#from the weird perspective that i was hellbent on using

[morebird]

Now you are the hunted.

#destiny 2 #destiny the game #iron banner #warlock #titan #hunter #fanart #Illustration #this one was so unnecessarily difficult #from the weird perspective that i was hellbent on using #to all the details on the armor... #im just happy this is finished and i can finally move on

[sunderedandundone]

AoR fridge moment, Mystic edition

[obviously, late-season spoiler] So...why didn't UrVa try just yelling at SkekMal to stop flinging little people around, and see if that worked first...? As opposed to shooting first (*not* a warning shot, either) and THEN saying "OH HAI halfsie, long time no see and BTW, get away from them"? -_- I mean -- they 100% had the drop, right? They certainly could've already had their bow nocked and everything. It's not like 'Mal would've said "pfft" and kept going because hey, their light half could always *miss*. Frankly, I doubt the Hunter would've even attempted to flee with a Gelfling in hand like they did, *except* that UrVa was drawing serious blood already and well -- at that point, turning tail and chancing a shot in the back is still a safer option than sticking around to try and melee your equally-badass UrRu, who's already signaled that maiming the both of you is not only *A-OK with them*, but very possibly their preferred approach. Besides, you're still outnumbered, because the only combatant you've taken out yet is the Podling. (Mind you, the Podling in question is Hup, so that's actually kind of a big deal, but. :-) ) Rian's still good for another ten rounds; Heretic seems to be in literal shock so well-played on instantly neutralizing *them* -- yet, they still could have it in them to deal some well-timed blow to the back of the head even with their good hand impaled; and hell, one the others might always wind up cooking up a quick gambit with any of the piles of crazyass stuff lying around the place. There are an inconvenient number of vines. At minimum, SkekMal clearly did *not* fancy their chances in a straight-up duel with halfsie. Whether they thought it was the light or dark shard that'd technically "win," they must've figured that either way M.A.D. was the result. I.e. -- they had *no* standing assumption that 'Va would lay off the hurting and homicide at any sane point. That's...pretty hardcore. Anyways. *Especially* if you're hellbent for the sake of your dumbass Hunt on taking someone with you as prisoner, fleeing once you're already shot and bleeding does makes sense..........BUT not up *until* then. Up till then, from any normal perspective, there was a more than fair chance of getting SkekMal to blink first in the standoff -- to skedaddle for now, NO prize in hand, WITHOUT anybody having to 3/4ths murder them first. Because unwounded, they'd almost certainly have preferred to just heave-ho and wait for the damn Archer to go away, or fall asleep or be rebraiding their damn hair or something. And while that's for sure a dangling plot thread that'd come back to haunt everybody...there honestly wasn't a better plausible outcome than that for the good guys either. Forcing the battle then and there was not going well for anybody. From Team Gelfling's standpoint, far better to let SkekMal skedaddle and use the respite to do some preparation/teamwork for another face-off, or else figure out a way to elude their pursuit. After all you've got the one and only Archer, conscious and alive, to help with that now! So why shut off that whole avenue from the start, UrVa, my dear space dino? I mean you're a *Mystic*, aren't you? Not keen on violence? Practicing archery purely as a spiritual discipline and all that shit? Isn't it a bit...off-brand to jump straight to the serious puncture wounds, without even giving the other party a chance to stand down? And remember, Aughra said "confront" the Hunter...NOT "KILL." So a little weird, yeah? There's only two explanations I can see for this: 1) UrVa was just THAT incandescently certain that somehow the confrontation was going to end with them both dead, so they might as well skip ahead to that part; or, what I think is more likely, 2) their self-hatred was just jumping THAT far out ahead of their rational strategizing. Which makes this a fairly epic (not to mention tragic) case of Telling On Oneself. [NB: As always: ALL HC ARE VALID, this is just my fan theory]

#tdcaor #dark crystal #mystics #urru #skeksis #gelfling #UrVa #SkekMal #fridge moments #plot #psychology #characterization #death wish #wait a sec

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

Seokjin tells his therapist he might have a little crush on you

kim seokjin x reader warnings; this drabble takes place during a therapy session but it entails a light hearted conversation words; 1,773 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

“It definitely seems like a crush, Seokjin,” Mrs. Shin nodded, the slightest of smiles lifting her lips as she looked across at him, her glasses perched a little way down the bridge of her nose. She was teasing him. He knew her well enough by now. He’d been having a session a week for the past three years. 

Admittedly at first he’d been sceptical. It was policy at the company. With such a stressful and demanding position he needed to have someone on hand to talk to regularly, just in case it all became too much, so he was unable to turn it down even if he had wanted to at first. He’d never been one for talking about his feelings, choosing to deal with them himself. He wasn’t a fan of sharing, not wanting to be a burden or risk unloading his troubles onto someone who didn’t really want to hear it but didn’t have the heart to tell him. He was still like that now in ways, but he figured this was Mrs. Shin’s – Chaewon’s – job, so she had to have a passion for it, right? Helping people… 

And helped him she had. He didn’t know where he’d be if it wasn’t for her. She’d been there for him tremendously over the years, especially with his divorce and the strains of being apart from Arin. He was a busy man so these visits couldn’t be in person most of the time, usually done over phone call, sometimes video, but today he’d felt like getting out of the office. Taking a long lunch to confess something he hadn’t even had the balls to tell Namjoon, his best friend of twenty years. 

See, the thing was, he had found himself in a bind. It had been two weeks since he’d backed out into your car. Two weeks since he’d embarrassingly taken it upon himself to take said car and pay his mechanic to fix the damage. Two weeks since he’d last seen you, waving you off at the subway station he’d driven you to, and two weeks since he’d been unable to stop thinking about you. He had it bad, and he had no idea if he was deluding himself or not. I might have a little crush, had been his opening line, and it made him want the floor to open up and swallow him whole. 

He groaned quite loudly (definitely dramatically), throwing his head back. “But it sounds so juvenile.” 

He wasn’t in high school. He was a near forty year old man, with a child. Crushes were for teenagers. In fact, the last time he’d had one he’d been in 9th grade. Moon Dabin, the daughter of one of his father’s friends. It hadn’t ended well, his feelings left unrequited which he feared was happening this time around too. Not that they were feelings per se. That would be foolish. He didn’t even know you properly. This was just an… attraction? 

“Well, what else would you call it?” Chaewon chuckled, now not even bothering to try and hide her amusement. 

“I have no idea.” He admitted. “I’m just…” he trailed off, feeling like an idiot having to say the words aloud. “I’m just very attracted to her, and I feel this sense of…” – another pause as he tried to think of the correct word – “admiration towards her?” 

That didn’t seem right, or it sounded weird, something like that. You were dedicated to your job. The parent teacher meeting had made it obvious just how much you loved teaching. You also had this… tenacity about you. You were feisty, scrappy. He felt out of his depth around you, but oddly relaxed at the same time. He respected you. Not that he didn’t respect everyone, but well – God, what was going on with him? He liked you. It was plain and simple. It didn’t matter if you were virtually a stranger. 

“I just like her.” 

“What do you like about her?” Chaewon pressed, smiling innocently. “You know, other than her face.” 

Seokjin shook his head with a slight chuckle. “She just has this way about her.” You made him laugh. You made him awkward. You made him flirty, as embarrassing as that was to admit. “I mean, I’ve seen her a grand total of three times but each time has been…fun.” 

The older woman in front of him raised an eyebrow. “Fun?” 

“Different.” He explained with a nod.  “There was something there, possibly.” He didn’t want to delude himself after all. “I think we built up some kind of rapport.” 

“You mean you were flirting.” 

“Possibly.” That word again. “I mean, it’s been a long time since I tried, so I may have been doing it very wrong.” 

Chaewon stifled a laugh as she shrugged. “Well, if she was flirting back.” 

“I don’t know if she was.” He replied unsurely. “She was kind of annoyed at me, because I wouldn’t let her pay me back for the car but I think it was in a playful way.” He paused, thinking some more. “She let me give her a ride to the subway so she can’t think I’m that bad, right?”

Chaewon hummed in consideration. “Maybe it beat getting lost.” The look of horror on his face made her laugh. “I’m just kidding, Seokjin.” She didn’t give him time to reply, lacing her fingers together as she viewed him. “I say, why don’t you ask her out for dinner.” 

“D-dinner?” He more of less spluttered, his shirt collar now feeling dangerously tight against his neck.  “Like some kind of date?”

“Mm hm.” 

He shook his head, “I can’t.” He was adamant. “It just seems… I’m not – I haven’t dated in a while, and besides, she’s Arin’s teacher.” It would be completely unprofessional. He couldn’t. 

“Not for long though, right?”

Seokjin pursed his lips. “Correct.” Damn him for being too easy with the information he’d already handed out. Chaewon had been pushing him to date for the longest time. She was loving this, the chance perfect. 

“I’m too busy.” He insisted, but he knew it was an excuse. “What with work and Arin living with me now. It’s just not very plausible.” 

“I’m sure you can make time for one little date. Unless…” Chaewon paused to look at him pointedly, “you’re holding out for more?”

“No!” His exclamation was loud. “I just… If things – Never mind,” he ended with a groan, flustered now. His face felt hot. His ears too. 

Chaewon sighed gently. “Seokjin, you deserve some time for yourself too. I think dating will do you some good.” 

There she went again. 

“It’s been what, two years?” Seokjin answered her question with a nod, knowing what she was alluding to. “Don’t you think it’s time to put yourself out there?” 

He hesitated. Deep down he knew she was talking sense. While not exactly minding the fact he was single, a companionship sounded nice. A romantic one at that. But who would want a divorced father? He wasn’t exactly a catch now was he? 

“What could go wrong?” Chaewon prompted, sensing his reluctance. 

“What if she’s married?” 

He may or may not have already looked for a ring that Saturday afternoon you’d dropped off his car… Was that a strange thing to do? He hadn’t seen one, but that didn’t mean anything. 

“Then she’ll simply tell you that and you’ll have to get over your little crush.” 

If you were married, he’d feel like such a fool getting his hopes up like this, and if you weren’t, chances were you were already in a relationship. “What if she’s not interested in going for dinner?” He figured they were valid concerns. He hadn’t asked out a woman in near a decade, and even then it wasn’t comparable because he had known Nana was interested already. 

“Again, she’ll let you know,” Chaewon smiled. 

“Do you think she might be interested?” The thought of getting turned down would not only dent his ego, but he’d be extremely disappointed too. He really did like you.  Maybe getting another woman’s perspective would do him good. “You know, from what I’ve told you,” he added. 

Chaewon’s smile grew, gaze casting downwards as she began to tease him. “Well, with the rapport you’ve built up, and the way she was annoyed at you but playfully, then maybe.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his fingers back and forth along his jaw. “Shit, you’re setting me up for failure.” 

“I don’t think I am,” she said, shaking her head to turn serious. “From what you’ve told me, and granted she’s single, I think you’re in with a fighting chance.” 

Seokjin liked the sound of that. “So you don’t think she’s still holding a grudge against me?”

“For what, stealing her car?”

“If you want to call it that.” He didn’t even try to fight it today. He already knew Chaewon’s views on the matter. She’d been appalled to find out that he’d just gotten his mechanic to tow away your car like that. Of course, he understood his mistake now, but back then he was blindsided, hellbent on sorting out the mess he’d caused.  

“I guess possibly she can hold a grudge and be attracted to you at the same time,” Chaewon replied almost cryptically, but Seokjin was too distracted by the latter half. He hoped you were attracted to him, just as much as he was attracted to you. 

“That reminds me,” Chaewon clapped her hands suddenly, gaining his attention back. “We should probably use some of this session to go over that impulsiveness you sometimes struggle with.” 

Psychoanalysing himself did not sound like fun right now. Not when he had to make a decision about asking you out for dinner or not. Maybe he needed that impulsiveness right now… 

“However, from the look on your face, I see you want to keep talking about Y/N.” 

The sound of your name made him grin. It was such a pretty name, suited you well. Maybe he could do this. Date. It didn’t have to be a big deal. It didn’t have to be scary.  

“Chaewon, do you think I’m ready to start dating?” He asked in all seriousness, as if he didn’t know her answer. 

“I have been saying it for months now, yes,” his therapist nodded, but her voice was gentle. She understood his hesitance, she knew him very well. 

“Right,” he murmured, lowering his head feeling a little bashful. 

“So,” she nudged softly, “you better hurry, or you’ll be all out of chances. You did say the summer fate is tomorrow, didn’t you?” 

Shit. He definitely told her too much. 

Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed.  © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Seven

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he’s not Reader’s sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2684

Warnings: ANGST, bad language words

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your love and support for this series! Everyone who has liked or reblogged this week after week means the world to me!

A/N 2: I split their date into 2 parts because I wanted to give perspective from both sides. Enjoy Bucky’s POV first!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

An anxiousness bubbled up inside Bucky as he and (Y/N) stepped out of her office building and onto the crowded Manhattan sidewalk. It was five o’clock, meaning every other yuppie in New York was trying to get somewhere as well. Walking shoulder to shoulder with her felt like a feat in itself. Everyone around them seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, and they were fighting against the current like a pair of spawning salmon swimming upstream.

With his size and stature, most passers-by gave Bucky a wide berth. But with (Y/N), they didn’t. They jostled her like a small boat caught at sea during a storm; they gave her no mind in their rudeness. She fought to stay astride him as businessmen shouldered past her like a runningback fighting to make it to the endzone.

A feeling of protectiveness washed over him. Longing to whisk (Y/N) away from her place on the dirty cement increased with every step. The defensive surge fizzing right below the surface wanted him to tuck her into his side and glower at anyone who dreamed of coming close.

Bucky couldn’t, of course. He had to play it as if they’d only met a few days ago, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he grasped her empty hand and led her through the swarm of fellow New Yorkers.

(Y/N)’s hand was warm inside his, and the very thought of him touching her made his pulse quicken. The reaction wasn’t unpleasant. Though, it fuzzily reminded him of his teenage years. He was nearly one hundred years old! He shouldn’t be acting like a lovesick fool.

But here he was- swooning over a girl like he was fifteen again.

Bucky felt a yanking on his arm as (Y/N) pulled him from the stream of rushing bodies. Unmoving, at the edge of the rush, he found it was easier to breathe again. The fretfulness bled away once they were standing still.

He peered around, questioning why they’d stopped. Wedged between two high-rise buildings was a squat cafe. The shop’s window front beamed onto the footpath like the mecca it was, calling bystanders in from the street. Above the green striped awning over the entrance spelled out Deja Brew in colorful, blocky letters. Bucky chuckled at the play on words.

Towing the door open, (Y/N) tugged him in further.

Stepping inside the brightly lit coffee shop, Bucky was blanketed by the overpowering scent of fresh coffee grounds. It was potent, hanging thick in the air. Taking a deep breath in, he was transported back to a rickety kitchen and a second-hand table, where he and Steve would take their morning coffee and breakfast. The smell reminded him of simpler times. Times before all the trouble Hydra had caused. He let go of a nostalgic sigh.

“Right?” (Y/N) asked, standing at his side. He’d nearly forgotten she was there. “I love it here. It always feels like coming home.”

Bucky grinned down at (Y/N), understanding how she felt. The exposed brick walls, the tidy, destressed floors, and the primary colors being strewn about the space gave him a sense of sentimentality.

“I come in here several times a week,” she explained. “Not just because it’s convenient, but it reminds me of growing up.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, taking in the warm atmosphere of the quaint shop. “I get that.”

The pair strolled up to the counter and, presumably, the barista taking orders. Without looking in their direction, the young man in an apron spoke in a monotone, “Welcome to Deja Brew. What can I get started for you?”

A smile slowly crawled across (Y/N)’s lips. “Hey, Bryson. Didn’t know you were working tonight?”

Bryson’s head whipped up so fast; Bucky thought it might detach from his shoulders. His cheeks dimpled, and the corners of his striking green eyes crinkled into a bright smile. “Hey, beautiful!” Bryson beamed. “I’m doing a double--covering for Kari. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“You know me,” (Y/N) said with a tinkling laugh. “Just can’t stay away.” Bryson replied with his own laughter.

A flare of jealousy twisted unexpectedly in Bucky’s gut. Was (Y/N) flirting?

Bucky supposed he could consider Bryson classically handsome. He was taller than Bucky with short, sandy brown hair and broad shoulders. His muscular frame filled out the black polo shirt he wore, but he wasn’t overly bulky- like he played baseball in college. There was a smattering of light freckles over his high cheekbones and straight nose. And eyelashes to rival Steve’s.

Was this his competition?

Bucky grumbled to himself and gritted his teeth as he watched the two giggle over some inside joke. There was an envious gnawing behind his ribcage as Bryson leaned onto his elbows over the countertop, inching closer to (Y/N). That was his girl!

Without warning, like a shaken soda bottle, his voice exploded from his mouth, dripping annoyance, “I’ll take a medium Americano, a chocolate croissant, and whatever the lady is having.”

Shocked back into the present by Bucky’s gruff words, Bryson shot upright. His startled green eyes shifted from (Y/N) to Bucky and back again. Bucky could barely contain his eye-roll as the other man feigned busyness after being caught slacking. It was apparent Bryson only had eyes for (Y/N), or he would have noticed she wasn’t alone, despite Bucky standing mere centimeters away from her.

Possessiveness tingled at Bucky’s fingertips, and the compulsion to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist was strong. He wanted so badly to reach out and pull her close. Show this punk who she belonged to.

Regardless of his feelings, though, Bucky had no claim over (Y/N). He’d known her as Bucky for a scant three days. He imagined she’d known Bryson a lot longer. He couldn’t profess his desire to be hers in such a short time, no matter the urgency. It would come off as weird and controlling.

So, he resolved to bite the inside of his cheek and grin and bear it. He could bide his time, right? He’d waited seventy years. What’s another seventy more?

Bucky cringed internally at the thought of waiting.

“(Y/N), you know this guy?” Bryson inquired, acting as if he’d finally grown a pair, with a bite to his words.

Bucky’s pulse fluttered as (Y/N) turned to face him, a smile on her lips and something sparkling in her eyes. “I do,” she said. “He’s my date.” She grinned bigger with a cute scrunch to her nose as she said date.

Bryson’s eyes widened in alarm, then quickly narrowed in suspicion as he observed the flowers (Y/N) held. Bucky wondered, momentarily, if he was the first guy (Y/N) had ever brought into the shop. Was Bryson just as jealous as he was?

It wasn’t until he saw the almost imperceivable head tilt to get (Y/N) to step away from Bucky’s side did he realize what Bryson’s genuine concern was about.

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion as she took a stride to her right.

In a hushed whisper, Bryson asked, “You know who he is, right?” Bucky’s super-hearing picked up every word.

(Y/N) unsuccessfully tried to blink away her uncertainty, causing her eyebrows to pinch together further. “Who exactly is he, Bryson?” (Y/N) pondered, an edge of irritation leaking into her speech. She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing her sweater tighter around her body.

Bucky could hear it in her voice. (Y/N) knew precisely what Bryson had meant and was trying to draw it out of him.

“You know,” Bryson said, not even trying to whisper anymore. “He’s that guy.”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side a fraction. “You mean the guy who the US government exonerated for any and all crimes he may have committed as The Winter Soldier? You mean that guy?” (Y/N) deadpanned, uncrossing her arms. Bryson stared at her blankly.

“What about the guy who got drafted into a war unwillingly?” (Y/N) continued. “Or the one captured by the enemy and experimented on against his will?” Her hands curled into fists as the tension in her body rose. Bryson’s eye contact suddenly became very jumpy, unable to focus on her now and for a good reason.

“How about the guy who fell from a train- survived- and had his arm barbarically amputated?”

Bucky watched (Y/N)’s hands tighten further, blanching her knuckles of any color. He shuffled forward, ready to jump in if need be. Although, she was doing a good job holding her own.

“Don’t forget about that one guy who was tortured and abused, brainwashed, and forced to commit unspeakable atrocities for over seventy years, all in the name of a cult,” (Y/N) stated, pressing her palms flat against the countertop and ducking her head, trying to catch Bryson’s eye. His face flushed visibly in embarrassment.

“In case you aren’t caught up on your current events, Bryson, that guy’s name is Bucky Barnes,” (Y/N) spit sardonically.

Bryson raised his eyes at this, and the look on his face darkened. “Regardless of whether he was brainwashed or not, he’s an Avenger,” Bryson sneered, his gaze sliding to Bucky. “And that makes him dangerous.”

What the hell was this guy’s problem? Bucky wondered, wanting to wipe the smirk off his smug face.

(Y/N) let out a humorless huff of a laugh. Her lips spread into a thin line. “No more dangerous than the possibility of being struck by lightning or getting hit by a subway train.”

Bucky chuckled inwardly as Bryson flexed his jaw in frustration. (Y/N) was really getting to him.

Bryson’s expression morphed into something more sinister. “I mean, are you really going to take the word of some ‘expert’ from a third-world country that he won’t turn into a murder-bot again?” The air-quotes in his tone punctuated the contempt he undeniably felt.

Anger blossomed in Bucky’s chest at the degrading mention of the Princess of Wakanda. He owed everything to Shuri. If it weren’t for her, he definitely wouldn’t be in New York right now but on the run again. Shuri saved his life.

Bucky took a step toward the counter, intending to do something, anything to shut this jackass up. Instead, (Y/N) placed a calming hand to his sternum, stopping him from doing anything rash. The look of disdain on Bryson’s face amplified the longer (Y/N)’s touch lingered on his body, and that was equally as satisfying as causing this prick bodily harm.

“While your concern is unwarranted,” (Y/N) assured, “it’s also unwanted. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She gazed up into Bucky’s blue eyes fondly; a charming smile curled at her lips. “Besides, I don’t think he’d hurt a fly now.”

“It’s your funeral,” Bryson mumbled under his breath. (Y/N) didn’t catch it, or she paid it no mind.

The affection Bucky felt for (Y/N) at that moment swelled exponentially. He was in love with her, he realized. It was no longer just a crush.

No one, other than Steve, had ever championed for him as openly or as forcefully as she had just then. The adoration accumulating in his heart felt like it would erupt at any minute. She made him want to believe in love again. She made him think he might be worthy of that love someday.

He’d have to find a way to earn it, somehow.

Staring into her beautiful face and seeing compassion and empathy made him want to press his lips to hers. He still couldn’t believe she’d found him on accident. It was all so serendipitous.

There was one crucial roadblock obstructing his path to happiness, though. One he couldn’t possibly ignore for much longer without consequences— figuring out how to tell (Y/N) he and James were the same. But how?

Until then, he’d enjoy the ride.

“Hey, Bryson,” (Y/N) vocalized, her timbre a saccharine sweet. “I’ll take a medium iced mocha with extra whip and a white chocolate raspberry scone as well.” She winked at Bucky.

A scoff came from low in the pastry case causing Bucky and (Y/N) to titter in laughter.

“Wow. That was-” Bucky started, trying to find the words to explain how her coming to his defense made him feel.

(Y/N)’s pupils dilated, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh, my God!” she said in a near panic. “I’m so sorry!”

Bucky smiled at her warmly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He brushed a stray hair from her cheek delicately, his fingers dallying along the soft skin. The palm of his hand settled just below her ear, on the side of her neck. His thumb bobbed up and down with every clench and unclenching of her jaw.

“You must be so sick of hearing the same argument over and over again. People deciding your guilt or innocence based on first glances,” (Y/N) murmured, finally dropping her hand from his chest.

Bucky wondered if she could feel the pounding of his heart through all the layers of clothes he was wearing. “It’s nice to have a cheerleader, for once,” he answered honestly.

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll always be in your corner, Bucky.”

His stomach dipped at her words’ implications. He whole-heartedly believed she would. “Thank you.”

(Y/N) shrugged in response. Over her bouncing shoulder, Bucky caught a glimpse of Bryson scowling at the two of them from his spot at the espresso machine. Bile churned in his belly. Bryson was turning into a nuisance, like a mosquito at a summer barbeque.

Bucky brought the hand at (Y/N)’s neck down to her upper arm and rubbed it gently. “Why don’t you find us a seat. I’ll finish up here,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. She returned the gesture and nodded her head in acquiescence, sweeping past him.

Bucky followed her movements through the coffeehouse as she picked a cushioned bistro set positioned near the front windows. The waning light of the day cascaded through the clear glass, highlighting her delicate, feminine features. She was breathtaking.

Turning to face the dreadful barista, the grin on Bucky’s lips faded into a frown.

Bryson set their order down roughly on the register counter and proceeded to punch in the items on the touchscreen. He remained silent, mulishly waiting for payment. The death glare he wore seemed to be permanently etched into his features now.

Bucky could tell he was seething; the vein in his forehead throbbed with every beat of his pulse. Instead of engaging, though, Bucky smirked and slid a twenty-dollar bill toward the other man.

Bryson angrily scooped up the money. He bent his head closer to Bucky, gnashing his teeth. “If you hurt a single hair on her head, I will burn you to the ground,” he taunted, reaching into the till for change and tossing it on the counter.

Bucky’s expression never faltered. His exterior remained composed, cool as a cucumber. Inside, he raged like a bull seeing the color red. He wanted nothing more than to mop the floor with this asshole’s face. Alternatively, he gathered the littered change and dumped it all into the tip jar sitting beside the register. He stared Bryson dead in the face, a ghost of a smile still clinging to his mouth. “And if I ever hear of you treating (Y/N) with the blatant disrespect you showed her today…” Bucky paused, his voice calm and controlled. He leaned forward, pushing in closer to Bryson’s ear. “They’ll never find your body.”

The joy he felt coursing through his body as Bryson’s eyes stretched to the size of saucers and his Adam’s apple wobbled as he gulped in fear was indescribable.

Bucky gathered their drinks and pastries, pivoting towards the table where (Y/N) sat. He shouted over his shoulder as he walked away, “Have a good day, Bryson!”

Chapter Six (Part 2) | Chapter Eight

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[wiltking]

My 2021 LGBT Reads So Far

I'm 12 books into 2021 and I'm here to talk about the best and the worst, the good the bad and the ugly. Under the Read More I'll be talking about Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel, The Prey of Gods, Silk and Steel, Maurice, and the Land Fit for Heroes Trilogy.

Content warnings for each book are included at the bottom of the page.

Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel by Julain K. Jarboe - Short Story collection with trans characters + trans author ★★★★☆

A collection of body-horror fairy tales and mid-apocalyptic Catholic cyberpunk stories about bodily autonomy and transformation, the importance of negative emotions, unhealthy relationships, and bad situations amidst the staggering and urgent question of how to build and nurture meaning, love, and safety in a larger world/society that might not be "fixable."

This collection was more than I expected. Admittedly I'm not usually drawn to short story collections, I find them difficult to enjoy due to their abruptness and disjointed narratives. But there's not a single story here that I didn't like for some reason or other. Despite how much they vary in topic and tone, I found something to like about all of them, and I'm having a hard time picking a favorite out of the bunch. Self Care, Estranged Children of Storybook Houses, and I Am A Beautiful Bug! stood out to me the most, but each story was its own whirlwind of emotion and ideas, to the point where I feel like I can't correctly put into words why I enjoyed this collection so much. It's weird and difficult and beautiful. It's an experience - at once painful, cathartic, freeing, and discomfiting. But a joy nonetheless. The coolest thing was seeing all these different trans experiences form different angles and perspectives. I'm very interested in keeping an eye on this author's future works.

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden - Adult Scifi with M/M and a Transwoman MC ★★☆☆☆

In South Africa, a new hallucinogenic drug is sweeping the streets. At the same time, the makings of AI uprising start to gain traction, and an ancient demigodess hellbent on regaining her former glory makes plans to shake things up.

I liked this book at first. It was weird, in a way that I like things to be weird. I liked the variety of characters and their intertwining paths. I liked the story and the setting. But in the second half, weirdness turned to absurdity and I found myself slowly losing interest and immersion in whatever the hell was going on. I don't want to say this was a bad book, because I still enjoyed it overall, I just think it didn't align with my tastes very well at the end. The characters were still a joy, and I have to say I'm happy to see gay and trans characters existing in these kinds of strange and interesting stories. I'm excited to see our stories expanding in this direction.

Silk & Steel by Ariana Nash - Adult M/M Fantasy ☆☆☆☆☆

I didn't deign this book with a review when I finished it because I wanted to forget it as soon as possible. This book made me lose braincells. It made me question why I keep doing this. There's not a single thing about this book that I enjoyed, except for the concept. Desperate Elvin Assassin meets Miserable Dragon Prince? Sign me up! Or so I thought. Instead I got constant sexual assault out the wazoo, a weak plot, and characters I struggled to care about. To put it simply, not my cup of tea.

Maurice by E.M. Forester - Historical M/M Romance ★★★★★

A classic. But somehow I made it this far without having read it before. I went in without expectations and very little knowledge for what the story was about. Almost immediately I was hooked, and by the time I reached the second half I couldn't put it down. While it was a challenging read at times, I adored the story. The characters. The romance. The conflicts. The tone. The ending. This book left me feeling very good and I'm so thankful it exists.

A Land Fit For Heroes trilogy by Richard K. Morgan - Adult Fantasy with a Gay Male MC. rating: its complicated

Ringil Eskiath, enlisted by his estranged mother to find his missing cousin, embarks on a grumbling journey to track her down with only the sword on his back. At the same time, the gears of a bloody prophecy jolt into motion.

I liked the first book. I really did. I loved Ringil as a broody angry sword-weilding character fueled by revenge. I loved Archidi and all her knives. Egil was kind of gross from the start but I was willing to see where his progression would go. I should have known that when the sex scenes failed to be the least bit sexy, it was probably my subconscious trying to warn me the rest of the series would be just as much of a cocktease and eventual letdown. That I would be sitting there with an aching brain, a flaccid heart, and questions that would never be answered. This is one of the most disappointing series I've read in a long time, made all the more painful due to how much I loved the first book. I genuinely don't know what Morgan was thinking. But by the end of it I couldn't stand the pretentious, vague, boring dribble that everyone was reduced to. It's just bad writing, babe.

-

content warnings:

everyone on the moon is essential personnel - misgendering, implied self harm

the prey of gods - R*pe, Gore, Self Harm, Misgendering, Implied Sexual Abuse of a Child, Child Abuse/Neglect, Death, Drugs, Violence

silk & steel - incest, abuse, violence, sexual assault, explicit sex

maurice - suicide ideation, homophobia

a land fit for heroes - r*pe, csa and pedophilia, homophobia, gratuitous use of the f-slur

#wilt's book reviews #lgbt fiction

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Telekinesis

Summary: a reddie x daughter where she has powers? maybe that when IT died his powers went to her in the form of like maybe telekinesis or sum and she tells them when all the losers are together and they don’t believe her at first so she shows them? kinda lame but i thought it’d be cool

Another book, another disappointment, another opportunity wasted. Mike’s library was empty, both from it being after-hours as it being located in Derry, and the only light Rachel has is the obstructed street lights, eluding to an eerie feeling of impending doom and death, a real life horror movie.

The lights inside the building had to be turned off, because Rachel’s parents, Eddie and Richie, were not allowed to have any clue that she’s in here in the first place. Unlike last time she snuck into the place and got nabbed on by the woman taking over Mike’s job while he’s away on holidays, she was now determined to emerge herself in every book hidden in the smallest gap until she found a solution to her problem.

See, coming to Derry, roughly two years ago now, had unveiled a lot of things about her dads. Those nights as a child fearfully disclosing that a monster housed under her bed, a little child’s imagination, but her dads reacted so fierce without them assimilating why suddenly made a lot more sense. Their monster, a clown hellbent on destroying their lives and everything they had built, using incomprehensible powers and abilities to do so, defeated on its own turve, wasted away on the perspective that no one wasn’t afraid of it any longer, withered away with one last trick up its sleeve. A last gift to the youngest member of the losers club.

Her hands curl around the pages with upmost precision, attentive not to rip the age-old pages from the rug. The typing circulates, switching letters in front of her until the words all lose their meaning and Rachel rests her eyes for a brief second. She’s been at it for hours, exchanging book after book, futile. The pages provided no more research then the internet had, the only search result being that of movies with ‘mutant powers’, or stories about the mentally deranged.

Rachel yells out in frustration, and the current book she’s devouring soars across the room, the book disintegrating and several pages scattering around.

‘Ow come on. But when I actually try to make something happen you don’t do anything.’

Discovering you have supernatural abilities, more specifically telekinesis in her case, is not as cracked up as the movies portray it, Rachel’s disclosing herself. After leaving Derry she didn’t even notice something off about her, hyped up on adrenaline, the real shock only showed when she dropped a photo frame and extended her hand, stopping it midair without touching the picture in any way.

She’d conjured the experience to a trick of the light, and paranoia embedded after Pennywise, but then the same thing occurred again but a few days later, a painting skidding from its nail in the wall and cracking the floor. The experience was bizarre, as Rachel vibrated with indignation the moment it happened, worked up on an assignment for school and as she reached for a pillow to muffle her screams of vexation, the painting bustled and sank down.

Then she knew for sure that something was going on. The first trip to Mike’s library, the only place Rachel could think off holding any of the answers she was desperate to find, forlorn as it might be, ended up unavailing, caught to fast to locate any books in the subject matter in the first place, but it made Rachel just more committed. So what if she’s technically not allowed to be in here? She’s sure that if she asked uncle Mike for his keys he would hand them over without a sliver of hesitation.

‘There has to be a book about this stuff right? How in the world did uncle Mike found the artifact from the 1800 if there was no book telling him where to go?’

Rachel sits up from her position on the floor, alleviating the strain on her legs, too unbothered and eager for information to keep going back and forth from the table to the shelf's and stretches, her joints popping and sliding back in place. She idly traces the spines of the ancient old books, pondering to herself about the titles.

She’d have to come back here someday, when she’s no longer pursued by the strange things she’s capable of doing out of the blue, because some of these books really peek her interest. But no book on the subject she’s looking for.

‘Okay please universe. You fucked me over enough already can you give me a break?’ If the universe is listening, it’s doing nothing but mocking her.

‘Rachel Maggie Kaspbrak-Tozier. What do you think you’re doing young lady? We told you to stay at the Inn while we cleaned up pops house. Now all the losers are are the hunt for you.’ Her dad’s low pitched voice criticized, belonging to a ticked off Eddie Kaspbrak, accompanied by Richie, of course Rachel can never only get in trouble with one parent, and Mike, the keys dangling from his hand.

Richie mounts the words; ‘Oeh someone’s in trouble’, face half pinched in stress and the other in pure and uninhabited mirth.

Fingers flipping her pops off, their own love languages, Eddie scowl turns up a notch, and Rachel abandons ship, changing her course and demonstrating her most conniving angel face.

Eddie and Richie near her, hugging her so tight her ribs creak, their labored breath only now picked up on by their daughter.

‘Don’t you ever’, Eddie threatens, dislodging himself away from their bear pile to survey Rachel with full conviction. ‘Do that to us again. Not anywhere, but especially not in Derry.’

Richie dots a kiss on her forehead, his arm capturing Eddie back into a clasp, the memory of Pennywise nearly swallowing his daughter whole tattooed in his brain.

‘What are you even doing in here? Don’t tell me my genes created someone who likes to learn? School stuff?’ Richie spits the words school like they leave a bad taste in his mouth, ‘Eddie, love of my life, did you have an affair on me?’

‘Richie focus, that’s so not the point. And no you idiot. I’d never do that to you.’

‘I’m hunting for a book’, Rachel informs, withholding part of truth as there’s no way she’s adding her problems on the pile of stress stacked upon Richie and Eddie’s lives.

Her pops trial only recently ended and her dad found a new job doing something he actually likes to do, and their lives are starting to clear up for once. Rachel was not about to add another card to the card house and watch it spring apart.

‘On what?’ Eddie asks suspiciously, one eyebrow creased as he observes his daughter, on the lookout for her telltale sign that’s she’s lying.

‘Witchcraft? It’s for school.’ Rachel trails off, her voice sounding questioningly to her own ears. Richie scrutinizes her, much more on guard and attentive then he gives himself credit for, but Mike, sickly sweet but  a little tone deaf on the vibe in the room says; ‘Those books are upstairs in my special cabinet because they kept getting stolen, do you want me to go get them?’

Rachel’s flicks her eyes to the ceiling, grumbling under her breath with all the time that went to waste, then glancing back at Mike and kindly nodding her head. ‘That would be great, thank you uncle Mike.’

As he takes off to find the books, Richie and Eddie exchange puzzling peeks, doing their silent communication that drives Rachel crazy not being able to figure out what they’re saying.

‘Why would you need to write an assignment on witchcraft? Since when is  that in the curriculum these days? Hey Eds we would have rocked that, we knew all about it.’ Richie inquires, excitingly jolting Eddie to go along with his story.

‘Since I got a new teacher who’s very interested in that stuff.’

‘Are you sure everything is okay? You’ve been acting weird for the past few weeks and I didn’t want to say anything or push you but I’m worried.’ Eddie asks, troubled trying to balance things in his life. He wants to keep prodding his daughter to know what’s wrong with her and to help her, but he’d rather die then turn out like his mother, and sometimes Eddie fears his lines are blurred.

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed it too’, Richie agrees, serious as the topic calls for it. ‘Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell us.’

‘No I can’t, you won’t believe me.’

‘Sweetheart, we murdered a clown eating little kids and feeding off their fears, there’s nothing in the world that you can say that will prevent us from believe you.’

‘Okay fair,’ Rachel trails off apprehensive still, ‘but I don’t want to force additional stress on you guys, we’ve already had so much of that lately.’

‘Little me, if this is about the trial I’m really fucking sorry for putting you through that, but hoeza’, he jazzed hands towards himself, ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never go anywhere either.’

Bursting into tears, Rachel inches closer to her pops and eases herself under his chin, her dad crams up against her side. ‘It’s not, but I’m really grateful for that pops. Promise you’ll believe me and won’t ship me off anywhere?’

‘What? Never. Nothing you’ll confess will ever make us regret you being born.’ Eddie says with vindication. ‘Absolutely nothing.’ The truth is Rachel is getting really tired of the secret she’s storing away, and she’s scared too. Terrified that someday she might accidentally hurt someone, or scared that she’s going to wake up one day and not perceive who she is.

‘I have telekinesis and I think it’s because of IT,’ she breathes out, tensing in her parents grasp as she waits for their reaction. It’s a peculiar statement to preach, but Rachel didn’t think her pops would flat out laugh at her, a reserved giggle that stops abruptly when Eddie mimes his lips shut.

‘What do you mean?’ Eddie asks cautiously.

‘You don’t believe me do you?’

‘It’s not about believing you sweetheart, it’s just where is this is all coming from? Wait, is this a prank you and Richie did to trick me? If so Pennywise is off limits so knock it off.’

‘Eds no-‘

‘No it’s not a prank, I’m serious.’ Rachel underscores, schlepping away from the both of them.

‘Bug, I don’t-‘

‘No, I’ll prove it.’

‘Okay’, Richie agrees trepidation, same as Eddie.

Rachel tries really hard, focusing all her energy and mind on levitating the same book she send flying across the room mere minutes ago, her fist balling and her face blushing in effort, but nothing occurs. Previous times this was the case too, it only happens when she’s focusing on something else, not the task at hand.

Richie snorts, assured that it’s a prank and he’s played by his own daughter, which usually wouldn’t be so far off, but this time it boils rage up under Rachels skin.

‘Stop laughing, I’ve been struggling with this for so long and all you do is laugh at me?’ Rachel grounds out, genuinely hurt that neither of her fathers take the time to listen to her.

Three things follow each other in rapid speed. The first is that Mike descends down the stairs, carrying two books, dustier than the town of Derry itself, and waving them around proudly. ‘I found them, I hope two is enough?’

The second is that the door to the library jingles, and the remaining pack of the losers walks in, and the third is the table starts vibrating, anger pulsing in Rachel’s veins having her focused on something else.

Eddie and Richie stare at the table in shock, their mouths agape as they switch to look between the table and their daughter.

‘Rachel?’  

The table is ripped from the handles and jets over two shelf's of the library, landing right in front of the losers’ feet, all of them staring in bewilderment.

‘What the hell is going on in here?’

‘Mike, I think we’re going to need a lot more books.’

#reddie #reddie x daughter #my writing #Richie x Eddie #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie as a dad #eddie as a dad #richie as a parent #eddie as a parent #other losers are mentioned #mike hanlon

[melissanovels]

♡ Chapter 5 of TRANSIENT TIME TRAVELLER is out! ♡

○ Read on my Website ○ Read on Tumblr (below) ○ Read on Ao3 ○ Read on Royal Road  ○

TTT  is an LGBTQ+ historical fantasy novel about Aida, a time traveller hellbent on proving the innocence of a 1,200-year-old dead queen, and Lorian, an escaped princess-turned-officer who wants to drain the royal blood from their body, & the two coming together with the help of their mischievous future selves.

♡ Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Read Chapter 5 Below:

As Lorian walked into an empty classroom and waited for Aida and Mister Omar to leave, she pressed her back into the door and utterly lost it.

She covered her mouth with her gloved hands. She’d done it. She’d finally talked to Aida again. And she hadn’t been so crass as she’d been when they’d first met. The first time had been a complete disaster. With Aida being naked and Lorian open-mouthed staring at her, the curves of her wide hips and ass, her breasts, her face, her eyes. God help her, she’d never seen a woman’s body so openly before. All she’d wanted to do that night was slam her down into bed and do unspeakable things to her, yet what had Aida wanted? To talk about fantasy novels and a queen who’d been dead for 1,200 years. What had Lorian even said that’d led her up to Aida’s bedroom? She’d need to write it down for reference.

Despite being betrothed for more than half of her life, Lorian hadn’t a clue how courting worked. The girls she’d met in the palace were diplomatic and groomed to please her, all peachy smiles and saying whatever they needed to make her happy. She’d tried to court an Aldaían knight a few years back, but she’d only earned her name and her preference of cakes before they’d parted ways.

Aida’s attitude was so defiant, so cheeky and unbecoming that it would’ve sent Lorian’s father into hysterics. She wanted her. She wanted to crack her open and explore her mind and passions and give it back to her a ten-thousand fold.

Lorian dragged her hands down her face. Maybe she’d buy her a history book, really push more into the things she loved, or maybe a ticket to En Tempore Rose. The official one, the one that played in the Colosseum. She’d have to schedule a trip to the city center. She’d wear a cloak.

After she heard Aida run off somewhere, Lorian re-entered the library and backtracked for the books Aida had put away. They were old and leather-bound, with yellow pages that smelled of mothballs: History of Roma: From the Perspective of King Julius II to His People and Hidden Dangers of Visatorre in Roman History.

Lorian put that last one back. Aida was brave to read about history that was so rarely taught in class. Lorian had secretly read about it behind Missus’ Sharma’s back. She’d learned about the lost city-state of Siina and the belligerent queen who killed one of the dead kings, and how they killed and tortured those poor Visatorre people for sport soon afterwards as punishment. Thrown into the Colosseum with a pack of lions without any weapons with which to defend themselves. In this aisle alone, Lorian saw four other books detailing what a plight the Visatorre were to other people not blessed with the ability to travel through time.

She believed. The power to go back in time, acting as a ghost to witness history in the raw way it was intended, only to come back and harbor the pains of going backwards. She’d never understand their full pain, she could only educate herself and hope that that injustice would never happen again in her history.

After skimming through more of Aida’s books and realizing how little of it she retained, Lorian picked up the shortest read and went near the windows for light.

She got to page ten, most of which was a glorified chapter about how great the Roman kings were and are, when she heard someone call her name.

“Lorian, you fuck!”

Between the library and the writing hall was a strip of muddy grass. It was a shortcut between the buildings for her and other officers to travel. Two of them were there, calling for her: Alessio and Matteo, the two assholes she’d befriended that month.

“There he is, little bugger,” Alessio said, catching Lorian’s profile from the window. He climbed onto a rock wall to get closer. “Get out of there and come down. Lunch’s almost over!”

“Alright, alright,” she said, and slotted the book for later.

They were good boys, these two. She liked them enough to hang out with them while not on duty. They didn’t know this, and they never would, but she’d actually known them back at the palace. All officers-in-training had to go through a mandatory training program held by a Constable. Lorian had always favored officers for their rowdiness. She’d watch them work out in secret, sneak peeks at their naked bodies when they’d change. When she’d found that both Alessio and Matteo were working as security details at this academy, her decision had been made. A few faked letters of recommendation and her crafty ability to lie through her teeth and she was enrolled as an officer-in-training in a week.

They’d never known it was her as she paraded around as a young, unfavorable princess with incredibly long hair wearing the dresses she loathed, but she liked to tease them every now again with knowledge she shouldn’t have known.

“Hey, Alessio, have you ever been persuaded to eat worms?”

“Matteo, didn’t you pee yourself after seeing a real lion in captivity?”

“Have you two ever kissed on a dare?”

She’d lied to them, calling herself a good guesser.

She walked out of the library and turned the corner to find her boys, but they weren’t there. The yard was quiet; she heard the teachers writing on the chalkboard from the writing rooms.

She stilled her steps. From her knowledge, she knew nobody could truly vanish from the world for good. Something would always bring you back to where you were meant to be.

A twig snapped behind her, and she was put into a chokehold that stole away her breath. She could’ve gotten out of it easily, but she didn’t want to hurt who, from their laughing, she knew was Alessio. Alessio was a redhead with more power than Lorian believed him to have. Matteo, on the other hand, was softer, with dark, floppy hair and innocent eyes.

Laughing, Lorian took out her rapier and used the butt of the sword to knock the wind out of Alessio.

Alessio gagged and let her go. “Ow! You ass.”

“You attacked me.” She lightly kicked him for good measure. “What’re we doing now?”

“Late lunch,” Matteo said, and shared a loaf of bread. They weren’t students, but through their enlistment, they were given a dorm room that she shared with Alessio and Matteo and three simple meals ordained by their royal regimen. Sometimes, if they wooed the right girl or boy, they’d get sweets and even alcohol, something that was forbidden to officers. All three of them had already gotten drunk in that month alone.

They walked to their preferred eating space that the Academy cheekily called “The Defense Wall.” It separated the school from the villainous farmlands of lazy cows and stupid chickens. What used to be a formidable, three-meter tall fortress from a time period Aida probably knew about was now a blockage from the smelly farm animals that provided the school a portion of their eggs, milk, cheese, and occasional meat.

Lorian hopped atop an abandoned wagon of hay to scale the tall wall. Alessio followed her, and they needed to help Matteo make it due to his size. There, they shared their bread and butter and made horrible jokes for hours that, if any other officer heard them say, they would’ve had their hands whipped. Lorian had had her fair share of that back home and was keen not to get struck again for misbehaving.

As Lorian dined, Alessio asked her, “Why do you always spend your time in those libraries? You never read.”

It was true, Lorian wasn’t so much a learned soul as her mother and father pretended she was. She was a physical person who liked getting her hands dirty in order to understand something abstract. This had been her fourth trip to the library that week. The first attempt to find and talk to Aida had failed miserably and she was left hiding behind a bookshelf to spy on her. The other try and Aida hadn’t even been there. The girl kept Lorian on a leash and Lorian had no problem with that. “I do read. I know a great deal of things, much more than you do.”

“Then name two books you’ve loved over the past year. No, five authors, and no poets.”

“You try that. When’s the last time you ever picked up a book?” Lorian reached to pull on Alessio’s hair, but he jerked away and stuffed his mouth with his dry loaf end.

“That Miss spends her time there, doesn’t she?” Matteo asked. “That Aida girl.”

“The traveller?” Alessio asked. “She’s a weird one. I’ve talked with some of the girls in her class, and they say she’s really weird. I heard she’s gonna get the nix, you know?” He made a mark across his neck. “Cut out.”

“What do you mean?” Lorian asked.

“I heard it from my father, and he heard it from Constable Carmine. Word from the Lion is that he’s gonna bar those types of people from secondary education.”

Lorian’s ears heated up. “Carmine said that? And the king agreed to it? When?”

Alessio slowed his chewing at Lorian’s mention of Carmine’s name without his title. She had to stop doing that, being so informal about a man she shouldn’t have known so personally. “That’s just what I heard from my dad, so I think it’s true.”

Lorian rubbed her neck. She knew Carmine well enough to forgo titles when she’d address him in the palace, but after being promoted to Constable, she couldn’t say if this was something he’d enforce under the king’s orders or not. He’d exchange his heart for his duty.

But she wouldn’t have put this horrendous action past her father. He was the most racist, hurtful, selfish person she’d ever known, and she hated herself that parts of his speech and behaviors had sunk into her own bones. It took a great deal of unlearning to undo all of those negative stereotypes, and it took her finally leaving the house and joining the ranks to realize how real Visatorre people lived and how awful the world was to them.

“What’s to happen to her?” Matteo asked when they went silent.

“Dunno,” Alessio said. “Kick her out? There’s only a few of those people here, so it’s not like we’d notice right away.”

“But that’s not fair,” Lorian said. “She hasn’t done anything.”

“That’s not gonna stop them, you know that.”

“Then…I’ll stop them,” she promised, and tried mimicking how confident Aida sounded whenever she opened her mouth. “It’s not right. Do you know Miss Mirko uses a cane because of her illness—” She bit her cheek. “Uh, affliction. Can you imagine walking around with a cane at our age? It’s uncouth to belittle those who were born with advantages we weren’t given.”

Alessio pulled a face. “Don’t act high and mighty to me. This wasn’t my decision, I’m just the fucking messenger. And it’s not like we can change this.”

“Say I become a leading Constable, then,” Lorian argued. “I’d rewrite the rules to make them fair for everyone.”

“You wanna be a Constable?”

“Don’t you? Isn’t that the goal of being an officer, to one day be a Constable?”

“Eh, not really. Not for me, anyway. I just needed to get away from my mother, and this was the best option. To be a Constable means you have to put in ten, sometimes fifteen-hour-days and be on the king’s every beck and call. Thanks, but I’m good just being ordered around for simple things.”

“And I wanted to become stronger like my brothers are, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to do everything a Constable does,” Matteo said, and he looked across the field towards the water well. “Oh.”

Alessio and Lorian followed his intent gaze.

“Speak of the devil,” Alessio said.

Stomping down the fields, dress lifted to keep from stepping in cow droppings, was Aida on a mission. Her hands were bunched up in her dress, her teeth grit, and she was mumbling something to herself as her heels plowed through the dry mud. She’d lost her cane, shortening her steps.

Lorian brushed the crumbs off of her chest and stood up higher to better see her. She always walked with such determination, like she truly did not care how other people saw her. Lorian wanted to walk like that one day.

“Do you need a hand, Miss?” Alessio called out.

“Fuck off!” Aida yelled back.

Alessio tensed up. “What the fuck’s her problem?” he muttered.

“S-she isn’t allowed to talk to us like that,” Matteo said meekly. “What should we do?”

“We need to stop her. Hey—”

Lorian palmed Alessio’s chest, almost knocking him off completely before clutching his jacket and keeping him vertical.

“Ow! Lorian, what’s with you today?”

Lorian stared intently at Aida.

Silent tears were running down Aida’s cheeks as she walked. She wasn’t sobbing or weeping, the tears were simply there, though it was hard to tell why she was crying in the first place. It looked like she was off to kill somebody.

When she was out of sight and then some, Lorian got up, told her friends that she was thirsty, and secretly tailed Aida down her chosen path.

#Transient Time Traveller #art #original character #lgbtq #cottagecore #queer #aida #lorian #alessio #matteo #fantasy #original #original art #oc #novel #writing #ttt #royal road #ao3 #archive of our own #Alessio: >:OOO

[stephanythedramaqueen]

One of the things that makes me angry about the Grisha Trilogy books (I can ignore a lot of things I don't like about them, but if there is one thing that makes my blood boil) is how they make it seem like Alina becoming physically healthier after arriving at the Little Palace is a bad thing. Don't know if you have seen this piece of the discourse, but in the books it is described how she was a sickly child due to repressing her powers since she was so young, and she's also described as pale "as a glass of milk that's turned", with sallow skin and eye bags. Then it is described how she becomes "prettier" after arriving at the Little Palace (better skin, hair, etc.), but... her narration of the changes is as if there's something wrong in her physical health and personal appearance improving like that. She refers to that image of herself as "a stranger", as if she should want to get back to the state in how she was before, and that's just... such a HORRIBLE message to sent. I really can't with it! I can bear with plenty flaws the Grishaverse has, but not with that!

Here’s the 411 from what I gather, the moment Alina is separated from Mal at Kribirsk, everything she does and everything that happens to her has a sense of foreboding in her perspective and therefore, supposed to be foreboding to us.

It isn’t just Alina getting healthier and less exhaustive and prettier that just doesn’t seem to sit well with Alina, it’s the entire premise of the Little Palace. The way she judges everything and everyone, keeps herself isolated, rejects to initially make friends, rejects her powers, rejects those who’re trying to help her.

And by the time she begrudgingly accepts her life, her powers, her friends, the Darkling and herself, Mal comes in to show her that hey, all this nonsense isn’t the real you. Look at what this place has made you into; this vain, black-wearing Grisha who’s been slutting herself and might have caught feelings for a man that ain’t me.

It feels, though I cannot say for certain, like Bardugo went through a weird C.S Lewis phase at this point where she’s pretty anti-makeup, anti-boy-crazy agenda here, because once Alina is on the run with Mal and suppresses her powers again and becomes sickly once more, Mal seemingly doesn’t see that there’s anything wrong. And the story doesn’t frame Mal’s lack of concern about this as bad either.

It’s like it’s saying that you can’t be pretty for yourself, unless the guy you’re crushing on approves of it. Like saying Alina shouldn’t have gotten healthier and stronger if the guy she’s crushing on wasn’t the reason/isn’t for him. It’s a bad take and a reason why he was changed in the show.

And while the show retconned Mal’s toxic personality here that he prefers sickly Alina over healthy Grisha Alina, I still find the self-mutilation she did in order to stay with Mal super iffy. And I daresay the show’s going to guilt trip Alina bc she removed it, the one thing that ‘connected’ her to Mal.

But Bardugo was hellbent in making them endgame in the books, in expense of Alina herself. And thus, this mess happened in the books with the wackiest message(s).

#Archie in the show is amazing he is BAE and I adore the malina ship in the show #whatever the heck went down in the books is something I absolutely do not wanna be part of #it’s the internalized sexism. apparently Bardugo had a bunch of that in S&B and it SHOWED #this why Alina’s ending of her fucking off to her cottagecore life was also reflective of her internalized sexism #have you read that passage about the married couple heaving heavy stuff #and Alina asks Ana Kuya why the couple don’t have a donkey? and Ana replies that they don’t need a donkey bc the man has a wife? #and then Mal says ‘I’m gonna marry Alina’ like the implication was BAD of that scene #but there was the internalized sexism showing itself

[fishoutofcamelot]

(for the ask thing) any book/tv show/movie/song recommendations?

BRO! I heckin got you man! Now, I’m gonna skip the song and book recommendation bit because that sorta thing isn’t really my scene. BUT! In terms of TV? My rec list is like a mile long. I’m gonna include a read-more line, actually. 

BBC Merlin: You know I had to put this on the list. But the fact that you’re on my blog means you’ve probably watched this one, so I won’t go into detail about it. Available on Netflix

Mob Psycho 100: Just a cute, sweet story about a bunch of psychic kids trying to kill each other. A story with this much fighting has no right to be so wholesome. Mob is just a good boy, he doesn’t deserve all this! Fair warning, its messages about identity, self love, and growth WILL make you feel Emotions. Available on various anime pirating websites

Red vs Blue: The found family game is SO strong in this one. By far the best found family plot/dynamic I have ever and will ever experience. The characters are all so solid, yknow? Like it took me three rewatches to understand the plot, but I didn’t even care because I loved the characters SO MUCH. It’s also really, really funny (although some of the jokes have aged a bit poorly tbh). Basically about a bunch of space marines who goof off and accidentally dismantle corrupt governments along the way. Available on Youtube

Supernatural: Is it cringey? Yeah. Does the fandom suck? Also yeah. Is Destiel overrated? BIG yeah. But it’s got monsters, magic, family, and a plot that doesn’t revolve around romance - and really, what more could you ask for? And sure, a lot of people don’t really like the later seasons, but idk I actually prefer them. Season 15 has me THRIVING. I mean come on - character vs author?! Fighting the guy who literally wrote you into existence because he doesn’t want to give your story a happy ending?! Say what you will about Supernatural, but it’s one of the most imaginative shows I’ve ever seen. Available on Netflix

Avatar the Last Airbender: You like stellar animation, intricate worldbuilding/magicbuilding, and a perspective on war that is surprisingly mature for a kids show? Check it out. This show is without a doubt one of the best animated series of all time. Go on. Watch it. It’ll change your life. Available on Netflix

The Umbrella Academy: Time-travelling assassins. Superheroes. Ghosts. Talking monkeys. Murder mysteries. Baller soundtracks. This show will never give you what you expect. I don’t even think I could properly describe it to you. Available on Netflix

Detective Conan: An anime. It’s about a teen detective - think Nancy Drew but bloodier - who witnesses a crime and is fed an experimental poison in order to keep him from telling anyone. But instead of killing him, the poison turns him into a 6-year-old. So now he’s got to solve crimes and take down a criminal organization while in the body of a child. Naturally, shenanigans ensue. Fair warning, the main character becomes a bit of a Mary Sue in later episodes, but the first 300 or so are pretty fun. A few episodes are available on Netflix, but not any of the good ones. You’ll need an anime pirating website for that

Knives Out: My favourite movie ever, of all time. It’s a murder mystery that both subverts and pays homage to its parent genre in all the right places. It’s funny, it’s intelligent, and has a spectacular ending! Although I do wish the fandom would stop being so horny for Ransom, I mean he’s literally racist...No clue where you can find this tbh, I saw it in theatres

Derry Girls: Now I’m not normally a big fan of realistic fiction/sitcom stuff. Despite how funny they are, I’ve not even watched The Office or Parks and Rec because that normal daily life stuff just doesn’t peak my interest. And yet, somehow this story about a group of Irish high schoolers just has me enthralled. Very funny, very well-written, give it a watch. Available on Netflix

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood: Another anime. Phenomenal animation? Check. Fascinating plot and characters? Check. Detailed magic system that gets my lore-obsessed heart fluttering? Big heckin check. So basically two kids try to use Fantasy Science to bring their mom back to life, only the experiment fails and has some pretty nasty consequences - one boy loses his arm and leg, while the other loses his entire body and has his soul bound to a suit of armour. Now they gotta go through government conspiracies, ethical dilemmas, and Daddy Issues to try and get their bodies back. Available on Netflix

The Disastrous Life of Saiki K: Yet another anime. I know, I know, I’m a nerd, get over it. This show doesn’t have a complex plot or even complex characters, tbh, but what it does have is some amazing humour. It’s extremely funny, and it’s also just a nice show to kick back and relax to. Basically this guy who’s so op that he could rewrite the laws of reality on a whim is stuck dealing with relationship drama in high school despite being very, very asexual and very, very tired. Mostly he just uses his powers to avoid people and eat junk food, which is honestly a mood. Available on Netflix

Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated: Honestly I’d recommend almost anything that’s Scooby Doo-related because that was my childhood obsession. I used to have like 20 of the movies on DVD before my mom gave them all away. To this day I still love Scooby Doo, and watch it whenever I get the chance. But if you ask any SD fan, they’ll probably tell you that Mystery Incorporated is the best, most intelligent, most creative installment in the franchise. And they’re right (although I do wish there was less relationship drama...) Available on Netflix

Evil Genius: This is a documentary series about the Collar Bomb Robbery. Now, despite what the above list might indicate, I actually watch a LOT of documentaries, and if I were here to recommend all of them then we would be here all day. Not really ‘funny’ like the other entries on this list, it’s actually rather tragic, but definitely a cerebral viewing experience. Available on Netflix

Screwball: Now this is a documentary that IS funny. It’s about drug scandals in baseball. But the dramatic scene re-enactments are done with child actors that are all wearing fake beards and pretending to be drug dealers. It’s not only a fascinating subject, but it’s got amazing editing and visuals that have me in awe. Available on Netflix

Behind the Curve: Yet another documentary. This one’s about the rise of the Flat Earth movement. You’ll spend most of the time on the verge of having a stroke because of how stupid it all is. Available on Netflix

The Movies That Made Us: Okay okay okay last documentary on the list I swear. This one’s exactly what it says on the tin. It’s a series talking about the behind-the-scenes production of iconic movies like Home Alone and Ghostbusters. I eagerly await the second season. Available on Netflix

Monster Factory: If you’re familiar with the McElroy brothers and their brand of humour, you’ll love this. Griffin and Justin team up to make the most disturbing avatars they can create using video game character creators. The origins of the Final Pam meme. If I had a shirt with a quote from Monster Factory on it, I’d die a happy man. Available on Youtube

Baman Piderman: The dumbest show I have ever watched, but it’s so adorable and stupid and I love it so much. It doesn’t really have a plot, but later episodes allude to the presence of one and I’m upset because there are so many mysteries/questions hinted at and we’ll never get answers because it’s been abandoned. PLEASE watch it. Available on Youtube

Stranger Things: Okay, season 2 was a bit of a let-down imo, but season 1 was ICONIC and the Scoops Troop subplot in season 3 deserved its own freakin spinoff. I’m not joking. I didn’t even like s3 all that much, but the only reason it’s my favourite is because the Scoops Troop plot was so great. People call this show ‘horror’ but I don’t think it’s scary enough for that, although it is admittedly kinda spooky. If you like 80s nostalgia and the horror aesthetic, then I’d give it a watch (Do it for Scoops Troop. Do it for Robin). Available on Netflix

Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart: Despite my overwhelming love for this film, I’ll be the first to admit it’s kinda mediocre. The plot is weird and the romance feels forced, but despite its flaws it manages to be one of my favourite movies. Mostly I just like it for the unique concept and beautiful ending. Also the music is off the par man. Probably because the writer/producer of the movie was the lead singer for a French band called Dionysus (what? I do my research). Available on Netflix

Wakfu: I haven’t seen past season 3, but so far it’s pretty good. You go in thinking it’s just a wholesome action/adventure show about a kid who can create portals - but then it just. Sucks you in. From its bopping theme song to its fantastic found family to the unique worldbuilding, you very quickly fall in love with it. It’s got a cool plot and also talking dragons, and it doesn’t get better than that. Available on Netflix

Mystery Skulls Animated: Technically not a TV show so much as it is a series of animated music videos with a plot, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t one of the greatest things of all time. It’s basically Scooby Doo but if Shaggy got possessed by a demon and killed Fred, causing Fred to become a ghost hellbent on revenge-killing Shaggy in return. And if Scooby was an ancient Japanese spirit that bit off Shaggy’s arm, forcing him to wear a metal prosthetic. Yeah, MSA is wild. It’s only got three videos out so far, with a fourth one coming out this October, but there’s already so much lore! Available on Youtube

Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared: Ah yes, yet another cringey entry on this list. But you know what? Cringe culture is dead!!! And despite its fandom being...like that...DHMIS really is a cool show. Think if Sesame Street was like haunted or something. The episodes about creativity and telling time remain the most unsettling, imo. Definitely worth a watch. Available on Youtube

Inanimate Insanity: Oh boy. Am I seriously recommending you dip your little fingies into the object fandom? Yes. Yes I am. This show is so obscure it makes freakin Detective Conan look popular. At its core it’s a parody of Total Drama Island and Survivor but with anthropomorphized inanimate objects as characters (hence the name). Season 2 is actually really, really good and surprisingly competent. You just gotta get through season 1 first. Available on Youtube

The X-Files: Wow, a live action series on this list? Who woulda thought??? But seriously, this show is really fun. Memes and jokes aside, I love it. Scully and Mulder are fun characters with great chemistry (both platonic and romantic), the Lone Horsemen are hilarious, and every episode is a unique adventure into the most creative acid trips the human mind could conceive of. Phenomenal from start to finish (if you ignore the last season). I have no clue where you would watch this. Pirate it, probably

Buzzfeed Unsolved: Two idiots investigate cold cases and haunted locales while being utter dumbasses about it. You know the “hey demons it’s be ya boi” meme? That came from these guys. Available on Youtube

Kingdom: Ngl, I didn’t go into this expecting zombies. Or for it to take place during Korean feudalism, for that matter. But mediocre dubbing aside, this show has such a clever concept. It takes the zombie apocalypse genre and gives refreshing, unique twists to old tropes that they feel like something new. Seo-bi is my wife and she deserves all the love and appreciation in the world, and those are just Facts. Available on Netflix

My Hero Academia: Superhero high school anime. I personally am not a fan of later episodes/arcs, but the first three seasons are pretty dang good. Diverse, colourful ensemble cast that you easily grow to adore, interesting commentary on disability (although I’m not qualified to give any actual takes on that), and a school curriculum that makes me very, very concerned for the wellbeing of these children. Plus all the superpowers - aka ‘quirks’ - are super imaginative and, well, quirky! I just wish people would stop shipping the main character with his childhood bully...You’ll need to pirate this one too lmao

Danny Phantom: The highlight of this show is its ‘phandom’, because unlike someone (*cough* Butch Hartman), we’re not a bunch of cowards. It’s about a guy who messes around with his parents’ lab stuff and accidentally acquires the ability to die! Well, half-die. He can turn into a ghost and fight other ghosts. Although the show never explores the existential, traumatic fallout of being kinda-sorta-dead, the potential for something deep and emotional is there. Plus there is a LOT of accidental subtext for a Big LGBT+ Metaphor. So much so that the Trans Danny theory is basically canon. Uhhh not available on Netflix anymore so it’s time to whip out your pirate hat, matey

And there you have it! Like I said, I have a lot of TV recommendations. And I just KNOW I’m forgetting a ton, but this is already really long so we’ll have to cut off here. 

Thanks for the ask! <3

#ask #fish post

[millennialzadr]

WHY I LOVE ZADR!!!

HEY GUYS WHASSUP? LMAO

So this is a whole ass giant long post of me absolutely spewing my feelings of love for ZADR, it was the very first thing I wrote when I made this blog and I think it’s a nice, positive thing for my fellow shippers to inhale and enjoy 👌👌

it was originally a reply to mitarashiart’s post about why HE loves ZADR (link in replies) but I decided to delete that and make my own post since MY WHOLE ENTIRE TEXT WALL WAS SHOWN IN THE REPLIES and drowned out anyone else who was trying to talk (thanks tumblr mobile u fuckin idiot)

I had also posted a summary of an AU that I’m working on in the original post, but decided to remove it since it just about doubled the length (I’m thinking about posting it separately along with the wips I’ve been putting together, we’ll see 👀)

But ANYWAY, here is about a million reasons why I think ZADR is the fucking best, so if you like reading gushy gay ship feelings, please enjoy ❤️❤️❤️

[Posted June 2019][WARNING, LONG ASS THOUGHT BARF]

SOOO, holy hell y’all my journey back into this fandom has been a wild and unique experience for me, i went from adding invader zim to my bookmarks on kisscartoon, rewatching the series, finding out theres a movie coming out, finding out there was a shitload of content i’d never seen before (commentaries, lost episode scripts and audios, panels, the COMIC, episodes i’d never seen because the dvd i used to watch was scratched!! and a FUCKLOAD of quality modern fan art like oh my GOD) and finally curiously googling ‘zadr’ (which i was way into when i was maybeee 13/14) to see if there was any interesting new art, and holy hell, mita (the artist above) singlehandedly THREW me down the hole into modern zadr hell, first with his absolutely stunning IZ art (all his art is dope tho check him out yo), then reading the above explanation put the final nail in the coffin like, 100%

so i wanted to add onto his post here on why this ship got me so fucked up, both for anyone who might be wondering why on earth i’m shipping two characters from a kid’s show (i’m very aware how weird that is at first glance trust me) and also so i can get some ideas down for possible future reference (will i ever draw them? maybe)

(first of all, a disclaimer, and this is not pleasant to write but it’s important to address for clarity’s sake: I have no interest in romantic or sexual relationships between minors, and do not ship zim and dib as they are presented canonically in the show (as children). what i’m interested in is the conceptualized relationship they may have as modern adults, and i view zadr more as taking the concepts of existing characters and experimenting with them with different interpretations, which i personally think is a constructive and fun creative outlet, especially if these characters hold personal significance for you (childhood faves of course). growing up together is an important facet of their relationship, and certainly they were important to each other even as children (see: mopiness of doom) but as an adult i’m personally curious about what kind of adults they might’ve become, and that’s the focus of my interest. i’ll still be reblogging regular IZ art because it’s dope but if you see shippy looking art of them as tiny lil beans its either friendship or chibis (and i personally headcanon zim as getting taller with dib but some people stick with his canonical height when drawing them as adults, which is super short. it still doesn’t mean he’s a kid). aaand i wish i didnt have to write this and it would just be obvious but we live in a sick sad world and it is sourced from a children’s cartoon so i feel its necessary. end of disclaimer)

NOW THAT THAT’S OUT OF THE WAY

- ok, first reason’s a bit obvious - the nostalgia. holy hell, the feeling of rediscovering a ship that was popular when i was a preteen during the mid 2000s and discovering a totally new perspective on it as an adult comes with an almost totally overwhelming sense of nostalgia and comfort, as well as inspiration!! the kind of art that seems so common for zadr, these sketch pages of scenes and expressions and visual gags where artists would just scribble every idea they had and LOVE doing it, this was exactly the kind of art that made me so passionate about drawing as a kid, and it still sparks such a powerful feeling of love and admiration for me to this day. fan content of iz and zadr is simultaneously achingly familiar and totally new and fascinating, and it just makes me SO damn happy to consume, it is most definitely my new comfort content. and just, GOD. THE ART!! SO GOOD. FUCK

- now for the characters themselves: for some reason i just really love the thought of a mid twenties, modern Dib?? lanky goth dork, disaster bi, depressed as shit, uses bad sweaters and memes to cope?? when i was a kid i didn’t even LIKE Dib, but now i totally sympathize with him! he’s just a hyper obsessive nerd wishing there was more to life than the situation he got stuck with, how wildly relatable. he was a pretty big asshole as a kid (even to people besides zim) but he was also totally isolated and constantly bullied, so there’s a lot of room for growth. i feel there’s a lot of juicy character development potential for that boy, and there’s always been a special place in my heart for characters who are totally sad and screwed and hopeless, but there’s one thing, or person, that means the world to them and could possibly save them…

- aliens. Zim. i love nonhuman characters, i love monsters, i love aliens, i love characters that don’t understand human shit (and thus have much less room for shame or fear bc theyre just totally oblivious the negatives of modern society) and need guidance (bonding!!) from their human. i also love morally grey characters and characters with skewed logic, they’re always really interesting, and Zim himself just has such a unique personality and set of mannerisms, he contradicts himself a lot and you can never quite expect how he’ll behave, and i love that in a character, it makes them super versatile and fun, especially since there’s so many different possibilities for their development. Also, Zim is a gremlin, a little shit, and a disaster. I also love those traits in a character. And don’t even get me started on his character design?? big sparkly eyes? expressive antennae? monster teeth? complimenting colors? he’s adorable.

- mutual obsession. for someone like Dib, who seems almost repulsed by how boring and slow the people around him are, Zim quite literally personifies Dib’s  escapist fantasies, both as an inhuman entity from beyond the stars, and as a person who’s knowledge, charisma and mystery far exceeds that of anyone Dib has met in his entire life. (so basically what i’m saying is that for a shunned, jaded misanthropist, an actual alien is terribly alluring, even if said alien is dangerous, stupid, and possibly insane). not to mention Zim vindicates Dib’s entire life passion, the supernatural! Even when their relationship is totally negative, there is not a single inch of room for Dib to get tired of Zim. as mita explained, they validate each other. for Zim, WHO AGAIN, IS TOTALLY SHUNNED, ISOLATED, AND HATED BY EVERYONE HE KNOWS, Dib is the only person in the universe who gives a single shit about him!! he gives Zim credit as a threat, a capable invader, which if you ask me is the sole thing Zim is after (he’s hellbent on his mission because it would win him the approval of the tallest, all he’s ever wanted is recognition from the people he thinks so highly of). He literally gets depressed when Dib isn’t around to pay attention to him, not even the tallest were enough to motivate him before Dib came back. these two have no one and nothing without each other, and while lifelong nemeses is fine and dandy, i personally prefer friendship, affection and love, cause i’m a softie like that. how could they possibly get there after years of actively trying to kill each other?? well, i think under just the right circumstances it could become a possibility after a long, long time.

- growth. i. love. me. some. good. character growth. especially for characters with trauma/mental illness, bc again, relatable. these boys have issues, and as mita mentioned, their canon stories are actually INCREDIBLY sad! but the happy thought is, they could recover! they could help each other recover, for little reason other than the two are the only source of happiness for each other. now of course this also opens the gate for angst lovers, but at the same time offers potential for comforting, uplifting content of the boys supporting and inspiring each other, maybe even to the point of becoming happy and healthy enough to create the lives they want for themselves (as in appreciating life and doing things that make them actually happy instead of the delusions of grandeur they both sought when they were younger). gimme that positive shit and let the poor beans be happy  щ(ಠ益ಠщ)

- LITTLE THINGS. LITTLE THINGS THAT ONLY COME WITH CHILDHOOD FRIENDS. WITH HUMAN/NONHUMAN. WITH THE SHOW’S WEIRD LOGIC. Zim being the person Dib knows best and vice versa. Zim having an involuntary respect/admiration for Dib because he’s tall. Learning each other’s needs, limits, and communication methods, both emotionally and biologically. Sensitive antennae. Affectionate bickering. Being less insecure bc your partner literally has no idea why you see your flaws as flaws. Laughing at the flaws they do notice because they make no sense. Zim only wanting to eat waffles and chow mein. Dib being forced to overcome his depression lethargy and stay hygienic/keep the apartment clean because Zim has a sharper sense of smell and is afraid of germs. Endless conversation about anything and everything because they’re from literally different worlds, and endless intrigue. TOUCHING. TALKING. DOING EVERYTHING LIKE ITS THE VERY FIRST TIME AND ALWAYS NEEDING THE OTHER TO GUIDE THEM. HOLY HELL THERE IS SO MUCH POSSIBILITY FOR TINY LITTLE MOMENTS THAT MEAN THE WORLD. FUCK. GOT ME FUCKED UP.

so that wraps up the why. fuck man. its just such a good ship. if you read this big ass text post, thank you for indulging me, i hope you enjoyed it! because i enjoy it very much 👀 so stick around if you’d like to for a shit load of IZ and zadr content on this blog, possibly (MAYBE) even from me!! come roll around in alien hell with me why dontcha ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ its a fun time! thanks for reading!!!

-

SO THAT’S MY MANIFESTO Y’ALL, FEEL FREE TO REPLY WITH YOUR OWN REASONS!! I WOULD LOVE FOR THIS POST TO JUST BECOME A BIG GIANT PILE OF LOVE AND YELLING!! GO NUTS! SCREAM ABOUT IT! INFODUMP! DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! I’LL READ EVERY LAST REPLY! Y’ALL DESERVE TO ENJOY YOUR SHIP BC IT’S LITERALLY THE FUCKING BEST!!! LOVE Y’ALL!!!!!!

#in this trying time of shippers being stressed over discourse #i offer a gift<3 because i love you guys #and we should spread the love #i want yall to go OFF #tell me every little fuckin thing about zadr that makes ur heart doki OK #LETS GO 👏👏👏 #invader zim #zadr #text post #my post #long post

[oveliagirlhaditright]

So, I guess I’m going to get into some of my issues with S*puffy in the comics, and the unfairness towards A*ngel in my opinion? At first I wasn’t going to, because I try to keep this a positive blog, but I need to get this off my chest.

So, at first, I liked what they were doing with them in season 10. I enjoyed that S*pike actually admitted that the “love” he felt for Buffy without a soul was a selfish kind (and that he really didn’t love her then), and even if his love was killing her he never would have done the right thing and let her go. And when he said that last part, it made me think of how A*ngel did do that right thing, so shouldn’t that prove that A*ngel is the better man and A*ngel should be with him? Though, to be fair, just because someone did a right thing first doesn’t necessarily make them the right person for you. 

He then again starts talking about his regrets for trying to rape B*uffy. And again: I actually appreciated this.

But then B*uffy started trying to excuse this S*pike for it, because it essentially wasn’t him. She then goes on to say how she can’t blame him for that anymore than she can for A*ngel torturing nuns, back in the day. I’ll come back to the A*ngel thing in a minute.

And this... also almost works. Except that it almost comes off as B*uffy defending this attempted rape targeted at her, even though I know that isn’t what they were going for at all. Whatever.

But here’s where it all falls apart for me. In this arc, S*pike and A*ngel’s sire is trying to take control of them. And S*pike is worried that it can still his soul? In which case, S*pike was telling B*uffy that she had to kill him if that happened. Because he didn’t want to go back to being the monster he was. But then B*uffy says that she refused to do that, because S*pike was becoming a good person even without his soul, and he could do it again.

Do you see the issue here? You can’t have it both ways. Either S*pike without his soul wasn’t him, and thus shouldn’t be held accountable for thing such as the attempted rape. Or him without the soul was: and if you’re counting his good deeds there, then you also need to hold him responsible for the bad ones. Like the attempted rape.

And that’s why I now think that pretty much every thing with S*pike towards the end of season six and then all of season seven was a bad idea. I get why it happened from a character development perspective, but from a lore one the writers wrote themselves into a corner. Like, even though it seemed like S*pike was starting to do selfless things, you could still argue that it was done with selfish intent (and I think it was). But I guess the line started to get to blurred for the writers, so they wanted to show that S*pike without a soul was still bad. So they wrote the attempted rape thing. And that’s the thing that makes S*pike realizes he needs to get a soul. But I just feel there was no completely salvaging the relationship after they did that, even though I get why they did it.

There are another annoying lore things, too. Like, if S*pike can go get a soul without strings attached to it, why can’t Angel? And if you are saying that vampires can potentially start to become good without souls, is Buffy potentially wrong for staking them the moment they raise from the grave, then?

Quick segue here: it also annoys me how hellbent B*uffy is on not killing S*pike.  I actually think that hurts her character! One of the things that set her apart, was that she was always willing to do the right thing for the world, despite what it cost her. She did this with A*ngel. And yes, she probably would have tried to find another way if there was one, but she still did it. The only person she wasn’t willing to do this with was D*awn: her little sister. Which I got and respected. And thinking she might have to kill D*awn was the darkest moment o f B*uffy’s life, until she realized she could die in her place. And J*oss Whedon partly wrote this story, as it was similar to the B*uffy and A*ngel thing in season two, but this time it was about B*uffy’s sister, because her life didn’t revolve around her boyfriends. Which I loved. But then this is spat on, when in season seven, B*uffy suddenly says she would be willing to kill D*awn to save the world if it came down to it now... but yet she’s reluctant to do the same thing to Spike? What?!

Onto my irritation with how A*ngel is treated in these comics. So, there was this weird prophecy that B*uffy and A*ngel--who were high on god powers at the time--would have sex and give birth to this new universe. This happens, but B*uffy realizes that she doesn’t want to stay in this new universe and leave her old one behind. So she and A*ngel go back. But the universe they created (a universe called “Twilight”. No, not the Stephenie Meyer book series) is pissed that its “parents” left after just having made it, and without really defining it, so it possesses A*ngel, possessed A*ngel kills G*iles, and then possessed A*ngel and B*uffy fight. This whole thing is ended when Buffy ends up ripping most of the magic out of the universe, thus killing Twilight too and freeing A*ngel. But since possessed A*ngel killed G*iles, B*uffy can’t even look at him, and they spend most of the comics apart and on bad terms. And I’m just like... he was possessed. If you can forgive S*pike the crap he did without a soul, why can’t you forgive A*ngel this? Especially since you’ve forgiven the stuff he did without a soul. I know it was Giles, and that emotions aren’t always logical, but dang. And maybe it’s that B*uffy thinks A*ngel somewhat wanted all of that. And maybe he did. He even somewhat eludes to that. Which is probably character assassination, but whatever. But then I don’t entirely buy that, either, because when X*ander is blaming B*uffy for fulfilling that prophecy, she talks about how it was a prophecy millions of years in the making, and she had no control of herself in that moment. SO WHY CAN’T SHE BELIEVE THE SAME ABOUT A*NGEL, THEN?!

There’s also this part where A*ngel is possessed by his sire and tries to kill S*pike because he’s with B*uffy... and just why? Why, when S*pike gets this nice scene where he tries to kill B*uffy, but then B*uffy tells him she knows he wouldn’t hurt her and he gets to break through? I kind of get why this happened, because B*uffy was with S*pike at the time and A*ngel was hurt by it and the Sire probably could have used that... if it had been the other way around, S*pike probably would have done the same thing. And I even sort of enjoy how S*pike gets to help A*ngel out of this... But it seems sort of OOC for A*ngel (I’d honestly expect this thing out of S*pike more). And just seems to be another reason for B*uffy to hate A*ngel in these comics, so she temporarily chooses S*pike.

There’s also a bit where B*uffy goes into S*pike’s mind and sees how much he loves her, and how much it hurt him to get a soul for her... and she’s so moved by it. And first off: he partly did that for selfish reasons. But why can’t we get a scene of B*uffy seeing how A*ngel gave up his humanity and happiness with her to save her life (that she doesn’t even remember), and how much that hurt him? Especially since B*uffy kind of treated him badly forever after, because he then had to put up this guise that he wanted them to be over?

Just... J*oss Whedon’s whole thing is that people shouldn’t get rewarded for the selfless things they do. They should do it just because it’s the right thing to do. And yet he sure goes out of his way to reward S*pike for things, and give A*ngel nothing, when he’s had it way harder and done way more.

That part at the end of the A*ngel crossover in season 10 almost makes me cry. When he says that he doesn’t think B*uffy and S*pike will last, because in his experience happens never does and what does is the pain. Poor guy:(

Rant over, I think.

Edit: Honestly, I wish the B*uffy comics would have done something different. I wish we could have moreso seen who S*pike was without B*uffy--and how much of a hero he is without her--and how this new A*ngel and B*uffy are together, as they hadn’t really gotten to spend time together in forever. But alas. We stayed to the same trends.

#though I still love s*puffy and s*pike don't get me wrong

[patheticwithanem]

Living on the Edge

Because I have to throw in some Survivor reference at some point, right?

Much like Survivor’s Edge of Extinction twist, the year sucked. And 7 months in, it still continues to be this supermassive black hole, sucking you in, eating you alive (not sure the metaphor works but whatever). Week after week when you think there’s no way it could get any worse, 2020 continues to outdo itself. I think it’s fair to compare it to living on the Edge of Extinction where you’re still very much alive but there’s this creeping stench of death that will consume you from within. You’re out of the game (of life for a while) but you still have a chance to get back. You’re thrown to this place of nothingness that could either make or break you; you don’t have a lot going on, you’re basically just waiting for your chance to get back to the game and while waiting for that shot, you’ll have to dig deep for a lot of your inner strength because the anxiety will inevitably deplete you the longer you wait. While this is probably the worst metaphor I can use about my favorite TV show and life, it’s the sad and exhausting truth.

I can whine all day but to put matters in perspective, here’s a quick recap of what has been happening in the country and the world the past couple of months: a volcanic eruption in January that killed the livelihood of hundreds of families and businesses, earthquakes, wildfire in Australia, the US-China trade war turning to be more sour than ever, and to top it all of, the coronavirus pandemic. I’m sure there’s still a lot I missed out but for 7 months, that’s a lot to take in. And to be quite honest, these catastrophic events only made the cultural and political divides more apparent than ever. It doesn’t help when The Powers That Be are more keen on protecting their own interests rather than actually helping proactively solve our problems. From closing a major broadcast network, arresting and killing journalists, jailing the Opposition, a mockery of our rights for freedom of speech masked as an “anti-terrorism” bill, accumulation of national debt (to be paid by our generation and the generations to come), selective justice as the government’s alliances are exempted from the law, friends becoming richer and more powerful cronies, rampant extra-judicial killings, propaganda machines hellbent on misleading the masses, a culture of fanaticism that’s become rabid and toxic, corruption, abuse of authority, lies... I mean, I could go on and on.

Man, that got political really quickly. I’m sorry but my frustration’s at an all time high it’s become more personal to me now.

As for me, plans were put on a halt. I came in declaring that 2020′s gonna be my best year yet, and that I plan on making the most out of it and that I’m gonna MAKE THINGS HAPPEN (and for once, I actually meant it; I mean come on, I now have a planner and a journal!). But the world spit right in my face. And I still feel grossed out. I had this plan laid out for 2020: I was gonna be taking responsibility for my life, holding myself accountable for everything I did, I’ll do and refuse to do. I was ready to take bigger leaps and was gonna stop procrastinating (finishing what I started!). And as cliché as this sounds, I really wanted this year to be about me really finding myself. But the curveballs got me. I got really entangled with the same old (and some really bad habits from the deeper pasts). Instead of making quarantine my bitch, I became its bitch by getting caught up with bingeing TV and movies more than I probably should, eating more than I probably should (WHAT HAPPENED TO THE NEW AND SEXIER YOU IN 2020 BROTHER) and spending more than I probably should. I was even arguing with my family more than I probably should (totally embarrassing). I got in a huge fight with my dad about differences in political (and cultural) opinions and I decided to let my ego swallow me in entirety. We weren’t in speaking terms for about a month, in a really tiny house while we see each other 24/7 on quarantine. And then an intervention and a surprisingly refreshing meltdown (which I haven’t done in YEARS, in my defense lol). Old habits.

And the pandemic really took its toll on us financially too. Our incomes were significantly cut to the point that we have to move to a new place because we won’t be able to sustain this lifestyle. I personally have been really averse to change that the prospect of moving and having to start all over again overwhelmed me. And I hated the idea of losing our place because I really got emotionally attached to it - not just the house but the community and the memories too. I mean, the young community here made me feel a lot younger for the longest time (lol)! And the thought of losing that was a tough pill to swallow. So the past few months have been a slow burn, from setting up to sell the condo unit to having all these potential buyers viewing the house to also making all these ocular visits on potential places we’re gonna move to, all while going through all stages of grief. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. All down.

I had this weird thing going setting a Word of the Month when the year started. January was SEEDS and was about planting them which was an epic fail hence February’s word was RETRY (still was a huge clusterfuck by the way). March was VALUE, April was INTEGRITY, May was ENDURE, June was BREATHE. While I didn’t feel like I was able to really inhabit those words, I did have some moments like reaching my work quota in March and stayed true to a torturous 30-day financial detox (which is no easy feat!).

So July’s CHANGE. So  something’s got to change. As much as I want this year to be over already, I realized there’s still a few more months worth working on. Though easier said than done, I’ve got to let go of things I can’t control. Instead of waiting for the gyms to go operational again, maybe I should start watching my diet and doing home exercises for now. Instead of half-assing work, maybe I should really commit and see what happens. I’ve been trying to adapt to survive, but maybe the change is not just about surviving anymore. Maybe I need to thrive. We’re in this for the long haul (sadly) and reality’s hitting me: whether I change or not is completely up to me. Whether I survive, or thrive, or not, is completely up to me.

So maybe take it from the Edge of Extinction Queen Natalie Anderson (and Chris Underwood, fine). Maybe it’s time to work the Edge. I’ll have my time pushing through with those plans like visiting Bagan in Myanmar and Sapa in Vietnam. But maybe for now, it’s time I work the Edge.

#survivor #edge of extinction #quarantine #quarantea #quaranthoughts #lockdown #2020 #survive #thrive #natalie anderson #corona #corornavirus #covid-19 #pandemic #living on the edge #change #grief #five stages of grief #make things happen #defend press freedom #government sucks #philippines #metaphors

[crimsonbluemoon]

Sorry my moodboard request is kinda late! Could i ask for a deleted scene with squirrel and ohm interacting? I hope thats specific enough ajskak

Is it possible? Crim got TWO drabbles out in one day? Is this real life? Yes, yes it is. ^.^ 

Uh so I kinda wrote this starting with Ohm and Squirrel, then tossed in Cartoonz, and made it bro-moments and romantic moments so I hope you dont mind.

Please, enjoy! 

“Do it again.” Ohm didn’t let his face show any sympathy when he set himself back onto the ground, wings easing back to rest while waiting for his opponent to rise from the training floor. Being younger did not aid the angel in front of him, Ohm waiting patiently for Squirrel to groan and push himself back to his feet. 

“Why do I have to do this again? I’m just a messenger angel!” The fire of the newest addition to their motley crew was evident even when he scowled, showing his dislike of the current predicament with a dramatic roll of his shoulder. Ohm had hardly put any energy into his attacks, meaning that his fellow angel was just trying to play up his protest. Silently, Ryan promised not to let the malleable youngster hang out with Smiity or Mini any longer unsupervised. 

“If you plan to continue hanging around strong beings like the Phoenix and Test Your Luck, then you need to be ready for creatures who don’t look at our kind in a positive light. They’ll challenge you, may even try to kill you outside of the bar to make a point. It would be safer for you to not continue staying around here as much as you have.” 

“But Nogla’s gonna be coming back from Louisiana tomorrow and he promised me one of those weird fried animals on a stick that humans love.” The excitement on Squirrel's face made Ohm’s frown deepen, taking a step closer while letting his voice lower.

“Has the Council spoken about your closeness to humans yet?” A flicker of fear was barely there, but Ohm honed in on it far faster than his ally could shrug it away. “Squirrel.” 

“Probably said something about it last time, but it wasn’t even the Council. Just one of their lapdogs.” Since the battle with Grigori, Squirrel had taken a new perspective on the rule of the angels, which Ohm hated to admit was contributed to by Cartoonz and the others. While he still did his job, and never slacked off in any of his duties, he had found a weird connection with their group that Sat- that other angels never had. Squirrel seemed to enjoy their company, and despite finding humans far inferior, never held that against them. It was a reckless way to think for an angel as young and easily swayed as Squirrel, and Ohm knew the angels would not tolerate the youthful rebellion for long. 

“You need to be careful,” Ohm cautioned, trying not to overstep his role in the younger angel’s life. 

“Funny, I don't remember adopting another weak scrapper.” But Luke, who dropped an arm around Squirrel’s shoulders and dragged him in for a playful ruffle of his hair, didn’t seem to care about rules and lines not being crossed. “What kind of danger are we pulling this guy out of this time?” 

“Aw, not my hair,” Squirrel groused quietly, though didn’t pull back from the arm holding him. Ohm watched the scene unfold quietly, unsure if it was anxiety or something softer making his feathers flutter when Caroonz grinned down at Squirrel.

“Out with it, cupid. Who’s bullying you on the playground now? Those earth elves tripping you in the bar again? The shifters impersonating you? John telling people you wear girl underwear to bed?” The flush on Squirrel’s face proved that he remembered each of the memories vividly, with the last one having… strange results in the bar. Panda nearly set two people on fire by the end of it, though somehow neither had been John. Each time, however, it was either Luke or Ryan that had come to Squirrel’s rescue, though Ohm refused to look into why that was. 

“Just the other angels ribbing me about… uh-” The guilt in Squirrel’s eyes turned to Ohm for a moment before his back stiffened, which both Cartoonz and Ohm picked up on. 

“About what, kid?” But the tease was gone in Luke’s voice, and Squirrel seemed to know he wasn’t getting out of the bear trap he walked into.

“They’re just saying I’m going to be the next Ohmwrecker.” To his credit, Squirrel tried not to say the name like a slur, or something to be ashamed of. But Ohm knew the truth about how the angels saw him; he was a disgrace to their kind, falling for a demon and letting himself become tainted. It didn’t matter that he’d helped save the world and kept all of them alive. Once the danger of Grigori was gone, their judgment and distaste in him returned. There was no salvation for his title, and he knew that. 

But Squirrel was different.

“You need to listen to them.” He knew how intimidating his voice could become when he spoke with his shoulders set and eyes focused, even behind the red cloth. Ignoring the scowl that Cartoonz sent toward him, he poured his attention into Squirrel and continued. “This isn’t up for debate; if the angels are speaking of you that way, there’s only a matter of time before they begin to question your loyalty. You are putting yourself in a position to become compromised by the humans and if your soul becomes blackened or even shaded with their sins-”

“I don’t want to be like them.” The bold claim caught Ohm off guard, Squirrel showing his own form of fortitude when glancing to Luke and giving half a grin. “You two are the bad guys up there, but to me? You’re… kind of my heroes. So if they say I’m like you, I don’t really mind. It’s better than being warped into what the Council tries to make us all be.”

“They’ll kill you if they hear you say that.” Like a band-aid not ready to be ripped off, Ohm’s stomach clenched in pain when Satt’s memory seeped into his head, remembering the consequences of his independent actions. Siding with Grigori was heinous, but the Council’s ability to judge right and wrong when it came to angels always felt harsher than necessary. 

“That’s probably true. But at least I’ll be going out happy with myself.” It was sombering to hear Squirrel’s ease at accepting his likely fate, seeming to know his place in the angel’s pecking order far more than angels twice his age. Still, his smile was bright, hiding the hint of tears and fear edging his eyes. “What a human thing to say, right? ”  

“Fuck, why are you angels so dramatic?” Luke’s voice was quick to break the moment, his clawed hand dropping on Squirrel’s head again in order to catch both of their attention. His eye only glanced to Ohm for a moment before turning back to Squirrel, serious yet soft in its stare. “If you think I’m going to let the Council of aging up there kill you because you’re turning out to be a little too Ohm-ish for their liking, you can stop that stupid ass thought right now. I happen to like Ohm, if you haven’t noticed, so having more angels like him isn’t a bad thing.”

“Cartoonz,” Ohm spoke softly, but didn’t have much else to say in protest. 

“So you keep being you, and let me handle those holier-than-thou chickens up there. If they wanna kill you, I’ll make sure they know they’ve gotta take me out first. You got that?” 

“Got it,” Squirrel answered instantly, wings perking up at the wide grin Cartoonz gave before patting his head. It was a softer moment that, a year ago, Ohm would have never been able to predict. Cartoonz was not the demon hellbent on destroying the angel society as he’d been presented for years to Ryan, but the kind Luke he’d fallen for despite his demonic blood. And in moments like these, it was obvious how easily he had fallen from grace to be with Cartoonz.

“Ohm?” Blinking once, he looked up to catch Luke’s arched eyebrow. “You okay?” 

“I’m okay.” He answered, surprised with how easily the words came out.

Because for the first time in a decade, he actually meant them. 

#Libahunt #Libahunt drabblez #Ohmwrecker #DeadSquirrel #Cartoonz #Ohmtoonz #<3 #BBS #Crimson is on a roll?? #fluffy goodness #please enjoy! #percylovesbluefood

[dylanjonferguson-blog]

S01E07: “Target For Terror”: Dichromatism

Our misty, videotaped dreams of the un-human Hobo as an actor of radical freedom may have been premature, if not delusional. The dog's narrow focus on interpersonal justice leaves no room for ideology, politics, or other forest-over-trees considerations. “Target For Terror,” the seventh episode of TLH, is a mix of menace, moral clarity, and naiveté that mimics a dog’s worldview, but draws uneasy parallels with our own.  

The fairly fantastic characters of “Target For Terror” literally leap from the headlines. The first thing we see is the bold, 72-point pronouncement at the top of a broadsheet, filling the screen: "TERRORISTS MAKE MORE DEMANDS." The unidentified newspaper reader then folds down the page, which, like an upside-down opera curtain, has the effect of revealing our human hero. Paul Hamilton – young man, snub-nose, Lego-hair, jacket-collar popped, flared pants swishing – is striding confidently into a train station. Following closely behind are two sketchy characters, who we immediately surmise are the terrorists. It is as if the dramatic headline conjured these players, or as if we have passed through the headline, into the world of ALL-CAPS anxiety, entering the fear-soaked deathscape of broadsheet news.

Briefly now, let’s jump ahead to an almost unaccountably strange moment that occurs halfway through the episode. One terrorist walks in on the other, who is perusing a thick paperback, and tells him to “Stop reading that junk!" Why were we invited to this moment? The title of the book, unfortunately can't be glimpsed. The only part of the cover we can see in an element in the lower left-hand corner: a swastika! Is it a book about Nazism? Are we being told that the terrorists are Nazis? Or that they're anti-fascists who consider Nazism "junk"? Perhaps it's a red herring to focus on that graphic detail. But surely there's a reason the one terrorist is chastised for reading a book.

I think it has to do with the newspaper headline at the start, which introduced our setting as a reductive and fearful world. Being in the world of a panicked newspaper means rejecting the world of books, which would include depths of context and greater stores of information, reasoning, empathy. Even the terrorists reject any intrusion from that world, which is foreign to the territory of the tale.

A dog must naturally see the world as tense and simple, but we are coached that way by broadsheet profiteers. And those who manipulate their message.

Paul Hamilton is a kind and rich fellow. The terrorists want to kill or capture him as part of an obscure plot to get at the boy's grandfather, Chief Justice Hamilton, played by John Carradine. Carradine, very old at this point, sometimes struggles with his delivery, but still has a large, theatrical presence, and beautifully gnarled, expressive hands that cling to fine lapels in his opulent office, which is replete with mahogany furnishings and a deep, patterned carpet that no doubt hides expensive Cuban ash. The camera films that office with a certain staid reverence: we’re not to scoff at this man, we’re to see his perspective as right and proper. The terrorists, in comparison, have weird, strained faces, natty clothes, and awkwardly-carved facial hair (one is played by the great Cronenberg regular Geva Kovacs).   The dog – named Nick, this time around – saves Paul in the train station, but Chief Justice Hamilton warns his grandson that the rugged schemers are still out there. Now that the terrorists have spooked their prey, they take another line of attack. By successfully kidnapping Paul’s fiancée, Pam, they force the groom-to-be to come out to a remote hotel in the country, where he too is kidnapped.  

“We have a cause,” the terrorist tells Paul, warning him not to try any funny stuff. “We live for it, and we’re willing to die for it.” But what this cause might be is, glaringly, never even hinted at.

In the 1988 Lockerbie bombing, US intelligence officials initially concluded that Syria was behind the attack, as retaliation for America’s downing of an Iranian passenger jet earlier that year. President Reagan, however, shifted the blame to Libya’s President Gaddafi, who was a more convenient villain (and happy to play along, to boost his anti-American cred). The U.S. president-cum-actor even participated in the creation of a neo-conservative conspiracy theory that had Gaddafi and Carlos the Jackal heading a deranged hit-squad hellbent on assassinating Reagan. A similar form of narrative alchemy happened in the weeks after the 9/11 attacks, when the Bush administration shifted the story to point blame at the unconnected Saddam Hussein, even though almost all the attackers were Saudis. The point is that American government ideologues seem to kind of like terrorists because, unlike a state army, their origins and motives often seem unclear, and so can be manipulated in the public mind. Obviously, anyone willing to kill and die for a cause has strong beliefs, but American governments would rather obscure the meaning, or even existence, of a cause. We can all remember George W. Bush nonsensically asserting that the terrorists simply “hate our freedoms.”  

This matters, because our films tend to reflect, intentionally or not, the false storylines being peddled. At the height of the Bush-era terrorism panic, The Dark Knight was released, starring a Bush/Blair-style Batman battling an anti-ideology lunatic who just wanted to “watch the world burn.” Why? Oh, no reason. Terrorists, we’ve been counterintuitively led to believe by state propaganda, don’t really need a reason. Apparently they just want to fuck shit up (or “maximize chaos” to use the ridiculous description of Nazi motives peddled by Jordan Peterson). It’s clear why we’re fed this lie. Obfuscating the position and ultimate aims of the terrorists makes their actions seem mad, and any opposing actions seem justified.

With both Pam and Paul captive to the villains, it’s up to the dog Nick to save them. And here we’re introduced to the episode’s most sympathetic character: Osborne, the meek, bespectacled man who runs the dilapidated country inn where the criminal action is happening. Unlike Paul, Osborne is not aligned with state ideology; he’s motivated by narrow, everyday concerns, like ensuring no dogs loiter on his property. We’re clearly meant to identify with Osborne: when Nick sprays the hotelier with a water hose, to get his attention, the water is first sprayed directly on the camera lens, at us.

Nick rouses the non-ideologic self-interested character to the defense of one political side. However, he does this not by appealing to ideology, but by threatening the comfort of the passive actor. This is reminiscent of how the newspaper is always declaring our comfort to be under threat. The sleight is possible, since the terrorists’ positions have been strategically re-written so that it appears that threatening stability is a goal unto itself, rather than a means to an end.

The Hobo is of course not actually acting in defense of state ideology, but his narrow focus on context-free morality (and waking up the non-ideological actor with his moral concerns) can be exploited to that end.  

The dog comes from a third world, not of power or of resistance, but the world of the woods. Among the trees, living as an animal, there are only immediate concerns, so of course he can’t see the greater context of his actions. But at times, this can also be an advantage, for him. When the terrorists chase Nick, he leads them off into the trees, and there they become hopelessly lost. In the woods, among individual trunks, their ideology can't follow, so they're easily duped.  

Osborne has a “No Dogs Allowed” sign on his property. By forbidding dogs, Osborne wishes to keep the wildness of apolitical moral action at bay (the forest, after all, is cut down a safe distance from his beloved lawn). And yet, even though he appears unaligned, Osborne’s cherished obsession with self-concern is policed by the channels and apparatuses of the state (which are nourished by a particular ideology, though he doesn't see it).

The wildness of the dog's morality runs outside of these channels. And yet, it is the dog, the apparently-radical actor, that draws Osborne's actions to a political side, for it is a roused Osborne who eventually unties and frees the kidnapped couple.  

Here we see the dangers of radical actions being co-opted to state ends, if the actions don't have their own, competing ideological compass.

This is why Osborne changes his sign at the end, crossing out the “No,” so it says simply “Dogs Allowed.” Since the moral-ideological motivation of the terrorists has been successfully hidden from him, and his own morality has been manipulated to be indistinguishable from self-interest, he is now able to see morality, state ideology, and his own comfort as compatible, and indeed mutually-reinforcing.  

The freed Paul Hamilton says he wants to make the dog his “best man.” Nick has been granted humanity because he is perceived to have collaborated with the correct (state) ideology.

The Hobo naturally flees this.

2 stars

#dogs #thelittlesthobo #littlesthobo #canadiantv #terrorism #vintagetv #politics

[violetsystems]

#personal

After three boosters for Covid it is really hard to tell these days whether you are legitimately sick or plague ridden. Personally, it just feels like every other mild flu to me. I did stop wearing a mask recently which probably helps put me at risk. I hadn't been sick since I started wearing one. I'm by myself almost one hundred percent of the time so I've been quarantined since the start. I was away in the epicenter of it in New York on my birthday during fashion week in 2019 when it all started. Three years later nothing for any of us is the same really. And nobody wants to listen to our side of the story in the real world. Society keeps acting like it's fine either way for it's own benefit in a cultish sort of way. I was walking downtown Thursday in the sleet with a light jacket so that probably didn't help. I walked past my old job out of curiosity. Nobody recognized me. I had received an offer for a position in my inbox earlier in the week for a company that had the exact same name. It was nuts and not at all normal. At first glance, there was no way of differentiating it other than the email address ending in saic.com and not saic.edu. My dad didn't even pick up on it. He was like "Why didn't you take the offer? " Partially because it was weird like everything else but people are desperate to see everything as normal. I wanted to walk by my old work as a ping to my sanity. Is this all really acceptable to just brush off as coincidence? From a common sense perspective it isn't. We've all accepted a lot of abnormal shit and people like to gloss over and move on from it to escape assigning blame. Don't ruin it for everybody else. We're all in this together after all. It doesn't change that people like me out here still suffer from the ambiguity of things. That's my own fault they'd say. Questioning it from my perspective doesn't really solve anything. It just leads to more questions that I write about for sake of my own journaled narrative. I pretty much know some things for sure about where I'm headed and yet society wants to make it extra hard for me making me doubt it all. I had the sinking feeling something was going to happen with my coffee delivery. It's not really intuition when a new bad thing happens to you every day of the week. So as a precaution I went downtown to get a spare bag. And out of nowhere the next day, the delivery from the store I visited had gone awol. I was out there again in front of my mailbox watching both mail carriers take their time sorting the packages expecting me to hail them. In the past, I've confronted them straight up about things going missing. Because it's always my packages that disappear.

This time I just emailed customer support instead of getting involved in the spectacle. In the past there's been a knock on my door from a neighbor about their packages being wrongly delivered next door. To which I find myself going the extra mile and jumping the fence to retrieve it. Nobody ever returns the favor for me. They're always so self absorbed yet the first people to stare expectantly when they think you've done something wrong. People in this neighborhood watch me enough to know something isn't right. Nobody really does anything for me out here except make me the center of some online roasting party I'm unaware of. I deserve it after all because I'm privileged or something. This has been judged somewhere on some forum where I can't defend myself. And yet that's protected by freedom of speech in their mind. At the same time, everyone wants me to fight their own personal ideological battles out here. Hoping maybe I mention them on a blog nobody except my close friends read. Everybody is a bigger victim than me and is hellbent on cutting you off to tell you about it. And we measure our self worth out here by whose pain is more valid without due process, care or attention. We become victims by default and cower in the fact nobody can fix it. We're just supposed to huddle together and fill in the gaps that our taxes don't deliver on. And I do all this for free. I shovel the snow mainly because it keeps things mellow with my landlord. I have affordable housing. I have no promises in that regard. Legally, I probably have more rights if I got a lawyer. I could end all the suffering and just claim scorched earth. Apply for a job in Los Angeles and be done with it. I did apply for jobs. In France. In China. In New York. In Chicago. It's a constant loop. I hear there are more jobs than people and yet people see my resume and look it over as a hard pass. The only thing that seems to work is shutting the door on it all. I paid taxes this year for the first time on a small business. I owed the federal government nothing. I owed the state close to four hundred dollars. I made way below the poverty line. This doesn't mean I don't have money. I reinvested most of what I had from my old job. And yet I've been ridiculed and targeted in a racist sort of way because I put my money on climate and the Chinese economy. Every day I have to defend myself against an invisible wave and a mob of people who can do whatever they want to make me feel bad. And I'm supposed to think that this is my lot in life. That this is what I deserve for not "sharing my power" or whatever sound bite mantra I have to say to explain how badly I'm getting fucked over.

This brings me to where my head is at now. I really don't give a fuck about anything outside of my door or my dash. I also don't order delivery. I walk down the local McDonald's and get my fish fillet like the normal people. When someone's subway sandwich is delivered haphazardly on this property at eight am it sits out there until one pm. I should know because I have to watch out every minute of the day to make sure no one steals my shit. I have cameras set up on both entrances. I am officially licensed now to own a gun though I have no real intention of purchasing one at the moment. We have to accept there is a problem at some point. And maybe I'm starting to accept the problem isn't me. That's a real step in confidence for me. I care so much about the world. I have been duped for years thinking that spending twenty years at an art school really tied me into some international community. And yet those people pretend I don't exist. My entire professional network ghosted me for fear of retaliation. I get it. Nobody wants to lose their job. But these were people I had been friends with for years. I see through the bullshit so much that I'm more in a constant state of mourning for my old life. And it is constantly paraded in front of me that this city doesn't welcome me at all. That I don't deserve to be treated like a human being because I'm somehow not special enough. I'm just some normal dude that everybody compares themselves to but isn't worth shit compared to me. And balancing the disgust, fear of missing out and apathy that has come with it has gotten both easier and harder. Parts of me have died when it comes to caring about the past. Nothing is working out here. I know this. I'm reminded that nobody texts me. I wake up to my dash like greeting my best friend. And there's nothing wrong with that when you look at the alternative my life has devolved into. None of this trauma is stuff I haven't faced and moved on from. It isn't hard to trauma dump when people keeping dumping shit on you and yet I'm supposed to feel guilty about it? It's literally trauma created every day of the week by jealous people. On the internet, in my neighborhood, in positions of power. People abuse me in ways I am no longer able to ignore. And nobody really cares about doing anything to fix it. So this leaves me in a foul mood spinning my gears trying to engineer myself out of a situation that is meant to watch me fail. For the third year in a row. The joke isn't on me anymore. It's a clear sign that society has failed me. Where I go from here is really the Groundhog Day like circle I find myself in. For the moment I'm just going to keep on loving you all here and pretend it doesn't matter. But at some point, I'm no longer going to be able to shake off the fact that people actively find it funny to roast me out of my life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. It's low key domestic terrorism and I just want to drop out of society altogether to keep from being hurt by it. Which last time I checked isn't a hard thing to do when the message is quite clear I don't belong here at all. <3 Tim

[intergalacticwartimespace]

Scorpio Rising Chapter 1

Author: @intergalacticwartimespace

Title: Scorpio Rising

Pairing: FinnPoe, ReyRose, minor FinnRose

Summary:  When Poe Dameron reaches the end of his rope, he ties a knot. But sometime after Crait, the rope just breaks. Finn tries hard and means well, but his attempts at love and friendship are messy and uncertain. Rose wrestles with immense grief and survivors guilt, and somewhere in the middle of it all Rey puts everything into what little she knows about love and the force to save her friends from self-sabotage before it’s too late. Unable to reach him, Poe’s friends watch him hellbent on a path of self-destruction as they try to navigate their way through this strange new world. The Rebels know their cause is a worthy one with a high price to pay, but they wonder, if it doesn’t kill them, then at what cost will liberation come?

TW:  PTSD, Derealization/Depersonalization, Nightmares

A/N:  I have had this fic idea in my head since I saw TLJ. I have a lot of mixed feelings about TLJ and this is one of many ideas to fix things. It's gonna be really angsty! But things will get better. Eventually. This fic was inspired by the song Scorpio Rising by Soccer Mommy. I have the whole fic outlined and several chapters are written so I will try to update every TUESDAY!

   Scorpio Rising Chapter 1

When Poe Dameron wakes, he has to remind himself that he isn’t on the Millenium Falcon anymore.

It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re on the old rebel base on Dantooine. Poe attempted to soothe himself. Get it together Dameron. You’re fine. The metal of the abandoned derelict rebel base creaked as the wind braced the Dantooine plains. He knows he had a nightmare but he can’t quite remember what was so terrifying about it. His sheets are wet and his shirt and shorts stick to him, but he isn’t hot at all, he is so cold, cold, cold.

He had been on Crait, sliding foot first into the pit, but when he falls into the trench he doesn’t see Resistance soldiers. Finn’s got his tongue halfway down Rose’s throat. Poe tries to climb out of the trench but his legs don't work the way he wants them to so he sits down. He’s in his orange jumpsuit and he doesn’t know where his jacket is. Rey sits down next to him. “Where’s my jacket?” he asks. Rey tells him that it’s Taungsday and she is in love with Kylo Ren.

That's when Poe woke up. When he recalls the dream it doesn’t seem scary at all, in fact, it seems kind of silly. But for some reason, Poe’s room on base feels like an alleyway now and even though he is pretty sure he is alone, he keeps touching his back to make sure something isn’t crawling on his skin.

Poe decides that at this point it’s best to just get dressed, BB-8 would be waking him in an hour anyway. Poe pulls off clammy clothes on the way to the refresher. The shower screen slides behind him with a satisfying sound. Even after he has washed all the sweat off, Poe still feels other.

Since the skeleton crew of the Millenium Falcon had settled into the run-down Dantooine Rebel Base, a few more people had joined. When they had arrived, they numbered about 20 people. A few fleets had managed to escape D-Qar, but many remained scattered throughout the Outer-Rim, trying to not congregate in one place where they would be easy pickings for the First Order if found. A few more transports had joined Leia’s group on Dantooine a couple weeks before. They now had a few medical droids and a handful of X-wings, but not much more than that. Their crew numbers something in the low 300s now and while it was an improvement from the previous few survivors, it is not much to speak of.

Poe joined his friends, Rose, Rey, and Finn in the noisy messhall for breakfast. Over the last few weeks the crew has gotten a chance to know eachother better, though some would argue that nothing bonds sous quicker than surviving a war. Conversation with Rey came easily. Poe found that she knew more about ships and their maintenance than he even knew was possible. And though he was several years her senior, she possessed a blunt but wise perspective on the galaxy, which Poe decided, may or may not have had something to do with being the last of the jedi, an orphan of her family and her culture. Things with Finn had settled into an uneasy calm as Finn tried to find his place in the Resistance. Poe insisted that this is where he belongs, You’re one of us now, he always reminded him. But for all the votes of encouragement, Finn often times still seemed wide-eyed. It didn’t help that Poe was harboring some secret feelings, but for the time being, he had decided it wasn’t the right time to bring it up with Finn right now. Where Rose was concerned,  Poe didn’t know her that well, although he knew her late sister, Paige, somewhat. He couldn't shake the feeling that he owed her something, though if he did, she never let on.

Nevertheless, the laughing crew were a sight for sore eyes. Poe slid into his spot next to Finn and nudged his shoulder with his. Finn looked away embarrassed. Poe thought he could see him blush but he’s not sure.

Poe had joined in the middle of Rey regaling everyone with her tales of Luke Skywalker. “So, like, I’m reaching my hands out and I can feel it, y’know, I can actually feel the Force,” Rey acts out the action accordingly.

“And then what?” Finn leans forward. He wants to believe in the Force so much. Poe wished he didn’t find everything he did so fucking endearing.

“Luke was like ‘Oh the force must be so strong with you,’” She mocked. “And then I like open my eyes, and it was just Luke tickling my fingers with a blade of grass!” Rey exclaims. She slams her hand on the table in comedic exasperation, startling Poe. “Like, who does that.”

  Finn rolls his eyes and takes a bite of bacon. “Luke Skywalker, apparently,”

“I can’t believe he would do that…” Rose says. She seems genuinely troubled that Luke Skywalker would do such a thing.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Poe says. “He is Leia’s brother.” Poe remembers Leia’s slapping him and the general feeling of Holdo’s barely readable expression that somehow also communicated pure disdain for Poe. He decides it's time to think about something else.

“Yeah, how is that,” Rey takes a bit of food and in between mouthfuls says, “You and Leia? You said you felt kind of weird about it.” Rey notices Poe become guarded. Poe notices her noticing. Finn and Rose share a silent exchange.

“Oh, it’s fine…”  though Poe knows he does not sound convincing. “Things are alright,” he said, because they weren’t. It wasn’t one thing so much as it was everything. Poe didn’t want to fight with Leia.

But Poe was also a Scorpio rising, apparently. Reckless flyboy. Poe turned the words over in his head.

“Poe?” Rey asked. He had been gone too long. Rose stood to put away her tray and Finn followed her lead. “Sorry, Rey, I’m just really tired. I didn’t sleep very well.” It wasn’t a lie but, it wasn’t the whole truth either.

That night Poe had the same dream twice, the same dream he had the night before and the week before that. The woman of the Creche is telling him that his Scorpio Rising is interfering with his Sagittarius sun. Poe can’t seem to meet her black eyes. He stares at the blue oval on her forehead. “You are ready to sacrifice, young Sagittarius, but others are not.” Poe starts to ask what she means but it feels like there is something gummy in his mouth. “You need to tell him,” she says. She cracks an egg.

After the second time having the dream, Poe doesn’t fall back asleep. He feels with a certain intensity that he must tell Finn how he feels, but that goes against the rules. Poe’s rules, for himself, that is.

No fraternizing with the enemy

No fraternizing within the friend group

Depending on who you ask, Poe realized, Finn is both of those. Also, depending on who you ask, Poe has broken both of those rules at least a few times.

The next morning, Poe got to mess early taking a seat at their usual table. He couldn’t stop looking around. He tried to be as casual as possible, but he couldn’t quite achieve that with the caf jittering through his veins. The mess hall seemed unusually bright and unusual busy today, he noted. He secretly knew it was always like this but everything seemed hyper-real. Those fucking fluorescent lights.

Poe rubbed his eyes and quickly scanned the mess hall for Finn. As Poe turned to look behind him, he immediately wished that he hadn’t. Finn looked good. Poe tried not to notice how nicely his pants seemed to fit him this morning. He tried to very casually act like he wasn’t staring or that he wanted to stare. Poe bit his lip and tried to think of anything else. The mere sight of Finn in his jacket made him jump. Then he noticed Rose walking beside him. He suddenly remembered his place in their dynamic; he wasn’t anything significant.

Finn sat down across from Poe and not next to him. Poe tried not to assign any significance to the interaction as Rose took a seat beside Finn. Seconds later, Rey clattered into the seat next to Poe. “If you aren’t gonna eat your pancakes, can I have them?” she asked. Poe slid his tray over and left. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

“BB-8. Hold. Still.” Poe grunted. BB-8 whirred lowly, rocking back and forth. “I know you don’t like maintenance, but you aren’t in a position to argue.”

BB-8 chirped disdainfully.

“I wouldn't say that if I were you, I’ve got a screwdriver in your circuits right now.”

There was a knock at the door of Poe’s quarters. Poe groaned as BB-8 broke free to go answer the door.

“Dammit, BB-8! Oh, Finn…” Poe straightened his posture and casually put away the screwdriver he had been angrily waving at his droid.

“Hey Poe,” Finn flashed that blinding white smile that always made Poe’s heart melt. “May I come in?”

“Buddy, you are welcome here anytime you like,” Poe patted his arm and stepped aside to let him in.

“Oh, thank stars,” Finn said. Finn sat on one end of Poe’s bunk and Poe joined him on the other. “Something has been bugging me, and I’ve been meaning to ask you…”     

“What’s up?” Poe’s heart started beating a little faster.

“Well, I’m sure you noticed everything that’s going on between me and Rose,” Finn nervously picked at the bedsheets. He wouldn’t meet Poe’s eyes.

“No, what's been going on?” Poe wasn’t sure what he was implying, there were two possible answers.

Rose’s feelings for Finn were unrequited.

Poe’s feelings for Finn were unrequited.

Poe hoped it wasn’t option 1. He had a bad feeling about this. Finn took a deep breath and gathered a fistful of sheets in his hands. “Well, Rose, y’know she kissed me on Crait, I’m sure you are aware, and you see in the First Order we didn’t really, you see-”

“Oh.” The room shrank. All at once Poe realized this wasn’t a love confession. He had completely read the situation all wrong. Finn was seeking advice.

“Do you like her?” Poe asked. The question hung in the air. Finn knitted his eyebrows together. “I mean, yeah. I like Rose. I do. Like her, that is. Why wouldn’t I?”

Poe pressed his lips together. Something about the way Finn said it bugged him, but it wasn’t quite jealousy. It was just that, well, Finn liked most people. Finn likes everyone, what does he know about love? Poe thought.

“I liked kissing, I think, I don't know-- it didn't last very long. I like my friends. Dating is just a combination of those two things, right?” Finn simplified.

“That’s..not really how it works at all.” Poe was barely managing civility at this point. He was so not the person Finn should be talking to about this, and Finn, he trusts Poe. And Poe was completely and hopelessly in love with him. He was on the outside looking in. Who was he to be explaining love to the man who did not love him?

“See, Rose thinks I’m this Big Resistance Hero, but the truth is, I’ve never been with a girl like that. I’ve never been with anyone like that, you know what I mean?” Unfortunately, Poe did. “I need your help Poe. I just don't know what to do.”

Poe hadn’t felt a single thing in weeks, nothing more than a vague sense of constant impending doom, since Crait. But the way Finn spoke about Rose with such careful care in his voice flicked a switch he had forgotten existed. Half his friends had died. His squad had died. And suddenly he could feel it all. This was hardly the ideal time for this to be happening. Terribly angry, somewhat endeared, and tremendously sorry, Poe turned away.

“Poe, are you...crying?”

Poe threw his hands up in exasperation and stood. “I have to go fix BB-8,” he said and left. Without BB-8. His droid beeped from his charging station in the corner.

[What the fuck just happened?]

“I have no idea.”

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