#but I’ll just say the universe has been making sure I get rejected in increasingly elaborate and comical ways!

[pizzabookbuying]

the universe DOES actually have a sense of humor

#okay I was about to info dump so bad here and then decided that actually I probably shouldn’t #but I’ll just say the universe has been making sure I get rejected in increasingly elaborate and comical ways! #honestly rn I can’t even be mad! like at least it’s funny!

[homo-sex-shoe-whale]

Online shipping, the fetishisation of gay men, and the romanticisation of queer trauma

An essay by me!

Word count: 2.8k

A link to the Google Doc version of this essay.

A big thank you to my friends Nathan @themeerkatnate, Mav @not-mavv , and Duke @dukedark-ness for reading this essay and giving me their thoughts as mlms on the topic. Make sure to check out their blogs and give them a follow!

So I was on a lovely website by the name of Twitter.com yesterday, just scrolling through while having my afternoon cup of coffee, when I saw that viral post of a girl reading a Larry fanfic through a classroom projector. I'm sure most of you have seen it. It's gone viral on Instagram, TikTok, and likely Tumblr too, and if you haven't come across it I'm positive you will soon.

Now, after getting through my initial reaction to that post which was, holy fuck, that's so embarrassing, I had a second reaction of... wait, this ship is still around?

And after I had some thoughts on the incredible permanence of some online ships and the weird obsolescence of others, I did get to thinking of how lots of these popular ships seem to stem from the same types of perceived relationship dynamics and homophobic stereotypes.

These online fandoms often seem to have an obsession with objects of queer trauma, such as having to hide a relationship, lying about sexuality for self-preservation, and even social rejection. So, after some opinions from my followers and the great archive that is the internet, I've decided to discuss some of the most popular examples of online shipping and the particular nuances they came with.

NOTE: Out of respect for all these people, I won't be sharing viral images or videos of them in perceived romantic proximity (or even kissing, as is applicable for some examples), but I will be describing certain moments I deem to be relevant. So even if you're unfamiliar with them, you won't be confused as to what I'm talking about.

NOTE 2: Although not all people within these fandoms were/are toxic, this essay is focused on the overall toxicity of the fandoms, and how they are toxic more so as a "hive" than as a group of individuals. When I refer to a fandom I don't mean every person involved in the fandom, but rather the collective impact of the group.

 1. Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson 

This is arguably the most popular example of online shipping. The absolute permanence of this ship, and how its fandom never seems to fully die off even beyond the lifespan of One Direction as it once stood, is downright impressive.  

I'm going to be the first to admit I was never in the loop with this fandom. My childhood best friend was actually a massive Larry shipper and asked me to beta read one of her fics, but that was before I even knew who tf Harry and Louis were! Not because I avoided the fandom or even because I rejected the online shipping, but just by coincidence, I delved into the world of pop punk music right when One Direction began gaining its popularity. I bought my first ever album, Riot by Paramore, in 2011- only a year after One Direction made their X-Factor debut. So, this fandom just bypassed me by a sort of weird coincidence.

But I don't need to be in the loop with this fandom to know the astronomical obsession with these two men, no, these two BOYS, was extremely toxic. In 2010, when One Direction made their debut, Harry Styles was only 16 years old. And Louis Tomlinson wasn't much older at 19! This made the two of them incredibly young when this unprecedented wave of shipping hit the internet, and although that must be traumatising for anyone, I cannot even fathom how overwhelming it must've been for two boys that young.  

I'm 18, almost 19 now, and I cannot begin to imagine how scary it was for the two of them to have their every interaction nitpicked within an inch of its life by thousands upon thousands of people online. I do not know this myself, but from numerous recounts by some of my followers, this massively impacted Harry's and Louis' nondescript relationship in real life, seemingly driving the two previously close friends apart. 

Now, before we move on, there's something we need to talk about. And that is the obsession with the dominance/submission dynamic within the world of gay shipping. 

With almost every popular mlm (an acronym meaning man-loving-man) ship based on real people, it seems that fandoms have a particular fascination with power imbalances in these relationships. You don't even need to look at the insane amount of fanfictions based on BDSM to figure this out. In almost all of the examples I'll be citing today, there is an age gap within the perceived relationship and a person the fandom has seemingly decided to be the top/dominant figure. 

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are 3 years apart in age. Although it isn't all that relevant now, an age gap of 3 years when you're in your late teens is a lot more significant. In 2012, for example, when this shipping really started gaining traction, Harry Styles was 18 and Louis Tomlinson was 21. That power imbalance, albeit not that significant, is enough for a fandom to latch on to. We'll see this a lot more in the coming example with Dan and Phil.

 2. Dan Howell and Phil Lester

It's impossible to have a discussion about internet shipping without talking about Dan and Phil.

 Dan Howell and Phil Lester, although being popular YouTubers individually, are arguably one of the internet's most iconic duos. The two creators published their first videos together in 2009, and while their relationship was already a motive of speculation back then, the peak of the "Phan" shipping definitely came in the 2013-2016 era of Tumblr.

Now, I'm going to admit… I was actually on Tumblr when that happened. 

The 2013-2016 period perfectly aligns with my middle school days (I started middle school in 2013 and high school in 2016), and I was not only on Tumblr back then, but I was on Wattpad too! Again, this wasn't a fandom I had much contact with as I had a huge anime phase in middle school and I was on Tumblr posting mainly photography and Soul Eater content more than anything. 

But I did watch some of Dan and Phil's videos! And the occasional "Phan" content did not completely evade me as one of my closest friends in middle school had a fanchat for them. I wasn't involved in the fandom myself but they were actually one of the few English-speaking YouTubers I watched once in a blue moon (back then I watched mainly Brazilian YouTubers). One thing I did in fact notice over the years, around 2014ish perhaps, was that the two of them seemed to grow increasingly "awkward" around each other, in a way that many folks on the internet thought was reminiscent to Markiplier/Jacksepticeye, two YouTubers who also dealt with extraordinary amounts of shipping.

I'm not the only one who thinks this. The change in Dan and Phil's relationship, at least to the outside world, was clear to almost anyone who watched their videos for a while. I cannot blame them at all. The shipping was nuts. Between the countless fan videos, speculative comments, and insurmountable number of fanfics, there's no way the two of them didn't feel the weight of the shipping. The term "demon phannie" made its way into internet vernacular and there it stayed for years. Even Shane Dawson, who was one of the largest creators on the platform at the time, made several videos speculating on the nature of Dan and Phil's relationship and their sexual orientations. 

There was even porn made in which actors with similar appearances to the creators were made to have sex on camera. 

Now, this is actually a rare example where the two people involved in the ship actually came out as gay once the shipping seemed to die down. I'm incredibly happy Dan and Phil both reached a point where they were comfortable being publicly out, but I hate to say I'm shocked this day ever came. If I'd gone through what the two of them did, I don't know if I'd ever trust the internet. 

And again, this ship's fandom definitely had an obsession with the power dynamics they thought existed between the people within the ship. Dan Howell is 4 years younger than Phil Lester, and was only 18 in 2009, when they started making videos together. From my personal understanding, the shipping was often quite focused on this dominant/submissive dynamic especially in discussions from their early relationship. And this is in no way exclusive to Dan and Phil.

This general fascination with the older man/younger man dynamic, in my opinion, plays into the homophobic stereotype that gay men are predators. The idea that gay men usually seek younger men, and somehow "convince" them to engage in homosexual relationships, is popular homophobic rhetoric. The popularisation, exaggeration, and fetishisation of these power imbalances, in age and/or in relationship dynamics, is directly harmful to the mlm community. 

Not only that, but the romanticisation of a "hidden/forbidden relationship" is also detrimental not only to gay men and the mlm community, but to queer people as a whole. Queer people face huge trauma having to hide their relationships; queer attraction is already a societal taboo. And acting like this is good, or even desirable, is harmful to queer people as a whole, regardless of whether or not it's actually applicable to the people being shipped. It normalises this trauma not only to cisgender, heterosexual people, but to impressionable queer youth who grow to believe this type of trauma is to be expected. 

3. Frank Iero and Gerard Way

This is another example where the perceived power imbalances between the two subjects of the shipping were directly exploited online. Now, this ship did precede the others mentioned above. If we're looking at this topic chronologically, this particular ship did come first in the shipping timeline. It's closer to the origin of the shipping extended universe, if you will.

In case you aren't familiar with them, Frank Iero and Gerard Way are both members of the American emo band My Chemical Romance. This ship is the first one here of which I don't recall the full popularity. It really peaked in popularity around the late 2000s, circa 2008. And I don't remember this moment online as in 2008, I was only 6 years old and believe it or not, I wasn't really all that concerned with rumoured homoeroticism as a first grader. 

However, the popularity of this ship did carry over into the 2013-2015 Tumblr shipping boom. The emo fandom (or "bandom" as it was called) involving not only My Chemical Romance but other similar bands such as Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, and Pierce the Veil, found its hub on Tumblr. 

During this time, I did in fact listen to this style of music, but was focused a lot more on the anime side of Tumblr as mentioned earlier. Of course, I wasn't 13 years old like, "hey, this type of content might be harmful and can inadvertently perpetuate homophobic stereotypes," I just happened to care more about my silly little anime and ended up not getting involved. 

This ship does involve a discussion that the others don't, however. With Frank Iero and Gerard Way, there is quite often a certain sentiment of, "Oh, they brought this upon themselves!" as the two band members very famously kissed during a show in 2007. In my opinion, though, this doesn't really justify all the obsessive shipping. If you look at Green Day, a band often grouped in with MCR as another famous pop punk group, the members don't follow too different of a trajectory. Billie Joe Armstrong has, on numerous occasions, kissed both of his fellow band members onstage- particularly Tré Cool, the drummer. And Billie Joe Armstrong is openly bisexual, which none of the members of MCR seem to be but some, or even all of Billie's bandmates, are too. 

You'd think Green Day would face a lot more shipping as the more persistent onstage homoeroticism and Billie Joe's openness about his sexuality would warrant more "substantiated" speculation. However, Green Day faces nowhere near as much shipping as My Chemical Romance. Why is this? I actually don't know. It might've been because Green Day has been around for over a decade longer and generally has an older fandom, but I really am not that sure. 

 It could also be because of the lower lack of potential for forced relationship dynamics. The members of Green Day are all less than a year apart in age and are even similar in height. However, Frank Iero is 4 years younger than Gerard Way, who is not only the frontman of My Chemical Romance, but also considered to be the group's intellectual and creative "leader". Even beyond that, Gerard Way is quite visibly taller, and the perceived power difference between the two of them definitely did not elude their fans. 

This difference could even be partly due to the lack of a "mystery" with Green Day. There's not as much to speculate as, well… the members of Green Day are already open about their sexual orientations. It might be that shipping in the Green Day fandom has less of a forbidden appeal for most people. 

Of course, I won't just keep repeating myself, but my previous points about forced relationship dynamics still stand.

4. Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch

Better known for their roles in BBC Sherlock as Sherlock and Watson, Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately had their roles follow them well into real life. This is the example I know least about, so have these thoughts from a follower by the name of @indubitably-a-goblin, who had the following to say:

"the main issues i had with it were:

a) they were both married at the time, freeman to amanda abbington and cumberbatch to sophie hunter (in which both had children)

b) the main reasoning for it was their chemistry in the many projects they've done together. which is, shockingly, their Whole Job. They're actors! That's what they're supposed to do! if they weren't good at interacting then they wouldn't be good actors! i don't know how people can't understand this.

c) they're real people. we don't know them. we aren't friends with them. we aren't their family members. we have zero right to be pushing this onto them and ruining their friendship by doing so. (this one relates to most of the ships you've mentioned though)

d) healthy friendships between two men are ignored so plainly in most medias and in fandom. its obvious that these two men have a relationship, but that doesn't mean it's a romantic one.

e) its fine to ship their characters, but actors shouldn't be treated as less-than-human or some sort of prop. they're doing a job, and once they are off-screen, they aren't here for your entertainment."

I believe she did a great job of summing it up on her own, and for the sake of avoiding redundancy, I'll leave it at that!

5. Corpse Husband and Sykkuno- an emerging yet subtle example

I am absolutely positive you remember how popular the game Among Us was a couple of months ago. And with the popularity of this game, some of its most prominent content creators became the targets of online shipping- as is the case with YouTubers and streamers Corpse Husband and Sykkuno. 

Although the shipping involving these two creators is nowhere near as strong as it was/is with the examples above, I do think there is once again a reemergence of a common theme here. Whilst Sykkuno is known for his happy-go-lucky, almost "innocent" persona, Corpse Husband is the antithesis of this, known for his much darker and moodier personality. 

Do I even have to mention what the common theme seems to be?

Again, although the popularity of shipping - at least with real people - seems to have died down a bit since the Tumblr shipping boom of the early to mid 2010s, I do believe this example is worth mentioning. Even though the creators are still close, they have in fact expressed discomfort regarding the shipping, and I can only hope the internet as a whole lets their friendship blossom and exist naturally without obsessive speculation. 

My final thoughts

As explored in the essay:

The romanticisation of objects of queer trauma as a part of online shipping normalises queer trauma to both cishet and queer youth. 

Online shipping, especially at a high intensity, can end up negatively impacting the very relationships they pine over. 

The relationship dynamics often forced on mlm ships perpetuate homophobic stereotypes about non-heterosexual men. 

If anyone else has thoughts on this matter, do share! This essay is moreso an opinionated observational piece and isn't meant to be taken as fact but rather just as my thoughts on the matter. I hope it was useful as a reflective piece regardless!

Date of posting: June 16th 2021

#lgbt #lgbtq #gay #mlm #I cannot believe I said the phrase 'shipping extended universe'

[foone]

Unbreathing Vacuum

I got an ADHD inspiration to write a short DS9 fic off a shitpost about Star Trek-but-all-the-computers-run-windows-98, so I wrote a thing about Odo and the crew's reaction to his seeming death. (This was written for twitter, so it's gonna have some weird paragraph breaks, sorry about that)

Odo is tracking down a Bolian weapons dealer with as many morals as hair follicles when he finally corners him in a cargo bay. It goes south, quickly, as it turns out weapons dealers have access to a lot of weapons.

His Bajoran security officer is laying down suppressing fire as Odo sneaks around behind the Bolian who is trying out a wide variety of strange weapons, colored beams shooting across the room like we're in a deadly disco of death.

Odo reforms into a grumpy humanoid behind the blue man group reject, shedding his Andorian Ice Fox form that let him cross the sea of crates without detection. Odo grumbles "I think that's enough, don't you?" as the Bolian turns and screams.

The football shaped object in his hands that was beeping increasingly frantic pitches drops to the floor, and he dives for it. Odo looks down in surprise, then recognizes what it is, but it's slightly too late, as timers on Klingon grenades are not known for their accuracy.

There's a flash of light and pressure as it detonates, and the cargo bay wall cracks, and the one sound no one wants to hear in a space station begins: the high pitched hissing of air rapidly leaving.

Odo gets to his feet in that uncanny way he sometimes does when he forgets to move like a being who has bones. He simply transitions from a body on the floor to a standing vaguely humanoid form. The Bolian, being closer to the blast, appears dead, or at least soon to be so.

He turns to his security officer to tell her to go call Chief O'Brien, when the hissing wall suddenly groans with the sound of bending metal, and the wall gives way completely. An entire semi-rectangular wall panel is ejected into the black, taking Odo and the dead Bolian with it

The security officer, nearer to the door, slams the access panel and dives through the door before it can finish opening, and rips off a barely attached wall panel to yank on the manual bulkhead release.

The door slams shut with typical Cardassian efficiency, not caring or bothering to check if there might be a limb or two in the way. The hurricane wind of all the station's air trying to escape is suddenly ended, and deafening white noise gives way to the low hum of the station.

Moments later, the crew up in Ops are reacting to the news of Odo's death in almost comically predictable ways.

Kira, the career soldier, is angry. She's seen many friends die in front of her, and she never let herself become numb to it. She's swearing at Odo in ways that the universal translator is so good at eliding, saying she always told him he was taking too many risks.

Just because he won't mind when someone stabs him doesn't mean he's invulnerable, she told him, and he, as always, almost-smiled in the way he only seems to do around her and grumbled about how he'd be careful.

The young doctor is barely holding it together. Kira's lashing out but it's a controlled sort of anger, a way she keeps a handle on the pain of losing people. Bashir, the eternal optimist to Odo's eternal pessimist, doesn't really believe in death, a strange trait for a doctor.

O'Brien is focusing himself on technical issues to avoid having to think about the emotional ones. What kind of weapon could have taken out a reinforced cargo bay wall? Had it been damaged before and incorrect repaired? He makes a note to do a full check of structural integrity

Dax has seemingly no reaction, but that's almost to be expected. You have a different outlook on death when you've died before, multiple times. As a near-immortal you see many people and make many friends, and nearly all of them will die long before you.

You have to learn to accept it, or it will kill you by inches. One of the downsides of seemingly endless life is there's a lot of time to mourn.

The commander is definitely feeling the impact of the loss, especially having had far too much experience with this particular kind of loss before. He flashes back to that time he always, in some way, still resides in...

When an alien force shows up and starts carving your ship into digestible chunks, you quickly become intimately familiar with the effects of sudden decompression on the humanoid body. It's not pretty, it's not as fast as you'd hope, and it's something you never forget.

He maintains his composure, leaning on his command training, and asks Kira to make a list of security officers she'd suggest promoting to Chief of Security. He thinks for a moment, realizes Odo had no family, and says he'll send a note to Dr. Pol

He turns back to go into his office when there's a dull thudding noise, and a sort of faint tink-tink-tink caused by the flexing of glass that happens with even the thickest of reinforced viewport.

He looks around in confusion, and Dax suddenly points at one of the high-up viewports. Floating outside the window, looking only slightly more annoyed than his resting "I hate life" face, is Odo.

It feels like something outside of a horror movie, a ghost floating silently outside a second story window, because humanoids don't just happily move around in the harsh void of space without needing a suit or a forcefield to keep them breathing.

But Odo isn't like most humanoids, after all. He's not a humanoid, for one. He's more a confounding self-propelled pile of goo that sometimes feels like pretending to be a humanoid shape.

This is made more obvious by the fact that he's only half there. His lower half is not legs, but a shimmering stretch of undifferentiated shapeshifter material, in order to hold onto an access handle tightly enough to give him the leverage to knock on a window.

Seeing he's got the attention of the crew, he pulls his hands from the window and starts attempting to sign to them. Kira's the only one with any experience in Bajoran sign language, and the best she can make out is something like "he broke his... Weasel? Columns him... Boat?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes, like only a shapeshifter really can. The sigh is silent of course, but if anyone could grumble in disappointment in the vacuum of space, it would be Odo.

His hands blur together as he shapeshifts them into a new form: a small flat panel, with Bajoran lettering in a large block font, perhaps a little too blocky as his aggravation is coming across even in typographical form.

COMBADGE DAMAGED BEAM ME ABOARD

Dax and O'Brien quickly confer, taking a painfully long moment to figure out how to lock onto something that is neither wearing a working combadge or reads as a life sign. Finally they figure out how to get a lock, and engage the transporter.

The grumpy-looking chief of security rematerializes on the Ops transporter pad, adjusting his "uniform" in an entirely unnecessarily maneuver he long ago picked up in his study of humanoids. He's naked, after all, he just looks like he's wearing clothes.

"Thank you for bringing me in", he grumbles, not saying the "finally" everyone can clearly hear in his tone. "It turns out that you can't open airlocks from the outside, so I wasn't able to come in the obvious way."

O'Brien, still slightly surprised by the sudden reappearance of his "dead" coworker, falls back on technical details as always. "That's a safety system we installed. The airlocks won't open unless they detect a ship is docked."

Kira chimes in with "Yeah, the Cardassians didn't have that restriction, as they wanted the freedom to just toss Bajorans out the airlocks when they felt like it." Odo responds with his usual grunt, a dismissive "pah, you solids and your weaknesses and your squabbles" noise.

Sisko replies "Regardless, it's good to see you alive and well, Odo."

Odo half-nods. "Commander, if you'll excuse me, I have reports to file and a safety lockout to implement. As tempting a prospect as it might seem, I wouldn't want Quark to end up to be sucked out the station's new orifice when he comes looking for his shipment of Yarmok sauce."

O'Brien jumps in with his typical urgency, half-covering up the feeling of "I should have fixed that already, damn" that he's seemingly always feeling around here. "I'll send a repair team down there right away."

Odo doesn't turn as he walks to the lift. "That would be appreciated, Chief. I'd rather not have to walk along the outside of the station again today." he says, punctuating it by activating the lift and descending out of view.

Sisko rubs his forehead. This is a strange place indeed, and despite all the headaches it gives him on a daily basis, he's beginning to feel almost at home in this remote alien place.

This place is strange, the people are strange, the situation is strange... But they're his strange.

Maybe someday they'll stop surprising him. But he doubts it, and he isn't sure he would want them to.

He sits down at his desk and pulls up another of the day's reports, thankful he doesn't need to write that letter to Doctor Mora Pol, for more than one reason.

It's never easy losing someone under your command, and writing that letter to their next-of-kin never gets easier either. But it's a good day when you don't have to do either.

#star trek deep space nine #ds9 #odo #star trek #fanfic

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 5)

This is the fifth chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

This and the fourth chapter are also inspired by the “Distance” and “Talk to me” animatics by @suerakocy, so please check that out and give the artist some praise. They deserve it so much, because those pieces are beautiful.

Summary: It takes Lance years to come back to the Garrison but, when he does, his friends are there for him.

We finally get Lance pining hour!

Trigger warning: Talk of PTSD and mention of blood, but no description of violence. The story really just starts right in it.

24 and 22 years old

Lance woke up to a dark, quiet room and for a moment he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. The air felt stuck in his throat, because as soon as he inhaled the sound of his haggard breathing would break the silence and alert whatever awaited in the shadows.

But there’s nothing there, Lance told himself.

He had dreamt of the war, again. In his nightmare, there was another explosion and Lance hadn’t been quick enough to shield whoever was with him in the room. The darkness that followed was oppressing, dense enough that he’d felt like it was water flooding his lungs.

And then the water had turned into blood.

He sat up in bed, trying to control his shaking. It had taken years and a lot of therapy, but Lance had managed not to fall into panic attacks every time such memories made their way into his dreams. Still, he was glad to have built his own house on the farm grounds. His parents deserved a good night’s rest, especially after what Lance had put them through during his time with Voltron.

He reached for his cellphone with unsteady fingers. After their last battle against the Galra, Lance had learned to leave it on during his sleep, just in case he woke up like this: with adrenaline running through his veins and the vague sensation that something was terribly wrong.

He hesitated over his contact list, before finally scrolling down and pressing call. It didn’t take long for the other person to answer.

“Is anyone hurt?” was Keith’s greeting.

“No.” Lance swallowed once, trying to erase the grit from his voice. “Nightmare.”

There was a second of silence and then the rustle of sheets. “Okay.” He heard Keith exhale harshly, but Lance knew it wasn’t in annoyance. The whole team had gone through this more times than they could count. “Okay.” Keith seemed a little calmer now. “Are you all right?”

“Not really,” Lance confessed. He leaned against the headboard and pulled his knees up. It was easier to concentrate on his breathing when he wasn’t lying down. “It was Sendak’s first attack, again.”

“You’ve been thinking about that one a lot lately.” Keith’s observation made Lance grind his teeth. It was true, but he didn’t need to say it.

“Could you call her?” Lance breathed out. His voice sounded pained and he winced, thankful that only Keith was privy to it.

“Lance, we can’t keep doing this.” His friend’s tone was weighted with his own share of hurt. “If you want to know how she is, then you need to call Pidge.”

“I do call Pidge. Just not…”

“Not when you are feeling vulnerable?” Keith sighed into the phone, sounding more tired than normal.

“You weren’t sleeping, were you?” Lance latched onto this realization. He felt stupid not to have recognized it earlier, with how quickly Keith had answered the call.

“Don’t change the subject.” The reply came harshly and it only served to confirm his suspicions.

“I’m not! We made a deal to call one another if the flashbacks started again.” He lit up the lamp on his nightstand and frowned at the pictures he kept on the opposing wall, as if it could make the real Keith feel his irritation. “Would you have talked to anyone if I hadn’t called?”

“My mom is here with me,” Keith admitted after a moment. “She and Kolivan have kept me company while Xitry is away.”

Lance let relief replace his anger. “Are both Xitry and Acxa on a mission?”

“Yeah… My leg still isn’t completely healed, so I couldn’t join them. Acxa will take another phoeb to come home, but Xitry should be back in a few days.” Keith paused and there was the sound of other muffled voices. “Mom says you should call Pidge.”

“You are a traitor and a hypocrite.” Lance scowled, despite how no one could see him.

Keith scoffed and Lance could feel the mockery in his expression even so many miles away. “I have called my partners every day they’ve been gone. Can you say the same?”

“Pidge is not my partner!” he protested, feeling heat rise up his neck.

“No, she’s just the first person you think about when waking up from a nightmare and then you call me, because if you called Hunk he would just spill it to her first chance he got.” Lance did not appreciate all the sarcasm Keith was giving him.

“I just want to be sure that she’s okay!” He frowned down at his knees, picking at a piece of lint that stuck to his pajama pants.

“Then ask her yourself!” Keith, too, was being too loud for the middle of the night. His vexation almost felt like a victory to Lance. “Pidge is smart, she can tell there’s something strange about my calls.”

“How are you a spy with this kind of acting skills?” Lance chastened.

“I’m no longer a spy, remember? I’m part of a humanitarian organization!” He heard Keith take a deep breath. “This would be much easier if you just told Pidge you’re in love with her.”

The words gave him pause. Lance didn’t yet know how to describe what he felt for Pidge. She was one of his best friends, the person who had stuck around the most after the team went their separate ways. Shiro had his own family to rebuild, and Keith and Hunk had a whole universe to help stabilize.

Pidge and Lance had found their own goals, but staying on Earth allowed them to check in on each other much more often.

“She doesn’t see me like that, Keith.” Lance hadn’t meant to sound so defeated, but it came out that way.

“Yeah, well, neither did Allura, but you wore her out.”

The reminder didn’t bring the same pain it would have a few years earlier.

Lance knew that he would always love Allura, but his feelings had settled into a more comfortable kind of affection. With the privilege of hindsight, Lance was able to see that their relationship didn’t have the same base as his friendship with the other paladins. Even if she had lived, Allura would have left to be queen, too invested in the rebuilding of Altean society.

And Lance would have stayed on Earth. That had never been in question. He had put his family through enough suffering while with Voltron.

He had seen the greatness in Allura when he was only eighteen, but that also meant he would have stepped aside if he thought their relationship was putting a strain in both of them. He didn’t regret the time they’d had together, but her continuous rejections had also taught Lance to value himself.

Keith’s voice snapped Lance out of his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to bring up Allura.”

“No, it’s fine.” Lance rubbed his eyes. “I just… I don’t want Pidge to think of Allura if I ever do ask her out.”

“I can’t promise you that.” He respected Keith’s honesty, even though it did nothing to calm his worries. “But she will never see you as a romantic prospect if you don’t make things clear to her. As far as Pidge knows, you’re still in mourning.”

Again, Keith was right. Lance had been ruminating this notion for quite some time. There were times when he still felt indebted to Allura, like he was the one responsible for maintaining her legacy, but the years had given him enough maturity to understand that was a burden Allura would wish on no one.

It was difficult to take the first steps towards a new future when he’d spent so long wallowing in the darkness of the war. In the middle of it all, Pidge had been a beacon of light, a safe port for him to rest his mind. It was no wonder that he had fallen for her.

“I’m thinking of going back to the Garrison.” He swallowed thickly, the fear of this confession rising up to knot at his throat.

The line went silent for a moment. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Lance chuckled. “I’ve been working with Shiro and Doctor Holt, because the quintessence Allura left in me allows me to interact with Altean technology a little better than most. And since I’ve put my pilot license to good use in my travels, Shiro said the officers are ready to reinstate me.”

“That’s amazing, Lance!” It was weird to hear Keith sound so enthusiastic.

“I think that’s why the memories are coming back again, actually.” His next exhale came out shaky and forced. “I keep thinking of the Garrison and I just – I’m afraid that I’ll get there and it will be too much.”

“The place has changed a lot since the war,” Keith assured him. “Even if something happened, though, Shiro and Pidge are there to help you through. This could be really good for you.”

Lance snickered at his directness. Keith didn’t hide his opinions, didn’t coddle him like so much of his family. “So you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” His friend’s voice was blunt, without the dramatics that Lance himself would have added to such a statement. “Which is not saying much,” Keith teased.

“Hardy har har.” But Lance felt a smile pull at his mouth. “Does that mean you will call Pidge for me?”

There was a groan from the other side of the line. “Lance, no. I’m putting my foot down.”

“What? Why?” he complained and, with his movement, one of the pillows slipped to the ground. Lance glared at it.

“Because I’m sick of watching two of my closest friends dance circles around each other.” Keith sounded increasingly exasperated. “Talk. To. Her. Pidge is a tough girl, but she has grown a lot. She won’t be mad at you for calling.”

“I know that!” Lance grumbled.

“Then do it!” Before he could disagree, Keith had already hung up the phone.

Lance stared at the screen in discontentment. The display told him it was just before 4 am in Varadero, meaning that it wasn’t even 2 am in Arizona. His talk with Keith had distracted him from the nightmare, but now that Lance was alone with his thoughts images of it had begun to flash in his mind.

Against the dimly lit wall of his bedroom, he could almost see the silhouette of Pidge’s younger self, her body contorted by the force of a blast Lance hadn’t been quick enough to protect her from.

His need to know Pidge was safe overrode his anxiety over disturbing her sleep.

The phone rang more times than it had with Keith, which was a bit nerve-wrecking, but also a relief. Lance hoped she was having a better rest than he was.

“Lance?” The breathiness of her voice made him swallow. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, at a loss of what else to say.

“Nightmares?” From her low volume, Lance could tell that Pidge must have been at her parents’ house. He felt bad for disturbing them.

“You’re okay, right?” His words were jumbled together. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, but– You are safe, aren’t you?”

“I’m safe, Lance.” He closed his eyes, feeling the last of his distress leave him with the sound of her voice. “I’m glad you called, actually.”

He tilted his head back until it hit the headboard. “Were you dreaming of me, Pidgey-Pidge?”

“No,” she cut him off brusquely, “but I imagine you were dreaming of me.”

“Why would you think so?” He grimaced at how strangled his voice sounded.

“Because I know you have had Keith calling me for the past couple months.” Her no-nonsense attitude made Lance feel like a deer-in-headlights.

“I can’t believe he ratted me out!” Once again, Lance directed his glare at a photo of Keith on the wall. “I have some choice words for that half-alien tattletale!”

“Keep your words, he didn’t say anything.” Pidge heaved a sigh. “I just know you two. As soon as he mentioned the explosion Sendak caused, I knew he was acting on your behalf.”

Lance winced, but didn’t protest. He should have realized that Pidge couldn’t be tricked. Not only was she a certified genius, but her loyalty to her friends often translated into being more observant than one might like. She and Hunk had that in common: the uncanny ability to get involved in other people’s business.

“Keith dreams of Shiro or his father. When I do appear in his nightmares, it’s usually about not being able to grab me when we were in Honerva’s mindscape,” she went on. “That dude still harbors a displaced sense of responsibility towards us.” Her tone shifted into accusing. “Which we should not be exploiting.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to do that.” Lance slipped on the sheets until he was lying down again.

“What’s going on, Lance?” Pidge sounded concerned. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

There were many reasons, but none that he felt comfortable sharing. It had been a year since Lance had realized how much of an effect Pidge had on him, how happy he was to hear her voice, how warm his chest felt when she visited the farm. It wasn’t even a new development. He had loved her for as long as he could remember, so he couldn’t really define when it had gone from platonic to romantic.

Maybe the roots of it had always been there, hidden by the flashiness of other infatuations.

A part of him had resisted the urge to call Pidge because, despite how she probably knew him like the charted universe, he had hoped she would see strength in his recovery. Lance still wanted to be perceived as the hero who survived the war with a smile on his face and his psyche intact, no matter how far from the truth that might be.

“Shouldn’t it be easier?” he asked, so low that he hoped Pidge couldn’t hear him. “Shouldn’t I be over it?”

“Lance…” Even the way she sighed his name sent a shiver down his spine. “No. It shouldn’t be easy. We’ve talked about this.”

He had heard this from a number of therapists, as well as every other member of the team, but it was difficult to go against the ideals he’d created in his head.

“But you’re doing good,” Lance argued and his gaze fixed on the ceiling, without really seeing it.

“So are you, most of the time.” When Pidge said it like that, full of confidence, he could almost believe it. “When I feel like the memories are hurting me, I reach out. I come to see my parents, I stop by Shiro’s office.” She paused to take a breath. “I call you.”

Lance turned on his side, sticking the phone between his ear and the pillow. He badly wanted her to be there. They had slept side by side once, though he couldn’t remember the details of it. Even then, what had stuck out the most was the softness of her presence and the calm she provided.

He closed his eyes and focused on Pidge’s voice. “I really miss you.”

“I’m right here, Lance.” Like this, he could pretend she was in bed with him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

--

“I can’t believe you put a firewall to keep me out of your virtual diary, Pidge. It’s rude that you would think so low of me.”

Lance stopped short. It wasn’t the content of the conversation that surprised him, but the fact that it was Hunk’s voice, coming from the laboratories. His best friend had been on a diplomatic mission of two months and was supposed to contact Lance when he stopped on Arus to refuel his ship.

“I was clearly right, because you wouldn’t know of it unless you had tried to hack in.” And this was Pidge, sounding more incensed than he’d heard in quite some time. “I learned my lesson during our Garrison days, Hunk!”

“Shouldn’t you be buttering me up? You called me for help on this aircraft, young lady.” Lance almost snorted at this. He could already imagine the indignation on Pidge’s face.

“If I had known you’d be like this, I would have found a way to neutralize drag simply to negate your role here!” she spit back. From behind the glass walls, Lance observed the redness of her complexion and how her freckles disappeared into the color.

He expected Hunk to back down, but the man crossed his arms stubbornly and looked down his nose at Pidge. “You’re only saying that because I’m right.”

Lance knocked against a metallic frame on the door, which had been open.

“Team Punk is back at it?” He raised his hands in mock despair. “I knew I should have stayed home.”

“Lance!” Hunk rushed over to him, engulfing Lance in a hug. Over his shoulder, he saw Pidge hang back, but the anger had melted away from her expression. “Sorry I didn’t call you earlier, man. This little menace caught me on the way back from Firilar and she wanted me at the Garrison ASAP.”

“Yeah, I regret it now,” she retorted with a glare.

Hunk let Lance go in order to direct another exasperated look at Pidge.

“Hey there, Pidgeon.” Lance scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to do. She didn’t move from her spot on the workbench and he approached almost without thinking. “Long time no see.”

As soon as he was within reach, Pidge pulsed on the balls of her feet and threw her arms around his neck. Lance’s arms were around her with no hesitance, holding her up against his chest.

“Hello,” she muttered into his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Cabul complex with Shiro and Curtis?”

Even as she talked, Pidge didn’t give up her grip on him. It made laughter bubble up Lance’s throat. He’d been all around the world, assisting the Garrison centers in completing Earth’s first fully functioning planetary defense system, so it had been months since he’d last seen Pidge in person.

“I flew over once the installation was done. They needed me to activate the shields with quintessence, but then Arizona called.” She slowly slid down back to her feet, putting some space between them. “Something about needing their star pilot to test a new jet.”

He watched as first confusion, then realization dawned on Pidge’s face. To the side, he could see that Hunk was also grinning.

“Are you back? Don’t you lie to me, McClain!” She pushed at his shoulders, but there was excitement in her eyes.

“I’m back. I got the go-ahead earlier today.” He felt awkward under the combined stares of his two best friends. “I do remember telling you I wasn’t ready to retire. Guess my vacation ran a bit long.”

“Oh, man, we’re back together! The last time it was just the three of us in the Garrison we were still cadets.” Hunk jumped in, waving his arms widely. “I still couldn’t go on a simulator without getting motion-sickness! Lance still thought Pidge was a guy!”

“Yeah, I’m not making that mistake again.” Lance gave Pidge a cheeky once-over, making her flush.

She had let her hair grow out again. It was tied back in a long braid, but some strands had already escaped and framed her face in a reddish halo. She looked pretty like this, but Lance thought she was always pretty.

It had taken her some time to find middle ground between the androgyny of her adolescence and the femininity of Katie Holt. Lance hadn’t always been the most tactful during this period, but Pidge had known he meant well and that he was supportive of however she felt like expressing herself. It was nice to see her feel good in her own skin.

Pidge socked him on the arm. “We’ve talked about this, loverboy. No flirting with me unless you want a new bruise.”

“But, Pidgeon,” he put a hand over his heart, “this is how I show my love.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Hunk put a hand on their shoulders. “We don’t want to start a fight right next to the billion-dollar prototype.”

“Fine,” Lance drew out his vowels, making a show of it. “Honestly, though, you two look good.”

He wasn’t just saying this. Coming back to the Garrison allowed him to juxtapose the images of who Pidge and Hunk had been with their current selves.

Hunk hadn’t grown much taller and he had maintained the same robustness from their first meeting, but the anxiety that had followed him as a teenager now gave way to self-assuredness. He didn’t curl into himself anymore when going past other groups of students, nor did he cower in the face of Garrison officers.

They were all still young and maybe a little broken up after Voltron, but it had also taught them a lot about themselves and their worth. It was nice to see.

And then there was Pidge. With her long hair, her high-tech glasses, her unconventional wardrobe. She was nothing like what younger Lance had thought he wanted in a girl, but that didn’t stop her from occupying all of his thoughts.

“You do too!” Hunk exclaimed, clearly a little embarrassed. “I haven’t seen you this excited in years.”

“Yeah.” Lance chuckled, unable to stop himself. “It feels good to be back. We’ll see how things go with the other MFE pilots, but I’m not too worried.” He wiggled his brows at Hunk. “I’m pretty sure I can charm the pants out of them.”

“And if that fails, you can always count on Shiro and I to intimidate people,” Pidge cut in, a teasing smile on her face, but there was a deeper current of truth to her words. They had his back and Lance was grateful for it.

“I’m pretty intimidating myself.” Lance smirked. “We just need Keith and then the gang will be completed: the Garrison bad boys, who stole a prisoner and disappeared into the night!” He made a motion in the air, like a ship cutting through the sky.

“I take it back, I don’t want to be associated with you.” Pidge’s dry comment earned a laugh from Hunk and a pout from Lance.

“Oh, come on, Pidge!” He draped an arm around the girl to pull her closer, but Pidge didn’t react as he’d hoped. She leveled him with unimpressed eyes, making no move to acknowledge their proximity. Lance found himself as the one feeling flustered and hurried to mask his discomfort. “You could at least say you’re happy to have me around.”

“Of course I’m happy, Lance,” she conceded with little fanfare. “That doesn’t mean I feel like contributing to enlarging your already massive ego.”

Pidge was looking at him over the top of her glasses. Uncovered from the greenish tint of the lenses, the honey brown of her eyes appeared strangely expressive. There was an emotion in them that he had seen a lot through the years, when they were on video calls at night, by themselves, but that he hadn’t had the opportunity to see in person yet.

Lance felt his own expression soften as he stared down at Pidge.

Before he could figure out what to say, Hunk, who had been preoccupied with a series of beeps from his communicator, had turned towards them and snapped his fingers. “We have so much to show you, now that you have the clearance!” His smile was even more contagious in person than through a screen. “I don’t know how much Veronica has told you–”

“Told me?” Lance interrupted with a laugh, trying to seem as innocent as possible. “As if my sister would spill transnational secrets.”

Hunk’s mouth twisted disbelievingly. Pidge, too, shook her head.

“I know how it is to have a family in the Garrison, Lance,” she admonished, slipping out of his hold. “Everything is confidential until something slips out in the middle of Sunday lunch.”

“Well…” Lance squinted at the LED lights on the ceiling. “If something did slip out, like the existence of a certain wormhole-jumping craft that is supposed to make teludavs obsolete, then you couldn’t really blame Ronnie.”

“Especially since the only one with a high enough rank to know about that is Shiro.” Pidge groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “A lifetime in the military and he’s still the most trusting person I’ve ever met.”

“It’s not like he’s broadcasting it to the rest of the coalition,” Hunk pointed out good-naturedly. “It’s just Lance.”

Pidge didn’t look appeased. “I’ve seen Lance reveal all our identities because he wanted to impress an alien groupie.”

Lance grimaced at the memory. It had been a little after the war, when the Garrison was still arranging diplomatic meetings with the liberated planets. As a result of his words, he and the other paladins had been mobbed and Coran had to create a diversion to get them back in their ships.

“That was a long time ago,” Lance whined. “Besides, the so-called groupie was a child and you know I can’t resist children!”

Pidge fixed her glasses, her expression a mixture of aggravation and amusement. “If you ever have kids, you’re gonna spoil them rotten.”

Lance had to bite back his immediate response. His mind had come up with an image of what his and Pidge’s children might look like – brown haired and brown skinned and too smart for their own good – and the idea warmed him to the core. He had almost said that his kids would be fine, because of their mother’s genius.

His thoughts must have shown somehow because Lance caught Hunk looking at him with a smile that promised no-good.

Lance cleared his throat. “What were you two fighting about, anyway?”

“Hunk has been trying to access my daily annotations,” Pidge explained, moving to one of the nearby computer monitors.

Over her head, he and Hunk continued to share looks and mouthed words. He couldn’t really tell what his friend was trying to say, but Hunk pointed at Pidge, then at the computer, making exaggerated facial expressions that would have been comedic in any other circumstance.

At their apparent silence, Pidge’s fingers paused over the keyboard and she whipped around to look at them in suspicion.

“She means her diary,” Hunk interjected quickly, only to receive the brunt of her glare. “How am I supposed to know what’s going on over here if you won’t let me read it? I spend half my time out in space!”

“Can’t you just believe the things I tell you? Like, I don’t know,” this Pidge grumbled with a sour look on her face, “a normal person?”

Hunk snorted. “You want to talk to me about being normal?” He glanced at Lance, as if to ask if he had actually heard her correctly. “Pidge, we had to build you a dorm in the Mecatronics Advancement building, because you kept falling asleep in the lab.” Hunk turned back to Lance and pointed a thumb at Pidge. “She would be passed out with the new Rover just constantly knocking against her back.”

“So what?” She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin in defiance. “I like what I do. At least I’m not a busybody!”

Lance could feel a new fight brewing. Or maybe it was fairer to say that it was an old fight, one that every paladin had already had with Pidge.

“Katie.” His use of her given name made Pidge’s attention snap to Lance. “We’ve talked about this. Your therapist has talked about this.” He put a hand on her shoulder, then slid it down until their fingers intertwined. “I know you like feeling useful, but we’re not at war anymore. You can rest.”

“Exactly.” Hunk sighed, thankfully not making a big deal of Lance’s touches. He reached out to ruffle her hair. “We worry, girl.”

Pidge let go of Lance to bat Hunk’s hand away from her braid. The smile she gave them was tight-lipped but fond. “Then just say that, you idiot.”

“Why should I?” Hunk shrugged, sending her a sly look. “You only seem to believe it when it comes from Lance.”

He was saved from Pidge’s cold fury by his communicator going off. It sounded more like an alert than the normal message, filling the lab with high-pitched beeps that could have awoken even Pidge in her days of all-nighters working on the lions.

“Shoot!” Hunk frowned at the device. “I have a meeting on the other side of the complex!” He looked around with wide eyes.

Pidge picked up a folder that rested on her workbench and thrust it into Hunk’s chest.

“I hope you’re late,” she said in a deadpan, making both Lance and Hunk laugh.

“I’ll see you in the taxiway later, right?” Hunk asked, already half-out of the door.

Lance gave his friend a thumbs-up. “And we can go into town after the demonstration!”

When he turned to face Pidge, she was back at the computer, shaking her head at the screen with a smile still on her lips. He leaned against the table and simply stared at her as she worked, knowing full-well that part of her attention was still on him.

“What?” she caved after a few seconds. Lance batted his lashes at her. “Ugh, stop! If you want me to go into town, then I have to finish this calculation.”

“Eight years since we were cadets here and you’re still a stick-in-the-mud.” He watched her roll her eyes. “Please, you gotta come! I don’t know any of the cool spots anymore and Hunk has been off-planet!”

“As if that could stop Hunk from knowing the good restaurants,” Pidge muttered under her breath, frowning at something on the computer. She clicked one final key, before fixing her gaze on Lance. “Also, it’s actually been twelve years since we were cadets. Time might not have gone by for us, but things here certainly did change.”

“Quiznack, don’t even remind me of that!” Lance ran a hand across his face. “Rachel has finally shut up about how we’re the same age now.”

“Did she?” Pidge raised a brow at him, leaning her hip against the workbench in much the same way as Lance had. “Cause she still called me hermanita the last time I visited the farm.”

“Yeah, you ain’t getting rid of that nickname.” He chuckled. “It’s better than mami and pop-pop calling you Palomita, though.”

Machines whirred around them, a distant sort of sound that barely registered in Lance’s mind. His thoughts were stuck in the contentment displayed across Pidge’s features, like talking about their adventures on the farm filled her with as much warmth as it did him.

And maybe it did. The paladins and their families had grown closer during the years following the end of Voltron. They had all needed support in ways that only those who had also gone through the same grief could understand. His mother had talked to Colleen and Krolia multiple times, looking for advice on how to handle his PTSD, and Lance himself had reached out to Matt when he didn’t feel like speaking to his siblings or to the team.

It was odd to look back and remember how lonely he would feel back in Castle of Lions, when there were so many people now who he loved and who had gone to the ends of the universe for him.

“What are you thinking about?” Pidge tilted her head to the side, her eyes glinting with curiosity behind those glasses.

“About the team,” he answered, because it was partially true. “About how long we’ve known each other.”

Pidge nodded, but her gaze had shifted to the ground. Hesitance furrowed the line of her brow.

“Does being here–” She paused, then seemed to gather her courage. “Does being here remind you of Allura?”

The question caught him a little off guard. It was inevitable to think of Allura when looking back at their time as a team, but Lance hadn’t expected Pidge to focus on that. Keith’s words from a few months ago echoed in his mind, that Pidge couldn’t know he had finished mourning for Allura if Lance never told her.

“A little, I guess, but it’s not bad.” He made a humming noise, considering what to say. “It feels strange to realize we’ve been without her for longer than we ever knew her.”

She pushed away from the table, just a little, so that they were facing each other. “Time doesn’t have to limit how significant a person is to us.”

“I know, but no matter how important Allura was to me, I know now that she wasn’t the love of my life.” Lance let Pidge catch his gaze, willing her to recognize that he wasn’t lying. “Because my life goes on.”

“Which is why you’re here?” There was doubt in her tone, as well as something that Lance wished he could call hopefulness.

“Which is why I’m here,” he repeated with more certainty.

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #cyance #katie holt #pidge gunderson #lance mcclain #vld lance #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #vld fanfiction #vld syl verse

[sugaabooga]

A Familiar Hero | 1

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

(picture credits to artist!)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Spiderman!Jungkook, College!au

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: some cursing, mentions of fire and blood

Synopsis: With the occasional poor excuse of a girl, your best friend never seems to have time for you anymore. But maybe it’s related to the ever-increasing number of crimes and the reappearing superhero wearing the tacky red and blue suit, flying around the tall skyscrapers of Seoul.

“Who can it be?”

“The hero of the arson case. Who is it?”

“The famous man in the suit! What is he?”

“Who the hell. . . is this. . . Spiderman?”

“What the hell, Jungkook,” you hiss, sending a tense, apologetic smile at the glaring old woman near the freezer. You turn around, lowering your voice after remembering you were in public. “I thought you said today was the day.”

“Well, it’s not,” your friend replies with a strained voice.

Your brows furrow at his tense voice and the odd amount of background noise mixed with the wooshes, indicating that wherever he was, was really windy. 

“Where are you right now?” you question.

Jungkook hesitates, trying to think of some kind of excuse. “I. . . I’m going to meet Nari!”

Your heart drops at his response and you feel a deep frown etching onto your face. “Nari?”

“Y-Yeah,” Jungkook winces. He shouldn’t have said that. Now you’ll think he was taking your friendship for granted.

You take a deep breath, heaving out a sigh that made Jungkook frown in regret and confirm his suspicions. 

“You’re seriously telling me we can’t hang out today because of Nari? After we haven’t hung out for a full month!? Today was finally the day you and I were both free and you’re flaking because of Nari!?”

You hear a loud clatter from behind, and send another nervous smile toward the old woman who was making it quite obvious that she was not willing to tolerate your disruptance.

“Y/N,” you hear Jungkook over the phone again, hearing the apology in his voice.

“It’s fine,” you say out of reflex then pause. “What the heck. No. It’s actually not fine. You’ve been canceling our hang-outs so much that it’s become a habit of saying ‘it’s fine’ whenever you’re about to apologize.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook sighs. You hear a thud followed by a groan in the speaker that sounded dangerously like Jungkook.

A sudden wave of worry rushes through you. “Jungkook?”

“Sorry, Y/N. Nari’s here. I’ll call you back later!” Jungkook says in a muffled voice. More thuds and a loud crash is heard.

Then the line goes dead.

You remove your phone from your ear and stare at it in confusion.

Whatever just happened, was not Nari.

//

Jeon Jungkook was in simple terms, your closest friend. The two of you weren’t the typical childhood kind of best friends but more like the two students that constantly got paired up for projects. After the first few projects completed together in English and science, the two of you clicked well and naturally became close. It was mainly due to a particular day where you came into the weekly library workday with swollen eyes and a bright red nose. After finishing the work session and packing up to go home, Jungkook had hesitantly asked if you were okay.

And you weren’t.

The night ended with you taking tearful bites of ice cream and Jungkook silently listening to where your day had gone wrong. Seemingly after that, you became more accustomed to being vulnerable around Jungkook, and the same went for him. The trust you had for him was the same amount of trust he had for you.

But now. . . you were wondering if he really did trust you.

At the beginning of this year, Jungkook was starting to bail out on a lot of your hangouts together. Sometimes, even bailing in the middle of hangouts after a shout of a lame excuse. Usually, the excuse was about Nari, his long-time crush since the first year of university whom he apparently got close to in the second-year.

The next day, he would come to class all beat up or with a small cut on his face. He would wince every time you nudged his arm or playfully pushed him, but you made sure to act like you didn’t notice. You promised yourself you were going to get to the bottom of this.

It had been going on for quite a while and you were itching to confront him about the whole situation.

Jungkook wasn’t the type to open up first. You were always the one to bring it up or cautiously ask him about it until he broke.

But for some reason - maybe it was because there was physical harm being done - you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it.

You were planning to ask Jungkook about it today until he canceled your hangout, again. 

Again, his excuse was Nari, but the fact that the two of you hadn’t hung out in nearly a month made you angrier than you normally would be.

But after your call with Jungkook over the phone, you wonder if he was lying to you and using her name as an excuse.

With these confusing thoughts all jumbled in your head, you decide to leave the grocery store and away from that glaring old woman who was increasingly growing unfond of you.

You sigh, gaze going to your feet as you start walking towards your small apartment that you barely manage to pay off each month as a broke college student. 

Only a few minutes into your walk, a sudden explosion at the end of the street causes your legs to give out with a yelp.

A series of cars blare their alarms and pieces of glass shards litter the asphalt ground a few meters away from you. With trembling hands, you type in the three numbers and quickly contact the police.

But in Seoul, the police force is failing.

Something in you knows that the police won’t be able to deal with whatever was happening in that store in an efficient way and unknowingly, you start hoping that the recent hero that blew up all over the news will show up.

You let out a deep breath and manage to stand up, keeping your eye on the blown up structure. That’s when you realize it wasn’t just any old store.

It was your childhood ice cream shop. It was the ice cream shop that you practically grew up visiting and continued to visit weekly with Jungkook. At least, until two months ago before he stopped visiting the shop with you.

You find yourself walking closer and closer to the fiery building, almost as if you were in awe at how the flames just overtook the entirety of the store.

Another smaller explosion makes you jolt in surprise and the sudden realization dawns on you.

It was only nine o’ clock.

The shop doesn’t close until ten.

The kind, old owner who knew you since you were a kid was most likely in there.

A large lump forms in your throat as you feel tears well up in your eyes. You let out a strangled cough in the seemingly false hope that the woman closed up the shop early or she got out in time. A tear slips out your eye that you quickly wipe away as soon as you see movement from the corner of the shop within the thick clouds of smoke.

A flash of red and blue jumps out the broken window, swinging a far distance from the shop with a woman held by his side.

You force your legs to move towards the direction where the figure swung to, a swell of hope rising in your chest. You let out a relieved sigh when you spot the familiar old woman next to a tall, built figure who was crouching at eye level and comforting her.

Anyone who lived in the city could tell who that was from a mile away.

Spiderman.

You continue to make your way over to the pair as the old woman gets increasingly hysterical and bursts into tears. A wave of sympathy washes over you as you break out into a run and approach the woman.

“Aunt Jangmi!” you yell, catching the attention of both the woman and the man in the suit.

“Oh, Y/N!” the woman sobs, waddling over to you. You rush over to her side and give her a comforting hug as the woman wails in shock.

“I-I was in the back - hgkhh - for only a -hgjk- minute!” she says in between sobs. You rub her back and nod.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you say in a soft voice. “You aren’t hurt anywhere right?”

Jangmi takes a shaky breath and shakes her head. You notice smudges of ash on her face, a small wound on her ankle. “I am not. Thanks to this kind man.”

You and the woman both turn your heads only to see an empty space where the man was just standing.

The woman mumbles to herself in confusion once more as she looks around the area. Your gaze goes back to the shop that was now surrounded by firefighters and their hoses. Two police cars catch your attention and you gesture to the woman to head to the police.

“All you have to do is explain what happened,” you say. “They’ll take care of everything else, so don’t worry.”

She nods, her arms firmly around yours as you guide her to the police car. The kind policewoman offers to take her down to the station which Jangmi surprisingly agrees to. She rejects your own offer to go with her, almost scolding you to hurry and go home before it gets too late.

“Get a check-up at the hospital! Check out the wound on your ankle! You might’ve breathed in too much smoke too so go to-”

“Y/N!” the woman chuckles, a lot more relaxed than earlier. “Don’t worry! I may be old but I still have common sense.”

You let out a nervous, embarrassed giggle and wave to the woman driving off in the car.

Before you know it, the fire has gone out, and a policeman is offering to give you a ride home.

“Thank you, but I’m okay,” you smile, politely declining his offer. Then without another word, the officer nods and enters the nearly non-existent building along with a few other detectives to scope out the scene.

What a night.

You start walking down the street, contemplating whether or not to call Jungkook. You were quite shaken up by this whole event but you were still angry at him and you wanted him to know that. In the end, you decide not to call him as you stubbornly shove your phone back into your back pocket with a sniff.

He was probably busy anyway.

The night has fallen quiet, the only source of noise being the soft scuffles of your sneakers against the cement. But maybe. . . it’s a little too quiet.

“Hey.”

A scream belts out your throat at the sudden voice and random appearance of a man. . .  In a red and blue suit with weird, contracting eyes that blankly stared at you.

It was Spiderman?

“Shit!” he curses, awkwardly sticking out his arms like that would somehow relax you.

“What are you doing here!?” you yell as you wrap your arms around yourself in a defensive stance, legs faltering backward.

“That’s usually not what people say when they encounter me for the first time.”

You take another step back, staring bewilderedly at the said hero that the whole city was going crazy over. “Spiderman, right?”

Of course, he was Spiderman. Who else flies around in a tight red and blue suit with a large spider design on the chest?

“Sorry, stupid question,” you wince.

The man laughs, quite boyishly and. . . familiar.

“It’s cool!” he responds cheerfully. “Sorry I scared you.”

You shake your head and lower your arms, getting a little more comfortable due to his laid back attitude. “Sorry I screamed so loudly. Hopefully, your eardrums are intact. I wasn’t expecting. . . company.”

He hums and starts to walk down the street and before you know it, he’s walking you home.

“I saw you earlier at the shop,” he starts. Perhaps, trying to break the silence.

You turn your head to look at him but soon he jumps around, walking backward and facing you.

“Yeah. I uh. . . saw you too,” you nod, a small smile coming up on your face. “For like a split second. Then you were gone again.”

Spiderman nervously laughs, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as if he were embarrassed.

“I had to go back just in case there were more people.”

Wow. He sure was born to be a hero.

“Thanks,” you say sheepishly, hands nervously fiddling with each other. Why did you feel so flustered?

“For what?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“For saving Aunt Jangmi,” you sigh, glancing up at the sky. “I’ve known her since. . . forever.”

“It’s. . . nothing really. It’s a given to help those in need,” he states.

Built, kind, a hero... and humble? Who was this boy?

You purse your lips, hands linking behind your back as you peer curiously at his mask.

“You know, you’re all over the news these days,” you inform him just to strike up a conversation as he sighs and directs his gaze to the ground.

“Yeah. I’ve noticed. It’s a bit. . . burdensome, to be completely honest.”

You frown at the disappearance of the playful tone that he replaced with a voice that sounded. . . tired.

“How come?” you ask. “Isn’t it thrilling to have a superpower and run around all the streets of Seoul? And getting recognition for it? That’s amazing!”

“That’s the thing,” he sighs.

Your eyes widen. Did he. . . not like the attention and amount of press he was getting? Maybe he wasn’t getting the production salary. Was that even a thing?

No. It’s not.

“All eyes are on me,” Spiderman says with a deep sigh. “Say there’s a crime that I can’t be at. The press will go nuts on where I was at that time. Say there is a crime that I know about and I have to go to. I’ll be disappointing the person that I was with at that time, ditching them to fight off criminals.”

You shake your head, weirdly being reminded at how Jungkook was always ditching you these days. “Hey.”

Spiderman looks up from the ground, his blank eyes on the mask looking into yours.

“If you’re ditching someone to fight some evil asses and saving lives, they’re the ones at fault for being disappointed.”

Spiderman seems to smile gratefully at your words, though the mask was covering his face. Eh. Let’s just say you imagined him to be smiling.

“Yeah. I’m sure they would understand, if only they knew that I was doing this at night. I’m a normal uni student during the day. Then suddenly a superhero with webs during the night,” he voices, turning around to look up at the night sky as you did earlier, only a few stars barely visible due to the pollution.

“Leading a double life I see,” you trail off, slowing down to a stop once his words correctly register in your head. “Wait.”

The boy stops in his tracks, whipping around to look at your shocked expression. He stammers out incoherent words, realizing that he said too much.

“Uh. . . I mean. . . I’m not in university? I’m . . . old.”

“Pfft,” you snort, bursting out in laughter. “Wow. Smooth cover-up.”

If you could see under the mask, you were positive that Spiderman just rolled his eyes at you. “No need for the sarcasm,” he says with fake offense. “Please don’t tell anyone, though.”

You immediately shake your head. “Of course not! I’m not that kind of person, don’t worry. But. . . you go to uni?”

He nods with a short hum in response.

“Can I. . . know how old you are?” you ask with hesitance, making the boy falter in his steps. “Sorry, sorry! Maybe that was too much? Don’t tell me. I was just wondering if we were the same age because I attend uni too.”

He laughs shaking his head at how nervous you seemed. “It’s all good. Don’t freak out. And. . . maybe I’ll tell you how old I am if we meet again soon.”

You breathe out through your nose, nodding in agreement. “Sounds. . . good?”

You take a few paces forward in silence until the man in front of your abruptly turns around, only a few inches away from your figure.

You inhale sharply, unknowingly holding your breath.

Spiderman bends down, meeting your eyes at exactly eye level.

“I’ll say one thing, though,” he says in a weirdly, attractive deeper tone.

You gulp, squeezing your fists around the hem of your jacket. “W-What?” you squeak out, immediately cringing at how weak your voice sounded.

“’M pretty sure I saw you before,” he asks in an amused voice.

Your brows knit together in confusion.

“The. . . ice cream shop?” you suggest making him let out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, that too,” he says with a smile.

You were sure you had never interacted with Spiderman until today. Did he know you? Did you know him? Did the two of you meet each other at a street once? Or. . . perhaps?

You gasp in shock. “Do we. . . go to the same school?”

At your words, the man straightens back up to his normal height and you realize he nearly towered over you at his full height.

He shrugs, head slightly tilting to the side. “Maybe?”

You continue to stare at him blankly as he lets out a short laugh.

“Or it might’ve just been the store. Anyways, sweet dreams, lovely lady,” he grins, suddenly reaching over to gently brush your hair behind your shoulder, making a slight shiver run down your spine and your cheeks to flush red.

“Wait, wha-” you start, but before you can stop him, Spiderman is already shooting out a web and swinging away to the tops of the buildings, back towards the downtown area of Seoul.

How odd, you think to yourself then turn around to continue walking home when you realize. . . your apartment complex entrance was right in front of you.

How did Spiderman know where you lived?

#networkbangtan #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #bts #mine #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #spiderman!jungkook

[hag-rambling-on]

Rewinxing Timeline Pre-Series

Keep in mind that between events and events can pass centuries. The average experience of a person is 10,000 years. and if you have magic and you know how to use it... Because I love Belgariad Chronicles so magic MAY makes you inmortal because yes.

WARNING: LONG. AND SURE I'M MISSING SOMETHING. OR CROSS SOMETHING. AGGG. MY HEAD.

And yes, in my rewinxing there is racism, selfishness, "human" idiocy and other nonsense. Why do The Ancestresses ALWAYS fight together?

PROTOHISTORY

Ethereals Fight - Big Bang

They actually do it two more times -Nobody says the must be AllIntelligents. So, Out Life, Big Bang Again.

They decide that they better stop and see what could happen to the result of their first and third fights: "life" they decide to call it, it would be interesting if it were allowed to develop.

Planets are formed, they become habitable.

The first intelligent creatures are born (Clariel -female human races, Carabossa -male elven races, Kristjana -female mermaid/triton races, Oros - male centaurs races, Ninfea -female pixies, Laufey -female gigant races, Danu- hermaphrodite selkies). They all talk funny. They all are old as dust.

TIME OF LEGENDS  - ANCIENT TIMES

Skips and happens a millennium or two of advance in all systems and their planets.

Magic flourishes. But technology also, the native giants of Xenia are particularly advanced in it.

Darkar, previously knows as Lord Argulus of Larisa, Fae of Birds (one now uninhabitable planet from Hercules, aka Domino system) borns.

All the Mythix members are born already.

Solarian witch Selemisa meets Lumeria and Lumen race (also, first Cosmix user).

Acheron, Wizard of Memories begin to writes the Legendarium.

The days of the groundhog begin.

The Ancestral Witches have born.

Mythix comes together and decides to confront Acheron and his allies.

The Legendarium is closed and the Mythix Ones get separated because people are scared of their association.

THE WAR - THE DARK AGE

Sparks (First Queen of the planet that would become Domino) has born.

Carabossa Acrypta, as soft as dangerous his thorns; finds, keeps safe and educates said the ancestral witches maybe too early in their magic.  

The InterRealm Wars starts. Nobody remembers anymore why - which is SHAMEFUL - because wars are stupid. Some energetic or magical resource. It will last for centuries.

Darkar gets both Morix and Shadow Phoenix Blessing.

Many of the planets and kingdoms reflected in the Legendarium no longer exist, Many histories and cultures that will be forgotten. Solaria, Andros and Romulea, among others, can boast they are ancient and have stood on their feet. But even they don't remember everything.

Many other planets, like Domino, Titania and Zenith, have flourished from the remains of previous ones.

The three witches begin to go “a little” crazy - Only Carabossa and his near ones know them at this point.

Darkar is one of the biggest detractors of peace. Something about "new beginnings". Most people take for granted that the Ethereal's blessing and the destruction of his planet drove him crazy.

Acrypta and Arcadia, along with other Mythix and Elders are offered position in the Golden Kingdom. Almost all reject. The Mythix faes and witches in the end they die by age, minus Arcadia because the Ethereals need someone who knews about the Legendarium and forces her. Ninfea escapes on a tiny technicality (but she can no longer move from Hike's remains), Laufey and Carabossa use their magic to go on the run and Danu melts into the Infinite Ocean [[So yes, the Council of Elders don’t actually likes that much the Ethereals but they are not foolish enough to be rude from the front]].

Somehow that includes that it’s the little bricks that make up a castle, the war actually ended. The Peace Accords are signed and their symbol is the Monastery of Roccaluce. Day celebrated on all planets.

The Council of Magic Realm is created with its headquarters in Monastery of Roccaluce in the rest of the planet Hike, Magix.

Alfea, Cloud Tower and Lymphea College are founded. There were already other schools being founded in each pleant, but these have the approval of the Council.

The connection of the Earth/Terra with the rest of the planets is cut abruptly JUST WHEN ALL THE AGREEMENTS WERE FINISHED AND after they played a significant role in the Peace Negotiations.

The Three Witches disappear. Along Darkar. They actually go to Omega and whatever Darkar teach the Three Witches, is such that the planet has been claiming the magic of the visitors to try sustain itself ever since.

MODERN AGE - NEW TIMES

The Major Earth Fairies (Morgana, Diana, Nebula, Sibylla, Aurora, Tinkerbell, Eldora) are teenagers right now.

Overlapping with the Peace Accords, the Wizards of the Black Circle (a minor section of Terra magic user who went their own way). They begin to hunt the fairies as soon as said fairies begin their formation (which is when the wings are solid) and tear them off. This forces all the fairies on Earth to back down and all the negative magic users to hide for not wanting to join them. The Earth soon forgets about magic. The Earth, with the ley lines cut (because in its crossways, now closed, are the last refuges of the fairies, this includes Neverland, El Dorado and Tir Nan Og among others ) it got stuck, lost its quality, and the terrans, quantity of life. But it never got to the Omega level, because, well, something there. The only way the fairies had to get out were the ones able to cast White Circles, only half of the Major Fairies on Terra are capable of doing them, and usually the visits did not turn out well or did not like what they saw outside and the Wizards were destroying them very time they could.

Acrypta keep missing to THE ETHEREALS SIGHT, still searching his kids. ALSO Laufey, whether they are together or not, no one knows, but the Council take for granted that they are in the Golden Kingom, and no one there is going to deny that. Because, while the Elders don't hate the Council, they don't endorse it either. Council of Elders against the Universe.

The Three Witches visit for first time Domino. Tharma and/or Liliss tricked the King of Domino and tried got part of his Dragon Flame - but they couldn't store it all because of how the Blessing works- This visit will become a recurring and increasingly destructive thing, something personal.

Lord Darkar dirty kills Carabossa before he reaches the Three Witches... I... I  just tried to redeem the The Ancestresses... NO. Not on my guard... well maybe, they are CRAZY. But he is the first Wizard and kinda blessed by ethereals too. The guy respects that. If Ninfea, bonded pixie to Carabossa didn't die then was by Ethereals dis-grace, I mentioned before. But two ethereal-blessed dudes could "cancel" the other blessings (in Carabossa not the typical blessing but Golden Kingdom inmortal membership blessing)

Almost all people from the Company of Light has born and started or almost finished school at this point. Faragonda switches from Witch to Fairy, Kalshara things happens,

Marion borns and receives the Dragon Flame from her father.

Valtor is “born”. Physically his appearance is a carbon copy to Carabossa, but sadly not my adorkable one and composed of the flesh and blood of the three sisters, Carabossa and the King of Domino Ninfea and Carabossa's pixie tie influences the birth of Valtor (I'll leave it there). AND HE FUCKING ACTUALLY GETS THE DRAGON’S BLESSING. Twisted universe and Ethereal Dark Sense of Humour.

Valtor is sent to mingle with the people to conquer the planets "by wordiness" and get allies, while the witches try “by force”. Griffin joins Valtor, not the Ancestresses. Daphne and Politea borns sometime around here.

The Lord of the Templars Gareth seal Darkar back in Omega BEFORE the destruction of Domino hoping that the fact that according to their latest reports the Ancestresses have abandoned it and the planet now absorbs magic will keep him locked up. It begins to be used as a prison in general. Also he sends Darkar to Omega because their current Boundless Oblivion Keeper, Mandragora had switched sides and he preferred to finish ensuring that everything was in order and check any what she could have done.

With an unexpected, but welcome freedom, the Ancestresses become more agressive and forces Valtor’s political hand. All politics in vain but for all this policy and such is that in season 3 Valtor moves so fast in the theft of spells between planets.

Griffin lefts Valtor, the Company of Light is officially founded. YAY!!! -F*CKING FINALLY. They had suspicions against Valtor until then.

Bloom (named Ariadne in Domino) and the main cast and others around their ages are born.

With Valtor as the most obvious and localized target, they easily send him to Omega and one less problem.

Politea betrays Daphne.

Roxy is born with Morgana visit to Terra. She stays with her family for a bit.

The Ancestresses attack Domino in retaliation knowing that "his daughter" had a lot to do with this. No, not because he was their son, but because he was their toy. The witches first attempted to attack Domino across the Infinite Ocean, so only Daphne was able to defend it. Quickly changing the scene, they attacked her sister and and even faster than them she jumped to protect her, then Daphne transferred the Dragon's Flame to Bloom, a moment that they took advantage of to defeat but actually not kill her (because having a fairy who had obtained the Nymphix could be useful later to dissect).

All this time it served to reunite the Company of Light who totally went with the intention of -kill- seal them in Boundless Oblivion since they are not as nice as The Templar Leader (specially with Oritel and Marion leading and their missing daughters), and there are many so they can actually do the spell quickly (Gareth went one on one with Darkar, go Gareth!!) But the witches did not leave without a fight and all Domino went with them to Oblivion.

PRE-SERIES

Faragonda becomes Headmistress.

Morgana witnesses Bloom's arrival on Earth and gives a super-ultra-mega-fast  advice to Mike and Vanessa. She didn't even get a chance to properly introduce Roxy and Bloom or learn Bloom's name.

Sadly, Bloom arrival also triggers the one of the Wizards of the Black Circle. To the trash the years Morgana spent being careful! So, placing on both girls a little glamour that would prevent their still-developing magic from being detected she had to put on a great little performance to make the Wizards thinks she was the only magic user there, and returned to her Kingdom.

Said spell in the future would prevent Eldora from detecting Bloom's magic.

#rewinxing timeline #winx #winx club #rewinxing #timeline #rambling about winx #winx timeline #worldbuilding

[dajokahhh]

Alright, time for some pretentious sociological-esque rambling. This is gonna be long as hell (its 1822 words to be specific) and I don’t begrudge anyone for not having the patience to read my over-thought perspectives on a murder clown. CWs for: child abuse, 

I think a lot of things have to go wrong in someone’s life for them to decide to become a clown themed supervillain. A lot of people in Gotham have issues but they don’t become the Joker. I think that as a writer it’s an interesting topic to explore, and this is especially true for roleplaying where a character might be in different scenarios or universes. This isn’t some peer reviewed or researched essay, it’s more my own personal beliefs and perspectives as they affect my writing. I think villains, generally, reflect societal understandings or fears about the world around us. This is obviously going to mean villains shift a lot over time and the perspective of the writer. In my case, I’m a queer, fat, mentally ill (cluster B personality disorder specifically) woman-thing who holds some pretty socialist ideas and political perspectives. My educational background is in history and legal studies. This definitely impacts how I write this character, how I see crime and violence, and how my particular villains reflect my understandings of the society I live in. I want to get this stuff out of the way now so that my particular take on what a potential origin story of a version of the Joker could be makes more sense.

Additionally, these backstory factors I want to discuss aren’t meant to excuse someone’s behaviour, especially not the fucking Joker’s of all people. It’s merely meant to explain how a person (because as far as we know that’s all he is) could get to that point in a way that doesn’t blame only one factor or chalk it up to “this is just an evil person.” I don’t find that particularly compelling as a writer or an audience member, so I write villains differently. I also don’t find it to be particularly true in real life either. If you like that style of writing or see the Joker or other fictional villains in this way, that’s fine. I’m not here to convince anyone they’re wrong, especially not when it comes to people’s perspectives on the nature of evil or anything that lofty. Nobody has to agree with me, or even like my headcanons; they’re just here to express the very specific position I’m writing from. 

The first thing I wanna do is set up some terms. These aren’t academic or anything, but I want to use specific and consistent phrasing for this post. When it comes to the factors that screw up someone’s life significantly (and in some instances push people towards crime), I’ll split them into micro and macro factors. Micro factors are interpersonal and personal issues, so things like personality traits, personal beliefs, mental health, family history, where and how someone is raised, and individual relationships with the people around them. Macro factors are sociological and deal with systems of oppression, cultural or social trends/norms, political and legal restrictions and/or discrimination, etc. These two groups of factors interact, sometimes in a fashion that is causative and sometimes not, but they aren’t entirely separate and the line between what is a micro vs macro issue isn’t always fixed or clear.

We’ll start in and work out. For this character, the micro factors are what determine the specifics of his actions, demeanor, and aesthetic. I think the main reason he’s the Joker and not just some guy with a whole lot of issues is his world view combined with his personality. He has a very pessimistic worldview, one that is steeped in a very toxic form of individualism, cynicism, and misanthropy. His life experience tells him the world is a cold place where everyone is on their own. To him the world is not a moral place. He doesn’t think people in general have much value. He learned at a young age that his life had no value to others, and he has internalized that view and extrapolated it to the world at large; if his life didn’t matter and doesn’t matter, why would anyone else’s? This worldview, in the case of my specific Joker, comes from a childhood rife with abandonment, abuse, and marginalization. While I will say he is definitively queer (in terms fo gender expression and non conformity, and sexuality), I’m not terribly interested in giving specific diagnoses of any mental health issues. Those will be discussed more broadly and in terms of specific symptoms with relation to how they affect the Joker’s internal experience, and externalized behaviours.

His childhood was, to say the least, pretty fucked up. The details I do have for him are that he was surrendered at birth because his parents, for some reason, did not want to care for him or could not care for him; which it was, he isn’t sure. He grew up effectively orphaned, and ended up in the foster care system. He wasn’t very “adoptable”; he had behavioural issues, mostly violent behaviours towards authority figures and other children. He never exactly grew out of these either, and the older he got the harder it was to actually be adopted. His legal name was Baby Boy Doe for a number of years, but the name he would identify the most with is Jack. Eventually he took on the surname of one of his more stable foster families, becoming Jack Napier as far as the government was concerned. By the time he had that stability in his mid to late teens, however, most of the damage had already been done. In his younger years he was passed between foster families and government agencies, always a ward of the government, something that would follow him to his time in Arkham and Gotham’s city jails. Some of his foster families were decent, others were just okay, but some were physically and psychologically abusive. This abuse is part of what defines his worldview and causes him to see the world as inherently hostile and unjust. It also became one of the things that taught him that violence is how you solve problems, particularly when emotions run high. 

This was definitely a problem at school too; moving around a lot meant going to a lot of different schools. Always being the new student made him a target, and being poor, exhibiting increasingly apparent signs of some sort of mental illness or disorder, and being typically suspected as queer (even moreso as he got into high school) typically did more harm than good for him. He never got to stay anywhere long enough to form deep relationships, and even in the places where he did have more time to do that he often ended up isolated from his peers. He was often bullied, sometimes just verbally but often physically which got worse as he got older and was more easily read as queer. This is part of why he’s so good at combat and used to taking hits; he’s been doing it since he was a kid, and got a hell of a lot of practice at school. He would tend to group up with other kids like him, other outcasts or social rejects, which in some ways meant being around some pretty negative influences in terms of peers. A lot of his acquaintances were fine, but some were more... rebellious and ended up introducing Jack to things like drinking, smoking cigarettes, using recreational drugs, and most important to his backstory, to petty crimes like theft and vandalism, sometimes even physical fights. This is another micro factor in that maybe if he had different friends, or a different school experience individually, he might have avoided getting involved in criminal activities annd may have been able to avoid taking up the mantle of The Joker.

Then there’s how his adult life has reinforced these experiences and beliefs. Being institutionalized, dealing with police and jails, and losing what little support he had as a minor and foster child just reinforced his worldview and told him that being The Joker was the right thing to do, that he was correct in his actions and perspectives. Becoming The Joker was his birthday present to himself at age 18, how he ushered himself into adulthood, and I plan to make a post about that on its own. But the fact that he decided to determine this part of his identity so young means that this has defined how he sees himself as an adult. It’s one of the last micro factors (when in life he adopted this identity) that have gotten him so entrenched in his typical behaviours and self image.

As for macro factors, a lot of them have to do specifically with the failing of Gotham’s institutions. Someone like Bruce Wayne, for example, was also orphaned and also deals with trauma; the difference for the Joker is that he had no safety net to catch him when he fell (or rather, was dropped). Someone like Wayne could fall into the cushioning of wealth and the care of someone like Alfred, whereas the Joker (metaphorically) hit the pavement hard and alone. Someone like the Joker should never have become the Joker in the first place because the systems in place in Gotham should have seen every red flag and done something to intervene; this just didn’t happen for him, and not out of coincidence but because Gotham seems like a pretty corrupt place with a lot of systemic issues. Critically underfunded social services (healthcare, welfare, children & family services) that result in a lack of resources for the people who need them and critically underfunded schools that can’t offer extra curricular activities or solid educations that allow kids to stay occupied and develop life skills are probably the most directly influential macro factors that shaped Jack into someone who could resent people and the society around him so much that he’d lose all regard for it to the point of exacting violence against others. There’s also the reality of living in a violent culture, and in violent neighbourhoods exacerbated by poverty, poor policing or overpolicing, and being raised as a boy and then a young man with certain gendered expectations about violence but especially ideas/narratives that minimalize or excuse male violence (especially when it comes to bullying or violent peer-to-peer behaviour under the guise of ‘boys will be boys’). 

Beyond that, there’s the same basic prejudices and societal forces that affect so many people: classism, homphobia/queerphobia, (toxic) masculinity/masculine expectations, and ableism (specifically in regards to people who are mentally ill or otherwise neurodivergent) stand out as the primary factors. I’m touching on these broadly because if I were to talk about them all, they would probably need their own posts just to illustrate how they affect this character. But they definitely exist in Gotham if it’s anything like the real world, and I think it’s fair to extrapolate that these kinds of these exist in Gotham and would impact someone like The Joker with the background I’ve given him.

I have no idea how to end this so if you got this far, thank you for reading!

#clown in command ; ooc #i've got a million of 'em ; headcanon

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 1: No Powers

Hello! In this story that I’ll be telling over the next month, Adrien and Marinette haven’t seen each other since graduation, which was several years ago. One chance meeting during an akuma battle has Adrien thinking about his old friend, but after everything that’s happened, he’s sure that she doesn’t want to see Adrien Agreste anytime soon... Chat Noir, however...

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30  31

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Ducking an errant beam, Adrien swung his baton into Mega Drain. Behind him, he heard it hit a car, killing the engine inside. “You feline up for a fight, metal head?”

The name was fitting since today’s akuma looked like a poorly put together metal robot slightly bigger than Adrien was, moving on treads. With how slowly it moved and how short its arms were, Adrien was feeling confident even though Ladybug hadn’t arrived yet. And why shouldn’t he? Nearly a decade of being Chat Noir had honed his reflexes and combat power to a fine point.

“CHAT NOIR WILL SUBMIT HIS MIRACULOUS TO MEGA DRAIN.”

Adrien winced at the volume. His enhanced senses could be both a blessing and a curse sometimes. “Tell you what.” He paused for dramatic effect. “No.”

That didn’t seem to be the right choice since Mega Drain began rapid firing beams at him. So far, he’d only seen it hit electronics, but every time they’d immediately shut down. That alone was enough reason for him to avoid getting hit, even if he wasn’t sure that he would actually be affected by the beams. If nothing else, Mega Drain seemed to think something would happen.

It wasn’t actually that hard to avoid the rays, but it stopped him from getting close to the akuma. Ah well. At least that means he’d get to see Ladybug, itself an increasingly rare event. He suspected that she was going to university, but who knows? He was just glad she hadn’t left Paris and given her miraculous to someone else. Despite all the rejections, he couldn’t bring himself to stop loving her.

A flash of black hair caught his attention. A sly greeting died on his lips when he realized it wasn’t Ladybug he’d seen but someone he hadn’t laid on eyes on in a couple years - Marinette Dupain-Cheng. His elation at seeing a childhood friend was matched only by the pang of sorrow he felt at what had happened the last time they’d seen each other. They tried to keep in touch, but after their talk on graduation day, life had gotten in the way of their friendship. It really was a shame. He missed having her in his life.

He ducked under another beam, but his wandering mind had made him less aware of his surroundings. The beam reflected off a metallic object and right back at him. He felt his strength leave his muscles and his limbs become more sluggish. Just as his senses deadened, he realized what had happened - the power his miraculous granted him had been drained- Oh. OH. That’s why he called himself Mega Drain.

Feeling almost as upset with himself taking that long to realize the meaning of his name as he was mad at getting hit, he ducked into an alleyway. All he had to do was shake off the akuma and he could - theoretically - detransform and recharge. He was thankful that Plagg was able to hold on and keep the Chat Noir suit on. Recharging was easy, but losing his secret identity would be irrecoverable.

His plan to escape wasn’t going well. Mega Drain was right behind him and the alley reached a dead end. Drawing his baton, he turned to face the akuma, locking his eyes on the single red lensed camera on the akuma’s face.

“YOUR MIRACULOUS IS MINE.” The akuma charged up his beam and Adrien tensed, ready to jump out of the way. He may not have superhuman reflexes, but he still had his training. He just had to wait for…

...A trash can to be shoved roughly onto its head from behind, apparently. Blinking in surprise, he looked past the flailing akuma to see Marinette motioning at him wildly. He took the opportunity for what it was and rushed over to her side, only for her to grab his arm and start running. They’d gotten a fair distance away before they heard a metallic roar. Marinette quickly unlocked the door to an office building and locked the door behind them.

Hands on her knees, she took a few deep breaths. “That… was a close one.”

“I’ll say.” Adrien took his tail in one hand and began idly twirling it. “What were you doing out during an akuma attack? You don’t strike me as the reporter type.”

She stood up straight, her breathing now under control. Adrien let himself be impressed - blindsiding akumas and making mad dashes through the streets can be exhausting. She’d kept herself in shape over the years. Crossing her arms, she glared up at him, “You’re welcome, you ungrateful cat.”

That got a laugh out of him. He didn’t remember her being so spunky, but then again, he knows why she was never herself around him, doesn’t he? “Sorry, sorry.” Bowing deeply, one arm held out, he added, “My deepest gratitude. Saving the feline in distress was very noble of you.” She snorted and rolled her eyes, but he pressed on. “And while I do very much appreciate what you’ve done so far, I have one more favor to ask.”

That got her curiosity. “And what’s that?”

“Go away.” He grinned at her shocked expression. His voice softened a little as he added, “Find somewhere safe to hide. I need to recharge and I can’t have you peeking at my secret identity. Besides, I’d feel better knowing such a kind civilian were out of harm’s way.”

She nodded and pointed behind him. “There are bathrooms over there that lock from the inside. I’m going to uh, sneak out the back way.” She started jogging away, and yelled back at him over her shoulder, “Good luck!”

He watched her go until she darted down a hallway. He knew there were more pressing things to be thinking about, but he felt a pang of remorse. Maybe if their last meeting hadn’t gone the way it did, they’d have worked harder to keep in touch. A warning beep sounded from his miraculous, shaking him out of his thoughts. No use dwelling on what might have been. He ran towards the bathrooms Marinette had pointed out, eager to recharge and get back in the fight.

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

Adrien landed in his room with the sun setting behind him. It was a smaller space than his childhood home, but he had to make some concessions if he wanted to be living on his own. Father wouldn’t rent or let him rent his own mansion and Adrien wouldn’t want to even if he did. He’d had more than enough of large, empty spaces for one lifetime already. At least now the empty spaces were smaller.

“Claws in.”

Plagg emerged from the ring and crash landed on top of his private refrigerator. “Geez, kid. You’re overworking me here! And could you at least tryto not eyeball every pretty civilian you come across? Unless this is some weird way of moving on from Ladybug.”

Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose will Plagg opened up his fridge. “First off, I don’t oogle random people. That was Marinette. You know? We went to school together.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember Pigtails alright. Even if the name doesn't match anymore. Real awkward parting words at your graduation.”

His heart was heavy for a moment as he remembered her confession… and how he had to gently reject her. It was the last time they’d seen each other face to face, and he hated the hurt he’d seen in her eyes. But what else could he do? Which brought him to...

“Second - you know I can’t just move on from Ladybug. I’ve tried, you know it as well as I do, but…”

“Blah blah heart blah blah the pain of unrequited love. Yeah, you’ve mentioned it a few hundred times before.” He shoved a wedge of cheese in his mouth and talked around it. “At least you have something in common with Pigtails.”

“I guess we do,” Adrien replied in a sad whisper.

While they were never the closest of friends, Adrien keenly felt Marinette’s absence in his life. The energy she always had, the confidence she had not only in herself, but in everyone around her. Just being near her was usually enough to get people motivated - something she often took advantage of as class president. The certainty she had in what she wanted to be was something he could really use some of right now. He felt like his life was in a holding pattern, just working for his father while being groomed to take up the management portion of the Agreste business.

But what could he do? While they made a slight effort to keep in touch, he had no idea how she would react to seeing him again, face to face. Has she moved on from him? Did she come to resent him? Who knows? Somehow he doubted that she’d appreciate him showing up on her doorstep.

While watching Plagg do his absolute best to scarf down an entire wheel of camembert, a smile dawned on his face. While Adrien might not be met eagerly, who wouldn’t love a visit from the local superhero?

“Finish up quick, Plagg. We’re going out tonight.”

While his kwami complained, Adrien pulled up the discord channel the four of them had made to keep in touch. Wading through the conversations - mainly between Alya and Marinette - he eventually found what he was looking for: An address.

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

Half an hour later, Adrien landed on a balcony that he hoped was Marinette’s. He’d made a detour to buy some sweets to bring over. After all, it was rude to show up unannounced and empty handed.

The lights were on. He breathed a sigh of relief - that was a good sign. It had become painfully obvious to him that he didn’t know much about how her life was going now when he didn’t even know where she was working, let alone her hours. He peeked into the window to check if she was actually home.

The room seemed to be some combination of a work space and living room. There was a TV turned down as it played some show that she only glanced at occasionally. A familiar, old chaise, a couch and a couple armchairs, but there was also mannequins, reams of fabrics, and a table littered with pins, sketchbooks, and a sewing machine. Working at the sewing machine was Marinette herself, only occasionally glancing up at the TV from a jacket she was working on.

Satisfied that she was at least present, he tapped at the glass. Softly at first, but becoming more insistent when it became clear that she was too focused on her work to hear him. Even then it took her a few moments to realize just where the tapping was coming from. It was all worth it though when he saw how her eyes went wide at seeing him at the window. He grinned as she rushed over to the window.

“What are you doing here?! Do you realize how late it is?” She hissed at him. His smile faltered. This wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting.

“Well, I was in a rush earlier, so I couldn’t thank you properly for your help today.” Seeing her dubious expression, he pulled out the big guns and moved his basket of snacks in front of him. “I brought chocolate croissants?”

She glanced between the basket and him, torn. Just before she was about to speak, her stomach growled. Blushing, she opened the window wide and said, “Quick, get in before I change my mind.”

Adrien didn’t need to be told twice. Slipping inside, he took another look at the room around him, now using all his senses. It was messy, with several projects in various levels of completion scattered around the room. There were a few pictures on the walls, mostly of her and Alya, plus a few older ones from lycee and one from graduation. But nothing recent. His heightened smell backed him up - the only scent he could pick up was Marinette’s. Did she not get visitors?

“Sorry I haven’t cleaned up recently. I wasn’t expecting guests.” She rubbed one arm, embarrassed at the state of her apartment.

His cheeks heated up. It hadn’t been his intention to show up just to gawk at her living space. “No, no! Its fine.”

A few more moments of awkward silence passed. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

“Uh, Chat?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, eager for any conversation starter.

“The basket…?”

“Oh! Sorry, here you go.” The goodies changed hands and Marinette took a look at them, inhaling the scent of the baked goods with a blissful smile. While she was busy, he pressed on. “So… anyway. I wanted to say I really appreciated the help. It was very brave of you to get involved like that. That could very well have been the end of me as Chat Noir.”

She smirked as she looked back up at him. “Yeah, then Paris would have to get a new Chat Noir and a new Ladybug and it would just be a mess. I figured I might as well save us the trouble.”

“Well, a new Chat Noir definitely, but why would we need a new Ladybug? I’m sure she would have been fine handling Mega Drain on her own.” Which was true. A lot of the time he felt like he was more a bodyguard for Ladybug, or sometimes emotional support.

“Do you really think Ladybug would want to go on without you?” She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him, a smile that quickly vanished when he said:

“Yes, no question. It might be rough for her at first, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’d be able to move on.” He shrugged. “And who knows? Maybe the next one would be better at this than I am.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “But they wouldn’t be you.”

Laughing, he replied, “Yeah, that’s the point.”

Silence stretched between them again as Adrien stared at nothing in particular and Marinette fidgeted with the basket in her hands. Just as he was about to say his goodbyes, she spoke up.

“You know, you really shouldn’t have gotten this many. I don’t think I should eat them all on my own.”

“Oh?” That sounded like an invitation, but he didn’t want to make assumptions.

“Do you want to stick around? I could put a new movie on. It always helps me be productive.”

It was at this point that Adrien realized he hadn’t actually known what to expect when he came over here. But right now, spending time with a friend sounded much better than sitting at home alone.

“Sure, I think I can do that. So long as you don’t mind me commenting during the movie.”

Shaking her head with a smile, she said, “I should’ve guessed the famous Chat Noir is a movie talker.”

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

One movie had turned into two, then three. Granted, they weren’t particularly long movies, but it was well past midnight by the time Adrien began making his way for his window escape. Despite how tired he felt, even now he was leaving reluctantly. He’d had a great time laughing and eating and talking, and he from how often he’d coaxed laughter out of Marinette, he thought she was enjoying herself too.

It made leaving feel bittersweet. A taste of the friendship he’d never gotten to have. And now he had to go back into his strict, regimented life as if he hadn’t just had the most fun in ages.

“Hey, Chat?”

“Yes, purrincess?” He grinned at her eye roll. The nickname had stuck while they were watching the Princess Bride, much to her feigned displeasure.

“I was just going to say… tonight was nice. If you wanted to come over more often, I’d appreciate the company.”

“You sure I wasn’t too distracting?”

“Are you kidding? I made more progress on my pieces today than I have in the last two days combined. Something about an empty space drains motivation, you know?”

Smiling back at her, he replied, “Yeah, I think I get what you mean. I’ll come visit again soon. I promise… purrincess.”

He leaped out of the window and made his way home, smiling all the while.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Marichat #MarichatMay2019 #ml fanfiction #my writing #rekindle

[rasoir-national]

This was bound to happen : I’m talking about immigration law

@ghostplantss i don't know v much about french immigration law would you tell me about it? i'm v curious?

Oh wow. First tea, and now this ? Either you are my secret Santa, or my enabler.

So let me tell you about the passion of my life, Immigration and refugee law, and the fuckery this country has made of it.

The way a city, community, country treats the “other” is one of the oldest legal questions in the History of Humanity. From Antique Greek cities to the Jus Gentium of the Roman Empire, laws concerning foreigners might be the first form of international law known to man. In many ways, it’s by acknowledging the existence of “others”, by giving and restricting their rights, that a social group both truly asserts itself as a “political community”, yet acknowledges the transcending quality of “humanity” of the outsider.

Nowadays, this question is as politically charged as ever : the way a country regards foreigners, welcomes them, rejects them, is one of the most interesting ways you can define the country, one of the ways the country sees itself. By the way we treat the one who is not “us”, we highlight which rights we consider to be inherent to humanity in and of itself, as well as which ones we consider intrinsically rooted in our identity as “citizen”.

And all this proud History, all this contemporary tension, makes Immigration law fascinating to FUCKING NO ONE.

Look, one thing you have to know about lawyers is how much they love intellectual wankery. A nicer way to put it would be to say lawyers love systems. And theory. And generalisation. And categorizing. They like to look at a set of rules and see a pattern, a logic, a paradigm. They like to be able to neatly present it in two titles, each divided in two subtitles, each divided in two sections, and repeat that until they run out of microsoft font points.

And Immigration law... It’s not that. It’s not that at all. It’s the opposite of that. It’s a law that’s almost entirely dictated by conjoncture, by what a government needs it to say, by whichever concept they’re going to twist then to suit their needs. Whatever few theoritical concepts Immigration law might have been based on have been destroyed by years of either haphazardous or plainly malignant reforms, often both.

And not only does that mean that this at this point is an intensely, punitively complex law, it has also become - if it hasn’t always been - illogical and incoherent. The only “logic” behind it anymore is how much it can be weaponized against its subjects - foreigners. Because that’s the only thing that politicians care about, and because lawyers and especially academics have pretty much given up on it, leaving the terrain free for the former. You have to realize, in terms of pure numbers, Immigration law is the most practiced law in the country. It represents almost a third of all disputes. Yet it is taught in NO university in France. Not a single one. There are no courses, no grad school, no thesis program about immigration law in all of France. There is no money in Immigration law : almost all involved subjects are destitute. There is no intellectual curiosity, because the discipline, from a theoretical point of view, is pretty uninteresting. There isn’t even public interest, because deceptively, the general public hears so much about immigration from either ignorant or ill-intentioned people, that getting through the complexity of the topic is immensely complicated and unrewarding.

Lawyers, for the most part, have deserted the topic for selfish reasons, despite the fact that this is perhaps where they were most needed to make sure fundamental rules were enforced, that politics didn’t come in the way of good justice. They abandoned the most vulnerable subjects of law to the whims of lawmakers and political interests. That’s unforgiveable.

So as a result, Immigration law today mostly resembles a cat-and-mouse game where the law sets up as many traps as possible for the immigrant to fall into, with dozens of obstacles to navigate to finally, finally be able to legally settle in a country you might be have been living in for several decades. There are specific stay rules for retirees. That’s a thing. Every rule is meant to exclude as many people as possible. As a result, immigrants must get increasingly creative or even downright shifty in order to qualify for a stay. And in turn, public opinion will yell and say they are manipulating the system - well, duh. We’ve made a system in which it’s impossible to win fair and square and then we criticize immigrants for trying to game it.

Let’s have just one example : demands of admission because of sickness. French law categorizes different reasons for an immigrant to be admitted to live on french soil for a little while : study, work, family matters, and health. France has a very good health system compared to the worldwide standard, so many people come here to receive treatment they might not be able to benefit from in their country of origin for various reasons. Some people already don’t think that’s a reason for welcoming them, but fuck those people. Anyway, there are many, many people who will ask for permission to stay on the grounds of an “invisible” illness : depression, PTSD, personality disorder... all of which are very difficult to prove. Before 2017, the prefect had to decide based on the opinion of a doctor from the regional authority after they’d met with the author of the request. But the administration quickly realized that doctors tend to have that pesky thing called deontology or even - perish the thought ! - empathy. So there was a reform, and now the way it works is the ill immigrant goes to a doctor who writes a report, then mails it to the person’s lawyer, who then mails it to a doctor that will do a second report based on that report, and will send that second report to a group of 3 doctors who, on the sole basis of that document, will advise the prefect on whether or not the person is ill, and whether or not they could have access to treatment in their country. And when I say advise, I mean they mail a form with boxes checked. That’s it. No text. So we have a prefect, who’s not a doctor, making a decision about the health situation of a person based on a box-based form filled by doctors who have never met the person, who themselves are judging based on the report of another doctor who has no met the person either, this last doctor writing based on the report of another doctor who might have met the person once. And all of this can take up to a year. That’s time during which the immigrant cannot work, or receive benefits. And then, if the prefect decides against letting the immigrant stay, then they have only 2 months to challenge that decision, otherwise after those 2 months have passed, they can be arrested, incarcerated and deported at any time.

So given all that, is it any wonder that immigrants tend to “discover” illness after illness and constantly ask for stays based on that ? This system is so random and unfair, that all you can really do is try and try again hoping something will eventually stick. So now you have people complaining that immigrants are faking mental illness in mass, causing prejudice to the “real” mentally ill immigrants. And yes, that’s the effect. But make no mistake : the cause is how difficult it is for an immigrant to have their illness acknowledged when it’s not something “extreme” enough to have you cross the border on a gurney. Because it’s not enough to google “availability of x medication in x country” to make sure the person can actually access treatment in their country of origin.

So that’s the hypocrisy infusing (haha, tea joke) the whole system. And on top of that, the procedure is getting more complicated with every reform : miss one deadline, fill out one form wrong, and you’re out. And please remember we’re dealing with people who for the vast majority do not speak french (the ONLY language allowed in administrative matters according to the Constitution) and know nothing of our administrative system. It’s up to the person’s lawyer to basically map out the life of each of their client. And because there is no money in immigration law - you only get paid in judicial aid from the state - there aren’t many immigration lawyers. You have to do this out of conviction, cuz you’re certainly not doing it for the money or career opportunities. In the practice I interned at last year, each lawyer would at all times manage on average 50 to 80 active cases. And let’s be clear, a lot of them are assholes, because lawyers in general tend to be assholes. But the work they do in downright heroic.

So that’s where I come in to fix it all, right ? Yeah, no. This entire system is fucked, and given what the world looks like right now, it might be for a while. I’m under no delusion that I can do anything to change that. My goal is to help the way I can : I want to become an administrative judge, the ones who are in charge of examining administrative decisions regarding immigrants. This type of challenge represents roughly 50% of the activity of any administrative tribunal : every chamber, no matter their specialty, has to do a little of it, otherwise the system is so backed up it would collapse. Some of those judges do amazing work, and are some of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met. Some of them are not. Most of them are plain bored by this type of claim, because they’re repetitive, not really technical from a legal standpoint and always depressing. And a handful of them have ties to the far-right and are there just to expel as many immigrants as possible. So yeah, if all goes well I’ll be a judge in a few years, and I’ll be one of the only ones who came to the job because of immigration law, not in spite of it. It’s not bragging on my part, it’s just a sad fact. Judges at the tribunal where I’ve worked had a schedule for who was supposed to be in charge of new immigration claims arriving, and some judges would hide from court reporters in order not to get attributed cases that arrived right before their shift was over. So yeah, if I can be a small drop in the bucket and be someone who actually looks at these cases with the explicit intent of finding a reason to approve the claim, that’ll be good enough for me. Because Immigration law, or at least what we’ve made of it, might not be “interesting” but it’s goddamn important, and people should pay attention to it.

#law stuff #immigration law #well this got personal #I don't know if any of that was what you were looking for but #yeah #i just love this topic so much #there is so much good to do #and so few people care #it's a national shame

[anthropologicalhands]

this is so far past 500 words but: treat me like a comma, starting from "“I…it’s late. I should probably get going,”" through to the end of that scene

Ooh, no problem!

“I…it’s late. I should probably get going,” he says, trying not to feel like a colossal dick and failing.

“Yeah,” says Rebecca, drawing a deep breath, four counts in and four counts out. A calming breath. She clears her throat. “That might be a good idea.”

Rebecca and Nathaniel exercising control after kissing? Shocker!

More seriously though, one reason this is a law school fic and not an undergrad fic is because I wanted both Nathaniel and Rebecca to be getting increasingly walled in to their adult lives, where there is really only one path forward. This fic in particular takes place at a time where they both are extremely conscientious of their parents’ expectations in their lives and how they have fallen short: Nathaniel because he is preparing to enter his father’s firm and really start presenting as a Perfect Plimpton in a much more restrictive way than before and Rebecca because, in this universe, her first suicide attempt was just a few months before and she is still working through the fallout and its consequences (for instance, the apartment she rents is above an acquaintance of her mother’s, and part of the reason she is there is because her mom wants to keep tabs on her after the incident)

Nathaniel is especially more conscientious about being “on his best behavior” after what happened with his father earlier today, so it is not a stretch to say that Plimpton Sr is responsible for the cockblocking here. While they are both a little tipsy, they aren’t sloppy drunk by any means, so if this encounter had been a natural outgrowth of, say, their flirtation at the bar, they probably would have checked in for consent and kept going.

But Nathaniel blames it on the alcohol, and Rebecca agrees to it, and even though that is still a good reason not to go any further it still feels like a rejection; Nathaniel is aware of that but has no idea how to address it, because he is not the kind of person who would say ‘I would totally have sex with you in a parallel universe’. Rebecca, currently, is trying not to spiral, because she was the one to initiate the kiss, and she is very much for having two enthusiastically consenting parties, but it still kind of sucks. 

“Right. I have a flight tomorrow, and I need to make sure I finish a few things up, and I have a follow-up with my dad I need to tell—”

“You should tell your dad to go fuck himself,” she says, apropos of nothing.

Nathaniel is just rambling, trying to gather himself up and trying to stave off the fact that he feels bad about turning her down. And he knows he’s rambling, but he has just met Rebecca Bunch, and certain feelings have awakened that are not easily boxed up.

Rebecca, on her side, definitely did not think through her sentiment before voicing it aloud - there are a lot of thoughts flashing through her right now, the logic of not having a one night stand while feeling very vulnerable after having shared more information about Robert than she has in a while, being embarrassed and wondering if she said anything that put Nathaniel off, trying not to seem “crazy” in front of him, and on top of all that she is very sexually frustrated, so while trying to consider a reasonable parting phrase to Nathaniel, the second he brings up his dad, this is what comes to mind and then almost immediately, right out of her mouth.

Nathaniel’s glass rattles as he sets it down, nearly drops it, on the countertop.

“Excuse me?”

She looks stricken, like the words fell out of her mouth without her permission, and for a moment he thinks she might take it back and they can just pretend it didn’t happen. Then her eyes meet his again, and her mouth firms up and she sets her shoulders, meeting his gaze square on.

“Tell your dad to go fuck himself,” she says, a little louder.

Rebecca has let her true feelings out, but instead of trying to laugh it off, she decides to double down. Part of this is repressed feelings about her own parents and what she would like to say to them, even knowing that she never will, but it is also just how she feels about Nathaniel’s situation, and seeing that his first reaction is indignant surprise rather than some kind of agreement, decides that nope, this message really needs to get out.

He’s too stunned to be processing anything, really, but he knows the little thrill that shoots through him at the thought is utterly ungrateful and completely inappropriate.

“You’re out of line,” he says coolly, composing himself.

Rebecca shakes her head. “I don’t think I am. I think that whole farce of a phone call was ridiculous. Like, what, some kind of power play? You’re doing a lot, and he can’t see that, and he sucks, and he should go fuck himself.”

He would almost laugh if he wasn’t seeing red.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not? He’s terrible.”

“You don’t know the full situation.”

As similar as Rebecca and Nathaniel’s parental issues are, they process very differently. Nathaniel, because his family is known as the Perfect Plimptons, has not made it a habit of expressing any of his anger or frustration at his father, because it shouldn’t be there - he should be able to be the perfect son, and his father is only being reasonable, after all.

Rebecca might have trouble setting boundaries and not chasing after parental expectations, but she is extremely aware of their faults and has no problem saying them; Nathaniel has been pretending that his parents’ flaws don’t exist, and that if he disciplines himself enough, he will meet those expectations and they really will be the Perfect Plimptons. So he can’t get angry at them when he doesn’t meet their expectations - if there’s a problem, it’s all on him.

“I don’t have to know it—”

“Would you say that to your mom?” he challenges.

“That’s a totally different situation—”

“Really? I don’t think so,” he shoots back. “You’re desperate to get away from her. She’s all you got, and you can’t stand the idea of spending a couple of days with her. At least I’m capable of facing mine. I paid my dues before I came here. You’re just hiding.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, right. Because that turned out so well for you. At least I avoided hating myself too much this week.”

They have their defenses up, and are lobbing accusations that actually apply equally to both of their situations, even as they try to defend their own decisions as the “right” way to handle things. Nathaniel might have framed his trip to Yale as a networking and study opportunity, but it really was a set up to escape his parents early - but he doesn’t want to think about that.

And, of course, there is the problem that they do crave their parents’ unconditional love and validation, and they aren’t inclined to react kindly to others’ criticisms of them, however well-deserved.

“I do not hate myself,” he snaps, pacing the length the kitchen. “Why do you care, anyways? Is this because I won’t sleep with you?”

“This has nothing to do with that, you sanctimonious American Psycho,” she snarls. “If I’m miserable, then so are you.”

Nathaniel is being an ass and lashing out about something he knows will get a reaction; Rebecca sees right through it but is pissed that he resorted to that kind of low blow and instead cuts to the heart of the problem - they both see each other a little too clearly, and they see themselves in the other person, and they don’t like it, so it’s a painful feedback loop. I was a little hesitant about including it, but at this moment Nathaniel is just reaching for anything to deflect, so it seemed to work well enough.

“I am not miserable.”

“Really? Because you did not see your face when I saw you outside the bar. You’re miserable and, what’s even worse, you have no idea why and it’s staring you right in the face. And you’re going to spend the summer with this guy breathing down your neck, if you meet his conditions? You’re gonna spend the rest of your life working for this guy, trying to meet whatever other ridiculous expectations he sets for you?”

Trutal. One thing that strikes me about Nathaniel’s life path is that by working for his father, he is setting himself up to be always held to higher and higher expectations without a chance of approval or reprieve. But there is nothing secure about his relationship with his father - he’s not secure in paternal love, so he chases after respect thinking that it will also mean love. He might be a great lawyer, he might do well, but it’s going to mean nothing unless he gets a stamp of approval. He is intentionally entering a situation where he isn’t going to get what he wants, while believing all the while that he is going to get it if he works hard enough. It’s pretty bleak.

That’s not true, that won’t be true, he’s going to get there, he’s not going to spend the rest of his life chasing after his father’s expectations, that’s why he’s here in the first place, getting ahead of them.

“You’re wrong.”

“Okay, I’m wrong. So you’re saying that being watched for the rest of your life will make you happy?”

“You don’t know me. I know exactly what I need to do. My path has been laid out for me and I’m happy to follow it. I know what I’m going to be and what will make me happy. I’ll make it through the firm, I’ll prove my worth, I’ll make partner, and everything will be fine. Do you even know what you want?”

Nathaniel is having his version of Rebecca’s spiral about being happy in the pilot. It’s not a breakdown, but it is a very well-rehearsed lie. He has picked up on Rebecca’s own unhappiness, and this time he does hit a nerve, because happiness is all that Rebecca wants, but the only thing she knows is that she doesn’t have it.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, I don’t care what I want!” she shouts, then looks stricken, this time for something he can’t possibly understand. It’s like watching a deflating balloon; all of the fight seems to go out of her and she puts her face in her hands, fists tugging hard enough that her hair that, despite his own anger, Nathaniel fears that she might actually pull it out.

“I want to be happy,” she says, pitiful and small, shoulders drooping. “That’s it.”

And just like that, he can feel it draining out of him too. The girl at the bar earlier this evening –she seemed happy, to some degree or another, but that definitely isn’t true of the one in front of him now.

“You don’t have anything that would make you happy now?” he finds himself asking.

“I know things that make me happier,” she says. “Working out problems makes me happier, editing makes me happier. Knowing that I banged Audra Levine’s boyfriend before she found out he was a rotten lay makes me happier. This night made me happier than I’ve been all week, until now.”

Rebecca’s outburst here scares her, a little bit, because it is a moment of self-awareness and, unfortunately, foreshadowing that she is going to be subsumed into a role for the next few years that she doesn’t want to play, but has to play very well in order to  “make it up” for all of the problems she has caused over the years and how things went so south after Robert, especially with how it derailed her mother’s plans for her (not to mention her own wishes - she seems to have really loved Harvard, and not being able to go to the law school would have really hurt). She hasn’t been prescribed the medications that will make her lose her feelings, but she definitely feels the walls being built up, and while she usually doesn’t acknowledge them, this is a moment where she really feels it and it hurts.

One thing that I think happens with them here is that they do recognize each other’s reactions in each other, which is why it doesn’t take much for Nathaniel to lose his anger instead of clinging to it from sheer pettiness. The way Rebecca looks in this moment reflects a way he has felt about himself; he doesn’t know that about himself, but its the subconscious motivation. And he already likes Rebecca, and given how playful and happy she had been earlier in the evening - he wants her to be okay.

As for Rebecca’s answer...I definitely had to work in a dig about Audra Levine somewhere in this fic, even if Nathaniel has no idea who Audra Levine even is. And even if being a lawyer wasn’t something she wanted for herself, I like to believe that she really loved being on the law review and becoming the editor - sure, it builds up her resume, but that is was something she sincerely enjoyed for herself and gives her stability later in her Yale career. Unfortunately, right now, she hasn’t yet gotten that.

The darkness of the apartment, luminated only by unfriendly fluorescent overhead in the kitchen and the more traditional table lamp on Rebecca’s side, now seems cold and uninviting rather than somewhere safe, somewhere to hide.

“Well,” he says. “It was the same for me. Until now.”

I like that description of Rebecca’s apartment, which has that crappy student apartment lighting. And it really highlights how, despite getting off on the wrong foot, meeting each other had been, for a brief moment, a very honest bright spot for both of them, because they met someone who found them attractive and interesting and laughed with them. While they are going to bite the bullet and make up in the morning, they don’t know that yet, and they are just both sad and really disappointed at how the night has turned out, when it seemed to be going in such a promising direction before.

(Side note: I think I would definitely tweak the dialogue in this scene more to hit harder. I wrote this fic on a self-imposed deadline that, while it didn’t turn out badly, ultimately could have used more time to really have the impact I wanted)

Rebecca is still breathing noisily, her chest heaving as she struggles to contain whatever force of emotion is within her, no longer clean anger but still painful. Her face is blotchy, whether from the alcohol or embarrassment or rage Nathaniel has no idea –he can’t imagine that whatever weird expression is contorting his own face right now looks all that much better, anyways, and the air is too warm and stuffy in the apartment.

Rebecca takes a deep breath that almost sounds like a sob.

“You should probably go,” she says, looking down at her feet.

“I should,” he says, his voice cold to his own ears, colder than he means.

She doesn’t move from the couch, her arms tightly around herself, as he lets himself out.

They are both cutting their losses. Nathaniel is falling back into his stone cold bastard mode to mask how badly he feels about their fight (well, trying to but failing), and Rebecca is taking initiative and trying to take control by asking him to leave so it doesn’t drag out any longer. Happily, they make up later, but at this moment they are both just very tired at being confronted with the sources of their own unhappiness, not acknowledging their own unhappiness, and hating to see it play out in someone else.

-

Metatextually, I wanted to write a fic where r/n met at an earlier time in their lives, at a moment when they both saw each other as vulnerable. It couldn’t just be a one-night stand, because that would be too easy to brush off.  I wanted law school for the reasons I listed earlier, but also it had to involve something that would have them both very emotionally bruised - very naturally, their parents. People are very good at giving advice that they don’t follow, and they are not only younger here and have less of a filter, but they also want something better for the other person because they feel like they aren’t in a place to do it for themselves.

It was also me playing with the ‘one meaningful encounter’ trope: yes, they meet and say things to each other that they have never said to anyone else, and it probably helped in the moment to have met each other. But the forces shaping their lives have been at full power for a while now, and in the end, one encounter isn’t enough to change the course of their lives, or the other person’s life, no matter how much they wanted it.

#akisazame #writing meme reply #ellie writes fic #fic commentary #thanks! #i can ramble about this fic forever #i thought WAY TOO HARD about all of it

[liskantope]

A response to Aella’s essay “The Responsibility Narrative”

I initially planned to quickly link to this piece @aellagirl put up a few days ago just to highlight it as a piece of writing containing ideas that I’ve tried to express for a while (longer-time followers know that the whole agency/responsibility topic is right up my alley) and to thank her for expressing them so much more elegantly and from a much more powerful point of view. Then I noticed a bunch of points I wanted to pick apart a bit (while I overall really like this post there are some places where I think she goes a bit further than I do or just want to respond to in other ways). Also, it seems that she turned comments off for that post or something, so I guess this post is my way of dropping a (very long and slightly erratic) comment under hers while at the same time linking my Tumblr followers to her piece and providing a response.

I’ll start by saying that I really envy the author’s writing skills, in the sense that Aella seems to have an uncanny ability to put forth highly controversial theses that many would take offense to in an eloquent, concise, and direct manner (I might even go as far as to say “blunt”), and yet manages to do this in a way that facilitates in the audience opening one’s mind and listening rather than taking offense or feeling attacked. This is something I’ve noticed for a long time in her writing. An example is her piece on monogamists rejecting polyamory out of fear, where her thesis is one that I strongly disagree with and may well have responded to with resentment if it had been displayed by any other writer. I wish I knew how to emulate this. From time to time I argue positions that are controversial and potentially threatening or angering to some, but in my writing there’s all this hemming and hawing and insertions of softening qualifications and so on which can often make those essays look like sloppy messes by comparison in which my central point is nearly lost amid all the carefulness.

As for the actual content, first of all, I’m always happy to see someone else writing things like this:

Responsibility is weird. Ultimately there’s no free will and agency is a trick of the light, but we seem to have particular rules for when and where we throw responsibility at something. Sometimes we throw responsibility at the environment, and sometimes at the person.

...and I’m especially happy to see this (as most people in my vicinity have seemed to shy away from describing the Left vs. Right divide in this way or agreeing with me when I did):

Responsibility placement seems to occur along political divides, too. Conservatives see everyone holding their own glowing ball of responsibility, while liberals see the responsibility in the environment and the cruel, unchangeable past.

Aella’s views on how we assign free will (or responsibility, which after all is treated by most as equivalent to free will) in practice is the same view as mine and seems to be pretty much the universally-agreed-upon way forward on the pragmatic side, at least judging from the (admittedly very limited) set of people whose writing on that question I’ve read. I wish there were a way to translate that pragmatic solution to a metaphysical one that we could all agree on -- I think my solution is to say that “free will” is just a word that we have no choice but to define according to the pragmatic solution because any attempts at a more “cosmic” definition are in fact meaningless. Perhaps Aella would differ by emphasizing the term “responsibility” in place of where I used “free will” in the sentence above, as after all she does call free will nonexistent and agency “a trick of the light” -- that view seems equivalent to mine for pretty much all means and purposes, though.

And as for “if someone is very lazy, shouting at them to be less lazy sometimes works”, well yes, although a key word there is “sometimes”.

Then we get to the much more controversial thesis of the essay, which is initially presented with “In my old society, men were formally and strongly given the glowing ball of responsibility... [which] sucked bad enough that I don’t think being a woman was worse than being a man.” On first reading, I’m pretty sure I misread that last bit to instead say, “I don’t think being a woman was as bad as being a man”. When just now I read the phrase correctly, my eyebrows didn’t raise quite as high as before, but they’re still raised a little bit. Because while I’m really glad that the author is presenting this alternative view and wish more people could be exposed to it and take it seriously, I still lean fairly strongly towards believing that on the whole it was still better to be a man.

(In this and what follows, I do want to point out that the author is considerably more qualified than I am to speculate on such things given her experience as a woman who actually grew up imprisoned in an ultra-conservative community; however, let me offer my own speculation based on my general impression of how humans react to power and responsibility.)

The author comes across to me as emphasizing the seductiveness of believing that fault lies not in oneself but in the environment while seeming to ignore the potentially negative effects of such a belief, or equivalently, the benefits of feeling a sense of personal responsibility. Yes, the essay highlights the (very obvious) benefits of having power, thus drawing a rough equivalence between the benefits of power and the benefits of not being assigned responsibility in a society where men hold most of the power and most of the responsibility, but I’m talking about how the holding responsibility part comes with psychological benefits along with the psychological disadvantages. Namely, in my view and in my experience, feeling a sense of responsibility is empowering, while feeling a lack of responsibility or agency is certainly easier in many ways but also comes with a sense of weakness and helplessness that can create a lot of depressed feelings. As I remember reading once in an advice article (whose title and author I don’t remember), “It’s easy to be miserable.” In the context of that article, I think its author was trying to say that a lot of misery arises from a failure to take responsibility, which is seductive because of how easy it is... but of course, due to the being miserable part, that deal definitely isn’t better than one where one feels empowered through the weight of responsibility to not have to be so miserable.

(Rereading what I’ve written here the following day, my words in the above paragraph look like contradictory nonsense in the context of the essay I’m responding to: it may sound like I’m saying “Aella is wrong to equate the benefits of lesser responsibility with the benefits or greater power, because carrying lesser responsibility also comes with the disadvantage of having lesser power.” But this is because I’m struggling to make a clear distinction in words between power in the sense of institutional power or authority to make decisions -- the power that Aella refers to -- and the feeling of personal empowerment in the sense of being able to tolerate or withstand adversity. I’m saying that a direct negative consequence of not carrying the ball of responsibility is a feeling of personal weakness that comes with it, which is fairly separate from the fact that lesser responsibility tends to be correlated with less society-bestowed power. Perhaps I’m slightly confounded here by viewing everything primarily through the lens of modern times, where differences in concrete society-bestowed power have mostly disintegrated and a lot of the oppression that activists complain about boils down to some adversity being intolerable mental-health-wise. Not sure if this edited-in aside clarifies my position or makes it even more muddled.)

This is not to say that in practice people don’t choose the less-responsibility route far more often than taking the glowing ball of responsibility. They do, I believe increasingly as our society becomes more socially progressive, and the younger generations recently seem to be embracing a norm of doing it more than ever. And that’s in large part because in a certain sense, it is the easier path. But that doesn’t mean they’re better off psychologically for it. Here let me try my hand at saying something potentially offensive very concisely and directly *deep breath*: the people I know who are most committed to shooing away that ball of responsibility -- the “environment-changers” as Aella might call them or the low-agency-goggle-wearers as I might call them -- the ones who go to the most extreme deep end in that direction tend on the whole to be the most bitter and frustrated, the most terrified of life in general, and the least emotionally or psychologically healthy people I’ve known, to an extent that I don’t think can fully be directly explained by the disadvantages that were handed to them.

As for Aella’s observation that on average men tend to have a more high-agency mentality while women tend to have a more low-agency one... yes, this has certainly occurred to me although I don’t think I’ve ever noted it in writing -- for some reason, I hesitate to feel fully convinced. I still lean towards claiming that the tribe one belongs to is a bigger factor here than gender, but it certainly makes sense that gender is a factor, and her observation does jive with my experience.

Now we get to the part about the Gillette ad, and again I can’t bring myself to go as far as the essay does. I should probably write another post describing a fuller reaction to the ad. As a response to the essay, I would argue that the author is making a point I strongly agree with about modern feminism in general (perhaps it can be applied to some other wings of SJ but far less so since for most other axes of oppression the reality really is something much closer to members of one group directly oppressing the members of another), but that the Gillette ad is not really a great example of this.

I understand “toxic masculinity” in this context to refer to certain behaviors traditionally associated with masculinity that are harmful but still encouraged or normalized for men in our culture. I agree that the ad places responsibility for fixing toxic masculinity solely on men and that this is an overly-simplistic judgment (although to some extent a statement that brief has to be simplistic). I also have some of my own issues with the ad. But sometimes the solution to overturning a cultural norm for a particular group really does almost exclusively rest on the shoulders of that group.

Aella states near the end of the essay, “Women reinforced gender roles just as much, if not more, than the men did.” My personal impression is a variant of this: I think it always has been and continues to be the case that women are the primary enforcers of female gender roles (including some of the most oppressive ones to live under) while men are the primary enforcers of male gender roles. In other words, gender roles are policed most heavily among one’s own gender group. That would imply in this case that many of the traditionally-male behaviors brought up in the ad -- physical aggression, sexual harassment, objectification of women and so on -- are reinforced in men primarily by other men. This strongly jives with my personal experience: it’s never been girls and women in my life who shamed me for not being fiercely competitive about something or for not picking fights or for not being aggressive enough at approaching women for dating/sex. In my life, it’s almost exclusively other guys that have. Of course I’m not saying that these masculine norms are entirely not enforced by women -- in particular, objectification of women arguably is perpetuated on a certain level by some subset of the female population. But I think by and large women tend to promote values for everyone of all genders which are the opposite of the uglier traditionally-masculine norms: diplomacy, sensitivity, gentleness, and so on.

And one corollary of men being the main perpetrators of “toxic masculinity” behavior among fellow men is that the most effective way to push things in the opposite direction is for men to start pushing other men away from these behaviors (”Not cool, dude!”). Which is exactly what the Gillette ad is preaching.

#Gender Roles #high vs. low agency goggles #feminism #toxic masculinity #gillette ad

[blood-spill]

Whumptober Day 7 - Kidnapped

Funny how the kidnapping prompt comes right after the betrayed one,

@superwhumper06

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, implied stalking

Basil's head hurts.

Basil's head hurts, and his body is aching, and he's vaguely nauseous, and...

And when his eyes flicker open, he doesn't know where he is.

Survival mode kicks in, jolting him awake despite his foggy pain. He quickly scans his surroundings; No windows, one wooden door that's likely locked. The room is nearly pitch black without something to light it -- Though it's not quite dark enough to avoid being picked apart by his keen vision -- and empty of anything besides himself, and judging by the cobwebs and the rough-looking walls he guesses that it must be a cellar, unused before now. It's medium-sized, with a ceiling that's high enough that he'll be able to stand just fine but perhaps a bit lower than he would like.

As he looks the basement over once again, idly making sure he hasn't missed any details, he turns his mind towards observing his situation more specifically.

He's sitting on the dusty floor up against a wall. His long hair hangs in thick waves around his shoulders, having apparently been pulled free from its usual braid, and his shirt is stained with just a slight splatter of dried blood. Basil allows himself the smallest of smirks, knowing from the lack of wounds that it isn't his -- He's been apparently captured by someone or something, and he can't remember how that happened, but at least he hadn't gone down without a fight.

There's something uncomfortable pressing into his neck, tight but not so much that his breathing is restricted. It's cold and stiff, so it's probably a metal collar of sorts, and he figures that the bracers around his wrists, which he quickly finds are chained close together to keep his arms behind his back, are possibly of the same material. He bends forward, slowly, testing something, and sure enough there's an increasingly strong tug from behind on the metal wrapped around his neck, the movement making it push down on the front of his throat. Tied to the wall, then; Not with a chain, like the one attaching the forearm bracers, since it hadn't made noise and had a bit of give when pulled taut. Probably just a strong rope of some kind.

Basil's head snaps up abruptly at the sound of a lock clicking open, followed by a door opening and closing, followed by footsteps that sound like they're descending towards him. For a moment he considers making his escape immediately, because he has no doubt that bindings and locks will mean little to his magic. But he figures, then, that he wouldn't know why he was captured in the first place, so he slumps back against the wall and waits, his gaze steeled as he watches the door.

A second passes, then another, and then finally the door is unlocked. Basil has just a second to examine what it'd been hiding -- Stairs, with another door at the top of them -- and then it swings shut again and he fixes his attention towards the figure that had just come through it.

...And groans internally, easily recognizing the woman that now approaches.

"I didn't think," Basil says, with bored disinterest, "that you were so desperate you'd resort to kidnapping."

Regula kneels down a few feet in front of him; He notices cloth wrapped around one of her hand, tinted pink where the blood is starting to seep through it. "I didn't think you were so stubborn and oblivious you'd reject your soulmate four times. I guess we're both surprised."

"If the universe is so cruel that it has decided my soulmate is a naive little girl who has spent the last two years obsessing over me to unhealthy degrees, then I would much rather be single, thank you."

She tilts her head, her eyebrows raising, her gaze seeming oddly innocent. "You don't have to play hard-to-get anymore, you know that, right?"

Basil rolls his eyes, exaggerating his annoyance with a deep, long-suffering sigh. "Do feel free to tell me when you get tired of playing pretend like an ignorant child. Until then," he shifts positions, readying himself to stand, "I will be more than happy to escort you to the nearest jail cell."

With that, Basil reaches out for the familiar part of his soul that is his magic, urging it through his pulse, focusing it on the chain that restricting his arms, the rope keeping him by the wall.

...But nothing happens. He doesn't even feel his magic running through his body like it's meant to, much less it acting upon his will. Instead he is hit full-force by a deep-seated feeling of wrong, like something rotten and decaying in his veins, like corruption, like pollution.

Alarmed, he lets his thoughts pull away from his magic; The feeling is still there, but lurking now, deep under the surface, lessened by the distance. He doesn't know how he didn't notice before, because it's so clear now, this dark, all-consuming sense of dread.

"...What did you do?"

Regula's face slowly breaks into a wide smile. Basil is trying so hard not to panic, but his breathing is quickening despite his efforts; He's had his magic since he was born, like all elves, has learned to rely on it for everything because it's never failed him, not ever. To have it gone now feels like some part of him has been painfully, unwillingly torn out.

"What the hell did you do to me?"

"Don't worry. It isn't gone forever." She begins to stand, still smiling -- He tries to do the same, but is yanked back down by the rope -- and turns to leave. "Maybe I'll even let you use it again, in the future, if you earn it back."

Basil's voice has risen to screaming, his voice so unused to it that it's already tearing his throat raw. "Get back here, Regula! Tell me what you did, tell me how to -- Vi ustya, tõžo shosho, okial mos vil! Give it -- "

The door slams shut.

#whumptober #bloodspill writes #basil sunlier #basil (writing) #regula avarium #regula (writing) #kidnapping // #stalking //

[kaaramel]

Algernon Luc Perreault, Baron of Haunted Dolls

(this is my first time doing this specific character creation dance and i’ve obviously not ever played nobilis so i’m open to critique/workshopping and also truly can’t believe i’ve done this.)

In their mortal existence Luc was a banker, moderately well off, with an almost aggressively mundane life. Since being taken under the metaphorical wing of The Longest Furby, relatively recently, they’ve assumed the responsibility of caring for the bizarre wildlife of her Chancel, the Uncanny Valley; peeled the skin off their own hands; and generally been unimpressed with divine life. Still, they have acquired a certain unflappability; they’re exasperated by new and bizarre events, but rarely actually disturbed, not for long.

Haunted Dolls...

...inspire confusion, fear, and alarm (2)

...resemble living things, but aren’t (2)

...have their actual danger exaggerated (2) 

...are collector’s items (1)

Of course I mean this Estate quite broadly, as “any doll-like or stuffed-animal-like object that’s at least a little bit uncanny valley” - taxidermy, figurines, etc. included; and it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the ghostly type of haunting, I just needed a pithy summation and I listen to just enough MBMBAM to not let this opportunity go.

Luc has a lot more Persona than Domain, but they do have The Sovereign’s Gift (Lesser Animation of Haunted Dolls) and can therefore bring mundane dolls and toys to life, granting them unsettling, jerky movement. If I understand the rules (which I don’t) the dolls can then use Luc’s Shine to do stuff for their creator’s sake, which makes them actually kind of impressive. Whenever possible, Luc brings the new creature back to the Uncanny Valley and lets it join the growing population of slightly horrifying living toys there.

The Uncanny Valley

Everything stretches farther than you’d think.

Gardens will be fruitful.

If it looks like a living creature, it can move and speak.

The abandoned have a place here.

Your imperfections are loved.

The Longest Furby’s Chancel, the Uncanny Valley, is a deep crevice, folded in on itself such that it passes outside the mundane world’s notice. It is accessible from almost everywhere if one knows the right mental trick; it involves a sort of gradual approach to any mundane, constructed doorway, but not actually going inside. The Chancel itself is bursting with lush growth, cultivated gardens, and beautiful babbling streams, and it’s populated almost entirely by living dolls - mostly Furbies and things that resemble Furbies, but not entirely. Besides the better-known mechanical kind, several species of organic Furbylike creature exist here, blending mammalian and avian traits to various degrees; I hope the largest are maybe the size of a medium dog, because anything larger starts distressing me a little to think about, but you never know.

The place has sort of an Island of Misfit Toys vibe, because most of the residents have been deliberately modified, or got broken once and then mended, or were always kind of unsettling. It’s got a little bit of benign Hell-nature to it, I suppose, in its acceptance of oddballs and rejected things. Between the gardens, the guarantee of finding a place, and the ability to metaphorically and literally stretch their supplies, it’s a very hospitable spot, for people able to look past the mild creepiness of their hosts.

Attributes

Aspect 0

Domain 1

Persona 4

Treasure 2

with 8 MP each. Nothing too fancy; I think they prefer to keep out of actual conflicts, and bluff their way out of bad situations with Persona tricks, amping up their own creepiness and/or how dangerous other people perceive them to be.

Their primary Treasure is a pair of magically-imbued elbow-length soft leather gloves made of their own skin, which hasn’t been replaced; Luc just walks around with clean, bare skeleton hands. It’s fine. Both the gloves and the hands are kind of super gross if you think about it too hard but it’s fine. 

The gloves are capable of animating, floating around, and doing simple tasks autonomously, or more complex ones under telepathic mental direction, without anyone actually putting hands in them (I don’t know if I need to ...spend something, somewhere, to give it this ability, or if I get to just declare it?). Mostly they are left behind in the Uncanny Valley and are used for the benefit of all the residents who don’t have proper hands, including The Longest Furby herself. The +1 Tool bonus applies when they’re used for sewing repairs.

Bonds/Afflictions

Affliction: I am always dignified. (3)

Affliction: I can peel the skin off anything. (2)

Bond: My hands are bare and skeletal. (2)

Bond: I’m still connected to my old skin. (Treasure bond) (2)

Bond: I take care of small creatures. (2)

Bond: I always have the perfect outfit. (1)

Bond: I take my Imperator’s commands seriously, even the goofy ones. (1)

... I still have a couple points to allocate but I’ve run dry on ideas; maybe they have a mundane Furby or Furbyesque critter as another Treasure? I guess so. Like a weird stumpy little gryphon familiar. That’s cute, and would probably annoy them, so yes.

Passions/Skills

I’m going super out of order with these, aren’t I? Sorry. Mostly it’s that I’m not confident about this bit in particular, at all, but I guess it’s fine.

Passion: I want an uneventful life. (3)

Passion: A good outfit gives me confidence. (2)

Skill: Accountant (2)

Skill: Express sincere emotion (-1)

Cool (1)

Shine (4) (from Persona)

Why do I keep making accountant OCs? Listen, if I ever figure it out I’ll let you know. Something in my hindbrain insists that Luc used to work for a bank and I’m just rolling with it. Are all the skills and bonds relating to outfits and fashion and dignity overlapping too much? Also a mystery to me. Let me know.

Lifepath

As above, their Estate is Haunted Dolls. Their Keys are Gorse (Something In Thrall) and Oak (Something that Hasn’t Changed.)

Gorse Heart: Held In Thrall

This Furby nonsense.

Disturbing, but I can’t look away.

Nothing exciting to go back to.

I have to figure Her out.

There has to be meaning to this.

Gorse Shadow: Entangled with my Enemy

I can’t let go. 

I’m weak.

Longfurby keeps introducing me to her weird friends.

This Key is strengthened by:

An Estate that’s ‘something you can point to’ (i.e., dolls. Straightforward!)

a Humble mortal life (they were nobody special and preferred it that way.)

A connection to the Cammora (I don’t know what sort of connection! Even the merest shadow of the concept amuses me, though. OOC, a couple folks in the fandom have accused The Longest Furby of being a Mimic or an Actual; maybe she’s discreetly under investigation in-universe too and the Cammora have approached Luc?)

Song of the Light (I’m not suuuuure about this one but I’m not sure which of the other Affiliations it’d be, either. I don’t think they’re independent enough for for rejecting an allegiance altogether, or for the Wild. There’s arguments that could be made for all four of the others, so I just went with the one that strengthened their Key... I guess it’d make sense that, ultimately, they’d favor humanity over everything else, even as they feel increasingly disconnected from it (see below). I don’t know if it’s possible to change this later but maybe as they progress along their character arc they’ll get more sympathy for the weird stuff and start listening to Hell instead?)

and weakened by: 

a connection to Aliens (all the weird Furbies and Furby-adjacent creatures Luc keeps befriending with deep reluctance, from the Imperator-level ones all the way down to the mundane ones they animate with their own powers. A quirk/blind spot is that they don’t really differentiate between a mechanical, magically animated Furby that used to be totally inanimate and the ‘natural’ ‘’’organic’’’ ones native to the Uncanny Valley.)

Oak Heart: My Identity

Sensible and distinguished.

Calming influence.

Exasperated but unfazed by strange events.

Former banker.

Oak Shadow: Crisis

Privately, I’m deeply unsettled by the changes in my life.

This Key is strengthened by:

More than anything else, they are Something Cool (they’re nothing grandiose, nothing especially weird in and of themself, not deeply passionate - they just roll with the punches a little Too calmly.)

An Estate that represents the dark side of the human experience (to be pretentious a moment: not really the uncanny qualities of the dolls themselves, but the judgement we collectively render on things that don’t fit an accepted mold. does that work...)

a Humble mortal life (again)

and weakened by:

the Legacy of their humble life is Alienation (Luc doesn’t feel especially connected to humanity anymore - per Song of the Light they still care about humans, in the abstract, but, for example, they don’t have strong ties to their mortal family (no outright falling-out, I don’t think, just drifted away). They can’t get that emotional connection going, and that freaks them out if they think too hard about it. They’re trying to think of themself as above all this change and upheaval in their life, and fundamentally unchanged as a person, and outwardly sure, maybe, but underneath that they’re really kind of not.)

This is so fucking much. This game is wild. Technically I think I should be writing Domain and Persona difficulty charts - let’s be real, I probably will - and probably some other little details, but I’m leaving it here for right now! I was going to put a disclaimer on this like “I’m not taking this too seriously, I don’t have plans to use it in a game or anything,” and I don’t, but listen, people keep saying they want to incorporate Longfurby into their games. I am helpless before this tide, and if anyone does in fact put their money where their mouth is on this one, you’re certainly welcome to include Mx. Perreault as well, if she needs Powers.

All credit for actually making the original Longfurby and bringing her into our physical world rests with @furbyfuzz​, who is wonderful and excellent.

#nobilis #long post #aarons longfurby #karma ocs #alright i need to stop fussing with this and post. #placeholder nanowrimo tag

[logan-after-dark]

Law of Attraction

Or abundance or whatever it is :P Going to talk on that today since it’s been on my mind.

A few weeks ago now, I signed up for this free webinar that was advertised on one of the ASMR YouTube videos I use to fall asleep. The only reason I signed up for the webinar was because it was free, and because I’ve been in a rough spot financially for a long time now and figured I had very little to lose. An hour out of a Wednesday afternoon seemed like an okay trade for something that I could maybe potentially use.

My attitude towards folks who promote or advocate for this idea of an abundant universe and the law of attraction and things like that has been rather negative in the past. Oftentimes they strike me as snake oil salesmen - folks who sell books titled ‘how to get rich quick’ and things like that where the answer is ‘write and publish a book titled “how to get rich quick” and wait for gullible saps to buy it’. My ex had a few of those books on topics like how to become a millionaire through real estate and the like, and his mother was a realtor so, he had no shortage of support there. But, like I said, in the process of pursuing those kinds of get-rich-quick schemes, you’re really just lining someone else’s pockets while obtaining information that may not even be useful to yourself in your specific situation. So I viewed folks pushing this idea of the law of attraction in a similar way - just very sketchy, negative, snake oil peddlers that really just wanted to sell me on more such talks and line their own pockets while mine became increasingly more barren.

Well, let me tell you how the webinar actually went down.

It was on a website called Mindvalley.com, with Harv Eker and Vishen Lakhiani. I decided that, it seemed to have a sort of spiritual/psychological bent to it from the ad seemingly, so that if it had advice that would help me build up my self-esteem or something like that, just overall improve my mental state by a fair margin through this talk, then it would 100% be worth my time. And like I said before, I had very little to lose spending an hour watching a free webinar on abundance.

At the end of it, they did offer some courses - extremely pricey ones that had been ‘discounted’ like 95%, but 5% was still something like three hundred dollars. I had little doubt in my mind that those might help someone else watching, but I was not interested and I wanted to come away from this having invested only my time anyways. And I didn’t, and still don’t, have a spare $300 lying around.

But I felt amazing by the time the webinar wrapped up.

Literally amazing. Spiritually empowered, ready to take on anything, incredibly emboldened and like nothing could stop me, nothing could hold me back anymore. It was an exhilarating feeling that rocked me to my core. I went into it having spent nothing and came out of it feeling like I’d just won the lottery, in spite of my bank account still showing negative digits. Nothing could crush me at that point - the reality of my situation hadn’t left me, but I felt markedly different about it.

I had to get on Discord and tell Mike about it right away. Mike, though he’s my best friend for life and I love him dearly, instantly had some negativity of his own to share re: the american political system and how the rich get richer while the poor get worse all the time - And that’s real life, unfortunately, and I’m not going to dismiss that. But that’s entirely the wrong attitude to have.

Here are some key concepts/key ideas that I took away from the webinar and would like to share with you folks:

1. Your attitude towards money is all wrong.

I’m being totally serious, and I think that this is something that a lot of people struggle with throughout their lives. If you aren’t born with it then you feel like you’re constantly scraping by. Your parents are always talking about debt and how they’re always scraping by too - I know mine were. I could write a book about all the wrong things my parents did just relating to money. Maybe someday I actually will :)

Your relationship with money is a major factor in how much you receive or what you have to do to get it. If you believe you can only make a lot of money by working hard, then that’s what you’ll have to do. If you feel like you’re always drowning in debt, then you will always be drowning in it. If you believe deep down that you’re unworthy of a lot of money, then you’ll never have a lot of money. You subconsciously reject money if you believe deep down that you’re not worth it. This can manifest in refusing a job promotion because you don’t think you’ve earned it, not applying for a job in the first place because you don’t meet the qualifications, or deciding against some action related to business (current or one you haven’t started yet) because it’s a lot of time investment, will keep you away from your family, a lot of money invested, etc. etc. etc. These really are excuses, because there are always affordable business loans, way to maintain work/life balance and family time, or accepting that promotion because it may just be a stepping stone towards something even better. You can’t know where it’ll take you until you try.

We make excuses to refuse money all the time, even if we don’t realize it. What about flipping the script for once and reasoning out with ourselves why we deserve money instead?

2. Jealousy and envy will do nothing but hold you back.

This is a tough one, but it ties into point one that attitudes about money are all wrong. If you hold it inside yourself that people who have a lot of money don’t deserve it, and spite and scorn them for having it, then you will never have it for yourself.

Harv said something that I thought was rather beautiful - “If you see someone with a big beautiful house, bless that house.” How wonderful that that family should have such a nice place to live, no? How wonderful that they have new, safe cars to drive for them and their children. No sarcasm involved. If you think positively about it for them, then this allows you to open yourself up to having those beautiful things as well.

3. Money is not evil.

Think about it. We talk (and Mike talked) about how guys like Jeff Bezos have enough money hoarded away when they could instead just snap their fingers and solve global poverty just like that.

If a construction worker decided one day to brain his coworker with a hammer, would you blame the hammer? No. Money is like the hammer - nothing but a tool to be used by the person wielding it. Money cannot make conscious decisions for itself, is not sentient, and is in fact entirely neutral as to whose hands it comes into.

It is completely possible to be rich and be a good person. One of my favourite random sayings that I carry with me when I’m looking for my next course of action is “Be the example”. Get your well-deserved money and then demonstrate it. Help you, because you probably need it, and then help those in need. You can absolutely be a good person with money because the two are not mutually exclusive, but of course don’t set yourself on fire to keep others’ warm. You can’t pull people up and out of their troubles if you’re still standing on unstable ground. Believe me, I’ve tried XD

4. Unfortunately, you don’t just magically get this money. You still have to do something for it.

In the webinar they talked about finding your life’s purpose and then living your purpose - something I still struggle with in spite of my elevated feelings immediately following said webinar. I am still not quite sure what my purpose is - I have a feeling, and I think it’s a good one (trying to build understanding between people and groups of people for everyone’s health and happiness), but I have other struggles that still block me.

The examples they gave related to business primarily. Harv was trying to start up businesses that didn’t work and were geared towards one thing, and Vishen was just struggling with his existing business. I think the important takeaway from their individual talks about it though is this: Work your passion. Find out what your passion is, get good at it, and then live and work your passion. They say that if you love your work then you’ll never work a day in your life, right? This idea is basically that in practice.

5. There is no such thing as having too much money.

Least of all when it comes to yourself :P

I used to do this thing where I’d play the lottery (yes I still play every week, shut up) and I would think to myself “I only need a million dollars to live comfortably the rest of my life. Anything beyond that is too much.” That was because I couldn’t appreciate the scope of having more than a cool mil. There is a factor of scale that just boggles my mind. A million dollars is already a lot of money, an almost unfathomable amount. The only frame of reference is that my house is probably worth about a quarter-mil right now. I could buy four of my house with one million dollars.

Well, I refuse to impose limits on myself like that anymore.

Bring on the 60 million dollar grand prize! This is my attitude now. There is still a part of me that sort of recoils at the idea of that money, but then I internally try to push that back with a follow-up thought of ‘just think about the number of people I could help with that money’. If Jeff Bezos won’t single-handedly solve poverty world-wide, then maybe I can. Give me that cool 60 mil, I am open to it and down to receive any sort of excess the universe wants to throw at me. I’ll make use of every single cent :D

6. I saw immediate results after embracing this way thinking.

This is absolutely true, and I have witnesses who can attest to that :)

After watching this seminar, within a few days of doing so, I had a room listed for rent online on a local classifieds website. My inbox exploded. I can’t even fathom how many responses I got, but it was easily upwards of fifty different people replying to my ad. Not only did I get the room rented, I got a second room I didn’t even list rented as well.

I also received some amazing and generous donations to my main blog’s Kofi from some amazingly generous friends of mine from here on Tumblr. I didn’t even ask, they just showed up and I was so thankful I cried.

A good long-time friend of mine was also generous enough to offer me a loan of $1000 USD in order to cover my bills and some other upcoming expenses. Initially I refused the loan, but after taking a second look at my finances, I decided to accept it and hope to pay it back in full by Christmas.

Now, I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of an abundant universe - I went into this as a skeptic and I came out still a bit skeptical - but there are definitely attitudes within me that can change so I can provide myself with more opportunities to find abundance in my own life. I went into this thing looking to boost up my esteem and got that in spades.

It all exemplifies something I already believed going into this, to be entirely fair; What you believe becomes reality. I have a few beliefs about my character that have helped to shape me as a spiritual person that initially may not have been true. I am confident, strong, and powerful. All of those things are absolutely true about me today. Put another way, you could say that manifesting abundance is very similar to the idea ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ XD

If I can find out whether they’re still running the webinar (I feel like it was definitely pre-recorded, but I doubt there’s a video just laying around), I’ll share it with you folks on here <3

Thanks for coming to my TED talk XD

#law of attraction #manifesting abundance #spirituality #money is not evil

[robotsites634]

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How can trans people best navigate the modern dating world? Finding love as a queer person is hard enough, throw gender identity on top of that and dating might seem impossible. The internet can be a refuge for finding community, but finding a dating community isn’t always the easiest or safest for trans people.

Most of my friends and I use dating apps to meet people, hook up, and date. There are many dating websites and apps that state that they are “LGBTQ friendly” but for the most part dating sites are more LGBQ friendly than trans friendly. I have read countless articles, internet comments, and profile messages from people who say, “I would never date a trans person.” In fact, only 16 to 18% of Americans say they would be willing to date someone who is transgender. Hearing about people being afraid of or not open to dating a trans person is just one reason why it is so hard to date as a trans person. And even though I have heard it many times before, it is still hard to confront.

I looked at eight popular dating sites to see which are the most gender inclusive. Most stick to the gender binary, forcing people to state that they are either male or female, with no other options. Some sites are more inclusive for cisgender gay or lesbian folks than bi+ folks, as they only list interested in only male or only female, without the option for selecting both. Some have a variety of sexualities to choose from, and some have a combination of options for gender and sexuality. I've found that OkCupid and Tinder are the most inclusive, having many options for sexualities and gender, especially transgender woman, man, non-binary and gender fluid.

Even once we have been able to select the appropriate identities for yourself and the people you are interested, many trans people still might feel obligated to disclose that they are transgender explicitly in their profiles or early in the conversation. But it often seems like the second you tell someone in the dating world that you are trans, their entire view of you changes. Sometimes, if you don’t come out to someone, they can make you feel like you lied by not disclosing. But if we tell the person on the other end that we are trans, the person may end the conversation in a huff. Either that, or they will fetichize our trans identity, saying something like ‘that’s hot,’ or ‘I’m usually not into trans people but I might like you.’ To be honest, all of those options make me want to run away.

Some trans folks might disclose that they are trans early in the conversation with someone they are interested in dating. Those that are comfortable enough to disclose this information might do so because they don’t want to get their hopes up only for rejection or possible violence if they meet up in person. There have been many instances in which I’ve neglected to disclose my gender identity until I was deep in conversation in someone, which made the person end the conversation and/ or say rude things. Sometimes I disclose my gender identity pretty early in the conversation and they stop messaging me immediately. Although disclosing trans identity in the beginning of a conversation early in the messaging process can be hard because people cut off contact, it’s safer in the long run.

Personally, I know that I am not ready to date yet. I am still in the middle of my coming out process and am focused on myself more than dating someone else. When I see a trans person that is dating and happy I get excited for them and for myself because I know how hard it is to find someone and feel comfortable. I also remember how lonely the single life can be when you are figuring out who you are and living through another heart-filled Valentine’s Day. Sometimes I wish I could have a relationship like the ones I see.

On the other hand, casual relationships are boring after a while. I would rather share all the good things in life with someone while moving around. The reason is I get bored living in a city/country for more than 3 years. Help Reddit coins Reddit premium Reddit gifts. There are a lot of kinds of platonic and non-platonic relationships and many of them are poorly defined. When I think 'casual relationship' I think of a feel-it-out kind of relationship or a placeholder relationship or a relationship that is meant to end given certain circumstances like one partner needing to move away. A casual relationship can mirror a real relationship. And usually after a couple months one of the two of you (in my case, its always her) want to take it to a real relationship. I've found the key to keeping it casual is to make sure you have some kind of sex 9/10 times y'all hang out. Reddit casual relationship. A casual relationship is what it's going to be. It's not 'building' to anything, or 'going somewhere', what you see is what you get. It's like a formal relationship but without the tuxedos. Just going about your daily lives and getting together every once in a while for some fun or a hookup. Rule #1 of casual dating is don’t catch feelings. It sounds like you expect a casual relationship to lead to something but it probably won’t. In my experience casual relationship are for ppl that just want something to feel the void.

All trans people are worthy of love and affection. Dating services city near saint joseph. Hopefully we as a society will begin to see that trans people deserve love, just like anyone else. An important thing to remember though, is that patience is a virtue. Finding someone takes time and effort. And when I found someone who loves me for exactly who I am, as a trans person, I’ll know all the waiting has been worth it.

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[starlightlance]

Lance’s Speech to Allura

This was one of my favorite scenes in season four, and I haven’t seen anybody analyze it yet, so I thought I’d give it a try. I’ll be analyzing both Allura and Lance in this meta, and how they’ve both grown and changed, also touching on leadership skills within Lance and what that could lead to in the future.

First, I’ll be discussing Allura, since the speech was essentially about her and her potential. We’ve all know Allura as an incredibly strong character. Her entire species was wiped out by the Galra and she is able to put her grief aside to stay strong for others and fight back against her oppressors. We know she is hiding a lot of vulnerability from the paladins, shown when she cries in the red lion in s3e2 and when she bonds with the blue lion in s3e3. She believes she must stay strong for everyone else, whilst pushing aside her own feelings of loss.

Despite this, Allura believes she is not strong enough yet. She says, “I-I don’t know. I haven’t been trained.” This is an odd thing to say from an outsider’s perspective, since she has been shown to be increasingly strong with her magic and the blue lion Like Lance says, she was able to save the Balmera with her powers and power the castle all on her own.

More under the cut: 

Side note: The paladins seem to believe more in Allura’s strength then Allura does herself. They all talk about her in high regards and let’s not forget Lance feeling like he’s not essential to the team anymore because Allura progressed so much.

Allura is so incredibly vital to the team. Lance says it right in his speech. Now, what I got from this was that Allura and Lance are two halves of the heart of Voltron. Allow me to explain. The first part is more obvious, Allura. Lance notes, “No one trained you to save the Balmera, but you did that. I know you can do it. There’s a reason the blue lion chose you. You’re the one who brought everyone together. You can do this. Every moment we’ve had together, they’ve all lead to this day. This is your destiny. You are the heart of Voltron.”  He’s right, Allura is the one who brought the team together in the first place. She’s the one who told them about the lions and Voltron itself, advised and trained them all throughout season one and beyond. She saved the Balmera and fought freaking Haggar with her magic. Allura doesn’t think her magic is strong enough since she hasn’t received proper training but it is and that’s what’s so amazing about her. She’s able to be so strong all on her own and save the entire team.

Another thing to note is that Lance’s words are very similar to an interaction Lance and Allura had in season three. Allura tells Lance why the red lion chose him and that he must go to it to fulfill his part on the team, just like how Lance tells Allura why the blue lion chose her in s4e6.

The final thing I’d like to point out about Allura is that she asks her father for help. This shows that she still deeply misses him and feels like she needs his guidance, but he’s not there. She’s learning to move on, while still missing her father of course, she knows she can fulfill her destiny without his guidance. She wants to save the universe not only for the other fallen alteans and innocent people, but for her father as well.

Now, let’s talk about Lance. He was more in the background this season, (I’m not bitter, no, what are you talking about), which is why this scene stood out for him so much. We know that Lance is a sort of stability for the team. He was Keith’s right-hand man when Keith was piloting the black lion, a source of comfort and control when his reckless tendencies would get ahead of him. And now, he’s advising Allura just as he did with Keith. He knows how to read other people and can see what they need. He’s able to step up when he’s needed, but can also stay in the background so the leaders can shine through. This is what makes him a part of the heart of Voltron with Allura. He’s able to help others on the team even when he’s at such a low point with himself. These are very similar qualities with Lance and Allura and I believe they play into why the blue lion chose both of them. Not to mention, while Lance explains why the blue lion chose Allura, he makes the comment about the heart of Voltron, which also leads me to believe that Allura and Lance share that position.

I want to take a moment to discuss Lance’s leadership qualities as well. This speech is wonderful, but when you think about it, it sounds like something that should be said by the black paladin. The head of Voltron, the leader. Why did they choose Lance to tell Allura this rather than Shiro? It would’ve still made sense, since Shiro has been leading the team almost consistently since day one. But no, they made Lance say this. I have no doubt in my mind that this was a deliberate choice and it could either mean one of two things, or both. One, Lance’s arc, while including learning to accept himself and getting over his insecurities, will make him a stronger leader while still in the red lion. Or two, Lance will have to fill in the position of the black paladin at some point. Black did reject him at first, sure, but when Lance was trying to bond with the lion, he was thinking about the glory. He wanted this to be his moment, his time to shine, when really, it was a time when they were in desperate need of a solution. It wasn’t the time for Lance to be the leader, he wasn’t ready. But, after him realizing that being a part of Voltron isn’t all about glory, being Keith’s right-hand man, and giving the speech to Allura, it really does seem like he is ready for a leadership position. Now, I don’t know what would lead to this occurring, but it’s entirely possible.  

Overall, the speech shows how much both Lance and Allura have grown over the time they’ve spent with team Voltron. Lance has realized that he needs to be there for his team and that he can be a strong leader. He’s realized what being the blue paladin means and while he still has a long way to go, he’s still matured a lot. Allura has been able to fight past her grief and use her magic to its full potential, being stronger than ever as the heart of Voltron.

#i love both of them i had to talk about this scene aaaah #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #princess allura #allura #vld4 #voltron season 4 #vld season 4 #allura and lance #black paladin lance #voltron analysis #voltron meta #vld meta #meta #analysis #scene analysis #mine