#i think it's certainly beyond the point of me saying ''as white people we need to do better'' like this is NOT repairable overnight

[transmutationisms]

Hey I usually like your posts and the stuff you reblog but I was not a fan of one that came across to me as Hamas attack minimization. I know the babies thing is fake and based in Islamophobic stereotypes but civilians actually were killed by Hamas, some brutally. There's testimony from people who were actually raped; it's not really surprising or farfetched, as rape often happens when civilian populations are proximate to combat. You don't need to minimize the Hamas attack on Israel to support and fight for ceasefire, the end of the Israeli occupation of Palestine, and Palestinian liberation, just like you don't need to condemn Hamas to do the same.

I do know that Israel is wielding the language of Islamophobia to justify their genocide in Gaza. But there's got to be a better way to talk about that then simply saying "well, Israel was mostly lying about the Hamas attack", when it seems to me what they're doing is looking at fucked up things that really did happen -- that happen regularly to civilians in combat, in fact -- and saying "this is unique to those savages and we could never do that" even when they definitely do. If you do know of sources that are exposing Israeli disinformation, I think it would be cool if you could share some of those...it just doesn't sit right with me, the way that post was framed.

i don't think that saying "here is the narrative the idf has been pushing to justify committing genocide, and parts of it are false" is "minimising" the deaths of israeli civilians. indeed, the deaths that have been systematically "minimised" are those committed by idf forces, both on 7 october and for the entirety of the occupation of palestine (over 10,000 palestinians have been killed since 7 october alone).

i think we can all agree it is generally bad when civilians die. i also think it matters that the narrative pushed by israel and its allies, particularly the us, is inaccurate and intended to stoke outrage in order to manufacture consent for the ongoing genocide of palestinians.

i am fully aware that rape and sexual violence frequently occur in tandem with (ie, as part of) combat violence. the specific claims in dispute are narratives that hamas used rape as a systematic, widespread tactic in the 7 october attacks. this is a narrative that, since day 1, has been pushed by the idf in order to play off fears of violence toward settler women, and us media in particular have happily run with it, spreading a racialised notion of palestinian fighters' 'barbarism' against settlers. this is despite the fact that, as of 5 days ago, israel was still investigating "several cases" (per the headline; the article states that israel will not even name a number of how many cases at this point) of sexual assault and rape, and that these investigations are "complex" and could take months to resolve. this is also despite the fact that joe biden 'condemned' hamas for committing widespread rape on 7 october before the idf itself officially stated it had happened.

i think this goes beyond "wielding the language of Islamophobia". this is a specific and established narrative portraying settler women as a priori innocent victims, who are uniquely in need of being protected by settler men against the threat of brutalisation by racialised, colonially occupied populations. indeed, although islamophobia is certainly present in a lot of coverage and commentary, this is not primarily a religious conflict; it is a colonial occupation. we have seen versions of this specific narrative of sexual violence in many, many settler-colonial states before; just look, for example, at the settlement of what is presently the us, where the violence of the act of occupation was (and frequently still is!) discursively elided in stories about native 'savagery' and attacks, including via the supposed threat of systematic sexual violence against white women. countering such narratives is not equivalent to claiming that rape and sexual assault could not occur or never have occurred, including in combat.

here is an article about the music festival claims specifically, and here is one (from the new york times, no less) confirming that the official 7 october death toll has been lowered to 1,200.

[certified-msher]

Here are Michael and Gavin's responses to Kdin's post. Gavin's response is listed in black and Michael's in white. IDs under break.

For those of you who haven't seen it here's the link to the TwitLonger or you can find it on her tumblr:

ID for Gavin's response:

Today, Kdin continued an important conversation that I've referred to vaguely in the past and rather than tweet something vague or just attempt to push forward, today I want to stop and take full responsibility for my past behaviour at Rooster Teeth. Firstly, I don't want anything I say here to be construed as an excuse - there simply aren't any excuses for my past behaviour. In the past I certainly played a role in other people's unhappiness with my shit attempts at humor and I look back on these moments with disgust in myself. I'm absolutely shocked by what i used to think could pass as comedy or "just joking around". I used to think that I could say or do offensive things because those around me knew it was beyond absurd that I would actually speak that way - basically the intent was to shock and the content of my character would excuse it - I couldn't have been more wrong and I fully acknowledge how stupid and hurtful that way of think was. Before Kdin bravely came out and transitioned, I did use that horrifically offensive nickname - it didn't matter that I was under the impression that we were all in on a joke - it was hurtful and wrong. Full stop. I would never use that kind of language in any context today, but again, that doesn't excuse my behaviour and I completely acknowledge that. In the years since, I've tried my absolute best to grow as a human being and would never, ever behave in this manner now - again, I'm beyond ashamed when I think back and I am forever grateful to the amazing individuals like Kdin who have shown me more grace than I was ever deserving of as I've worked to put my hurtful behaviour behind me.

ID for Michael's response:

I'll keep this as short as possible. The simple answer is I grew up in a place and time when calling your friends explicit words or slurs was funny. It was just part of modern culture. Primetime tv shows and movies I watched did it and it was always used as comedy. It was a punchline in The Hangover movie and everyone loved it. The f* word was something I would say to anyone without blinking. It was "normal" and in fact there's just simply never a reason at all to say it. I've long since regretted knowing my words hurt Kdin in such an unintended way. I also need to point out that this was years before Kdin transitioned, not that it's any excuse of makes anything less hurtful but it was certainly not said in the context of any form of hate or violence. A few years ago I reached out to Kdin to tell her how sorry I was and how bad I felt and that I never intended it to inflict the harm that I clearly did. Kdin was kind enough to respond when they didn't have to and have a conversation with me. So that's my comment. I definitely used to have a lot of shittier habits and behaviors and I deeply regret that really hurt someone. It was only ever a place of edgelord comedy and pushing buttons but it's not an excuse. I am sorry. I did grow up. I was stupid and lacked empathy and it's something I try to improve on every day because I'm human.

#michael jones #gavin free #kdin jenzen #rooster teeth #achievement hunter #rtah #ah michael #ah gavin

[magentagalaxies]

Kids in the Archive: Episode 3

hi everyone you know the deal - i uncovered a bunch of original scripts for kith sketches with the help of the wonderful bruce mcculloch and now i'm here to bring you all a behind-the-scenes comparison of script and screen!

Previous Episodes: Episode 1 - armada finale ("do we make it?") Episode 2 - fran & gordon: the vacation

today's episode is dedicated to @ofkithandmckinney as we cover the script of their favorite sketch, s2e1's "comfortable"

the thing that immediately sets "comfortable" apart from all the other scripts i own is the multicolored paper is it printed on, with some parts being on pink and others on blue. this is not accidental - each color denotes a specific revision date which is standard practice for tv production, though comfortable is the only script in my collection in this style. the date for pink revisions is may 22nd 1990, while blue revisions were june third of the same year. while taking photos of the scripts, my phone tries to color-balance the images automatically to make it look like black text on a white background, so i had to trick my phone into letting me show off the pink pages here today

The Casting

since the opening of this script is near-identical to what we seen onscreen, I decided to use this section to highlight an interesting (and at times confusing) element of this script, which is that dave and mark's roles are occasionally switched. at times dave is designated as scott's character's wife and mark as the other husband. on a related note, this also wasn't initially written as a nina sketch, with the character being referred to as "marion" in this draft. all in all, while thinking about this alternate version of "comfortable" is fun, i frankly cannot imagine anyone else playing these roles, as all of them bring the perfect type of energy. plus, this nina appearance relates it to my web of kith sketches that exist in the same universe

The "Improv"

this script also allows us to clear up a misconception i've seen in the youtube comments of various uploads of this sketch: people claiming "i want you in me" was improvised

i can see where this misconception came from - while adhering to the script very faithfully, at this point in the sketch things feel like they're starting to fly off the rails, and each of the actors are struggling not to break. plus, this is totally something scott would do. there's a chance this could have been improvised during a rehearsal or table read (it is on the blue pages after all) but in the version that was broadcast this line was expected. however, there is a possibly-improvised moment in the recording which wasn't in the script. after scott's character takes his pants off there's a moment where he starts singing hava nagila - in the script it just says "da da da da". why scott chose to commemorate this moment with hava nagila we may never know

The Ending

unlike our past few sketches, there's no big difference between the script's ending and the final moments of the sketch on tv. all the beats are accounted for, with most variations stemming from the goldmine that is getting nina in this situation

as soon as i saw this script in storage i knew i needed it in my collection (with bruce's permission of course), and with all these fascinating production elements it certainly delivered. beyond that, comfortable is one of my favorite sketches as well, because i vividly remember the first time i watched it in the summer of 2022

pre-2022 i'd seen some kids in the hall before, but they'd always been scattered sketches and individual episodes all from season one. when i got into season 2 i didn't know what to expect. would this increased attention and production value make the kids less willing to push the boundaries? would they end up like snl? looking back it's hilarious i could ever think that about this troupe, but i identify "comfortable" as the sketch that really set the tone for what i was in for with season 2. the living room setup and premise of an awkward gathering feel similar to any number of middle-of-the-road snl sketches, which lulled me into a false sense of mundanity, until scott keeps pushing the limits and eventually starts straight-up fucking kevin mcdonald on the table. of course this season wasn't going to be your standard fare sketch show, as pretty soon after followed sizzler and sizzler and the iconic "touch bellini" contest, but as i saw the world of these suburban couples' descend into chaos it was comforting that this punk rock sensibility wasn't over yet.

#kids in the archive #time for a jessay #kids in the hall #scott thompson #kevin mcdonald #dave foley #mark mckinney #sketch comedy #comedy analysis #script to screen #90s vintage #i didn't expect to do another one of these so soon but i'm bored and i wanted to highlight this script for ofkithandmckinney #if you have any suggestions for sketches you'd like me to cover lmk! i don't have all of them in my collection of course #but my kids in the archive tag has the full list of what i have so far #i'm not sure exactly how i'll switch up the formatting for unaired sketches but i'm excited to find out

[jawanaka]

WIP WED

I was tagged by @poetikat so hopefully this will give me kick in the ass to write more:

Working on the sequel on my HOTD fic, amking this a proper AU verse:

As the sun is setting on the royal capital and the traitor’s heads have yet to begun to fester above the gate, the prince who might one day be king climbs a staircase in the Red Keep towards the royal apartments, looking for a princess who might have been queen.

He finds her in her solar, her embroidery lit by the last rays of the setting sun that falls through the tall windows. It is the only light in the chamber and belatedly he realizes that they have refused them their servants, for security and isolation.

The hinges are well oiled and so he has made little sound when he entered and without servants there is no one to announce him and his soft calfskin boots make little sound. For a moment he stands absurdly frozen, not knowing what to say (how do people not followed by servants and guards at every moment speak?).

The light follows the gleaming point of the needle as it weaves in and out of the fabric held stiff against the frame. It looks like some sort of insect, a spider perhaps (his boyhood maester would scold him) its leaks leaping across the white background.

He clears his throat. The princess jumps up from where she was sitting, almost dropping her work as she spins.

“Oh,” she says, “sorry you startled me.”

“Its my fault,” he answers lamely, “I should have…knocked, or something.”

“Yes you should have, I mean, yes, your grace.” She finds herself there and even curtsies, stiffly, as if unsure whether it is the right thing to do.

He isn’t certain either. He looks towards the cold candles for a moment, eight large silver candelabras standing along the edges of the room. She misunderstands his intention and says, “my mo- I mean the queen, is sleeping. She took milk of the poppy, to be rested for the morrow.”

A small frown of the prince’s brow, “I didn’t know we still a maester available?” Certainly it cannot been the old one, for his head is above the gates at this very moment.

“Oh they keep some around. For me, when I have dreams. They think it helps.” She gestures towards a cabinet at the other side of her receiving room. “I find it makes it worse but they don’t seem to listen.” She shrugs in the gloom.

“I see.” He walks past her, picks up a small piece of steel and flint out of a copper jar, strikes a single long match. The flame burns, tiny at first, the strong and one by one he begins lighting the candelabras along the walls, one, two, three.

The princess smiles at him. “Thank you, that is most kind.”

He doffs his head, politely, “Fire is our element. Our element.” As the fourth candelabra is being lit he suddenly remembers his purpose. “I’m sorry my lady,” he says as he turns towards her, “but my real reason for being here was to apologize-”

“For grandfather?” she asks. For a moment her body seems to shake, as if suppressing an emotion, “He was always kind to me, believe it or not.”

“I believe. I noticed at the feast the other night, thats why I came.” My grandmother order his death and the kings justice struck off his head and spiked it for the whole city to see, he thinks. “There has been no news of your brother either.”

She smiles sadly, “He will have gone to the sea by now.”

“Pardon?”

She’s still smiling, “My brother, my grandfather…you don’t need to apologize. I saw it.” The timbre of her voices changes ever so slightly, “The highest tower and the deepest seas, anguish and fire can only be quenched by water.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

For moment she almost looks older then her ten-and-seven. “I saw it. I tried to tell them but they never listened. Not even Aemond.” She shakes her head ruefully and shake again. He stands uselessly, the match slowly burning down towards his fingers, his weak blood noticing the heat.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Don’t be. You cannot change the future.” A small whining cry is heard from beyond one of the doors, “They allowed me my nursemaid at least but I should see to the children. Good evening your highness.” And without a bow and without another word she turns and disappears into one of the rooms, leaving him alone in the half-lit room, the sun now firmly setting over the city.

“Good night Heleana,” he says, more to himself then to anyone else.

Tomorrow the Queen will arrive.

Tagging @herbalinz-of-yesteryear, @kuwdora, @elleinmotion, @bittersweetbark, @frances-the-red, @cahirdyffryns, @squiddviscous, @powerofadyingsun and anyone else I might've forgotten

#wip wednesday #tag game #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #heleana targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen

[mentallyshattered]

Everyday Freak of Science: part 1

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Where am I? A box? A...coffin? That last one makes the most sense. I can't breathe in here; there's no water.

Oh. They've discarded me. I suppose my existence became more of a burden then a point of pride. Then again, I don't think I should've been a point of pride in the first place.

Suddenly, the lid opens, and I am sprawled out on cold stone. I still cannot breathe, but I suppose this was always going to be my fate.

Footsteps. Heels, clacking on the ground, closer and closer, approaching. I can see shoes now, paused in front of me. I don't recognize them. Is this a stranger? Did the lab get a new researcher?

"Well, this is a problem."

The voice sounds unfamiliar, like someone I've never met. Male, probably.

The heels clack again. I see the person leave, jogging, and the room is silent once again.

Goodbye, mysterious stranger. Have a nice day.

Wait, the clacking is back. And it... brought a friend?

"Oh! Yes, that little pup certainly needs some help. I don't think he can breathe."

The new voice is also unfamiliar. I see the furry ends of a long coat, and black shoes, and, oh, the newer guy is lifting my head up.

"Drink this. Quickly, pup!"

Before I can protest, the newer one has lifted my face and poured something down it. I struggle for a moment, but soon discover something.

My scales, grey in most and black in part, are vanishing. My tail splits into legs, and my gills close in favor of lungs, and I can suddenly breathe.

"What just...Happened?"

The man with the long coat appears amused. "First time? Don't worry about it. The potions are free of charge for students who need them."

Students? Is this a school? Am I... normal? No, this has to be another experiment. They've never studied my behavior beyond "how sharklike is his brain?"

Then again... this doesn't feel malicious, or curious. This man, this strange, unfamiliar man, just seems like he's being nice.

"Are you going to go back in your box? We need to start the ceremony."

Bird Man is talking again. What ceremony? I've never been in one of those. Maybe... maybe this will be fun.

Time to figure out how to walk.

"One foot in front of the other, pup. It takes some getting used to, I know."

Surprisingly, it's...not that difficult. The only hard part is balance, but some part of me rights myself when I'm about to fall. That's probably my human genes.

Soon, I'm back in my box. It's cozy, now that I can breathe in here. I didn't expect that.

I hear something- footsteps. Hundreds, all filing into the vast chamber. Why are there so many people here?

Students. Entrance ceremony. Is this how the first day starts at schools? Thinking about it brings about some kind of feeling... joy? I wouldn't know, but I like this.

After a few long seconds, I fall into a sleep. How strange, I wasn't tired. Oh, well.

I wake. Was I asleep for only a second? Oh, well. There's people- what do I do? So many of them, face after face after face-

I don't know how I know what to do, but something says to leave my cozy box, walk in front of the floating ellipse, face it directly- there's a face, like an enchanted mask, on the other side.

It stares. For a moment, it stares, and then it speaks.

"Octanville!"

I turn around. Someone with glasses and off-white hair that's just the slightest bit blue motions for me to stand behind him. I follow.

"Hello," whispers a voice next to me. I turn, frantically searching for the source, and find a boy with teal hair, mismatched eyes, and a soft smile. "I am Jade, vice housewarden of Octanville. What is your name?"

I don't answer at first. I'm too busy looking at this guy's teeth- triangular teeth, just like mine. Teeth from the ocean, meant for catching prey.

"I'm talking to you, with the grey hair that has black tips. Can you hear me?"

This time, I talk. He's waiting for an answer now, and I ought to give him one.

"Y-yes."

He smiles again, teeth hidden behind his lips. "What is your name?"

I recall the name I was given by the researchers. On paper, I was 18-24C. In practice, I was The Little Mershark, him, eight-dash, blacktip, sharkie, and, by the one researcher who treated me like something sentient, like something with feelings and fears and the capacity to wonder, I was called "Requiem."

Mostly, though, people just called me "You." It got so common, they started spelling it Y-u-u to avoid confusion.

My favorite name was the one the nice scientist gave me, "Requiem."

"All right. That's a very pretty name, Requiem. What's your last name?"

Oh, I said that out loud. Just the name, I hope. What did he ask? My last name? Well, the closest thing I've ever had to a name is Requiem, so... wait! Humans have a formal name, their last name, and a casual name, their first one. Was Requiem more formal?

It was both. Crap. What do I tell this guy?

"Melanopterus." Well, that's the back half of my scientific name, so... It counts, right?

"M-e-l-a-n-o-p-t-e-r-u-s?"

"Uh... yep."

How did he get that? No matter, I think I have a chance. Maybe, just maybe, this is a place where my existence isn't a mistake. Or, maybe, this is a place where my existence as a mistake is okay.

#twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #m!yuu #twst jade #Everyday Freak of Science #tw experimentation #twst yuu

[plscallmeeren]

JEALOUSY JEALOUSY

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Request: None

Summary: Nat and Yn are in that stage where if anyone asks they're nothing more than friends but they've been on a few date-like things etc and kissing and yknow what I mean and Yn is suffering from low self-esteem before one of Tony's famous parties

Warnings: low self-esteem; slightly manipulative behaviour

Word Count: 1.7K+

Cute face. Pretty dress. Hot body.

Scroll.

Beautiful everything. Why the fuck don't I have that? Groaning, I only just managed to suppress the urge of throwing my phone across the room.

Scroll.

No face, perfect curves. Hentai-worthy looks. Great.

Scroll.

White teeth. Hazel eyes. Fuck.

Why do I even care? Because you don't deserve her and you know it. Because somehow it's still weighing down on you that you're nowhere near perfect.

Why do I compare myself? Why am I still scrolling? Why the hell have I still got Instagram when all it does is make me cry?

Fuck.

I looked up as to not ruin my make up when I noticed the water in my eyes increasing to the point of almost rolling over the edge. I failed. A single tear escaped both eyes, yet not with enough weight for it to drag my mascara and eyeliner with it.

Why can't I be anyone else? Surely anyone in the world would look better than me. Deserve her more. Or is it just because I surround myself in beautiful people?

Nat certainly is. Goddamnit, stop thinking about her, you creep.

But in truth I never stopped thinking about her. I can't. Because every thought and all roads lead to her and she is beyond my horizon and all I'll ever feel.

With a sigh I heaved myself up into a sitting position and finally stood up to look in the mirror once again.

The dress i wore soon lost the folds and crumples it had accumulated as I patted it down.

It didn't suit me. But nothing does, so. What should I say.

I carefully ran a hand over my hair, savoring the perfectly smooth feeling that came from the oil. My makeup was acceptable. Symmetrical, not too much, enough to make me look presentable at least, sharp eyeliner... then why do I still look this shitty.

"Miss L/N, please come down to the party. Mr. Stark is waiting for you... impatiently."

"Coming, JARVIS", I called, finally turning away from the mirror to depart from my room. I hate it here.

...

"Finally!" Tony cried at the sight of me in his party hall, although I must admit my gaze was lost in the turned heads looking at me and the perfect people all around me. Helen in particular.

"Sorry, I just-"

"I know, I know. Too insecure", he shook his head in disapproval but dropped the subject after one more comment nether the less. "You're the most beautiful one here, honey."

"You clean up nicely, love, but we already knew that", I said sarcastically, linking my arm with his as we made our way to the bar for some much-needed alcohol.

Well, much needed by me, anyway.

"Indeed you did. What's it gonna be, m'lady?"

"Uh", before I could catch up with my thoughts they were already elsewhere, namely with the redhead currently approaching us from the other side of the bar.

Except she wasn't approaching us.

In fact, I don't think she even saw us as she made a beeline for Bruce, drink in hand, leaning over the counter to him and talking to him flirtatiously.

"U-Um. I don't know. Caipirinha? You have the stuff here?"

"We have everything here", he answered coyly, sparing a knowing glance in Natasha's direction, "even that."

They were shamelessly flirting at this point, and my stomach twisted and turned into nausea as I witnessed it. I mean really, Nat was flirting. Bruce just looked bewildered.

Why? Surely she knew I was here. Is this some official 'we're done' message?

"Hello? Earth to Y/n?"

"Sorry", I muttered, only barely managing to turn back to Tony, the urge to simply cry begging to be freed.

"Y'know what, I have some business with Banner I have to work out. You enjoy yourself."

"Tony, wait-" Before I knew it he had walked over to Bruce and practically dragged him with him to who-knows-where, leaving Nat and I alone at the bar.

"Oh. Didn't see you there", she said in surprise, looking genuinely guilty for a split second.

"Of course not", I sighed, leaning against the counter of the bar near her. I swear I can hear her breathing. I can see her eyes flickering from my dress to my lips, and lust filling them faster than I would have liked. Would like now, anyway.

It's no wonder, really. 'Cause no matter how much she looks at me and wants to make out with me or have an intellectual conversation that's all I am. That's all I'm good enough to be. And she knows it.

Maybe that's okay, too. It's not like anyones gonna actually want me so I may as well just... yeah.

"So how's your evening going?", she asked, no awkwardness to be heard of.

"Okay", I replied plainly, not wanting to go into any detail whatsoever as to why my night was far from going well.

"Well, see you around", she waved off boredly and walked off, leaving me behind to seriously question all of my life choices.

...

The evening had passed over the reigns to the night and as stars took their place in the black sky, reminding us of their ancient deaths, the moon found its place where the sun once lay.

And yet I found myself unwilling to accept its beauty, because all I could think of was the fact that Helen was almost sitting in Natasha's lap, the two of them speaking heatedly, unaware of the rest of the Avengers that were sat around, being the only ones left.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Because while she really owed me an apology or a formal informing of our end, I couldn't sue her and I knew she deserved someone as great as Helen anyway.

She was pretty, smart, a strong individual - how could I ever compare to that? I can't. That's the answer.

Somehow the rest of the Avengers got the grand idea of attempting to lift Mjölnir, which was indeed entertaining and distracted me a little - but not much - from the two occupying my mind. Even if they were drunk.

All of them tried and failed at lifting it, except for Nat, Helen and I.

"Nat? C'mon, give it a go!"

"Yeah, try!"

"I don't need that question answered", she admitted with a smile and a long glance at me which left me more confused than ever.

"What about you, (Y/n)?", Tony cried, falling back into his armchair after, too drunk to even sit straight, apparently.

"I don't need to. It's fine", I lied. Really, I wanted to try it out bad, but not right now. Not here. In front of everyone. Not in front of Helen.

You don't even know her, for Christ's sake!

"Come on", Tony slurred, and after a couple more encouragements from the others I gave in.

Approaching the hammer I felt myself grow nervous. If I could pick this up, Tasha would like me, no? That would make me better than Helen, right?

Her loss is not your gain...

Shut up. Her gain is my loss, so it has to work the other way around.

But deep down I knew that was only because I was letting myself lose. Heck, maybe I was even making myself lose.

With shaky hands I gripped the hammer tightly, before pulling up with all my might.

It definitely budged. It moved quite obviously, which was probably what made Thor practically faint. But I couldn't lift it.

If everyone had been less drunk it probably would've been a huge deal, but lucky for me everyone looked just about ready to nod off. Including me.

Well, I wasn't tired, but I was taking this a lot more lightly than I should.

And suddenly she whisked me away. Before I knew it I was being pulled down the stairs and into a bathroom, Nat's arms wrapped around my neck as she looked at me intensely.

Was this what I wanted? I think so.

"You are impossible!", she whispered in distress.

"What do you mean, I'm impossible? You're the one who's been flirting all night with other people!", for the first time that night I suddenly felt anger rush to me, heat rising to my head just like the slender berry liquor had done earlier.

"You're just too good, aren't you? There's this thing where you try to make someone jealous so that they're possessive of you and stuff! You didn't do very well." No sign of guilt was expressed in her face and many parts of me were very set on making her feel guilty. Helen wouldn't do this.

"Well, I don't think it's fun! I can be possessive if you want, but I'm insecure enough as it is, and thinking you're leaving me doesn't help", I regretted nothing as some of that did appear on her, leaving me guiltily satisfied.

"Okay. I'm sorry." Her eyes were silently communicating a plea to me. It was obvious she wanted to make out.

I don't know if it was the alcohol or the way she just looked so perfect or the fact that all my worrying was for nothing and that shit was frustrating, but I gave in, crashing my lips onto hers as I grabbed a handful of her hair and positioned my other hand in her waist, slowly steering her towards the wall of the bathroom.

I was still angry. But I was letting it fuel me instead.

"That's what I meant", she breathed between kisses, but I didn't bother replying.

#marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #natasha marvel #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #jealousy

[fandom-smut-shots]

Striker - Picking Up Trash and Calling It Treasure 7

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

This is the longest chapter yet! I hope I did it justice - I'm not great with action scenes.

         Being a prince of the Ars Goetia, Stolas always had a target on his back. More often than not (and certainly more often than he cared to believe), the target was his head on a spike. He insisted that his greatest concern was that nefarious beings would want to use his body for sexual purposes, and perhaps that was true (Blitz would rather saw off his own horns than admit that he genuinely enjoyed his monthly rendezvous with the owl) but many hellborn creatures wanted the prince dead, for fame or money or some other form of personal gain.

         Unfortunately for the blindsided owl, that number only increased once word of his affair with an imp of all things began to spread through the rings of Hell. His wife was the least subtle about her desire to end his life, though Stolas never bothered to pay her any attention beyond pursuing their divorce and sharing custody of Octavia.

         In Stolas’s defense, Blitz could stand to be a tad more observant of the growing list of individuals who had a price on the Goetia’s head. One would think that the owner of an assassin company whose entire livelihood depended on a possession belonging to one owl prince of the stars would pay a little more attention to said prince’s safety, but Blitz often had a one-track mind that liked to frequently change lanes. The imp’s brain was like a decrepit train barreling down a corroded track which forked into a plethora of different directions, only to wind around one another until they all collided in an explosion of swears and innuendos.

         Such brain rot was why he relied on the intelligence of you, Millie, and Moxxie to help keep I.M.P. afloat, especially when he was distracted by Stolas’s, well, everything.

         So when you were sent to the Goetia palace to bug the phone lines in order to ensure the safety of what Blitz only (publicly) referred to as his ticket to earth, he was the only one surprised when the bug intercepted a phone call between Stella and an unknown killer for hire. The bug that Blitz had bought (off of some low-level demon in a back alley like some kind of night hooker) was shit quality, so it only picked up Stella’s side of the conversation. She seemed please with the responses from the other line, and she spewed enough information in between screeching and bitching for the four of you to figure out how and where her hired gun planned to make their attempt on Stolas’s life.

           “Please tell me you have an actual plan, sir,” Moxxie groaned as Blitz stood, wearing his usual shit-eating grin, beside a white board. “We can’t just show up, guns blazing, wherever this unnamed assassin is planning to attack the prince.”

         “Sure we can!” Blitz countered, opening his mouth to continue before you cut him off.

         “We have no idea who Stella hired to take out Stolas,” you interjected, raising one brow at your boss. “We don’t know their skill level or their choice of weapon.”

         “It could be Striker again,” Millie offered with a pointed glance towards you.

         You returned it with a glare. “Yes, it could be. It could also be any other lowlife demon looking to make some extra cash. There were dozens of imps trying to take Stolas out at Loo Loo Land. There’s literally no way to tell who’s been hired for the job.”

         Blitz waved a hand dismissively. “Have you forgotten how many people we’ve killed? I’m sure we can handle one lousy assassin. We stopped Striker, didn’t we?”

         “No, he got away,” you reminded your boss. “Millie was the only one to get a decent hit in.”

         “Hey!” Blitz pouted, crossing his arms. “I punched him!”

         “And I stabbed him,” Millie proudly proclaimed.

         “Exactly. And neither one slowed him down enough to take him out,” you concluded. “All I’m saying is we need to pack heavy and be careful. We don’t know who we’re up against, and the Goetias are loaded. There’s no doubt Stella offered whoever it is a shit ton of cash for Stolas’s head.”

         Blitz quickly switched gears into planning which weapons to pack, and you fidgeted with a loose threat protruding from your jeans, not wanting to think about the very real possibility that you might have to fight Striker to the death just as you were starting to get along.

           The day of the planned hit arrived, and you crept through the shadows alongside your coworkers. In your dominant hand was your beloved pistol, while several daggers were strapped to your body, hidden beneath your clothing but well within reach. The guest list for a party at the Goetia manor was intensely selective – there wasn’t a chance in fuck you were going to get in through the front. Not that Blitz would want to, anyway. Instead, you crept in separately through vents and servant entrances, searching for the hallway which had been dubbed the rendezvous point.

         Hiring someone to murder your husband at your house during a fancy party was incredibly pretentious, but you supposed that was perfectly in character for Stella. Plus, there was a high risk of the killer getting caught with so many witnesses around, which made your stomach drop as the reminder that it could be Striker snaked through the back of your mind.

         You hoped against hope that it wasn’t him, for reasons you were too busy to unpack right now.

         You met up with Millie in the hallway, crouching low to avoid catching any light and attracting any side glances.

         “Any idea who it is yet?” you inquired quietly.

         Millie shook her head. “Haven’t seen any shady characters yet, besides us. All of the imps here seem to be invited or employed.”

         “Invited?” you repeated incredulously. “What imps could the Goetias have possibly invited besides Blitz? They condescend literally all of us.”

         The Wrath-born imp shrugged, shifting her weight back and forth. “I have no idea. Not all the imps here are sporting butler uniforms, so I can only assume they’re guests. I could be wrong, though.”

��        Before you could question further, a raspy southern drawl caught in your ears, and your eyes widened. Glancing around between the bodies bustling back and forth, your gaze landed on a tall, lean imp with pale red skin and a double row of spikes along his tail.

         Striker. And holy fuck he was in a suit. Damnit, he cleans up nice.

         Shit. Your heart raced at the sight of the rattlesnake all dolled up in fancy attire, but you knew the most logical reason for him to be a guest at the Goetia manor was that he was Stella’s hired gun.

         Fuck.

         “Uh oh,” Millie commented before looking at you.

         “Yeah, I know,” you sighed.

         “You sure you can do this?” she questioned, turning to face you fully. “I know you two were…”

         “This is business,” you countered. “It’s not like we’re dating.”

         Not that I don’t want to be.

         “Fucking hillbilly,” came Blitz’s disgruntled snarl. “Of fucking course it was Striker. We stopped him before, and we’ll stop him again.”

         “Again, we didn’t stop him,” you reminded your boss, earning a glare. “He got away. And with this many people, he could get away again.”

         “You sound like you’re defending him,” Blitz accused. “Is the dick that good that you’d compromise your job?”

         You scoffed. “It’s not like that, damnit. We’re not fucking. But we do know that he’s a skilled assassin and there are a lot of ways he could get out of this unscathed. Unless you’d like a repeat of the Harvest Festival, you need to think strategically.”

         He pouted but didn’t argue. “Fine. How about you distract him, and I’ll lead Stolas somewhere safe?”

         “What?” your eyes widened, and your blood ran cold. “Why me?”

         “Uh, duh,” Blitz rolled his eyes. “Because he’s hard for you. Once he sees you, he’ll be too entranced to realize Stolas is gone.”

         You gestured to your body. “I’m not exactly dressed to impress here, boss. He’ll know immediately that I’m not here as a guest and then he’ll go looking for Stolas.”

         “She’s got a point,” Millie interjected.

         “Then let’s dress you up!” Blitz beamed. Before you could protest, he ran off towards the nearest door, returning with an armful of clothing. “There must be something fancy in all of this shit.”

         “Where the fuck did you find those?” you questioned.

         “Laundry room,” Blitz replied, standing up with a sparkling black dress in his hands. “Might be a little big, but I’m sure you can work it.”

         “This is a terrible idea,” you deadpanned, but accepted the garment anyway. You slunk away to a supply closet around the corner and stripped out of your work clothes, slipping on the dress. It fit decently enough, though the hem dragged the floor, and the straps would have to be tied around your neck. The length of it helped to conceal all of your weapons, and you tucked your pistol into the holster on your thigh.

         You returned to Blitz and Millie, who had now been joined by Moxxie, and the three stared at you with wide eyes and open mouths.

         “Look at you!” Millie beamed.

         “Now you’re the perfect distraction!” Blitz grinned. He placed a hand on your back and shoved you forward. “Go get him!”

         Your brow furrowed anxiously as you stumbled towards the crowd, your eyes locked on the finely dressed cowboy. Distracting Striker had not even been considered in all of Blitz’s poorly drawn mission plans, and you’d never felt more nervous about a job than you did right now. Your heart hammered dangerously in your chest as you approached the rattlesnake, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously.

         “I don’t believe I recognize you,” the imp speaking to Striker stopped mid-conversation to turn and face you, one brow raised suspiciously.

         “I’m a friend of the prince’s boytoy,” you countered with a soft shrug.

         “Stolas actually invited that imp he’s been sleazing around with?” the imp guard, if his attire was meant to be a clue to his profession, replied incredulously.

         “Evidently,” you replied. “How else would I have gained access to the palace if not by invitation from the prince?”

         He hummed flatly as he looked you up and down. Stella screeched something unintelligible, and the imp sighed, excusing himself before sauntering away.

         Striker wasn’t buying your bullshit. His expression told you as much as he turned to face you, but his attempts at calling you out on it fell flat on his tongue. His jaw dropped as his ringed eyes raked over your form, wrapped haphazardly in a too-big dress that still somehow hugged your figure deliciously.

         "You... Uh...”

         You bit back a smirk, cocking your hip and accenting your curves a bit more. “I what, cowboy?”

         His tail rattled behind him as he inhaled a breath, struggling to compose himself. His eyes closed for a moment before opening, pupils narrow as they focused on you. “If you were invited as a guest, why doesn’t your dress fit you proper? Looks more like something you found in someone else’s closet as a disguise.”

         You rolled your eyes, hoping to throw off his annoyingly accurate assumption. “I’m not much for fancy wear. I don’t even own any dresses – I’m renting this little number.”

         He nodded slowly like he didn’t entirely believe you, but he left it alone. His lips quirked upwards as he offered you a hand. “May I have this dance?”

         You slid your hand into his, ignoring the way your abdomen exploded with butterflies. He led you into the depths of the dance floor, his free hand finding purchase on your hip and pulling your chest to his. You stifled a gasp at the proximity, gazing up at the taller imp and feeling your cheeks flush under his sturdy gaze. Neon eyes bore into yours as he began to sway to the music. You figured you shouldn’t be surprised that the cowboy assassin knew how to ballroom dance – he probably had a plethora of hidden talents thanks to his line of work. You did, too.

         He extended the arm holding your hand, twirling you away from him before spinning you back into his chest. Warmth exploded beneath his touch where his other hand settled on your back, and the scent of his cologne and natural musk had your dream from the other night flooding into the forefront of your brain. All you could think about was how it felt to subconsciously have his hands in your hair, his lips on your neck-

           “This may not have been the best idea,” Millie commented as she watched Striker spin you around the floor.

         “(y/n) knows what she’s doing,” Blitz countered with a smirk. “She’ll keep that honkytonk asshat distracted plenty long enough for the three of us to get Stolas out of harm’s way.”

         “We might want to get a move on, sir,” Moxxie interfered, his eyes darting nervously around the ballroom. “We’re kind of sticking out like gangrenous stubs over here, and the prince’s staff are starting to stare.”

         “Fuck, you’re right,” Blitz scoffed, following Moxxie’s gaze.

         “Looks like it’s time for you to be distracting,” Millie grinned. “Who better to lead Stolas to a private second location than you, boss?”

         “Ugh, fucking fine,” Blitz agreed, though his belly did flips at the thought of getting the prince alone. “Cover me. I’m going in.”

         He slunk into the crowd, careful to keep distance between himself and you and Striker. If the cowboy caught sight of your boss creeping around, your cover would be blown, and nobody (except maybe Stella) wanted to endure a bloodbath tonight.

         Locating the prince was easy – an eight-foot-tall owl with four vibrant, glowing ruby eyes was hard to miss. Blitz slunk up beside him comfortably, plastering on a seductive smile as he gazed up at his transactional lover.

         “Oh, Blitzy!” Stolas greeted in surprise, the corners of his beak quirking upwards. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

         “Don’t worry about that,” Blitz shook his head. “Look, you gotta get out of here. That cowboy scumbag from the Harvest Festival is here to try and kill you again.”

         “Striker?” Stolas clarified in surprise. “Are you sure? Wait, how do you know that, Blitzy? Did you follow him?”

         “Something like that,” the imp replied, his gaze darting around the ballroom to ensure you still had the rattlesnake distracted. “Listen, you’re not safe here. You need to find somewhere to hide.”

         “If you’re sure,” the owl replied hesitantly before his beak widened to accommodate a grin. “You’re so sweet to care for my safety, Blitzy.”

         Blitz rolled his eyes, ushering the owl through the crowd. He paused to speak to guests as he went, keeping up the façade that he was simply feeling unwell and retiring to his room early. He didn’t want to raise any suspicion or have Striker notice his absence.

           Striker pulled your body flush against his as the song ended, leaving you gazing into his neon irises. His tail rattled loudly behind him, which should have alerted you to the fact that he’d sensed something was off about your presence at the party. But the sound was drowned out by the thundering of your heart in your ears, and you found yourself frozen, your hands on his shoulders and your tail swishing behind you.

         “You’re a pretty decent dancer, darlin’,” he growled softly in your ear, and you resisted the desire to melt in his hold. The grip on your hip tightened enough to make you gasp. “Now why don’t ya tell me why you’re really here? I know for a fact that Blitzy wasn’t invited.”

         “No, you’re not leaving this party, Stolas!”

         Every guest and guard in the ballroom turned towards Stella, watching with varying expressions of interest and exhaustion as she screeched at her husband.

         “I already told you, Stella,” the prince replied with a groan, “I’m tired. You can keep engaging in this frivolous event, but I’m going to bed.”

         “I forbid it,” came his wife’s snarky reply.

         “You’ve never cared about me leaving your parties early before,” Stolas pinpointed, raising a brow at his wife. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Stella?”

         “I’ve invited a photographer to take a family photo of the three of us,” Stella lied. “We don’t have any photos with Octavia since she became a teenager.”

         “Because you never wanted any,” the prince reminded her. “Once she was old enough to make her own decisions, you lost interest in spending any time with her.”

         Stella squawked in offense, screeching nonsense at her husband, who ran a tired hand across his face. He’d initially claimed to be tired as an excuse to hide out until Striker gave up his assignment, but the longer he stood before his wife, the more tired he actually became.

         “Ah, so that’s your game,” Striker confirmed, stepping away from you. “You were the decoy, I see. Well played. But you’re not getting in the way of my hit.”

         “I’m afraid I have to,” you countered, reaching for the gun in your thigh holster. “We need the prince alive more than you need him dead.”

         The excess fabric of your dress proved to be a hindrance as you tugged it out of the way, hands blindly fumbling for your gun. The sight of your bare thigh had Striker stopping in his tracks for just a second before he shook his head and withdrew his own gun from the holster inside his jacket, aiming it somewhere behind you. You tore the fabric pooling around your legs, leaving the hem of the dress at your mid-thigh, giving you more mobility as you stood before the rattlesnake, blocking his shot.

         “Move, darlin’,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at you. “Don’t wanna shoot you unless I absolutely have to.”

         “You’re not getting Stolas,” you countered, clicking off the safety of your pistol, though you couldn’t bring yourself to raise it. “You can’t have Blitz, either.”

         His free hand grasped on your shoulder before roughly shoving you to the side. You stumbled over your own feet, and by the time you regained your balance, the cowboy had cleared half the crowd and was making a beeline for your boss. Blitz swore loudly as the gunshots began. The guests scrambled around the room, hunting for the exists and yelping as they tried to dodge stray bullets.

         “What the Hell happened?” Millie demanded, coming up beside you. “I thought you were distracting him!”

         “I was,” you groaned. “Stella’s fucking screeching was a bigger distraction. Fucking bitch probably made a scene on purpose so her husband couldn’t get away.”

         “Now we have to fight Striker and all of the prince’s staff,” Moxxie stated warily as security hellhounds began to descend upon the three of you.

         “Well, we’ve come this far,” you smirked, cocking your gun and aiming it at the hellhound directly in front of you. “Might as well have some fun.”

         Millie and Moxxie sported matching grins before jumping away, each of them acquiring their own gaggle of staff to execute. You shot the hellhound closest to you before crouching down, sliding under the legs of guests and staff alike. You kept an eye on every creature that came close to you, only shooting the ones who wouldn’t back off with a warning. You were an assassin, after all – not a mass murderer.

         You caught up to Blitz and Striker, whose guns had been dropped in favor of a good, old fashioned wrestling match. You rolled your eyes upon seeing your boss on the floor with Striker above him, pale red fingers wrapped around a red-and-white throat. Stolas was nowhere in sight, leading you to believe that he’d successfully gotten away.

         Your hand fisted in the fabric of Striker’s jacket, tugging him away from Blitz. The surprise of your interference caused his grip to loosen, and Blitz scrambled away, gasping for air. In your haste to ensure his safety, you failed to retrieve Striker’s gun. You hadn’t even noticed it until you heard it click behind your head.

         You slowly turned, coming face-to-face with the barrel. You didn’t think he would kill you, not like this at least. There’d been something between you, even if neither of you could let your guard down long enough to discover exactly what it was.

         With a roar, Blitz lunged at Striker, attempting to disarm him. You would have been touched by his concern had it not been for the stray bullet that flew from the cowboy’s gun and lodged itself in your thigh.

         “Fuck!” you growled, collapsing on the ground, clutching your wounded leg. Blitz’s fist collided with Striker’s jaw, sending the snakelike imp stumbling backwards while your boss came to your side.

         Millie and Moxxie panted as they joined the two of you, sweaty and covered in blood.

         “Shit!” Millie yelped. “Is she okay?!”

         “She’s losing a lot of blood,” Blitz replied. “We need to get her out of here!”

         The blood loss fogged your mind, making your vision blurry, and the last thing you saw was an unreadable expression possibly resembling remorse on Striker’s face before you succumbed to the darkness calling your name.

#helluva boss #helluva boss striker #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #striker #striker x reader

[fizzigigsimmer]

@mania-mono I had to move my reply so I can give this my best shot at an answer without worrying about a word limit. So here I go, and pardon any pre-coffee typos.

I don’t speak for every Billy fan, because I can’t, nor do I speak for every POC because I can’t do that either. Blanket statements, generalities, and opinions grounded in the belief that what you see in front of you - which can only ever be a sample size - is everything, leads to closed mindedness. We are all vulnerable to these things. I think it is human nature to accept what we see and what we are told, in order to make friendly in our groups. So that we feel accepted as well as acceptable and to never think beyond that.

So I understand where opinions like “People only care about Billy because Dacre is attractive [and white]” come from. Within those opinions I can hear the faint echos of social discourse that I as a woman of color have had to bring to the table at one time or another, and I recognize that there is a merit of thought there, that I am 100% sure some fans need to reckon with.

I will never be the person sitting out here trying to disprove that the general fandom is suddenly unproblematic and completely free of the persuasion of whiteness combined with attractiveness and a preference for men.

This black girl will certainly never tell you that she hasn’t run into Billy friendly hot takes and writing that did have whiffs of white washing and erasure that made her uncomfortable and irritated at times. I have no reason to be afraid or to hide from that fact because it’s my lived reality. Every day in every fandom, in every ship. It’s my reality. It sucks. And I am confident and grounded enough in my own thinking to say something when I feel it needs to be said, or to just move on and find something better to read for my own peace of mind.

Yes, some Billy fans are problematic. But that is not my whole experience nor even half of it, and that matters.

Because I will also tell you that in my year or more of engaging in Harringrove fandom I have experienced that type of blindness and bias less than I have in other fandom spaces I have taken part in.That’s why I am here. I do not subject myself to being in places that make me consistently uncomfortable.

My empathy for the character brought me, and I stay because it’s a lovely place to explore my thoughts & feelings and make friends. For the most part I have found this pocket of fandom to be filled with nice people who actually do think through the characters flaws and have conversations about culture and social issues as often as any other fandom space. We bond, we have fun, and occasionally I might get into a debate with someone who I disagree with or disagrees with me about how we perceive the character’s flaws and their cultural impact.

I will tell you that I avoid many other subsections of Stranger Things fandom because my experience was that the balance is not the same in other tags. Because I felt consistently attacked, provoked, and silenced. Not just where it comes to discussions about race, but also disability, fat phobia, and my experiences of trauma and surviving abuse.

The problem I see a lot in fandom is that people are very good at manipulating others. There are whole communities that thrive on the basis of taking popular progressive opinions and using it to bully others for their entertainment or to control their behavior, or both. They rely on the public memory of the valuable work other people have done within culture and use those talking points to invoke fear and shame in their peers for their own selfish reasons. To feel good in the moment. For more reblogs. To feel like they’re part of the winning “team”. To feel like they’re meeting requirements of acceptable behavior. And for many more reasons I’m sure.

Whatever their reason, these folks know when they type out, “people only like Billy because Dacre is attractive”, that most people will instantly remember every discussion they ever sat through on the topic of bias and think ‘I don’t want to be that guy’. Because that’s natural and good and without those natural and good instincts we couldn’t be manipulated into a fear response. But the reality is even just a little bit of critical thinking would make it obvious how biased and unreasonable this take is.

When I hear “People only...” no mater what follows, a little yellow warning light goes off in the back of my mind. Because yes we can joke about certain things and make dumb memes for the fun, but when it comes to making a serious judgment, “People only” is a dangerous place to start. More people need to remember that.

Because I don’t think anyone actually needs to spend a great deal of time talking to Billy fans or researching much of anything at all to debunk this theory. If you replace Billy’s name with any aspect of his character that a person might relate to it falls apart. Because they are there to be related to. And if they are there to be related to, you’d have to be carrying some deep seeded rage and wearing some thick ass blinders to stick to the argument that you truly believe that nothing but white male attractiveness matters to anyone.

“People only care about that teenager because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that child, whose mother left, because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that blue collar boy because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that child of divorce...”

“People only care about that boy who was forced to move towns right in the middle of high school because...”

“People only care about that kid whose dad was abusing him because...”

“People only care about that kid who was dragged into the dark by a monster one night and violated because....”

I think the ridiculousness as well as the danger of this thought process speaks for itself.

I think that if someone finds it easy to believe a blanket statement like “People only care about Billy because Dacre is hot,” and can’t think up a single other reason someone else might relate to the character and talk about it honestly while defending their opinion, that’s their problem and not mine or yours. Either this is someone who doesn’t think much for themselves and is just parroting others, or someone who knows what they are saying probably isn’t actually true, but doesn’t care because the aim is to hurt some and manipulate others.

#Just my opinion #thoughts #on me liking Billy just because he's hot #tw: fandom discource #tw: fandom wank #Billy Hargrove #thanks for asking and I hope this was clear #I am not a morning person lol

[esther-dot]

So re Jon's legitimacy v. bastardy conversation. FWIW, when the annulment/marriage plot point was revealed in season 7, Linda of Elio and Linda fame, had a twitter conversation with another user and Linda basically implied she was skeptical of the annulment because it wouldn't fit in-universe rules and a poly-marriage would have made more sense as there is "precedent" for that (because ya know targs are going to targ). Linda and Elio are essentially GRRM's canon fact checkers so I found that interesting. Also, in one of Jaime's flashbacks I think, this was after the rebellion popped off and R decided to show his face in KL I suppose (so I'm assuming after any alleged marriage took place/after L got knocked up), he told Jaime something to the effect that he was putting "my wife and children" in your hands/care (which lmao). So he did still refer to E as his wife which I know, I know the bar is in hell. Don't get me wrong, R is POS but I do think in his warped mind he did care for E, didn't think he humiliated beyond comprehension (yet again, lmao), and loved his children. Also, wasn't he obsessed with the "dragon having three heads" so I don't think in his mind he intended to throw away E and their children (I'm not saying I agree with that sentiment myself) but in terms of GRRM's authorial intent I think this is where he was getting at.

(in reference to this convo)

Oh, thank you for that info, anon! I’ve never followed those people closely but I’ve certainly heard them mentioned a lot, and know Martin considers them kinda experts on his world. (How weird is it to think about reminding the author of what he has written!) I’ve been struck by some of Martin’s comments to fans about them thinking about a certain thing more than he has or his recent comment about how he’s making things up as he goes along and felt that as fans, we look at things on a very strict/nailed down kinda way, whereas for him, the endpoint for our mains are fixed, but he’s exploring his world and developing it as he goes. Something I find so interesting is that he’s chosen to write about the past and the future, unfolding things as we read that change what we know, that mean what we know isn't.

With the entire fandom agreeing about R+L=J, it's easy to forget that technically, it's still a mystery being spun-out. To me, it is so omnipresent, it requires plot significance ie I feel that Jon will need to be trueborn and deal with the consequences of having a claim, but Martin has such a unique twist on things, it's hard to know which way that goes. He could take it mostly negative, the purpose be to derail Jon's life-- a subversion of how the hidden prince trope usually plays out-- and it be the means to dethrone him, not give him a happy ending. As in, say Jon is accepted as a legitimized Stark, becomes KitN, and then suddenly, this revelation. Usually unexpected parentage reveals result in a crown, Martin could decided to use it to take one away. After all, Robb wrote that will thinking Jon was his father’s son, and it seems to me that as understandable as his choice was in the moment (fears about the Lannisters getting Winterfell), I have to think Martin won’t “reward” it in the narrative by having it play out nice and neat. That solution seems destined to create chaos when we think of the R/L bombshell.

This:

Don't get me wrong, R is POS but I do think in his warped mind he did care for E

is something I've wondered about. Here is the line that I think you’re remembering:

Prince Rhaegar burned with a cold light, now white, now red, now dark. "I left my wife and children in your hands."                 

"I never thought he'd hurt them." Jaime's sword was burning less brightly now. "I was with the king . . ." (ASOS, Jaime VI)

which I think speaks more to Jaime’s feelings of failure/guilt than to Rhaegar’s perception of Elia since elsewhere there’s a mention of it being Aerys who wanted Jaime in KL. And yet, the way Martin writes about Rhaegar in different POVs and some of his comments made me think he feels very differently than I do about the character. The way Elia and Rhaenys' deaths are placed primarily on Tywin and The Mountain's heads which is true, except, none of that would have happened if Rhaegar hadn't set the whole catastrophe into motion with the Lyanna mess means I find the guy an absolute loser. I just can’t get past poor little Rhaenys hiding under his bed, thinking her father might save her when her father had run off with another woman in pursuit of an additional child. I suppose, the story is showing the dangers of being guided by prophecy and creating our own destruction, but in the words on the page, I don’t see the contempt that I feel for Rhaegar. 

So yeah, I have my feelings and I try to differentiate between them and what Martin intended the takeaway to be.

#dot chat

[alexwatchesshows]

Black Sails VII (S1E7)

Spoilers for up to and including E7.

We're getting towards the end of season 1 and things are really ramping up.

We start with Pastor Lambrick having a crisis of faith. Honestly this man is the stale white bread of characters and I couldn't give less of a shit about him. Let him preach to the cornfields or whatever.

Flint has returned to Nassau to find that things are just as chaotic as they were on board the Walrus. This man can't catch a break and honestly maybe that's a little bit on him. He seems to be trappen on all sides. Eleanor's mad at him because Miranda let Richard Guthrie escape, which he doesn't know about (and also struggles to accept the Miranda would go against him like that). Silver's back on his bullshit and, honestly, good for him, but that's the last thing Flint needs right now. Silver's really clawed himself up into a position of some power (or at least protection) as he's now in the room with Eleanor, Flint, and Gate (i.e. the people in charge). Gates is also now calling Flint out on his bullshit. Mark Ryan does such a good job of acting in this episode-- I can see all the emotions he's going through as Gates fights between his loyalty to Flint and his love for Billy. As he says, I don't think anything else would have made him confront Flint, but whatever might have happened to Billy was a step too far. The emotion in his voice when he says "Billy wasn't expendable to me. He was a son to me" just kills me. Needless to say, Flint's response of "you should've acted as a better father to him" does not put him in my good books. Generally, I spend most of this show supporting Flint in whatever morally reprehensible shenanigans he gets up to, but for this first part of the episode at least I struggle to find redeeming qualities. He can't tell when to just let something be or maybe offer comfort, and uses this moment and Gates' vulnerability to go back to talking about his wider vision of what to do with the Urca gold. I'm not going to lie, he does start to look a bit mad at this point. There's a kind of look in his eyes when he gets caught up in his visions, and it's in full force right now. Unfortunately for Flint, Gates is in a kind of pain that puts him beyond manipulation right now, and the more Flint talks the more he sees through him to the point where he knows he can't stand by Flint any more. The pain. They care about each other so much but Flint's too messed up to realise what he's doing to his friend. He calls Gates Hal. I'm sad.

While Flint tries to get at least a fraction of his shit together, Silver has somehow already got himself into some fresh shit, this time with Randall. It's been hinted at before, but this is the episode where we all really begin to wonder how aware of his situation Randall really is. Some of his scheming suggests that he's actually quite coherent and smart, but maybe he just has moments or maybe Silver is just really good at getting through to him and the rest is chance. It's too soon to tell but it's definitely worth bearing in mind. As we see at the end of the episode, Randall definitely isn't going to give us any answers himself. Whatever his intentions (or lack thereof), he's certainly causing some challenges for Dufresne in his first day as quartermaster. Honestly, even post-throat tearing, I still love Dufresne. He still gives off panicked nerd slightly out of his depth vibes which I massively relate to. De Groot, Dufresne and that other random guy are trying their best, but they're no Flint or Gates and this is all a bit much for them. Silver's gaslighting for his life and he's too good for them and Dufresne & De Groot's weird test. Silver keeps asserting that "he's not a joiner", but at this point he learns that sometimes he has to join to survive. Both he and Randall live another day, but Dufresne's faith in Flint has been brought down a notch. I don't think De Groot's ever had much faith in him, but nobody seems to listen to that ship wizard.

Eleanor has managed to more or less get things functional with her shipping consortium. I'm not entirely sure why anyone gave Naft any power, but I guess they are where they are. And now, to shake things up, Mr. Scott's back! You'd think that this would maybe help clear up some misunderstandings between the two of them, but their relationship is too complicated for that at this point. Eleanor is tired of being controlled by all the different men in her life, of whom Mr. Scott is admittedly one, but Mr. Scott is also right when he points out that Eleanor's family does literally own him. It's hard to work around either of those facts. At least, between the two of them, they manage to more or less free the slaves, but beyond that it's clear that they're at a point of fundamental disagreement and, although it's not exactly going to help things, Mr. Scott probably made the best decision in joining Hornigold's crew and just getting out of the way for the time being.

Speaking of interpersonal emotional pain, Flint now has to confront Miranda over the letter that put him in deep shit. I think the source of the problem is that the two of them are living very different lives and, as a result, have very different outlooks on their situation. Flint is out there doing things and interacting (however badly) with people, whilst Miranda has been shut in that house with only Pastor Lambrick for company for god knows how long. As a result, she's willing to make more sacrifices than him, because, for her, it's true that "(they) have no life (in Nassau)". Or, possibly, asking for forgiveness from England would be more of a sacrifice for him (we still haven't got the details of their backstory yet). This is possibly the first Flint monologue that has made me want to cry. I mean, just, "It requires an intolerable sacrifice. To apologise ... to England ... They took everything from us and then they called me a monster." The emotion reaches through the screen and chokes me every time. It's also worth noting that he says "they called me a monster", not "us", which feeds back into the whole asking for forgiveness being harder for him than for Miranda. It feels like Thomas is almost in the room with them, like whatever happened between those three is really the topic of their discussion, but that they can't talk about him and, when Miranda does break this unspoken rule and just mentions "him", it's enough for Flint to storm out.

So Eleanor and Flint come together in their repective lonely miseries. Flint is once more showcasing some healthy coping mechanisms, winning us back onto his side by embodying wet cat energy. The dynamic between the two of them is a bit weird for a moment there, and I'm beyond Flint goes for a forhead kiss. God knows we've had enough awful heterosexual sex this season.

Eleanor is probably the only person who trusts in Flint at this moment, though. Gates has not only given up on Flint, but actively betrayed him (understandable, given Flint was planning on stealing a bunch of the gold). Dufresne trusts Flint even less than Gates, and, between the two of them, things are not looking good for Flint. Also, secrets between anyone probably won't help any of their situations given what they're going in to. As if taking a Spanish treasure galleon wouldn't be hard enough.

Meanwhile, the remainders of the Ranger crew are scattered and struggling. Anne is generally not happy, though I'm not sure why. Jack is being robbed left right and centre by the prostitutes he's supposed to be in charge of. For some reason, Max has a problem with this. Max has a very strong moral code that I can't quite figure out-- it goes beyond being self-serving, but she's also not clearly loyal to any one person or ideal. Either way, she prompts Jack to sort his shit out, which he does actually begin to do.

Vane, meanwhile, has reached his destination. I've watched this episode quite a lot of times, and I'm still not sure exactly what's going on there, but the best conclusion I can come to is that there's some kind of logging business going on, which that man (Albinus, according to Black Sails Wiki) is running using what is almost definitely slave labour. Vane knows about this place because he used to be enslaved (?) there, hence the matching scars, and wants to use the labour to take back Nassau. Something about being back there, however, flips something in his mind and, presumably being faced once again with the cruelty of Albinus, decides that, if he is to be "strong" (whatever that means to him), he needs to kill him. (We also get what I think is the first use of the term "proper pirates" in this scene, which is just generally an interesting theme to follow) Ultimately, we get Vane rising from the fucking dead, naked, covered in blood, and looking like some kind of monster. That is a truly spectacular way to end an episode.

#my posts #tv shows #spoiler #tv #tv show review #episode review #tv reviews #black sails #black sails spoilers #black sails review

[mayhemandtrouble]

Any Landing You Can Walk Away From, Chapter 21 of 35 of Not Giving Up

Completed story on Ao3 with NSFW chapters and detailed tags “My fighter -en hit - coming in n-!”

Leia hadn’t been able to see Ben. She had only gotten a few words through the static. Not a sound from Rey, for that matter. It could be a trick. It certainly wasn’t beyond the scope of the First Order, or of her son.

“Finn, Rey is on a TIE fighter. Limping and flying our dock. Cover them!” That Finn would be able to determine which fighter to protect wasn’t a concern, certain he already had a bead on it. The much more difficult question would be how to get an enemy ship past their defenses, and cover them without hurting their own people.

“Poe! You heard me, get our flyers off that fighter - now!” The General didn’t have to turn her head to know that Poe had been listening. Nor did she wait to oversee the implementation. In the seconds it took Poe Dameron to start shouting over the comms, Leia was already moving down the halls at a speed that belied her age and health. 

“Father, he takes after you, I swear.” She muttered to herself, thinking more of the stories of Anakin’s time in the Jedi than the Empire. Or perhaps it was Han’s fuck-it-who-needs-a-plan. With a touch of the insanity that had led her to stroll into a Hutt palace, once upon a time. 

“Ben, we’ve lost-”

“I noticed!” Leaning over, he grabbed the controls while Rey leaned heavily against the side of the fighter. She was flagging and he could feel it, the stress of another hit and the twins seemed to be screaming inside her. This wasn’t going to be pretty but it had to happen now.

“Rey, tell me that’s you!” A familiar voice echoed over through the fighter’s comms.

“It’s me. We’re here.” She nearly cried to hear Finn filling the air of their TIE fighter. 

“Clear me a path or we won’t be here much longer,” Ben snapped. While he could feel relief flooding from Rey, his nerves were getting tighter and tighter. She didn’t see the increasingly grey tone her face was taking on.

“I hate you so much.” Finn snapped from within his own flyer, even as he was already in the process. The damned TIE fighter was flying poorly but not far from the dock. He could settle in just beside and behind. Comforting himself that he was covering Rey’s six, not Kylo Ren’s. 

Chewbacca trilled out an annoyed greeting as Leia stepped into the hanger, short of breath and her brown eyes fixated on the large blue opening to space. It took less than a moment for the long-legged Wookie to cross over to her side, demanding to know why the princess was here in the midst of battle. Whenever one of his honor family did something unexpected, he lost a few years of his life expectancy.

“Ben is coming.”

It was all Leia needed to say and too much all at once. Chewie growled in anger as he whirled on the others in the hanger. Gesturing wide with his arms and pointing as he gave orders that Rose did her best to translate. 

“Get this mess out of my way!” Leia gestured sharply with her cane to the boxes of tools and spare parts that created the organized chaos of repair stations in active use. There was no telling how badly this landing would go, or the greeting afterwards. 

They arrived just in time to see ground troops flood the docking bay. Clearly Mother was playing things very safe indeed, not that Ben had time to think about it. The TIE fighter crossed the barrier of safety just ahead of a torpedo, but they were hardly home free. The ship hit the ground hard, spinning wildly and filling the air with white hot metal sparks in addition to the sparks of live, severed circuitry. Any hopes of a coordinated response were dashed as troops and crew had to scramble for personal safety.

Inside the cockpit, Ben had one arm wrapped around Rey and kept her tight against him. Trying to use his own body as a buffer against the worst of it while his other hand shot out, pushing against the incoming and unforgiving hanger wall that they were headed towards. He had never been so relieved to feel his Mother’s presence as Ben sensed her own Force use adding to his, steadily slowing their trajectory and stabilizing their path until the fighter came to a stop.

No one on the outside of the fighter, apart from Chewie, had seen General Organa use the Force before. And yet, among the rather reasonable preoccupation of a crash-landing TIE silencer, almost no one took note of it now. Which was, in so far as Leia was concerned, for the best. Especially at the moment, when there was so much to accomplish.

“We.. better… talk to Leia…” Rey mumbled weakly from inside. She could feel her Master’s presence but lacked the strength to reach out. Instead fumbling with the buttons to raise the hatch that would let them out. She felt wretched, her stomach was turning and the world was decidedly off-color. They just had to get through a little bit mor and then she could rest. “Do you think… the Falcon…”

Her voice trailed off and her eyes half-closed and Ben clutched her closer, panic rising in his chest. She was absolutely not allowed to be hurt, neither her or the children. Stupid woman, this was why he was trying to send her away ahead of time. Even Mother had agreed - Rey needed to be somewhere safe. Why, why, why.

Quickly, Ben lifted her in both arms as soon as there was clearance in the cramped quarters. Either forgetting or uncaring exactly what sort of effect would be produced, the Supreme Leader leapt from his injured fighter and landed in a crouch with one of the Resistance’s prize agents clutched against his chest.

“She needs a medic. Now.” Without lifting his head, Ben’s eyes flicked up, meeting his Mother’s. They could both feel the Darkness and furious threat radiating off him. All chances of his redemption, and the lives of everyone on board, hung on Rey’s well-being. 

“Chewie.” Leia nodded in rapid agreement, gesturing towards Kylo Ren as he rose slowly to a stand. She chose to ignore the Wookie’s angry snarls as he stalked towards the lovers. “Take Rey to the med bay, make sure she stays safe.”

Ben’s features had to tilt up to meet Chewbacca’s gaze as the Solo family’s long standing protector and friend rapidly came close. There was no one he felt safer handing Rey to but seeing his former baby-sitter was shockingly painful. Chewie had been there, that day. When Father died. When he, himself, had…

“Protect her. Please.” He couldn’t finish the thought. Burying it instead and focusing only on the matter at hand - carefully slipping Rey into Chewbacca’s strong arms and ignoring her protests about leaving. Rey wanted to stay to protect him, he knew that without having to ask or reach out. She simply didn’t understand that it wasn’t worth it, not if it risked her in any way. He wasn’t worth it.

“Ben, I’m all right.” Rey struggled to keep her eyes in focus and on him. She didn’t want to let go - almost childishly afraid that, if she let him out of her sight, he would never return. Her nausea worsened when Chewie stood to his full height and she buried her face into his fur with a groan. This was comforting, at least. 

“Humor me, Flower. I’ll be right behind you.” Darkly, he knew there was a chance he was lying. Then again, if Mother tried to separate the pair for too long, Ben Solo had already demonstrated his willingness to drench himself in blood. 

“I’ll find you… if you aren’t…” Chewie was already carrying her away, trilling at her in frustration. Her large protector and perhaps the best of friends, Chewbacca always trusted her judgment even when he hated her choices. Curling her fingers into his thick fur, Rey let herself doze, his gate rocking her to sleep. And, as they walked, there almost seemed to be a soft hand brushing across her hair affectionately.

The entire galaxy seemed frozen in time as Chewbacca carried Rey, the scavenger from Jaku, through the hanger. When he left, followed by an anxious BB8, everyone’s eyes snapped to Kylo Ren. Particularly Finn, who had managed to land safely among the chaos. Only respect for the General kept himself and Poe in check. Fear managed the others nicely.

While the battle raged outside, only one person moved in that large room. The sound of her cane hitting the unforgiving floor beat a steady tattoo, keeping time until Leia Organa Solo stood only a foot away from Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.

“Who am I addressing?”

Leia had had to look up simply to meet his eye since he was 13, yet her stature had never diminished her ability to make others cower. Ben closed his eyes and, for the briefest of moments, it was all some dark dream. He would wake from one of his hellish nightmares, Father would put on one of the children’s holovids that Ben enjoyed watching far longer than he would ever admit to. Mother would come sweeping in from some late meeting, smelling of delicate flowers and looking like an angel. She would kiss his cheek and tell him everything was all right.

Ben’s right hand lowered, unhooking the saber from his belt. He himself didn’t know if he was delaying answering her. But he didn’t speak for a long moment, looking at the hilt in his hand, the cross shape he’d crafted in what seemed another lifetime entirely. 

She studied him openly, her face otherwise emotionless while her emotions surged deep within. Like the Father who had raised her, Leia could maintain perfect passivity in the face of a hurricane while on the bow of a sinking ship - if she so chose. His eyes were locked upon his saber, much as she imagined he had stared the last time Han had drawn breath. It was impossible to miss the surging of fear and anger of those around them and Leia simply did not care. She would find out who the man before her was. The galaxy owed her this much.

The creak of his leather armor rang through as loudly as a blaster when the tall, broad frame lowered onto one knee. Extending his hands upwards and offering Leia the unlit saber, finally meeting her eyes. He could feel the intensity behind his dark gaze as he met the brown ones he remembered so well. The eyes that would soften if he tried to tickle her or that crinkled with laughter whenever Father palmed a trinket into her pocket to surprise her at the oddest times.

“I am Ben Solo.” There was a shakiness to his voice that he hadn’t expected. Rey had called him Ben for nearly a year now, perhaps longer. He would have to look through a calendar to be sure. But when was the last time he had referred to himself as Ben? Dropping his gaze quickly, Ben had to suck in a breath to brace himself against emotions he was unprepared for. 

Regardless of what one believed in regards to redemption, there was not a soul present who did not feel the weight of the moment. The decisions that came from this would shape the lives of the galaxy, for good or ill. Everyone watching had an opinion, be it shaped by logic or emotion, and there would be no pleasing everyone. 

Leia took the hilt calmly, glancing over the weapon that had killed her husband. She could feel the Darkness that had resonated into the very essence of it, a stain that could never be cleansed. The whispers that plagued her bloodline teased at the corners of her mind, that Han could be avenged, peace restored.

She smiled faintly. And clipped the saber to the overwrought belt of silver metal that encircled a stately gown of dark purples with crimson trimmings. 

“Welcome home, Ben.”

Her quiet words, only for him, paired with a featherlight touch on his trembling shoulder, did more to soothe his pain than Ben had ever expected or had any right to hope for. Not after everything he had done, it could not be so simple.

The eyes that looked up at her were so familiar. She had not seen Ben’s eyes in so long. Not since they’d sent him to Luke. Her son was hurting. There was so much to do for the Resistance, for Rey, for him. Things had been done that could not be undone. He had done things she could never forget. Yet in those eyes, there was still the frightened boy - climbing into bed between her and Han, running from the terrors of his nightmares.

Ben could not find words to answer her. It was not that there was nothing to say, more that there was too much to say. There was his plan, the data spikes he would bargain with, Rey’s health, the children, why had Father allowed Luke to try and kill him? Why had Mother sent him away? How could she welcome him back as though he had simply been off at school, not molding himself into the darkest monster he could imagine. 

Turning, Leia nodded towards the open door. When he did not rise quickly enough, she clucked her tongue as though Ben Solo were still a boy of eight and dawdling in rising for lessons.

“Hurry up - she’s waiting.”

#reylo #reylo fanfic #Angst with a happy ending #Fluff and angst and smut #leia organa #general leia #Star Wars fanfic #reunite the dyad #unplanned pregnancy #ben never stops being an asshole #redeemed ben solo #kylo redemption

[possibilistfanfiction]

My mom was born before Title IX was passed (she was in college when it passed). She said men didn't coach women's sports in the 1970s: only women coached women's sports.

I was wondering what you thought about only allowing women (including transgender women and genderqueer women) to coach women's sports?

I ask because I've never seen women coach men's sports, but I've frequently seen men coach women's sports. My coaches in middle school, high school, and college for women's sports were all men (I'm a genderqueer woman).

I was wondering if you think this is an acceptable viewpoint to have, or is this is considered transphobic and discriminatory toward genderqueer women? If this is considered a microaggression, I'm sorry: it's 100 percent unintentional.

i love this question! i think it's nuanced, both in the way you're asking it and in the way this question has to be answered, which is great :)

i was recently in a roundtable put on by an org called women in soccer (they have some great public-facing resources too!) about women coaches and of course this came up as pretty much the first question. football has abysmal rates of women coaches now, which have actually been in decline for decades. the tucker center for research on girls & women in sport at u of minnesota is a really incredible resource if you're a data & methodology fan like me — they have so many projects that help examine and explore the breakdown on women in sport in general, and in football specifically.

beyond the data, or perhaps what the data points us toward, as well as data we unfortunately have gathered through this report, and the lived experiences we now know out in the open for sure, is that sport needs a huge overhaul. what i always talk about and point toward is basically like — what people can we put into positions of power that will not abuse them? that's kind of the end stop thing, right?

& that's certainly not to say that women, especially cishet white women, are immune to perpetuating abuse born of white supremacy (we obviously know this lol). so i don't think the simple solution of 'more women coaches/women in the front office, women owners' etc actually deeply addresses what has perpetuated the abuse in the first place, it's just part of it. i know you're not suggesting that 'more women' is simply the answer, either :)

so to me, the answers lie in how we unravel the systems: like i said in a previous ask, the questions are really around what does abolition look like in sport, and what does transformative justice and restorative justice look like in sport? are we giving power to people who deeply believe in these tenants as core parts of their being, not just their profession?

so i think the answer lies in who has power; i certainly think that there should be a vast increase of women coaches, women owners, women in the front office, absolutely. but when we are hiring these women, we also need to have oversight that isn't just about 'performance' in terms of a winning record, and certainly that isn't nepotism — which happens way more with men (e.g., christy holly) but like... hollywood lol we know it happens with everyone.

i think the more we bring in people who do hold tenants of liberation, & sport as a vehicle for it — as in, sport is a way for us to talk about & demonstrate our politic, & what we stand for, & what's right, rather than being about performance itself — only then will sport really truly start to change. white women like lisa baird & jill ellis are part of the same deeply shitty & violently harmful system that kept abusers in place, which is why the solution isn't just to bring in women. (on a personal note, the most insane transphobia i've experienced in sport has been from executive directors in usys who are like huge TERFy white women; can't say everything willy-nilly on the internet but absolutely batshit. i know there are definitely more gender expansive pro players than are out & every day i have to work w these old white women i understand why they haven't come out more & more)

imo the solution is going to lie in our view of sport & movement shifting, which will only happen when we have women of color, trans women, queer dfab people, & disabled people in positions of power — & the more former players & parents we can have in those spaces, the better!! i don't mean this in an empty representational dei way either; ussf offered me a contract to run dei workshops for them in june about lgbtq+ inclusion in football & have yet to pay me, so like that's just scraping the barrel.

but when, like anywhere else, we look toward what a liberated version of this thing we love could be, i think naturally we're pointed toward women, poc, queer people, & disabled people (& ofc intersections) as the leaders who will actually do something. press is a great example, & i think has actually grown a lot in her politic over the past few years, as someone who really does responsibly act on the tenants she believes in; she deserves every right in the world to leave football entirely whenever she wants, obviously, but i would love to see her stay in the game in a position of power. she already has changed the game a lot as a player, & so those are the kind of people i want to see influence the game more (if they want!!).

& so, the tenants are the same as anywhere else — for systems to change, we need to hire (& fairly compensate, in all the ways!!) the people who dream of liberation beyond the current systems themselves. imo that is very, VERY rarely going to be cishet white men — &, to be frank, many men in positions of power in sport in general, as far as i have experienced both as a competitive athlete & as someone who has worked w the highest held positions in us youth soccer & ussf. we can look toward the wnba as (a very imperfect but still notable) example of what happens when more women, especially Black women, are in positions of power — & continue to watch, critique, and celebrate that league :)

so in short, i love ur question, i think you are asking it in the right way, & i think the answer is yes, hire people who want to burn it down & build it back up in a way that creates safety & adaptive celebration within movement for anyone who wants to play — that's the only way forward.

[badedramay]

There’s an entire thread on a fb group I’m in that’s hating on Yunhi. Don’t get me wrong—the drama has its fair share of problems.

However, what surprises me is how the people in this fb group don’t even consider that character development could be a thing? Like for example, dada’s misogynistic af advice to Daood about marriage is terrible, but Daood clearly seemed uncomfortable with it. Yet a good portion of that thread is talking about how backwards Dada is (which I agree with) but how the drama is backwards for showing Daood agreeing to treat his wife like that. Are we watching the same show? Does nobody think that Daood will take his grandfather’s words and finally refuse to do something he’s been told to do? Same with Kim — do people really think she’ll stay exactly the same character she was in episode 1? She’s already changing.

It is a *flawed* drama but I feel like the qaum doesn’t know the concept of character development exists unless it’s a toxically alpha male falling for a woman and acting 0.6% less alpha.

I was actually very against Maya when she said that people need to watch the entire drama before casting judgment but now I think she’s right. We have leads who are developing but it’s like no one sees that—just takes everything at face value.

I feel like..90% of the people who get on the internet to discuss PakDramas don't actually know how to really discuss them. This is just me speaking from my experience but I have seen that only a handful of people first accept the drama for what it IS before commenting on it. This is the first step of having any objective opinion on a drama. But many MANY people completely disregard the first step and jump on the next which warrants the response of, "are we even watching the same show?"

Because clearly we aren't. Yunhi is flawed, I get it. The writing in the initial episodes demanded quite a lot of suspension of disbelief. However, it has settled down now. 10 episodes is a good enough point for a drama to fully establish its mood, style, and characters. It took me taking a break from the drama, getting back to it with full intention of not letting my own notions overshadow what the drama is trying to say to fully get into the drama. But for a good chunk of the internet audience they haven't been able to let go of their initial notions.

On twt an America based "reviewer" simply cannot get over Kim's characterization. She's too busy being personally offended at someone like Kim representing American born Pakistanis that she cannot see her character beyond that. I guess that's the same for the people who are hating on Dada for being a misogynist. They simply cannot see beyond their own need to have characters that can be neatly packaged into "black" and "white" to realize that people Dada's age and belonging to the social class he does and enjoying the position of the patriarch in the family and ESPECIALLY having benefited from generational misogyny WILL most certainly act the way he does. Does that make him a villain or a bad person? NO! of course not. being misogynist is a flaw and of course in an ideal world we'd want characters to be fully rid of this flaw but misogyny is also the most prevalent truth of our society. there are countless people we know irl that are misogynist but we won't call them villains cuz apart from this one flaw, they are alright human beings.

Another thing, and Maya was completely right in pointing that out, is that no one allows a drama to play out. A weekly drama with avg 25 episodes will not reveal ALL its cards in the first episode. It won't introduce a conflict and resolve it in the same episode. yes, what it can do is that it'll give a hit about the path the drama intends to take when the conflict is introduced. which is what Yunhi DID in the episode. the major takeaway from the episode was: Dawood being advised by both his Dada and his friends to be the typical "man"; to exert his "supremacy" and show "raub" to Kim right from the beginning. We see Dawood not fully comfortable with the idea BUT giving it a try anyway. Why? cuz Dawood is already feeling out of depth with this sudden decision thrust upon him. He's feeling helpless. for him to take his Dada's advice was him trying to gain some semblance of control back.

look at the terrace scene. look at Dawood's body language. he comes there and stands with his arms behind his back in a "dominant" pose. he rattles off his usual "you so badtameez, you so arrogant" rant. Kim is completely disinterested in all that; it's nothing she hasn't heard before. she coolly dismisses him. Dawood tries to take the control back. NOW THAT BIT. Dawood reaching out to hold her hand.

"Itni asaani se yahan se jaane nahin dunga."

That's what he says but look at how he cannot see her in the eyes when saying that. that was him showing his discomfort as he tried to exert his dominance. and people think THIS Dawood will take his Dada's advice to heart and will start being all "mard" with Kim?? Kim is shocked at his action and she's angry. still, she holds her ground. she reminds him that she'll do whatever she pleases.

"Aur khabardar mujhe meri ijazat ke bagair kabhi haath lagaya."

This is where she really gets angry. Just listen to how she spits out those words, just look at the way she's glaring at him. She's mad at being treated like this, she's offended at being thought of as someone who'll be okay with this kind of manhandling. Right as she says it, Dawood lets go of her hand. Because in Kim's glare Dawood is reminded of this very simple fact that what matters in a relationship is not the dominance of a man, but the consent of the partner. It's not an ideal Dawood will be TAUGHT by Kim - it's an ideal that he already HAS. but in the kind of partriarchal household Dawood lives in, he hasn't seen these ideals as examples around him. so he had a momentary lapse in judgement because of his need to gain control back.

One doesn't need a phd in neuroscience to understand this. all they need is a mere acceptance of characters as they ARE instead of how you'd WISH them to be. Yunhi is still one of the better examples of dramas where at least the characters backgrounds are so clear that their actions can be justified. there's not clashing contrast of how a character behaves vs what their background is. Dada is a patriarch so he'll preach about the misogyny that has benefited him all his life. Naveed, despite spending half his life in America, is still a man who never forgot his roots and is aware of how the ideals of his homeland will not change so it's better to let them be instead of trying to change them. Kim being a product of a liberal country who has seen examples of people cutting off their entire families when their ideals don't match will of course question the way of life that's in Dawood's house. For her, cutting ties and moving away is a very real possibility. For Dawood, it isn't. it's something they'll have to learn and accept about each other AS THE STORY PROGRESSES.

Kim hasn't changed; initially she was just baffled after coming in an environment that was nothing like she has ever witnessed. She brought her own prejudices to the table and was judging the family based on THAT instead of what they were (guess who else does it?) but she kept an open mind. just look at how she reacts whenever Dawood patiently tries to explain his side of the situation to her. she never dismisses him outright. she listens to what he has to say and then either accepts it, questions it until she gets a satisfactory answer, or lets the matter drop entirely because it's not worth her energy to argue with a wall. but she LISTENS. she's open to understanding this family and all she expects them is to understand her in return. that's it. that's the whole show.

ironically our audience doesn't realize that. they don't see this as a drama of two worlds colliding. heck, they don't see it as a DRAMA which has to spread out its story and reveal it in chunks of 36 minutes over the course of 25ish weeks. because Yunhi HAS a story. it has rich characters with layers to explore in them. and all of that will happen in due time.

Maya has talked about Yunhi being a story of how a husband supports his wife. and Dawood has every indication of being that kind of husband. Kim and Dawood, despite their rocky start, have a established relationship where they TALK and LISTEN to each other. i am most positively looking forward to that playing out. but where oh WHERE is the requirement that for this story to work out the characters have to be flawless?????????????????? they can't be all 10 across the board. not just in this drama but literally in every story ever. no one is saying Yunhi is the bestest writtten most perfect drama to ever exist but good lord, this drama is still farrrrrr better than the current on-air lot which are basically a confused mishmash with no coherent style or direction and most definitely lacking in that importance BALANCE which make any drama entertaining.

#yunhi #type: opinion #pakistani drama #i have so much to say #yes even more than this #but abhi ke liye yehi kafi hai #my one post >>> all fb threads xD

[blazehedgehog]

Roughly how many hours do you spend working on your major videos? Have you ever tried to figure out what sort of hourly wages you earn when you divide your YouTube and Patreon revenue by time spent working on content? I get the feeling that it's becoming increasingly difficult to make videos for a living, but I don't have any hard numbers to support that suspicion because creators tend to keep that info close to their chest (for good reason)

It's not really something I can easily measure. This isn't like I'm traveling to an office, clock in, focus on work for four hours, take a 30 minute break, work for four more hours, and then go home.

I try to do that, certainly, but there are also a lot of days where I get distracted for hours at a time with something on twitter, or discord, or whatever. Depending on the job, that could happen at real work, too, but not as much.

Like, when I worked at the thrift store back in Colorado, they actually patted me on the back for being one of the few people they had who took it seriously. Sure, I often took long lunches (45+ minutes) but they didn't seem to care and they were very happy with my work ethic outside of that.

Being your own boss is very difficult and unfortunately I am in a place where my work space is the same space where I do everything else -- I eat here, I sleep here, I relax here, and it can be hard to shift gears between different modes.

So I can't accurately tally up how much work I do in a given day because some days I work for what feels like 14 hours and some days it feels like I only work for a few minutes. Most of that depends on the stage of production -- script writing seems to be the slowest grind these days. Capturing footage goes the fastest. Cutting the final product together is where the longest, most intense hours come in.

I do, however, routinely think about "hourly wages" when it comes to Twitch, because they print "here's how long you streamed vs. how much you earned" in pretty black and white terms. Hopefully I don't sabotage anything by saying this (I know Youtube Networks don't like you sharing earnings analytics), but the two Twitch streams I did for Halloween, I streamed just under 6 hours and made about $9. That's, like, what, $1.50 an hour? Not great.

(But it was also totally impromptu, super low key, and in the middle of the night. More "for fun." I didn't even break 10 viewers for most of it.)

I will say, though, bare minimum, this has been one of the more profitable years for me on Youtube. But I need to do better.

Which natureally leads me to wonder what the purpose of this ask is.

As my Patreon has grown over the last couple months, and I've declared I'm finally making enough from it to cover my food groceries, I've had people ask how that's possible because I'd need more money for rent and things like that. Which is true! I cannot cover rent yet. I pay what I can when I can to my brother for the room I am staying in currently and I keep my fingers crossed that the hammer doesn't drop.

I have sat around and had a lot of panic attacks whether or not I can make this work. Doubts and questioning whether I can get things up high enough fast enough to make a dent in... I dunno, life, I guess. I don't need people drilling me about it, because I'm already drilling myself every second of every day.

For now, as long as the number keeps going up instead of down, I am going to close my eyes and pray for the best.

(Further reading beyond this point becomes very serious and heavy.)

To some extent, this is what my Mom wanted. When she went in to the hospital last year and her leg mysteriously broke, she came here to live at my brother's. Same room I'm in now. And I had this sense that even if she recovered, she may never drive again, she may never walk again, so by the end of that second or third week we sat down and had a loooong talk, because it was clear that no matter what else happened, there was about to be a shift in the dynamic.

So we cleared the air. There was a lot of crying. Up to that point, she had still acted like The Mom. She did the cooking, she did (some of) the cleaning, she managed all the finances, she was the head of the household. I'd offer to cook dinner and she'd either refuse, or only let me cook for myself only. Like, there would be times where she'd be full on asleep on the couch or whatever, and if she heard me trying to cook, she'd get up and try to shoo me out of the kitchen so she could fix dinner for us.

But after her leg broke, she was traumatized. She'd been suffering from very bad sciatica (back pain) for a long time, and every time she'd go to the hospital, they would brush her off and push her out the door. The circumstances in which her leg broke were horrible. She told us time and time again she begged them to go easy on her because her leg hurt before it broke, likely due to weak bones. After it broke, they refused to believe her. I think she said they left her laying in bed in the worst pain of her life for hours because they didn't think her femur actually broke. I actually saw her during this time and she was writhing in her hospital bed, barely coherent. It was awful.

That hurt her mentally as much as physically. My strong, independent, "I'll do it MYSELF" mother was suddenly frail and timid and prone to crying over something as small as me forgetting to make her a cup of coffee.

So even though it was a months and months and months before we knew she was actually just dying of cancer, I knew we had to sort things out and shift the balance of power. Even if she made a recovery, nothing would ever be the same again.

And when I brought up the prospect of taking Youtube more seriously, she was all for it. She said that "I always told everybody you were going to be famous some day."

My impostor syndrome never really rationalized that. In that moment, and especially now in retrospect, I believed her, but prior to that moment, all the praise she had given me over the years smashed in to a brick wall and ceased to exist. But it was her, when I'd have my one video a year take off, tell me about the "serious money" I could be making if I applied myself (which I never did, because she was my safety net and my comfort zone.)

And then I think about all the times she tried to tell me how smart I was, and about how, when I was 14 years old, there was some manager from IBM that "wanted to talk to me" because I had made a game in Clickteam Fusion over a weekend to sell at a craft fair she was attending.

Or how she'd push me to give out business cards to people who would compliment me on my Redbubble shirt designs when I'd wear them out in public. She always wanted me to hustle and I never had the drive or the energy for that.

I am trying to summon the energy up for that now. And it's hard, but at least I'm trying. Am I trying hard enough? Shit, I don't know. Maybe ask all the sleep I've lost in the last three months. I used to be the kind of guy who would zonk out and fall asleep within two minutes of my head touching the pillow, but now I routinely lay in bed for close to an hour, wondering and worrying if I can make this work.

As long as the number keeps going up instead of down, I am going to close my eyes and pray for the best.

I would like to end this saying that I'm pretty sure you aren't actually drilling me or anything like that. Honestly, no need to apologize. I always expect the worst from these asks and nobody is ever really that mean, outside of like... what probably amounts to one guy.

You're fine. And hopefully I'll be fine.

#questions #Anonymous #youtube #personal #my mom

[onewomancitadel]

What are your thoughts on the claim that Knightfall is a dangerous portrayal to men women? imo this is a buncha bullshit but a lot of people I see calling it a "crack ship" are also saying that if it ever happened it would be toxic and harmful. Some say the idea of having a man save a woman is wrong and others say having Jaune date a killer would ruin his character. How do you deal with stupidity on this level?

Lol it's bullshit. Of course it's bullshit. It's not even worth debating because it's such a waste of time and such a reductive opinion grounded in bad media analysis and bad philosophy. If you hear the word 'toxic' you need to stage exit the conversation, it's a red flag.

Sure, women consuming the wrong fiction will make them get into abusive relationships, I love the victim blaming here. Or attributing abuse in real life relationships being a result of fiction? Yeah, I am sure that is going to fly in sincere debates surrounding intimate partner violence (IPV). I can guaratee you if you read any surrounding literature about IPV or DV, the focus is not going to be on who likes Kylo Ren too much or reads the wrong type of romance.

Even then, I don't think Knightfall is a) a crackship - it most certainly isn't, thank you, it's very narratively justified, and one of Jaune's biggest moments in the show, well two of them, are with her, or b) something bad or toxic at all, in fact thematically motivating the relationship (in canon) would be healing, forgiveness, and compassion, and fundamentally uplifting the notion of nonviolence. So Knightfall isn't even anything textually 'problematic'.

If it were textually problematic I would still dismiss the notion it would have a serious impact on real-life relationships - though trying to draw some type of actual casual impact is extremely difficult, because the kinds of things influencing real life harm is actually multi-modal. If you care about that thing, sincerely and truly, which to be quite frank people obsessed with toxicity in fiction don't care. Motivating a lot of this is just cloaked ship wars, or 'me not like this and it hurts my fee-fees'. Or deep, profound resentment for the art and structure of narrative and metaphor.

The reality is that tonally R/WBY is fantastical and it is romantic. A character like Cinder Fall killing Pyrrha Nikos isn't just flatly about killing, it's also conveying lots of different ideas:

the inevitability of change and growth (ooh! Autumnal theming!), the violence of change, the complete unseating she symbolically represents in the story [for the characters to grow], the death of childhood, the complicated morality of an expanding worldview as you come to see adults as people/the world beyond black and white/understand what made Cinder do it

and if you flatly define that as 'Cinder Fall big bad meanie who need dieeeeee' then your analysis bad too. But the irony here is that people who say ships like Knightfall are toxic are people fundamentally not interested in a) metaphor and the relationship we have to stories emotionally, b) actual compassion and transformation and healing, c) actual harm in the real world, especially when they go out of their way to hurt real people over fiction. You don't know the shit I've seen in the Reylo fandom (and yes, Reylo is a feminine-driven narrative, Rey was on the Heroine's Journey (most prominently in TLJ), though Reylo and Knightfall aren't necessarily tonally 1:1). I mean it was really shocking and so bad I don't want to talk about it, and people used Reylo as a cover to harass Jewish Reylo fans - calling them N*zi apologists!, Black Reylo fans, female and trans fans, and I saw some really shocking stuff. Again and again and again. By the time we hit the pressure point of TROS I saw one of the most offensive opinions about Kylo Ren expressed and retweeted on Twitter, which I advise you to skip the rest of this paragraph if you are in a sensitive space mentally: a user suggested that actually, if Kylo Ren's evil is analogous to mental illness, sometimes mentally ill people really do need to kill themselves because they're beyond help. Tell me: how is Kylo Ren being naughty worse than that? It fucked me up and still fucks me up, not just because of that but because of other things I have experienced.

So just ignore their framework and their approach. It's not about harm and it's not about protecting people or caring about what sort of relationships ought to be depicted in media. It's using false concern to load their argument and make it impossible to debate because you might concede territory to the idea that toxicity is okay. It's literally impossible to ever hold a conversation and I can guarantee you that 99% of people I've encountered with that opinion are 100% disinterested in hearing anything to challenge the notion of 'toxicity' because it's not about that - it's about ship and story taste. And nihilistic storytelling. Because stories are stupid and metaphors are also stupid.

Some say the idea of having a man save a woman is wrong

Lol this isn't even what it would be, but they're automatically trying to say it will be because they can't conceive of Cinder as an active character in the story because a) big mean baddie and b) stupid woman, really showing their hand there about how they conceive of female characters. Jaune helping Cinder, when everybody else has completely failed her, is profoundly meaningful, and Cinder being able to act on her own terms is profoundly empowering considering her enslavement.

But anybody trying to convince you that community is weak and we shouldn't help each other and we can't be uplifted through connection either has an ulterior motive or is somebody who has bought into deeply cynical thinking, which is probably more hurtful than anything Cinder could do.

and others say having Jaune date a killer would ruin his character.

Ruin his character how? Because he's their self-insert and it disrupts their projection? Because Jaune shouldn't do something important and transformative and he's better off left to the side? Because his Semblance shouldn't have a serious impact on the story? Lol

Yeah, would be so much better if Jaune killed Cinder. I've heard that story before, it's tragic and I don't like it. The whole point of Cinder's redemption is it would redeem the tragedy of Pyrrha's death. It's narrative patterns babey

How do you deal with stupidity on this level?

For some context, I am a TFA-era Reylo. I have seen it all. People who say Knightfall is toxic etc. (which I honestly haven't even seen because I know how to curate my fandom experience - just avoid stuff you don't like if you dislike Knightfall) are like little babies. Watch this

The way I personally deal with it is actually just to recognise you're never really having the argument you think that you're having. If you're somebody who takes IPV and the depiction of women in media really seriously, and you are interested in the way we resonate with narrative and want to discuss what it means for people to identify with villains, and if you enjoy discussing things seriously and trying to hear the other side out, you are having the wrong conversation and your 'ummmm this ship is toxic!!!' interlocutor does not care.

Yes, I'll allow there's probably some actual anxiety and projection into 'problematic media' that is actually about earnest concern - that displacement isn't controversial. But I would say that this doesn't make up the majority of the crowd. They're not interested in peer-reviewed sources, they're not interested in the kinds of 'problematic' stories which have been a part of storytelling for all of human history - and they deny humanist universalism and connection through stories as well, for dealing with complicated experiences, they're not interested in seriously debating the topic. It is the fandom age-old story of ship wars, and what kind of story someone is expecting, and this is especially apparent now with the rise of corporate storytelling. An easy story with cynical self-awareness, good vs. bad, kill bad guy. Make sure to insert a joke in there just in case you are getting too emotionally sincere.

But that doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything to those people. Don't bother. Find your bliss instead. That goes for people who don't like Knightfall: maybe stop trying to destroy things and ask for other people to do the dirty work of making 'pure' media, and try to create things yourself.

You know why those 'pure' fandoms scare off creators and pretty much have dead fandoms? Because this kind of anodyne narrative analysis is actually creatively deadening. It's boring. Once you overthink your story this way it's impossible to write for. It's much more freeing to work in service to narrative, not in service to perceived political good... which for that matter, is a total separate tin of worms, which once you open up is extremely dangerous. If a story must be 'politically good' in order to allow to be told, I can guarantee you it will be used by the powers that be, not to tell empowering stories.

None of this is to say that I don't seriously think about the way social attitudes imprint themselves on fiction. The argument here is that social attitudes imprinted on fiction are as harmful, or as concerning as harm in real life, and must be wholly avoided. I am very comfortable reading stories which contain misogyny; I can recognise it's wrong, and part of my critical analysis enables me to use my groan up girl brain to identify whether it's something being used by the story to further its themes or whether the author is a fuckwit. I like to think that many others are just the same.

But Knightfall's not even like that lol. If anything it's empowering. To me I find the story of the deeply wounded villainess who comes into her own feminine power and redeems it through someone reaching out to her with uncompromising and literally magical compassion like, um, very compelling. Narratively the only person who can forgive Cinder is Jaune. That's why it's fun. It's not about fighting what you hate, but saving what you love.

Also, if the deep wound of the story is Ozlem, Jaune and Cinder - two characters in an ensemble cast, yes - coming together and proving you could work back from Ozlem as enemies back to lovers is... everything. That's not just emotionally moving, that's actually seriously saying something.

Although to me, the idea that you can still come back from something, and fix it, and you're not too far gone, and you can change, and you can open your heart, and you could decide not to choose violence today, and you could have a home, and you could be free, and you could take on responsibility you're prepared for, is very moving. See? It's not about toxicity. In my opinion, it's a resistance to vulnerability. Bad characters who change and recognise badness in themselves are scary.

Thanks for your ask anon. I may have got a bit impassioned there... sorrey...

#seraphina's asks #user: anonymouse #knightfall

[mchiti]

from what I read on here I get the impression that are people who think Hakim is a bad Muslim. I find it very annoying and I don't understand where it comes from..

hi anon! I just got home and it's so late and I should sleep but like I thought about this ask for hours. I have to be honest I didn't want to answer this because I promised myself if I ever got any anon hate I would never answer it. Obviously you're not hating, but it's just something that really seems pointless to discuss and I'm not comfortable to discuss.

And YET: I can't shut up about this either. it seems to me even religion is a privilege at some point. We're always going to blame poor people for not being righteous enough don't we? How come we never judge the rich? Hakim certainly ain't poor anymore but I guess most of the hate comes from the fact they have this idea about his "poor troubled past" that I don't care to discuss here. I'm Muslim and I'm proud of it but I'm not going to let people condemn the poor in the name of religion. My faith is strong and God sees way beyond people's reasoning and His judgment is in accord to people needs Alhamdoulilah. So if it's not for his upbringing what other reasonings are there because I don't see anything else to discuss about? It's literally only about what the media says about his pre-football life and I don't care to discuss on what is true and what is not. I only would like people to remember that this world is not just, and there are many people who struggle. Do people even go out meeting people, talking to them, understanding how difficult it is to grow up with an immigrant face in white societies? My religion doesn't judge people's struggle, I don't know about yours. We should just shut up cause we are no one to judge. Religion shouldn't go hand in hand with classism I'll tell you this.

#like the good moroccan meme says #yes very sad: but kifach ibota b 120dh? #for real #i'm stupid and I'm only here to have fun this is just my opinion