Camaro, rolling down a window and shouting something indecipherable while Derek pulls into the fire lane in front of the airport. His sister walks through the automatic doors as he climbs out and pops the trunk, a parting blast of air conditioning blowing her dark shoulder-length hair around her head like a demonic halo. She’s dressed in an old band t-shirt with a black blazer layered over top, and ripped skinny jeans, one hand gripping the handle of her rolling luggage, the other pressing a ratty book to her chest.

“It seems stupid for a werewolf to be superstitious,” Cora greets, handing Derek the leather-bound album, “but I didn’t want to take the chance of it getting lost in the mail.”

He pulls her close in a one-armed hug; Cora was never the overly affectionate type, but distance and pseudo-death make the heart grow fonder. “I appreciate you lugging it all this way. Stiles has been asking me a lot of family questions since he started emissary training, and I wanted to put some faces to the names he’s been hearing.” Pictures that aren't attached to obituaries, he silently adds.

She tosses her suitcase into the trunk, dusty wheels leaving a streak of dirt across the upholstery, and slams it closed, climbing in through the passenger door Derek holds open. “Alpha Varela had a decent amount, and Alpha Ogden gave me a half-dozen,” she supplies as he slides behind the wheel and pulls out into traffic, “but they only fill up a quarter of the pages. It’s pretty pathetic.”

She reaches out a hand, lovingly runs fingers over the brown cover embossed with a triskelion.

“It is,” Derek concedes, “but it’s better than nothing.” His fingers itch to flip through the meager pages immediately, pour over the pictures like Cora’s been able to do, and bring his long-dead family back to life, but it will have to wait through rush hour traffic and a trip to the pet store. They’re out of cat food, and Agnes Nutter—the stray orange tabby Stiles fell in love with when he started spending so much time with Deaton at the vet clinic, and proceeded to drag home—has been known to take claws to the curtains, leather couches and freshly painted walls when dinner isn’t served on time.

“We’re back!” Derek calls through the front door an hour later, pulling his key out of the lock.

Cora drops two five-pound bags of dry food to the entry-way floor. “How much does this damn cat eat?” She laughs. Derek shrugs, wet food cans clanking in the bags hanging from his hands. The album is tucked securely under his armpit.

“I’m in the family room!” Comes Stiles’ disembodied voice. Derek detours to the kitchen to stock the cat food in the walk-in pantry and Cora heads to the back of the house to greet her brother-in-law. He’s only moments behind her, but when he finally rounds the corner into the family room, his little sister’s face is shifted, snarls twisting out of her throat through elongated teeth, and Stiles is sitting on the couch, eyes wide, laptop in one hand and the other raised, palm out, sparks sizzling along his fingertips. Acrid ozone spikes the air.

“What. The. Hell.”

“I don’t know, dude!” Stiles’ voice trills and Derek doesn’t have the time to admonish his husband for calling him dude. “She rolled in here and didn’t even say hello! Just went all grrrr-” his nose does the scrunchy little thing Derek secretly loves, top teeth bared like an adorably angry hamster- “and scared the shit out of me.”

“It’s that...thing,” Cora rasps, pointing a claw-tipped finger at Agnes Nutter, calmly lording over the room from Stiles’ blanketed lap, like a ginger queen on a throne.

Stiles drops his laptop to the couch cushion, wrapping his now free arm around Agnes, who’s yellow eyes squint in annoyance at the vigorous display of affectionate protection. “What’s your problem with my cat? Does the lupine-feline rivalry actually run that deep?”

“Really, Stiles? Dog jokes? Now?” Derek rubs at a tension headache brewing over his left eyebrow.

“Stiles,” Cora commands through sharp white teeth, “get away from it. It’s a demon.”

Agnes answers the accusation with a charming little “meow,” and rubs a paw over her docked left ear.

“Put your teeth away. She’s my pet!” Stiles shrieks.

“Derek. Get the photo album,” Cora orders.

Derek glances back toward the kitchen. He can see the book sitting on the granite countertop, but is loathe to leave the room. “Is this really the best time for a Hale family history lesson?”

“You bet your hairy ass it is. Go get those pictures. Now.”

Derek’s never been more grateful for supernatural speed. “Here.” He hands the album to his sister, who flips open to the second page, turns the book around and hands it back to him.

At first, Derek’s baffled. What do his unearthed family photos have to do with a c—

An orange and white striped cat that’s sitting on his grandmother’s lap, when she was roughly thirty years old. A cat that twists around his mother’s ankles as she stands on tip-toe to kiss his father on the cheek, while toddler Laura plays in the background. A cat that lingers behind his great-grandfather as he cuts the ribbon at the dedication ceremony for the Beacon Hills preserve. The last photo is in black and white, but this cat, like the others, has a docked left ear.

“Stiles…” Derek looks up at his husband. Agnes stares at him with slanted eyes. He does the math in his head. At least fifty years…

Stiles groans, head lolling on the back of the couch. “Don’t tell me she’s a Flerkin. I knew I should have named her Goose.”

“Not a Flerkin,” Cora says. “But definitely something.”

Agnes jumps off Stiles’ lap and calmly pads over to her empty food dish, flops down next to it, and lets out a loud, piercing howl.

“Get the cat carrier,” Derek says. “We’re going to Deaton’s.”

———-

“Why did you let me adopt a time-traveling cat?!”

Deaton, as usual, says nothing in face of Stiles’ hysterics. Agnes dangles from Stiles’ outstretched arms, held at a forty-five-degree angle like a domesticated lion king. She blinks, whiskers twitching. Derek feels her pain; the overlapping scents of animal, iodine and industrial-grade disinfectant makes him want to hurl.

“I was surprised you even got a cat,” Scott chimes in from the waiting room chair. Having a pet who turns out to be old enough to collect social security merits calling your alpha right away. “I didn’t think you liked them. Remember my old Maine Coon, Louis? You used to pelt him in the ass with spitballs.”

Everyone’s mouths drop collectively, and Stiles reels Agnes back to his chest, hiding part of his blushing cheek in her soft orange fur. “I was seven, Scott! And in my defense, Louis used to bite my toes through my sleeping bag.”

“Well, thank goodness it was in retaliation,” Derek deadpans. “I wouldn’t want to be married to an animal abuser.”

A war plays out on Stiles’ flushed face; narrowed eyes shooting daggers at Derek, while the corner of his generous mouth cocks up. “I didn’t hear any complaints from you the other night.”

“Gross,” Cora bemoans. “Get a room.”

“Already did.” Tucking Agnes under his arm like a football, Stiles holds up his free hand and wiggles his fingers, white-gold wedding band flashing under the fluorescent lights. “Made it legal and everything.”

“Did you bring the photos?” Deaton inquires, enigmatic face as placid as the surface of the little pond in the preserve. Cora hands them over, and everyone watches Deaton slowly flip through the pages, eyes skimming over each picture. “Hum,” he says, laying the album on top of the reception desk, open to the picture of Derek’s parents with Agnes at their feet.

“Hum? That’s all you have to say?” Stiles scoffs.

“I’m surprised at you, Stiles,” Deaton says softly, crossing arms over his lab coat. “I thought you knew what Agnes was when you took her home.”

“Obviously not,” Stiles grumbles. “I’m supposed to be learning from you, aren’t I? One would assume the teacher would tell the student if the class pet was an immortal demon waiting to eat their face off when they fell asleep.”

Derek feels a hysterical giggle crawl up his throat and clamps his lips closed.

Deaton spins the album around to face the waiting room, and Scott extricates his butt from the chair to creep closer. Deaton taps the top right corner of the Hale’s photograph. “I took this picture in nineteen-eighty-eight. Derek,” he says, glancing up into his face, “your parents had just gotten the news they were pregnant with you.”

The giggle threatens to turn into a sob.

“Talia and Sebation celebrated their good fortune with a pack dinner. As you well know-” Deaton turns toward Scott- “emissaries are invited to important pack events.” He turns back to the room at large. “I came that evening, and Agnes, as you are fond of calling her, came with me.” He flips to the picture of Derek’s great-grandfather. “Emissaries protect their alpha’s, so I assume the former Hale pack emissary was somewhere in the crowd during this ceremony.” Deaton blinks, letting the pregnant pause come to full gestation. “Familiars tend to follow witches wherever they go.”

“So…” Cora trails off, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips while she studies Agnes. “She’s a familiar? Familiars are demons, right?”

“Fantastic,” Stiles sighs, shoulders slumping. “We all know my track record with demons.” His face is carefully blank, except for the bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“No concrete evidence exists to say familiars are demons,” Deaton lectures. “In fact, that tends to be an antiquated belief held over from the witch trials. Some believe they are fae, or goblins, sent to assist fledgling witches in the practice of magic. Others believe they’re guardian angels.”

“Ha!” Stiles crows, sticking his tongue out at Cora. “She’s not a demon after all. She’s an angel. Take that!”

“Hey!” Scott helpfully adds. “You could change her name to Aziraphale!” Stiles looks like he’s considering it.

“I’m not trying to rain on the parade,” Derek cuts in, ignoring Stiles’ mumbled Sourwolf, “but you’re saying Agnes is here to help Stiles? She mostly just eats, craps, coughs up hairballs in my shoes and knocks shit off the counters. Like that time she broke the vial of ground-up Mucuna pruriens, and we all broke out in that horrible rash.” Derek’s butt itches just thinking about it.

Scott snaps his fingers, goofy smile stretching across his face. “Yeah! And then Stiles used it to make those smoke bombs we attacked the hunter’s compound with the following month. It’s like she knew exactly what he needed to use.”

Everyone stares at Agnes, baffled and impressed.

“Legends say familiars most often take small animal forms,” Deaton continues, “but some are human-like, or can shape-shift. One was a horse.”

“No,” Derek says to both his husband and Agnes, on the off chance any ideas are forming in their heads. “No horses in the house. We don’t have the room.”

“So, you’ve told us what legends say, and what other people think about familiars.” Stiles bounces on his toes, jostling Agnes. She yowls, and he plops her onto the reception desk next to her portraits. “You’ve been an emissary for years. What do you believe?”

Deaton inhales deeply through his nose, exhales through his mouth. “I believe they’re an extension of our souls.”

Stiles smiles, scritching Agnes behind her mangled ear. “You’re the Pantalaimon to my Lyra. The Salem to my Sabrina. The—” Agnes hoists one leg straight into the air and starts licking her butt.

“Yup.” Cora smirks. “That makes total sense.”

“In conclusion, Stiles, your pet is not a demon who’s waiting to eat your face off. Now, can I please go home for the evening?”

It takes half a bag of treats to coax Agnes back into the cat carrier, and Deaton locks the doors to the clinic on their way out.

“I thought she was a stray,” Stiles says as they all head out into the moonlit night, voice a little wobbly. “I didn’t realize she was... Do you want her back?”

Deaton’s smile is as mystifying as ever. “She’s yours now, Stiles.”

Derek notes that, unsurprisingly, Deaton didn’t actually answer the question.

“One more thing,” Derek says, loading Agnes into the backseat of the Camaro. He’s strangely curious, even though he’s heard what curiosity did to the proverbial cat. “If she was yours for years, you must have given her a name. What was it?” Even arcane Dr. Deaton must be human enough to name his cat. Right?

“Some things,” Deaton answers before he slams his car door, “will have to remain a mystery.”

#sterekweek2019 #sterekmystery #eternalsterek #sterek #haleinski #my fic #sterek fic

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johnconstantinesdick · 4 years

Note

If you could redesign any of the rwby costumes which would you change and in what ways? Also what's your favorite rwby weapon (I love cinders short sword bow thing I'm actually making it rn!)?

Oh man you sent this right before I went to bed so I’m sorry that this took a while, but!! This is such a fun question!

Short, funny answer that is nonetheless 100% serious: put Qrow in one of those corset-vests.

Long, also serious answer:

Honestly, while I have a handful of criticisms for the earlier designs, the really great part about those criticisms is that they’re usually all addressed (hah) by the next design for the character. Like, OG Ruby was a bit plain and boring on the top, and then Volume 4 Ruby adds a lot more visual interest at the top for a really cute and balanced design. I think that RWBY has done a pretty good job in general with having their designs actually be craftable, too, which is Very high praise. Like, I think they actually looked at more than one real item of clothing.

The 3d models have their ups and downs when it comes to conveying designs; the sleeve seams on Yang’s V5-6 jacket, for instance, are just. Weird. But the 3d model means that, generally, it’s easier to tell how clothing items actually Work. They’re Consistent, and there are actual visible seam lines. Ones that Make Sense, generally.

I’m usually pretty happy with the designs. However, the ones I’ve seen for V7 (haven’t actually watched it yet lmao), are... idk I’m not super happy with them?

I actually wrote a rambling complaint about some of the designs last night at like 5/6 in the morning, but in doing so I pretty much spitballed a redesign for Weiss, so I’m just gonna focus on her!

Here’s the ramble on Weiss, by the way, if you wanna read that before you see what I came up with!

Now, Weiss and Nora share the problem of there being Too Much going on. I think Nora’s could have worked better if the blue and pink were more pastel, but in general her design just. Doesn’t feel like her. Same with Weiss. They both honestly feel more like Blake designs to me.

Weiss, in addition to it Not Feeling Like her, has way too many things going on there. I would get rid of the belts and pouches on the middle. Make the skirt one solid thing, instead of the asymmetrical white thing going on. Gather the top of the dress in the same way as the boots. Add buttons to the boots like on the skirt. Or make the blue coat on top a full flaring coat, with a simplified dress underneath. Ditch the gloves, she looks like Cinder. Also, FUCK THAT HAIR. THE BRAID LOOKS CLUNKY AND BAD IN 3D!!! Give her a haircut if you want a change! Or have her wear her hair loose as a visual cue that she is free even though she’s back in the city her father tried to trap her in!!

Now, almost twelve hours later, I looked at that and went, “Yeah, 5am me was right.”

And drew this rough redesign:

[ID: A pencil drawing of Weiss Schnee from RWBY. She is a teenager with light hair, a serious expression, and a thin scar over her left eye. She is posed to show off the design, with one arm held down behind her skirt and the other held out to show off the sleeve. Her hair is loose and hangs down her back to her waist, save for a braid that circles her head like a crown. Diamond-shaped earrings dangle from her ears. She wears a dress coat with leg-o-mutton sleeves and a high neck. The coat fastens asymmetrically over her collarbones, with the right side fastened to the left side with a pin that looks like the hair comb/crown she previously wore. The coat is designed to reveal most of her outfit underneath, and is cinched in at the waist with a belt, before it flares out dramatically. A single bead on a decorative tie hangs from each edge of the bottom front of the coat, and she wears short gloves with a line of buttons, visible only on the hand she has held to the side. Weiss wears an asymmetric vest underneath the coat. It closes at an angle to the right with a line of buttons, and point in a V shape at the bottom front, the edge just below her hips. Underneath the vest she wears a dress. It is gathered in small pleats at the top, and the pleats continue into the skirt past where they are hidden by the vest. The skirt goes down to her ankles, and the pleated section is hidden partly by an overskirt. She wears a pair of Edwardian walking boots split into two sections. The section on the top curves out to just before her toes, and is fastened with buttons on the outsides. Her right foot is tilted out to show the heel. In the top left of the sketchbook there is another illustration of the boots where the tops are not hidden by the skirt. They go up to about mid-calf. In the top right of the sketchbook is a view of the back of Weiss’s coat, showing that her snowflake design is printed on the top back. The belt goes across the waist and is held in place by two belt loops. At the back waist, a pleat flares out to the bottom of the coat. End ID]

Boy oh boy, I may be biased, but I like this design better. In the original design, the belts and pouches were the most visually ugly for me, but I also wasn’t happy with the sheer amount of components going on, and I Did Not like the boots. So I simplified some things (the asymmetrical skirt), added more unifying elements (the pleats on the top and the skirt, the buttons on the vest, the boots, and the gloves), and overall made her hair less ugly. I also didn’t like how they had components that looked like two different coats, so I simplified that into one big coat. In general I think it makes for a design that’s a bit easier to look at, but that’s just my opinion. I think Volume 7 Nora and Yang would be other designs I would like to change around a lot, and I would change Jaune’s around a little.

I have... a lot of opinions about character design, apparently?

Yeah. Anyway, as for weapons, I’d have to say Emerald’s are my favorite. I just love how they look and function, especially the chain part. I think it’s a really clever design. The weapons are always going to be the place where RWBY shines, but I’m still always caught off-guard by how inventive the designs can get. Also, I can’t wait to see how you do Cinder’s bow! Props are Not My Area so whenever I see them I’m blown away, and Cinder’s weapon is such a neat design to do.

#image description #rwby #rwby volume 7 #weiss schnee #rwby redesign #eli rambles #sewing shit with eli #this counts i think #ask #i just got a new sketchbook and Fancy Pencils and this was my first time drawing with them #i still think there might be too much going on but at least its a bit better imo

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bullet-farmer · 4 years

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Some bisexual thoughts under the cut. Would love to talk to other bisexuals about this. CW for suicidal ideation, sexual confusion, sexual abuse, and...idk, stuff along those lines. PLEASE don’t read this if you’re in a bad place. I say this because a lot of my friends are right now and I don’t want to add to your burden. Please only read and advise if you know you can take on the question of “Am I bi or not?” without being triggered or feeling ovewhelm. Please take care of yourself first.

I had a crush a while back on an older man that got very unfun for me emotionally. And it made me (re?)think a lot about my sexuality. I’ve noticed something peculiar about how I’m attracted to people of different genders. And it kind of disturbs me. And it makes me wonder, “Am I really heterosexual after all?” When I’m attracted to women, it feels wonderful and exhilarating, but manageable. While this wasn’t true when I was younger (I really had no idea how to tell people I “liked” them), now i’m fine with chatting up women and admitting that I’m attracted to them. This may be because I was in a relationship with a woman for thirteen years and have exclusively dated women for most of my life (my high school boyfriend being the only exception outside of one or two dates in college that were horrible for both parties). I’ve only dated one nonbinary person (to the best of my knowledge; if anyone else was nonbinary, they didn’t ID that way at the time and/or didn’t tell me). So I’m not sure I have a pattern to observe here. But based on that one experience, I behaved the same as I do with women. But when it comes to men, God, things get out of hand. I’m not attracted to men often, but when I am, my God, it’s like someone dropped an entire flaming meteorite onto a mountain of dead grass. I go absolutely apeshit emotionally to a degree that is really uncomfortable for me, but that I can’t seem to turn down. The harder I try to pour water on it, the harder it burns. It’s like that old chestnut about only being able to think about pink elephants when someone tells you not to think about pink elephants. Things get out of control fast for me, and I end up getting just as scorched as that proverbial mountainside. I don’t know why this is. Is this because I don’t have any actual experience with men (outside of a few kisses on the cheek, going to prom, and lots of “I’m just not that into you” two weeks later when I was 17)? Because men and boys hurt me more often than not when I was a kid and therefore still developing emotionally? Is it because my dad died by suicide when I was 16 and therefore I’ve been looking for a Replacement ever since? (My high school boyfriend kind of looked like him...same hair, for example :/). Is it because I was never really taught how to date and/or because being neuroatypical, shy, and a survivor of sexual abuse sort of stunted my sexual and romantic interest in men and now I’m suddenly trying to relate to men I’m into as an adult instead of as a ten-year-old throwing spitballs at them, then hiding behind the nearest wall to giggle? This is just really, really hard for me and confusing, yeah? Until recently I thought I was primarily interested in women an NB people. That my interest in men was pretty much abstract and hypothetical. As in, “Yeah, I find them hot, but I’d never date one....” But then I think of all the hypothetical crushes I’ve had on celebrities, which lasted maybe a week but which were intense as fuck. When I see a cute man and get twitterpated for hours. I don’t do that with women and NB folks. Does this mean I never really was into them to begin with? To be clear, I’ve really enjoyed sex with the two women I’ve had it with in my life. I was terrible at it and I don’t think they had a very good time, but I was terrible at it because I wasn’t experienced, not because I was disinterested. All of the porn I look at is of women; male bodies tend not to interest me unless I’m really interested in the male who owns that body, which is rarely. I thought by 40 that I’d know what my sexuality is. Instead, I feel even more confused than I was at 20. What do you think? Am I really just a confused heterosexual who had bad experiences with men, which made me think I was bisexual? Is this just how bisexuality works for some people? Is there any way I can just have an attraction to men that doesn’t feel like my brain and body are running a scorched-earth policy all over my soul? Is that just how things go sometimes? To make things even more confusing, I’m just not...really into the idea of dating or being intimate with women or nonbinary people right now (LOL like I’ve had sex with anyone since, like, 2016, or like I’ll have sex with anyone ever again because I have nothing to offer anyone in that arena except for drama, despair, and absolute misery--which, cool if you like that, I guess, but no one ultimately does. But listing my bad qualities isn’t the point here; we’re dealing with my sexuality from an academic standpoint.). Does this mean I never was to begin with? That I’m a straight woman who just likes looking at women’s bodies and getting off to them? (Typing that makes me feel like, “Well, that makes you bi, Jo, seriously wtf?” But...am I?)

I don’t know. I’d really love some thoughts from bisexuals and pansexuals here. Feel free to reply, reblog with a reply, or just DM me. I’m also interested in hearing from lesbians and heterosexual women who thought they were bi or lesbian at one point and then realized that wasn’t the case. I’m just very confused right now, and I really don’t want to have a sexual and romantic life that consists of me going apeshit for a man, getting my heart broken, and repeating the cycle. But I don’t want to date a woman or a nonbinary person and just break their heart if I’m actually heterosexual. I hate this. I don’t need this right now. But I’m losing sleep over the issue and crying hysterically about it and I just...need some perspective that isn’t my own.

#bisexuality

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excellynt · 5 years

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The long-awaited MVSans Shell Revamps are almost here!

Right now, I could release the Underfell Revamped shell, but I’d rather publicly release all six of the existing shells revamps together.

If you’re not familiar with the AU Shell Support information, check the Shell Support Superpost here.

Now that I have the formatting and base code for the shells done, adding the rest should be much quicker, since the main goal of this revamp is to make adding more AU shells streamlined for maximum efficiency! So while I’m not gonna spitball an ETA (because that would provoke Anxiety™) it’s very much on the horizon.

You may notice shell name changes in the next builds. Shells in the old format will have Legacy in their title while revamps will have Revamped.

Geno will be the most trouble to fully implement due to his persistent glitching animation, so I may opt to publicly release the other 5 first. However, writing his code will clear the way for easily adding Ink, Error, and Fresh shells!

Those three were so popular I had to put them in their own poll 👀💦

Due to the overwhelming demand for Swap/Blueberry, I’ve been reconsidering my plans for “Unofficial Support” vs. “Official Support” of AU Shell submissions since then, so stay tuned for more info on qualifications!

Vote weekly here to voice what AUs you wanna see next! Feel free to add your own AU if it’s not an option. (View Results) — Please don’t spam votes. * Please note this is just to gauge general interest; a top voted AU may be unfeasible to implement right away.

My supporters are in luck though!

Once I properly configure the Underfell Revamped shell to update separately from the main ghost, I’ll distribute it to my Patreon/Ko-Fi supporters along with BugTesters on the @ukagakadreamteam Ghost Dev Discord server. Supporters will be able to download the revamped shells individually as I complete them, so if you’re mega-antsy for animated edgy skele and not already a supporter, you may want to look into those options.

Patrons should expect a post in the next week on Patreon containing the new shell. Ko-Fi supporters I’ll have to contact individually. As a bonus, the limited edition Dapperblook accessory will be included in these early downloads!

Thank you guys so much for your continued support. I can’t properly express how much it helps me so this is a small token of appreciation.💖

Support me via Patreon | Ko-Fi today!

Can’t even spare a Ko-fi? You can still help by reblogging and sharing this post, and share your enjoyment of ALL ukagaka ghosts with your friends!

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space-finally · 5 years

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A completely excessive list of Final Space predictions

Not just for season 2 but like in general. Also I'm just kinda like, spitballing here, do I expect every single thing here to happen exactly as I say? Nah. Just like, bingo-chart type predictions. And not really in any particular order, sorry for it not being organized.

*Spoilers below the cut*

It's a new villain who comes to save Gary at the beginning of the season. (Probably they realize Mooncake would be more compliant for Gary, and it's some sort "You'll help us if you ever want to see your friends again!" scenario.)

In fact, we don't actually see the rescue, just him slowly waking up with an oxygen mask on, villain introduces themself.

The crew's replacement ship is smaller, older, and run-down, which causes problems. (Whack-a-mole repairs without the help of the SAMES, don't have the luxury of everyone each getting a room to themself, etc.)

We find out John was actually an asshole, and/or Jack has a Freudian excuse.

The Dewinter family make an appearance.

We see Quinn's sister and dog.

Quinn backstory; there's a good reason why she has trouble trusting people.

Gary or Quinn say something stereotypically dad-ish or mom-ish to Little Cato.

Gary and Quinn mission separated from the rest of the group. ;-)

Little Cato is grossed out by Gary and Quinn making out in front of him.

"Mystery Girl" is somehow connected to either Gary or Quinn.

Alternate Garys from Chapter 8 return Spiderverse-style.

Gary's overly trusting nature bites him in the ass.....

....Which later causes him to NOT trust someone he SHOULD.

Nightfall appears suddenly without any warning or buildup.

A look into Nightfall's failed timelines.

Earthen refugees on other planets.

Alien zoo.

This

is either the remnants of Earth or the whole rest of Terra Con Prime

Explanation for why people on Terra Con Prime don't like humans.

Clarence is human-racist to Gary and Quinn (but takes a shine to Little Cato, having known his dad).

Clarence joins the team, but isn't entirely trustworthy.

Gary's robot arm is destroyed or damaged, forcing him to go with only one arm for a while, until he gets a cooler, upgraded one. (Bonus if he has to rip the arm off himself.)

Someone has a serious injury with actual lasting consequences.

Main character gets a new outfit, or at least new design element.

Mooncake isn't the same after LC's torture, he's either weaker due to the overexertion of his power, seriously traumatized, or just furious.

John was somehow involved in the Titan's grande scheme. (By association, so is Gary now.)

Some sort of "chosen one" thing going on with either of the former. (Yeah, bad trope and all, but the thing the Gatekeeper said about him being "chosen before he was even born?")

We see planet Ventrexia.

Little Cato becomes consumed with revenge, eventually leading him to become a minor villain or anti-hero.

Some form of "And don't call me Little Cato anymore! It's just Cato now!"

Some variation of "Your dad died saving your life, don't you dare waste it!"

A rift in the crew causing at least one of them to break off from the group for a while. (Gary, Quinn, or Little Cato)

Mooncake willingly leaves to protect the others.

Quinn is somehow changed after being rescued from Final Space. (Has powers and/or signs of corruption like the Lord Commander, or else is burned, deafened, blinded, or otherwise injured from the explosion itself.)

Quinn and Gary fight, like not petty relationship drama, but over some irreconcilable moral difference.

Just, something that serves as some sort of "pedestal breaking" moment for Quinn, where Gary finds out something not-so-great about her.

The crew, or just Gary, is forced to team up with the Lord Commander in order to fight the Titans.

Helper Hula returns, the goings-on of the Order of the Twelve is a big plot element.

A character develops powers, or else discovers previously-dormant powers.

Any is line lifted directly from the pilot.

We go inside the mind of a different Titan, (most likely this guy.)

Shelby Merry's "The Scorch" (Hmmmm.......would this be maybe a little TOO on-the-nose?)

Flashback to sometime between Gary being a kid and Gary meeting Quinn.

Gary is/was a gambling addict.

Dr. Bluestein and Derrick return, and we figure out what was actually going on in that scene.

The crystal has some sort of significance.

They get more on-the-nose about Gary's whole..."not allowed to have a guitar" situation.

Gary is offered and turns down a cookie (GASP!!)

Due to Nightfall or the Time Worm, the crew travels a significant amount of time into the past.

Avocato returns in some form, but NOT in a good way, or at least, not in a permanent way.

Quinn ditches the Infinity Guard uniform.

Mysterious space virus plot.

Someone coughs blood or vomits while wearing a helmet, and we see it across the mask.

This guy is just a harmless wacky dude trying to help:

Some sort of excuse to get everyone in fancy clothes (only to immediately get them soaked in bad guy blood!)

Another episode where everything seems to be going great, only to go horribly horribly wrong at the very last minute (a la Chapter 6)

Gary "remembers" things from other timelines.

Jack was really into board games ("All the pieces are in place. Let's play a little!" "Is this a game? I love games." "I love games! I always win." "This isn't how you play the game!")

KVN is replaced with another KVN unit.

Zargon slugs in the dark zone, that get defeated with salt.

At the very least, an explanation of what the "dark zone" is.

A fight scene or dramatic confrontation happens here:

Some sort of nightmare fuel fuckery goes down here:

Gary snaps and, out of desperation or rage, does something uncharacteristically dark (lashes out at someone, or hurts someone aside from shooting a no-name red shirt enemy.)

Encounter with a black hole (hey, that's topical right now!)

Feel free to add on!

#final space #final space season 2 #final space theory #final space prediction #theory

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brothermouzongaming · 5 years

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Destiny 2 and the changes coming

Well well well if Bungie aren’t really working to get back on track then I don’t know what they’re up to.

Season of Opulence

Season of the Drifter was a little weak, if you weren’t about Gambit you were pretty much fucked unless Reckoning did something for you. Opulence however does the most important thing right about any Destiny expansion: the loot. The Menagerie as an activity and the Chalice as a world item are both two of the better additions to Destiny if not the best. There is no activity in this game that you can do, finish, and know exactly what item you’re gonna pull from that chest. Escalation Protocol is the closest thing and even that usually requires multiple runs to get your IKELOS shotgun to drop (you don’t have the sniper or smg and you know it!). I’ve yet to play the “raid” (it honestly looks more like a raid lair but that’s just me) but even without that this one pve activity is almost worth this entire season personally. It is a little light on content otherwise but sheer number of times I know I’ll be running the Menagerie are going to keep me entertained more than any other addition to this game since release. If we can expect more content like this from Bungie here on out Destiny is looking very good in the long run. This is a good step forward that should be the framework for a lot of content moving forward. Focussing on ways for players to earn the exact weapon/gear piece we want via going out into the world and completing activities. Only to return to a semi-demanding to outright difficult game mode, maybe this time add a fail state cause there are zero stakes outside of getting a triumph. edit: Heroic Menagerie just dropped and extinguish is a constant modifier. Ask and Bungie will make sure you receive.

Free to play in September

I personally have no problem with this now nearly two-year-old game going FtP. How can I be mad when the base game Warmind and Curse of Osiris should be free because boy are they meh. Maybe I’ll get into PvP with all these noobs coming into the game lolol. As far as I’m concerned this means quicker queue times for the crucible, strikes, reckoning, menagerie. This is another move that I could never see Bungie being able to make while under the watchful eye of Activision. It may definitely be the shot in the arm the franchise needs.

A La Carte Seasons

As if going free to play wasn’t good enough, being able to buy individual seasons is going to be another big move. Imagine being interested in buying the Destiny content and being able to go online and read reviews/ listen to your favorite youtuber’s opinions on that season and make an informed decision. Only missing out on a single season as opposed to the entire year which is just foolish and greedy. The content you want and nothing else. That is the way live services should be in my opinion. Pay for the content you want while not missing out just because you don’t want to spend your money. I’m glad they’re going about it this way but Destiny 3 better be free or heavily discounted cause this is basically a subscription model.

Shadow Keep

This is where things get concerning. I don’t doubt Bungie can take us back to the Moon and give us new and interesting things to do and learn. I am however worried that this retreading locations and reintroducing of D1 guns will become a reoccurring thing. I’m sure a lot of people would argue it already has and...yeah. Especially when you look at how bare bones a lot of these seasons have been. Where the hell are my strikes?? We haven’t had a new strike since Forsaken (Zero Hour doesn’t count dammit). It’s just frustrating to see them take new seasons and introduce old content. Especially when so much more could and should be done with these releases. Shadow Keep does sound like it’ll be closer to the size of Forsaken rather than either of the previous DLCs.

Destiny 2 going forward

I said when Bungie left Activision that this was their chance, this was their opportunity to show they had good intentions. To show that the things they were doing under Activision were based on Activision’s desires and necessities. So far every step since the separation has been in the right direction as far as I’m concerned. I didn’t even touch on Eververse armor being rolled into ornaments so there’s no incentive to spend money on armor that has perks. *Chef kiss* YES! This is where Destiny needs to be pivoting especially when free to play is going to bring in so many people. People who are gonna look at/listen to reviews of the annual pass and I’m sure a handful will buy into the annual pass. If nothing else they’ll pick and choose the season they want, which is great. I think “finisher moves” are pointless unless we’re incentivized via orbs of light or maybe a temporary stat buff specific to each class? Energy from Warlocks, speed from Hunter’s, damage from Titan’s? I’m just spitballing here. All in all, I feel good about the future of Destiny, but I do have my eye on you Bungie...watch yourself.

#Destiny #Destiny 2 #Bungie #video games #gaming

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