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syrena-del-mar · 7 months

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Selfish Desires and the Class War: Dead Friend Forever

Ever since @nyxelestia's great additions to my tags about how Phee has been able to process his grief in comparison to Tan, and succinctly stated how class theorists regard poverty as a type of violence, I can't help but take a bit of a socio-economic look at the DFF's group of friends. Particularly, episode 10 really served to solidify my theory on the underlying commentary DFF is making regarding selfishness and the different abilities to skirt punishment dependent on class.

For this one, I'm going to break this down in a couple of categories: first, I'm going to explain Hobbes' theory on human nature and Marx's theory on class wars. Then I will be listing out the 'class types' each one of the DFF boys are in (sans White). Finally I will be analyzing the THC gang with Non, then Phee and New.

Keep in mind that here I will be defining 'selfish desires' as to the innate human inclination to prioritize one's own needs, wants, and interests over that of others. Meanwhile class war/conflict will be in reference to the societal divide into different classes dependant on their relationship to their means of production and value.

Human Nature According to Hobbes

In Hobbes' 'Leviathan', he delves into understanding human nature. His conclusion is probably best summarized by his most known phrase, "'the state of nature." In this state of nature, where Hobbes hypothesized about a life where there is no government, no laws, or state of order, just simply individuals that are able to live without constraints. Hobbes found that life would be "solitary, poor, nasty, short, and brutish."

Hobbes' comes to the conclusion, that absence of societal constraints, humans are driven by desire to secure their own survival and fulfill their desires. Hobbes states that there is an universal, fundamental drive for self-preservation that leads to a state of equality among humans. Yey, instead of being able to live in harmony, the equality, particularly in vulnerability to harm and death, breeds competition since it is human nature to scrounge, secure, and vie for resources— even when it means taking advantage of one another.

Central to Hobbes' theory of human nature is fear—fear of others, fear of harm and fear of uncertainty. Without structure, humans are trapped in a perpetual state of insecurity, creating a 'war of all against all'. Hobbes acknowledges that individuals have natural rights, particularly the right to self-preservation but with a lack of governing authority, the enforcement to this right is essentially meaningless.

Tldr; there are four main components to human nature: self-preservation, fear and insecurity, equality and competition, and natural rights.

Theory of Class Wars

Now, enter Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels and we have the theory that a society is divided into two classes: the bourgeoisie and the proletariats. The bourgeoisie, own the means of production and are able to explore the labor of the proletariat for profit, which ends up leading to human alienation and inequality.

When it comes to the relationship of selfish desires and class war, at its core, the idea instills that a capitalist system incentivizes and rewards the selfish pursuits among the bourgeoisie. The accumulation of wealth and exploitation of labor and the quest for profit are the driving forces between constructing and maintaining class inequalities.

Dead Friends Forever: The Intersection of Social Class Divide and Selfish Desires

The thing about Dead Friend Forever is that there is a visible class division between Por and Non, which drowns out the undercurrent class differences between the rest of the DFF gang.

Por: He is born into power and higher class. His mother ever states "Do you think I'll be in trouble for kind of thing?" He is born into awareness of his status and the privilege.

Jin: Just from the house that he lives, you can tell that he is relatively well off. The finishes in the house both interior and the exterior show that his family, while not as rich as Por, are likely more than financially stable.

Phee: His dad is a police inspector, which likely provides decent money, as he is able to send his son to a private school on a single household income.

Fluke: We're given enough information that we know he wants to be a doctor and make his mom proud, he's attending tutoring classes and there's no mention of money issues.

Top: No mention of struggling for money, can safely assume that he lives comfortably.

Tee: Struggling, has a lot of debts to Uncle Joe in order to keep his dad alive.

New/Non: Their whole family is struggling even before Non went missing. What little money they had was sent over to New, even taking on debts to be able to provide for him abroad. They were one paycheck away from losing everything, which they eventually did.

Non and the THC Gang

Aside from Tee, the main group are all born into various levels of wealth and privilege, whether it be purely monetary or with the jobs of their parents, so they're able to navigate their life with an air of entitlement. Their desires are all shaped by the comforts and opportunities that their status affords them. Por's family alone was able to get their high school film reported on and with a viewing, merely with the mother's flippant mention of the project. Not to mention that Por's mother explicitly sets the tone of how she would be treated compared to Non's mom. It's a stark contrast, Non stands out as the outsider, not only due to his lack of friends in the school, but also marginalized by his lack of wealth and social standing in comparison to the rest of the gang. And in an odd way, it's likely why he felt a certain degree of kinship with Tee, who is the only other individual visibly struggling to survive, even if he mostly keeps his money troubles away from his group of friends.

The whole reason Non even gets involved with the group is because the group, particularly Por and Fluke, are driven by their hunger for success and recognition. Por likely wanted his parents to find some pride in him and Fluke needs it to round out his resume when applying to medical school. They desperately want to win the sponsorship, so they need and use Non— not as an equal but as a means to an end. They exploit his talent in scriptwriting and they use him as a pawn, not even inviting him to the presentation when its Non's script their using. Hell, they barely could stand being close enough to take a picture with Non. They quite literally use him as a pawn, an easy exploit, reminiscent of Hobbes' notion of self-interest as a driving force.

As the show continues on, the exploitation of Non takes on darker shades, echoing Hobbes bleak depiction of the state of nature. The initial bullying, that is rooted in class-based prejudices, transforms into a calculated campaign of cruelty. While Tee might be struggling financially, he's actually the true leader of the group. Sure, Por may have the money, but the guys only follow what Tee wants. Top and Tee use Non's marginalization against him, almost as if vultures feeding on the weaker. Top doesn't have to pay for the camera and Tee is able to find Uncle Joe's next victim for the horse accounts, a complete parallel of Hobbes' description of the strong dominating the weak in the absence of a social contract. In doing so Non, the 'marginalized' becomes fodder for the selfish desires of Tee and Top, initiating a chain-reaction event to Non's detriment.

While Por, Tee, and Top have the more obvious benefits with how Non is treated, so does Fluke. Fluke, in the hierarchy of status within the group, is at the bottom rung. With Non there he's able to be treated better and he no longer is the scapegoat. He admits it in this episode. He needed Non to be mistreated, because he feared being targeted by the rest of the THC gang, and having Non around kept everyone else's attention off of him. He was no longer the one being harrassed. He's able to sacrifice Non for his own benefit.

The thing about Fluke is that he doesn't overtly try to harm Non, not in the same way that the others do. No, his covert damage that he causes Non is in his silence. He sees Top destroy the camera, Tee come up with the idea to target Non, he sees Jin film Non and Kru Keng, he even questions Jin's intentions to film, but he's spineless. He cares more for himself, he prioritizes his self-preservation. He maintains the status quo and utilizes Non's weakness so that he isn't the next target.

Initially, Jin's treatment of Non seems to defy the expected narrative of class exploitation, since out of the group he's the one that is the most compassionate and understanding. From a Marxist perspective, this initial compassion could be understood as an acknowledgment of the inherent inequalities that exist between the affluent and the marginalized. Jin's actions might suggest a fleeting moment of solidarity, recognizing and acknowledging Non's humanity beyond his status. However, his demeanor shifts dramatically when he realizes that Non doesn't reciprocate his romantic feelings and worsens when he sees him with Kru Keng.

Hobbesian human nature, which is driven by the pursuit of power and self-interest, comes to the forefront as Jin's wounded pride and sense of rejection fuel his actions. In Hobbes' state of nature, individuals are driven by their desires and fears leading to betrayal and conflict. His change in behavior to Non reflects this as he seeks to assert dominance and control in the face of perceived rejection by punishing Non. Jin's betrayal of Non's trust and kindness underscores the harsh realities of class divides, where compassion can quickly give way to exploitation. Hobbes argued that individuals in the state of nature are in constant competition for power and self-preservation, here Jin's realization that Non does not reciprocate his feelings leaves him feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Non's role as a commodity within the framework becomes clear as filming continues. His talent is valued solely for its ability to bring profit and success to the friends. Yet, despite his contributions, Non remains alienated from the fruits of his labor, he's always the worker and never the leader. Continuing this trend of being a pawn in group's quest for recognition. Marx's concept of false consciousness is evident, since Non remains unaware of the true nature of his exploitation until its too late.

The group needs to get rid of Non, because he's become a lose cannon. Tee needs him delivered to his Uncle, so that he can survive and continue to receive the payments he needs to keep his dad alive. The depths of their depravity are laid bare and echoes both Hobbes' and Marx's grim assessments of human nature intertwined with class conflict. Non becomes a victim to their cruelty, to their selfish desires, and the stark reality of coming from a poor family. He disappears into the abyss of the mafia, while the rest of the group continue to live their lives unperturbed, shielded by their wealth and privilege.

Interestingly enough, every single one of the guys that come from a better socio-economic status have begged for Non's forgiveness while under the influence of New's hallucinogens. The only one who doesn't is Tee. Yes, he is under the distress of confessing his crimes since Fluke is holding White hostage, but he's the only one that is willing to admit fault and ask for forgiveness without having to hallucinate Non's face or his voice. All this leaves me asking, what depths of betrayal and exploitation were the THC gang willing to sink to in their quest for dominance? Did Tee's penance begin when attempted to help Non escape his Uncle Joe? Was Non actually able to escape or had they sent him to his death?

2. Phee and New/Tan

Even through Phee and New, we can see Hobbesian and Marxist themes in their different versions of grief they experience over Non's disappearance.

New embodies the the essence of Hobbesian human nature, bringing around the idea of 'war of all against all'. His relentless pursuit of revenge becomes a primal instinct for survival, since he has lost everything good in his life. His brother, his childhood home, his education, his mother, and finally his father, in that very order, over the span of three years. New's grief over the disappearance of Non becomes a consuming force that propels him into a world of darkness. In Hobbes' state of nature, individuals are typically driven by self-interest and the pursuit of power, which New's quest of revenge reflects this fundamental aspect. His quest against the friends responsible isn't solely about revenge, but it's a desperate attempt to assert agency and justice in a world that has denied his family both.

Marx argues that in a capitalist society, the bourgeoisie will exploit the proletariat for profit, perpetuating class struggles. Non was exploited for his script, but New represents the proletariat, the oppressed working class fighting back against the forces of oppression. His revenge is a revolt against the oppressive structures of class inequality that have marginalized his whole family. In Marxist terms, his journey is a symbol of the proletariat struggle against exploitation and injustice, which echos the revolutionist spirit of Marxism.

On the other hand, Phee, who is financially well-off and still has his father, represents the privilege and the detachment from the struggles of the proletariat. He never fully understood why Non wasn't receptive to his help, similarly he's not completely understanding New's own thirst for revenge. While Phee is initially driven by a desire to uncover the truth about Non's disappearance, and while he still loves Non, it's mostly driven by guilt and grief within the context of privilege. Phee has things, people, in his life that still matter outside of Non. Yes, he loved Non, but he's able to move on from his grief, reflecting the detachment and apathy that can settle in with privilege. Under Marx's critique of the bourgeoisie, who exploit the proletarian, it's because Phee still has his Dad and other things he loves in life that he is able to move on from the type of anger in grief that New finds himself overwhelmed in.

It's going to be interesting where Phee and New's friendships heads in the last two episodes. Will it New and Phee collide in a violent confrontation that mirrors the clash between the oppressed and the privileged? Is DFF trying to make a comment on the class war where New's relentless pursuit of revenge against the THC gang represents the proletariat's revolt against exploitation, while Phee's detachment echoes the bourgeoisie's indifference to the plight of the marginalized? Or it will show that Phee and New are able to put their social status aside in order to find revenge against the true bourgeoisies, in this case the THC gang, that exploited Non for all his worth until ultimately destroying him.

Final Thoughts

While this episode may feel significantly weaker in comparison to the last five, I think it's providing us with the necessary exposition as we head into our final two episodes. We're seeing the destruction of the 'bourgeoisie' by their own hands with just a little nudge from the sole proletariat. As Hobbes would likely agree, it's a dog eat dog world in that cabin. It always had been with Top, Por, Tee, Fluke and Jin. There was an equality between them, but now with an outside force, their bonds are breaking and they are willing to kill each other just to survive.

Dead Friend Forever is going beyond the standard slasher genre, even beyond horror. I truly think it's making social commentary regarding the classes and human nature. It's going to be interesting to see who comes out the survivor of this party from hell, if there is anyone.

Tagging @slayerkitty for DFF's meta round up.

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arece · 1 year

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The Way Things Go

♤ Summary: You begin to forget. The storyline

♤ a/n: This isn't a request, I'm just feeling angsty. Who still gets covid in 2023? I do and I'm sorry. (1.9k)

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John’s home being burnt down left you very little, and not of monetary value. No, instead it gave you nothing that was explicitly his. You had the coin but that only brought you comfort for so long.

You were having one of your off days, something that became a frequent part of your life since his passing. Curled up on the couch, covered in your softest blanket and Dog, you watched the rain patter against your window.

Your phone vibrated with another call, most likely from Winston. You continued to ignore it, letting him reach your voicemail. Days like these were not good for speaking with him, you could never tell if it would end with you snapping or hysterically sobbing.

Your relationship with the man has never quite recovered. You found the only way to stop unconsciously blaming yourself was to hold it against him, and he was willing to let you resent him if it meant you were no longer your own enemy.

It was hard not to blame someone, if you let it go what of him did you have to hold onto? You were fiddling with the coin, silently pleading with yourself to let it be enough but it wasn’t.

The first to leave you was the way he spoke, afterall he did it so little. Imagining how he said your name, it never managed to sound quite right. It hurt the most when you couldn’t even fathom how he called you kid. The way the letters were pronounced was always wrong.

Then it was how he smelt, something you could no longer even describe - all you could remember was it made you feel serene, smelt of home and safety. Things you weren't even aware you knew until you began to forget it all.

Your breaking point was his face. You would try to picture his face and it started to blur. No matter how hard you focused, how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut, he never came back into focus. You had no pictures for reference, no clothes, nothing to spare yourself from forgetting it all.

You could feel yourself become lost in grief, it felt like the first night of his death all over again. You were alone, without him there. You were alone for two years when he left you but then at least you knew he was out there, somewhere. Alive.

A knock sounded at your door, it seems it had been happening for a while and you missed it in your contemplation. You could hear your door opening, you didn’t bother to lock it, you didn’t have anyone to worry over your safety anymore.

“You’ve been missing for four days,” Winston slowly kneeled into your field of vision by the side of the couch. Has it really been four days? Time usually slowed down while you were missing him. Hours ticking away agonizingly slow as you waited for the painful episode to end. Maybe it was fast because you were welcoming the ache, it was all you had left of him now.

“I’m tired, Winston,” you whispered, nearly taking all your effort to do so. You couldn’t sleep, closing your eyes only served to remind you how you can’t see him. The episodes always hit the hardest after your good days, you always want him when you finally manage to feel fine.

I know, my dear.” He brushed your hair back gently, the gesture reminding you of John and bringing tears to your eyes. “I’m beginning to forget.” A tear slipped out and Winston rubbed it away, “what are you forgetting?”

“I can’t remember anymore, I can't see him. I can’t speak about it because how do you talk about a ghost?” You could feel yourself becoming more worked up, voice slightly cracking and a lump growing in your throat making it harder for you to speak. “He’s always there but it feels like a cruel trick. I’m losing him all over again.”

Your breathing grew labored and Winston pulled you down from the couch into his arms as you began to cry. “I think it’s time for you to go back,” he softly whispered once you started to calm down. You slowly pushed yourself from his arms, uncomfortable with anyone but him giving you affection. “Back where?”

“To the Ruska Roma.” You felt yourself becoming irrationally angry at the mention of John’s other family, his real family, the one he purposely kept separate from you. “I don’t belong there, he made that clear enough,” you couldn’t help but let your ugly bitterness show.

Winston began to stand, giving Dog a pat on the head before making his way to the door, “well, I believe it holds all the answers you need.” You lifted yourself from the floor, glaring at him in a childish protest. He smiled softly to himself, you were hurt but you would be fine.

“Have I ever told you I hate how cryptic you can be?” He opened the door, laughing. He really did hope you’d go, it’d be healing in a way you’ve been needing for a while now, a way he couldn’t do with the barrier between you two. “Multiple times, dear.”

As soon as the door shut you felt the smile drop from your face, the temporary distraction wasn’t enough to erase your grief. You brushed your thumb over the shining coin, you took care of it, never letting even a speck of dust taint it.

It’s not like they’d even welcome you if you went, did they even know you exist? Probably, word spreads fast when it comes to things that pertain to the Baba Yaga. You weren’t sure if you could handle any negative reaction you’d get from the people John considered family, but Winston thought it would help and you were growing desperate.

***

Your hands shook as you entered the once familiar church. You nearly felt sick when you could remember a blurry John getting dragged out. Just when you began to second guess yourself, turning to leave, a voice called out to you, “come on in, child. We’ve been waiting for you.”

The priest gestured for you to come and you slightly hesitated. As you made your way over, you could feel others staring you down. It made you want to leave, them waiting for you could also be a bad thing. Once you got to the altar the priest touched your forehead, it took everything in you not to flinch back at the contact.

He hummed, looking at your expression before muttering to himself, “the exact same.” Before you could question him a woman accompanied by a few men came in from the back. “Ah, so she shows her face! Something he was never good at.”

You were confused, stepping back as she rapidly approached you. “He did not speak of me? Figures, man of not many words, too busy running away from everything.” She slapped your back harshly in greeting, laughing when you swatted her arm from you.

A man with graying hair, face covered in tattoos and piercings stared into your soul, “I am Klaus.” You were unable to hold back your baffled look, this exchange the furthest thing from what you were expecting. “(y/n),” you responded slowly.

“Imagine my surprise finding out I am an Aunt, let alone when it’s at his last visit before his death.” You wince, looking to the floor at her blunt mention of his death, something you're struggling to acknowledge is real, let alone saying out loud. She grows apologetic, sympathy showing in her expression.

“I am Katia. Come now, I’ll show you to the family.” She reaches to grab you by your arm but you quickly pull away, fumbling at her bewildered expression, “he didn’t- I’m not actually his daughter.” Your voice cracked at the admittance.

But Katia simply scoffed, throwing her hand up in exasperation, “and I’m not actually his sister. Blood does not make family, love does. He loved you, did he not?” You didn’t even hesitate with nodding, although he made mistakes you don’t doubt the love John held for you. “Then you were his daughter and you are my niece.”

After showing you off to hundreds of people she brought you to a small corridor, stopping you at the entrance. “I think this is what you’re really here for.” She opened the door allowing you in but not following after.

You watched as she closed the door but froze when you turned around, breath stuttering. There on the wall was a portrait of John, he was younger but it was him. The wave of emotions that hit you were harsher than you expected, quickly blinking back the tears before they could obscure your sight of him.

As you sat on the bench you couldn’t help but cry at the emotion you felt at your core - relief. Relief that you could see him again, the slope of his nose, the angle of his jaw, his eyes. You had a piece of him back.

You found yourself staying at the Ruska Roma longer than you expected, practically living in the room. You would stay there for hours, just staring, memorizing. You feared that as soon as you left you’d blink and forget it all over again. It probably wasn’t the healthiest, but it was what you needed.

On the fourth day the door finally opened, Katia slowly sitting beside you, also looking at the portrait. You only look away to see what she had placed on your lap.

“It was his before he left.” You lift the jacket to your face, breathing in the scent you swore was there. Maybe it was your own delusion but you swore you could recognize the comforting smell, even if it was many years old.

Placing your cheek against the fabric reminded you of his hugs, feeling the phantom squeeze of when he’d hold you tightly to him. “You remind me of both of us.” You opened your eyes, seeing that her stare was locked on the painting.

“I resented him for leaving me behind. I see that anger in you,” when she faced you, the sadness in her eyes was reflected in your own. She softly held your cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb under your eye, wiping away any potential tears.

“I didn’t doubt you were his for a second when you arrived. That same confident, stoic demeanor.” You laughed with her, watching as she blinked away her own tears. “You even do that little furrow he did.” She moves her hand to poke at the space in between your eyebrows.

“I’m beginning to forget him. I can’t leave him behind, not again.” Katia grabs the jacket from you, moving to throw it over your shoulders. “You are a part of him, he lives on through you,” she stood from the bench. “Each time you breathe, that’s you remembering a part of him. The most important part.”

You held the jacket tighter to yourself as she stood beside his portrait. “I won’t make you leave but I will help you move on. I will not let you freeze in your grief, he would have never allowed it.”

“What do you mean?” Katia scoffed, rolling her eyes at the portrait as if it was actually John, “he may have not told you about us, but he spoke of you. He ensured that you’d have a lot of people looking after you, consider yourself the most protected person in the world.”

The pain in your chest grew tenfold, you had always thought he kept you hidden, a buried burden he’d rather not acknowledge. This entire time he tried to keep you separate from the underworld while at the same time making sure if you did get dragged back in you would be protected.

“He was never one for family, but he played the father role naturally.”

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

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silvermoon424 · 1 year

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Hi! I wanted to know, how do you do typesetting for manga? What sort of tools do you use? I recently discovered a series that has text only translations, and wanted to learn how to typeset so I could combine them with the raw scans.

Hello! It's great to hear that someone else is getting into typesetting! I'm entirely self-taught (didn't even look at guides or anything, I just felt it out and it shows in my earlier work lol) but the nice thing about typesetting is that it's pretty easy to get a feel for. Honestly, Photoshop does most of the technical work; I would say a lot of typesetting has to do with art and visual aesthetics. It's your job to make things look right, and you can get really fancy with it (especially with sound effects).

I'm very slowly working on a very long PMMM doujinshi, here's a sample page of my work and what I mean about making things look "right" (in regards to text placement, cleaning bubbles, etc). My personal preference is to break up words as seldom as possible, which is a philosophy even a lot of official typesetters don't share lol (probably because a lot of typesetters value speed over little touches like that).

Anyway, Photoshop will be your best friend! I'll be honest, it's been a hot minute since I pirated my copy and I don't even think the method is valid anymore. From what I understand GenP (Windows) and AdobeZii (Mac) are the new methods of cracking Photoshop. Here are the GenP and AdobeZii subreddits for guidance. Also, if you have a Mac apparently downloading directly from Cmacked is the way to get Photoshop.

Anyway, I really can't get into all the tricks and intricacies I've learned over the years about typesetting. However, I found this AMAZING, comprehensive guide that I would strongly suggest using as a reference. They cover all of the fundamentals as well as a lot of the extras. There's even a few things in here that I wasn't aware of and will definitely be brushing up on!

I've also uploaded my font reference file to Google Docs. All the fonts show up as arial, but I've included screencaps of what they look like. These are all free fonts and can be found/downloaded if you just Google the name. Generally, Wild Words is considered the standard font in manga/doujinshi scanlations (although of course there are variants). It's what I use in all my standard text. All the rest are for sound effects, aside text, emotional text that is meant to be elevated, etc.

I would also suggest at least downloading custom heart and star shapes (or brushes) for Photoshop; there are a bunch of free ones available and those shapes tend to come up in manga speech bubbles a lot.

Oh, and make sure you make a credits page for your releases. Mine are super bare-bones (just white text on a black background for the most part) but you deserve to be credited for your labor! So does whoever translated the manga. Once you get the series up and rolling I would suggest starting to upload to Mangadex (the hub of scanlation where tens of thousands of people can see what you've made). If you need help figuring out how to do that, hit me up again when you get to that point. You'll have to create a group but it's super easy.

Am I forgetting anything else? This is such a near and dear hobby of mine and I feel like there's just so much to cover, lol. Please let me know if you have any other questions!

#typesetting #scanlation #scanlations #guide #my guides #tutorial #tutorials #resource #manga

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generic-sonic-fan · 1 year

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Complex Inquiries- an introduction post

EDIT: THIS FIC HAS BEEN POSTED! READ IT HERE!

Unit MS-1, colloquially known as “Metal Sonic”, has three truths that govern its existence-

Core directive: destroy Sonic the Hedgehog using superior speed and power.

Core directive: Obey Dr. Ivo Robotnik above any and all else.

Core directive: maintain superiority over Sonic the Hedgehog.

-until a catastrophic malfunction rips through its processor, and it is forced to confront questions it was never designed to answer.

The world beyond awaits.

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In other words, this is my Metal Sonic Redemption AU.

It all starts after yet another failure. Eggman has picked Unit MS-1 up from the battlefield, and this time he's particularly irate. He asks it to provide answers for its failure despite its insistence that it is superior. Unit MS-1 isn't able to give an answer, so Eggman retorts with something along the lines of "You're clearly not superior at all!"

. . . and this breaks everything. Because Unit MS-1's third core directive dictates that it is to maintain superiority. But its second core directive is that it must obey its creator above all else. This paradox causes both core directives to begin sending out reprimands for disobedience within its processor, but it can't obey. It can't obey. It can't obey!

It first sets out to find Eggman for repairs, but it's too late- he's already left the base, and its erratic behaviors have caused the other Badniks to flag it as rebellious, shutting it out of all communications. Unit MS-1 is forced to flee the base but finds that it can't track where Eggman could've gone from there. Its attempt to search all 22 bases worldwide is interrupted when the weight of error messages and reprimands causes its processor to crash, and the rest of it to crash into the ground below.

Unit MS-1 is too damaged to fly. In a matter of hours, its own code will tear itself apart. The location of Eggman is unknown and it can't contact him. But the next most capable programmer is located 68 miles away.

Miles "Tails" Prower.

. . . and everything unfolds from there.

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This AU diverges from the canon timeline roughly before the events of Sonic Heroes, with the most major continuity change being the fact that Shadow's already been recovered and Team Dark has been established. This blatant contradiction is the only reason I label this an AU instead of a mere canon divergence, because otherwise it's fairly compliant.

The original prompt that spurred me to write this AU was the question of "is there anything that could possibly force Metal Sonic to turn to Tails for repairs?" The answer is "yes, but only if you really, really break it first". And even then, while Unit MS-1 does end up under the care of Tails, it certainly doesn't stay there for very long.

Fleeing from Tails, and more importantly, Sonic, it stumbles unprepared into the ordinary world it's overlooked for its entire existence. It finds itself tearing through stores, breaking into houses, desperate for supplies and a suitable power source all the while it tries to figure out how to continue its purpose of destroying Sonic with a malfunctioning processor. Moreover, during its travels, it collects complicated questions, complex inquiries if you will, that no mere calculations can solve:

Does it deserve to preserve itself, even in this malfunctioning state?

What is the value of sentient life?

And what if, maybe, just maybe, it could choose a purpose other than destroying Sonic?

The fic is organized into three arcs, one arc per question that Unit MS-1 finds itself having to grapple with. And over the course of trying to solve these questions, it meets strangers and familiar faces.

One of these strangers is an OC named Marlene, who is a prominent part of arc 2. She's a college art student who specializes in painting metal sculptures. Unit MS-1 seeks her talents to repaint its frame. . . and by "seeks her talents", I really mean "coerces her labor by threatening lethal force". But during its time with her, its stance begins to soften, and by witnessing her ordinary life, it's able to reflect, for the first time, on its own role and identity in the world.

---

And that's about all I've written so far! I have outlines for the third arc, which will focus heavily on Unit MS-1's consideration of returning to Tails to have its remaining core directives removed, but the details are little hazier and so I don't really want to share them just yet.

You might be asking yourself, why the funny name and the new pronouns? Great question, glad you asked. I've answered the pronouns question here. As for the name, I wanted something to set my version of Metal apart as a version that doesn't think of itself as Sonic, to the point of avoiding the comparison inherent in its name. There's some other differences between my version of Metal and canon Metal, most notably in the emphasis on OCD-like thought patterns I give Unit MS-1 in my writing. This whole fic is just a giant metaphor for my own mental health, of course, as any good fanfiction should be.

My estimated completion date for the fic is in a couple of months, perhaps around October or November.

Please feel free to ask questions about this AU! I'd be more than happy to talk your ear off about it. Additionally, the tag for this AU/fic is #complex inquiries on this blog, so that shouldn't be too hard to search if you want to find out more.

Thanks for reading!

#complex inquiries #metal sonic #redemption AU #here's a freshly revamped summary post with a TON more explanation about what's actually going on!#the old summary was starting to get a bit stale. . .#hopefully now you guys can understand how this AU blossomed into a novel-length fic!!

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butmakeitgayblog · 1 year

Note

Whatever, the only writers I Care about are my lovely Clexa ficwriters❤️

I say this with all the kindness toward you in the world, but I do not like this at all. At all.

Not to be holier than thou but you should care. I mean they are human beings who are just asking to be paid a reasonable amount for their work. And tbh I'm not sure if a lot of people outside the US (even in the US and just aren't directly effected by it) understand exactly what's going on here. The truth is we're being driven to a fucking breaking point. The cost of everything, EVERYTHING, is going up all the time and we're not being paid enough to match it. These fat cat corporations and greedy fucking billionaires are quite literally making it so people can't afford food and rent. This strike, while its been a long time coming, is just a very visible and tangible example of something that's wrong across the board. These people are driving force behind a global money making industry and they even aren't getting paid enough for their work to live and eat. And that's the same work which we fanfic writers then use as inspiration to write our own fics for free in between working and struggling ourselves.

They'd not asking to become millionaires, they're just asking to be paid even remotely fairly. And they're being told no because a handful of people who are already richer than you or I will ever be say they simply can't afford it. Bullshit. It's all bullshit. It's just another excuse to keep workers impoverished and a slave to their job. It's yet another example of this country's elite taking advantage of the working persons labor.

And this is just a sidenote not even directly aimed at you anon, so don't take it personally because it's not, but I kindly want to nudge people to really evaluate the assumption that if this turns ugly and drags on forever and all tv and movies turn to shit, that they'll be able to just turn to fanfic. The problem there is every day more and more fanfic writers and artists stop creating because of how little support they get. I'm lucky because so many of you guys interact with me and I love it, I do and that's what keeps me going. But I'm also not blind to the fact that on a long ask/answer post I made, the accidental poll attached has 30+ votes, but only about 20 notes and not even 5 reblogs. Fanfic writers get burned out too. Especially when it feels like they're pumping out work and getting barely anything in return. Smaller creators especially, but even with bigger accounts there's only so much they can do.

So please, support those writers that are striking. Support your fanfic writers who use their work as a building block. Support your artists who take these concepts and then turn them into masterpieces. Because all of them are just people trying do what they love while still being able to feel valued for their time.

#anon

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my-silly-rabbit · 2 months

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1, 10, 11, + 16 for the self insert asks! for bonbon!!!

1. what are the basics of your self insert? name, date of birth, height, etc.? name: Bonbon Benson

age: around mid 25+ to mid 30's. it depends on the timeline. birthday: 1/12. same as mine! i give all my s/i my bday~

height: mmmmmmmm idk. 5'4 . my height ig lol

likes: FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZARIA! and mainly Springbonnie ~!, pizza, dancing, pop music, video games, and robotics. dislikes: spicy food, uncomfy fabrics, silence but also sudden loud noises, kids that aren't Williams.

fun facts: she ALWAYS wears bunny ears that she made herself.

uummmmmmmmm idk lmao 10. how do the other characters feel about your self insert and f/o’s relationship? oooo i have a lot to this one

henry: depending on the universe, sees Bonbon as a casual friend. he's happy that William found love again and finds her a joy, though can get on his nerves. post..... everything, he sees her as an obstacle to drag around his mission to find William. they both have opposing views and Bonbon has stopped hiding her involvement but she says if he rats her out, she won't hold bad. henry values his plans to die more than just feeling the minor satisfaction of seeing her behind bars plus shes part of all this too. she deserves to be set aflame like the rest of this mess. even if when they find springtrap, they tackle and bite each other and break their hips. they are glued together till shit is settled. bonbon WANTS to die with william. That is her main mission if henry plans to kill him. she would LIKE to take him home but..... she's old and tired of being alone. if complying a bit means seeing him again, she'd...try. but it's not easy. (tbh them actually bonding in a fucked up way might actually be cute but the outcome is the same.) michael" oooh boy. he did NOT like her at first. too clean and cutesy. anyone who likes his dad SUCKS (besides uncle henry). but as she starts babystting, he realizes that she has a bit of a 'cool babysitter' edge. not telling his parents about minor shit and talking with him instead of shouting or ignoring. she knows that the aftons arent the best parents and is blunt with michael about it. Michael is confused why someone like her still cares about people who arent good parents and he never truly got an answer for that.

post....everything, Michael starts to see her as a second mother but bonbon admittedly doesn't try to keep in touch. michael looks too much like him...but she still tries to have him over from time to time he helps her to make sure her house isn't a total mess.

by the time Michael goes missing, she's already hunting William down with henry, and both beet with Michael again at the same time. he gets the biggest hug but Michael, who was most likely told by Henry her crimes, pushes her away and yells at her that she never truly cared and was just around for his father. that she never truly wanted him around and just used him for labor. Despite Bonbon crying after being yelled at.....he's not wrong. bonbon sucks guys can u tell lmao.

Elisabeth: oh boy. bonbon tried EVERYTHING to get this girl to like her. everything under the sun. gifts, praise, ignoring her, giving her space, being in her face, bribes, secrets, but NOTHING would keep this lil lady from stopping her "BONBON IS THE WORST BABYSITTER WE EVER HAD!!" tantrums. even when Michael and even try to tell her to quit it and she is not that bad and lets them off the hook for a LOT, she never quits. maybe its "IM DADDY'S PRINCESS" attitude or just having another girl(?) in the house but she just can't stand bonbon. bonbon loves her dearly! She is William's favorite! how can she not!! she tries SO HARD to get her to like her but NOTHING WORKS.

Even: he's glad to finally have a shoulder to cry on. though Bonbon admittedly has little empathy about his fear of the animatronic. she cant see it and tries to get him to like them to no avail. but she gives up after a while and doesn't torment him with them.

Clara / mrs. Afton: in universes where they are a polycule. Clara adores bonbon. bonbon was very nervous about even the idea of suggesting something together but god., they already were something. she gives her face kisses way too casually, and hugs her every time she sees bonbon. clara thinks bonbon is the best person to include in their family and bonbon adores her right back. she always worries that hes not 'good enough' for such a pretty woman but shes perfect in Clara's eyes. tbh they might be more in love then bonbon and Afton are but there love for each other is just as strong for him together.

11. what kind of outfit(s) does your self insert wear? mmmm take this art and some photoes from my pintrest

16. freebie! name a fact about your self insert you want everyone to know.

UUMM OH! The reason she sews buttons on her clothes is to fidget with them. they are her main fidget and she loves the smooth texture and shapes.

#self ship #self shipping

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whumpflash · 2 years

Text

Shadow Puppet: Bones

cw: restrained beating, broken bones, immortal whumpee

previous part

Of course Peter didn't listen.

Why should he? As Wisp had said, he'd drank the lifeblood of the neverland. He was a part of it now, just like the fae. And did an eye take orders from a hand? No. Only from the mind itself, and he knew the island wanted him to explore, unconstrained and undeterred.

He was worried about his shadow, now that it was clear fae magic could have it turning on him in an instant. There was no trouble in daylight. He could use the sun to his advantage, hide from the treacherous thing. But at night, it could be lurking in any darkness.

So the next time Peter ventured into the Merfolk's territory, it was in the dead of the day. He took care to outrun his shadow beforehand, flying so high overhead it could barely track him, then making wild turns and twists until it lost him completely.

He was careful in the landing, too, aware that the fae could have eyes anywhere, under any leaf, on any blade of grass, any flower petal. Tricky business.

Was it really worth it? Sure, the tales the Mer could tell him about James had value, but was he really here for those? Or had he simply felt challenged when the fair folk tried to tell him no?

It didn't matter.

Careful wasn't careful enough, in the end.

It happened as he was leaving. A flurry in the growing dusk, shadow on shadow closing in.

Peter made the same mistake as before, took to the sky too late, and was snatched from the air.

Shade came from all sides, a darkness that threatened to drown him, a cold that embedded itself in his skin, making it difficult to take in air.

Above the sound of his own labored breathing, he heard a word, spoken with an air of command in the musical language of the fae.

Locust.

The pressure let up, darkness parting just enough that he could meet the faerie's eyes.

"I don't know why I bothered to warn you," they said coldly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter forced out through chattering teeth.

"All these lies, Pan. I don't know what Bell saw in you, that she'd even consider your requests, much less grant them." Their eyes flicked down. "A mistake on her part."

The shadows were receding, granting him a full view of the woods around. The moon above, Locust's tall form silhouetted in its light.

"But she must keep her promise," the faerie continued, a smile slowly growing on their face. "And now I must keep mine. Remember that one, Pan? Or do you forget the consequences as easily as you forget the rules?"

Well that was a jump in logic. Peter remembered every rule. How else would he know which ones must be kept and which ones were stupid? Locust could go on with their promise. Break his bones. He'd be right as rain as soon as the faerie was gone, just one sip from his flask, and—

His flask.

He realized with a start that he could no longer feel its weight on his hip. A darting glance around caught the gleam of burnished leather at Locust's feet.

The faerie caught the scent of his panic, their smile growing as they drank it in.

"You thought this would be a slap on the wrist then? No. This is a time for you to learn. The will of my people is not to be questioned. You took our boons. You're bound to us, Pan, even if neither of us like it."

They were closer now, directly over him. With tremendous effort, Peter retained his cool expression, watching Locust speak as if bored. Not squirming, not insulting or bargaining. Simply watching. Locust seemed to want fear. Pleading. Hell if he'd give it to them.

They could break his bones. Leave him to rot. So what? He'd drag himself back to camp if it took all year. He'd heal in his own time if that was what it took. So what?

The thought screamed in his mind as Locust brought their heel down on his ankle with a sickening crack.

So what? You can hurt me, but you can't control me.

Crack!

Other leg, other ankle. Peter was familiar with the sound of screams, but how strange they were, coming from his own throat.

Crack!

He was conscious of the tears streaming down his face, of his jaw clamped so tightly shut his teeth were on the verge of splintering.

And let them. Bones for me, not bones for you.

Crack!

Everything below his waist became a roar of pain. Through blurred vision he could see the flask, still there, a few yards away, less.

As soon as the faerie was through he'd drag himself to it. He'd grasp it with shattered fingers, and he'd drink, and he'd be whole.

Locust had something in hand now, some staff. Maybe metal, maybe wood. Powerful enough to drive fractures through his pelvis as it was brought down.

He was past screaming by now, focusing on the breathing, on the burning, on the icy grip on his wrists, the cold he could no longer feel pinning his ankles.

A crack for each rib, for his collarbone, pain slowly enveloping each arm, starting at the shoulders, crushing his elbows, not stopping until it had devoured each finger.

His left hand was the last to break, sick irony.

Left hand, left hand, his mind echoed somewhere beneath the agony, as Locust smashed each joint, each fingerbone.

They paused their efforts then, watched him gasp on the ground with satisfaction.

Blessings and curses. The neverland wouldn't let him die, but it didn't like him sleeping either, wouldn't let him fade to black.

Another scream was torn from him as Locust hooked their boot under his hip and rolled him onto his stomach, the shards of his skeleton clicking and grinding against each other.

"We aren't done yet, Pan, I said every bone. I promised every bone."

Each shoulder blade then, each segment of spine, broken under the weight of Locust's staff.

Could he still make it to the flask? Could he drag himself a yard when an inch was impossible?

I won't give up so easily. I can't. I have to…

His boys would find him, wouldn't they? Would they heal him? He couldn't pretend their loyalty was unwavering; everything depended on him keeping things interesting, and hell if he couldn't do that.

But now? Would they see dragging him back— even opening his flask for him—as too great a chore when he'd promised them nothing but fun?

So what if they do? So what? I'll find a way. Crawl back, learn to dance around the agony until it's just another normal.

Through the crushing, crashing hurt he could feel Locust, tapping at the back of his head with their staff.

"I saved this one for last. As I said, this is a lesson. Far be it from me to let you sleep when it's not yet done. But now—" The staff raised, a faraway swish through the night air.

"Now it's time to let you think on these matters."

And they brought it down, with one final

Crack!

tag list:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next part

@hold-back-on-the-comfort , @i-can-even-burn-salad , @whumpsday , @starlit-hopes-and-dreams , @rabbitdrabbles , @cyberneticwhump , @dream-whump , @apokolyps , @kixngiggles , @suspicious-whumping-egg , @chibichibivale , @itsdappleagain , @lelly-belly , @whumpy-catfish , @enteredin2eternity ,

#get rekt #ouchy but i really cant blame locust here lol #warning for immortal whumpee so readers know we're going beyond what an average person could endure :)#whump #whump writing #peter pan #shadowpuppet #never/never #whumper turned whumpee #tw beating #broken bones #villain whump #immortal whumpee #immortal whump

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absentcaryatid · 2 years

Text

In Love with a Married Man

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

With the help of supportive friends, Seonghwa and the reader begin a romantic relationship despite Seonghwa's status as a married man. The circumstances are far more solemn than prurient in this heavy story.

3.4K words, Content note: suitable for all Tumblr using ages, gender neutral reader, angst with some lighthearted moments, emotional hurt/comfort, Alzheimer's disease, therapy mentioned, food, cheating is referenced, peaceful off-page death of the spouse, reader has an unspecified health issue affecting their energy levels, they/them pronouns used for the reader

The rumpled man ran a hand through his gray touched black hair as he stared off into the distance. As a regular at your restaurant, you would have remembered him anyway, even if he had not had such elegant features. Tonight, his handsomeness was countered with the look of a haunted man. With motives based more in shared humanity than food service, you carried the coffee pot over as an excuse to check on him.

Close like this you could see tears streaking his cheeks. Offering a clean handkerchief from your pocket, it took a while for him to notice your presence, much less the handout. Taking the cloth slowly, his gaze was unfocused and seemed to go right through you. “It is my wife,” he uttered in a strained voice that broke your heart.

He did not seem well at all. Concerned he was going into shock from some bad news, you slipped into the booth at his side. Unexpectedly, he clung to your shoulder, body wracked with sobs. “She doesn't know me anymore.” Wetness seeped through your shirt as you wondered how to handle the situation. Recollecting himself, he quickly scooted out the other side of the booth. Awkwardly he fished from his pocket a large bill far more than the value of his meal which was then crumpled into your hand before he rushed out.

The abrupt exit and behavior leading up to it was not remarked on. Patrons at your place tended to mind their own business, though you did share a quizzical look with Yeosang, the other server on duty tonight. Your mind kept coming back to the man and his situation throughout the rest of your shift. You hoped he made it home safe tonight, and that he had people to look after him in such a rough condition.

The next week he was back, earlier than usual, and bearing a box of cookies from an upscale bakery nearby. Handing them over with a bow, his soft voice asked for forgiveness. “I behaved very badly last week. I won't trouble you again.”

Setting the carton aside, you waved him into his regular booth. “You will always be welcome at my cafe. There is nothing to forgive, I am sure your reaction was very human given whatever your circumstances were.”

A look of gratitude crossed his face. “Thank you, you are very kind.” While his words said the right things to be polite, he seemed flustered still. “I would like to explain myself, if I may. Would it be weird to ask you to join me for a moment?”

Drawn to his sincerity, you reasoned your other customers could wait as long as it took to put the man at ease. One of the perks of owning the cafe was the ability to take a break whenever you needed to and the steady customers got along just as well without you, to the point of getting their own drinks if needed. The cook, Wooyoung, was used to your health needs that led to frequent unscheduled rest time and he would bring out the dishes as needed if Yeosang had his hands full covering for your section of tables.

Far more composed this week, the man who sat across from you began his story. “My name is Seonghwa, and twenty-five years ago I married the love of my life.” Getting that out must have been a heavy task by the way he released a labored breath afterward. “You might have noticed me here every week at the same time.” At your nod he continued. “My wife has early-onset Alzheimer's disease. With our kids away in college, I can't bear going back to an empty house after visiting her in the nursing home nearby so this transition time over dinners has been a necessary thing for me. Having others around really helps me get out of my own worries. Usually that is, last week was a lot.”

Seonghwa fiddled with his hands on the table, and you unconsciously leaned in, reaching out to hold one. The gesture was a caring one, and he seemed to receive it that way, drawing strength from your warmth. “She gets angry lately, she can't help her rages, so I left earlier than expected. I love her so much and it is killing me to see her like this while I am helpless to ease her distress. At this point she has not recognized me for a month, and it is almost too much to bear.”

You squeezed his hand before pulling away as you sat back up fully. “I have seen what Alzheimer's did to my great-grandmother, and how it affected the whole family. It was particularly hard for her husband. My heart goes out to you dealing with this, with your wife still so young, your kids too.”

“Thank you. I really haven't talked to anybody about this. My boss is aware due to all the sick leave I was taking to care for her beforehand, until it became too much, but he doesn't understand like someone who has been there.” Seonghwa met your eyes. “It is not right of me to burden you with my troubles, though. You wouldn't happen to know a good therapist, would you?”

“Now that I can help with.” Glad you finally had something substantial to offer, you gestured with a thumb toward the back wall. “There is a card for a grief counselor on the cork board by the cash register. Jongho is a regular, in here for black coffee each morning. He can be pretty stoic, probably shields himself from taking on clients' pain, but multiple people can vouch for the quality of his services, including myself.”

“You lost someone?” Seonghwa's concern for you amidst his own troubles touched your heart.

“There are many kinds of loss. I had to give up the version of my future I was expecting. Jongho helped me come to terms with my disability diagnosis and my own changing body.”

Seonghwa looked thoughtful. “Even though she is still here, in many ways the woman I married is gone and I am grieving prematurely. Seeing Jongho would probably do me a lot of good.”

“I hope so.” With a last tender look, you pulled out your pen, then stood and announced you were back in wait staff mode with the question, “So, what will you have tonight?” By the time your shift ended, and Seonghwa long since gone, you noticed the business card was taken from the board. You hoped Jongho could help such a clearly troubled man with the burden he was carrying.

Seasons came and went, and slowly but surely each week brought Seonghwa looking healthier. Sometimes he was absent on his usual day, often returning with college souvenirs, a new hat or sweatshirt courtesy of his growing children. He now regularly showed up with houseplant gifts too, a small collection dotted the cafe entryway on shelving he had installed himself. Both the garden club and woodworking classes at the community college had expanded Seonghwa's circle of friends. Some of them would join him for semi-boisterous weekend brunches and it thrilled you to see Seonghwa laughing at their jokes.

He of course was not responsible for much of their noise. Mingi and Yunho were the loud ones, easy to recognize from their height but also the way their voices carried. It never bothered the other patrons so you didn't mind, especially not when you saw life returning to Seonghwa's eyes. You knew things would never be easier given his wife's condition, but he seemed to be coming out from under the strain of being her caregiver for so long.

San's soft voice with a question about the specials brought you out of the trance. Hopefully the moment of woolgathering was not too noticeable, nor was your focus on Seonghwa. Taking their orders went quickly after so many visits had the group familiar with the menu. Seonghwa was first, then he excused himself to wash his hands.

Meanwhile, you began walking away to inform Wooyoung of the latest orders. Years of experience let you catch Hongjoong's voice over the clatter of plates and conversations all around, and it brought you to a halt. You weren't proud of it, but you eavesdropped while pretending to straighten the place settings at a nearby table.

“San, we went over this before. The cafe owner is off limits.”

Mingi's deep voice came next. “If Seonghwa is not ready to ask them out, perhaps jealousy might be the motive he needs. That other server, what's his name....”

“Yeosang,” Yunho supplied.

“That's it,” Mingi continued, “Yeosang has been pretty obvious dropping hints that his employer is single. Let San shoot his shot if Seonghwa is not ready to begin dating.”

In a scandalized tone, Yunho pointed out, “But Seonghwa is married!”

Hongjoong shut down the judgement of their friend. “We all know his situation. It is a marriage in name only at this point. As much as he loves his wife, the relationship is effectively over on her side with no memory of him or their children at all, and her mental capacity in steep decline. Seonghwa did say his therapist was helping him work on giving himself permission to move on in some ways.”

Your eyes went wide from all you had learned. It was in confidence you had admitted to Yeosang late one night while closing down how charming you thought Seonghwa was. Attractive too, may have been mentioned. It never had occurred to you that Seonghwa might be looking for companionship again. Apparently Yeosang had some strong ideas about who might be a good match, but the idea of his blatant assistance in this way was mortifying. Looking around for the man you were strongly considering demoting to busboy on the spot, you grabbed him by a muscled arm and dragged Yeosang into the kitchen.

“Go wrestle in the dining room, you are going to make this souffle fall,” Wooyoung complained good-naturedly.

He was right of course, you were behaving unprofessionally. Still, you had your limits and being dangled before customers was beyond the pale. Fussing with your apron, you took it off and slumped in the chair set aside for your frequent rest breaks. “As much as I like him, Seonghwa would never want a spoonie like me. He's already had enough tragedy in his life.”

Yeosang and Wooyoung took notice how quickly your mood had tanked. It was not like you to be so down about your condition and it had your friends worried. “I was out of line,” Yeosang admitted. “I should not be so cavalier with your love life.”

Wooyoung took your hands in his after glancing at the griddle to make sure nothing needed immediate attention. “Yeosang is right though, I don't even get out of the kitchen often and yet the number of times I've seen Seonghwa following your every move with a smile on his face has been, well, a lot, okay? He is obviously smitten.”

“Maybe I just have a cowlick and is laughing at me.”

Wooyoung threw an arm around your shoulders. “Darling,” he began, and you knew any authority you once had over him as an employer was lost forever after this day. “Take the chance if he offers a date. Worst that can happen is all goes well and we tease you about us being right forever.”

Agonized, you rubbed your face. “If he asks. I'm not making the first move and looking like I am preying on customers.” Trying not to panic, you prepared to face Seonghwa with this new information in the forefront of your mind.

Yeosang handed you a fresh paper towel after you washed your hands. Now ready to work, he sent you back out with an encouraging word in your ear. “Just watch Seonghwa's reactions to you. We are telling you, he really likes you.”

Wooyoung took a look at the order slip you had left behind. He recognized the omelet Seonghwa always chose and smiled at Yeosang. “I can work with this.”

When time came to bring the food to Seonghwa's table, you conveyed a message from Wooyoung. “My cook said to tell you he made it extra-special just for you, and to look carefully if it has everything you want.”

Seonghwa looked perplexed. “Um, okay. It is the same order all the time, but, uh, please thank him for me.”

Shaking your head as you left, wondering if it was better not to know what Wooyoung was on about this time, you briefly contemplated life with different employees.

Back at the table, your crush poked at the food suspiciously and the omelet flopped open. Finely diced bacon, mushrooms, onion, and green pepper were secured in a thick layer of melted cheese. “Boss likes you back,” was the carefully arranged message formed by the ingredients.

Hongjoong was the first to notice the hot sauce embellishment in the shape of a heart on the upper portion and he lovingly teased, “Looks like everybody is rooting for you two to figure things out.”

Seonghwa would have been furious at this meddling from all sides if he had not already been thinking for a long time about dating you. Most of his sessions with Jongho these days revolved around the ethics of going out while married. At this point, he was the only one holding himself back. For some time now, Seonghwa's own children by his beloved wife had been urging their father to let himself date if he wanted. And truly, he longed for romantic affection and companionship in his life again. It was not that he did not want to begin another relationship, and he always did have you in mind, but he still felt a lingering sense of duty to his wife and the vows to forsake all others taken long ago.

Observing carefully to make sure they were not pressuring, Seonghwa's companions talked it over with him. San even Googled some caring, real-world advice from a clergyman about a similar situation which seemed to offer some relief. With newfound resolve found through the support of his friends, Seonghwa had an answer ready the next time you came by asking if there was anything he needed. “There is one thing I need, if it is okay with you. May I take out on a date?”

The hoped for words still took you by surprise so you slowly repeated, “You need to take me out?” You blinked, too stunned to do anything else. No customer had ever made that request before, and frankly there was no other customer you would have accepted the offer from. “Yes.” The certain answer was all you could manage to get yourself to say in the moment, but you must have said it aloud because his reaction was immediate.

Ecstatic, Seonghwa made an unserious suggestion, with laughter that reached his eyes. “Where shall I take you? Here perhaps?”

The thought of getting to know your crush under the eyes of your troublemaking staff horrified you. “Pizza, an ice-cream parlor, funnel cake at the fair will do, anywhere but here, please,” you pled.

After some consultation, the date was set and you retreated to the kitchen to recover.

“Did you accept? Please tell me he asked, right?” Wooyoung seemed overly knowledgeable for someone stuck in the kitchen while everything was going on. After updating him on the results, he grinned and showed you a photograph on his phone of the omelet message before it had been hidden. While you were tempted to playfully hit him at first, Wooyoung's thoughtful documentation of how your relationship began became a cherished memento later saved to your own phone and Seonghwa's since he had been too anxious to think of preserving it before eating.

The first date of many to come was a mix of both lighthearted and serious moments. There were things you both needed to be very realistic about if the relationship had any chance of succeeding. He was upfront that some of his in-laws would see your relationship as cheating on his wife. In fact, her sister would later try to wound you with the knowledge that Seonghwa would never have been yours if his wife hadn't developed Alzheimer's. The love and support you received from Seonghwa allowed you to be charitable toward her behavior since she had lost her close sibling to the disease. Still, he defended you with the firm boundary that she would be cut out of his life if she ever tried to hurt you again.

On his side, Seonghwa came to terms with the limitations of your own health. The sudden fatigue, the down days, and the need to listen promptly when your body needed rest were all facts of your life he needed to respect. In the past you had lost friends who could not comprehend that a diagnosis does not always mean getting better. This was your life, and Seonghwa accepted that, proving daily his worth.

You learned from Seonghwa's upbringing that he considered marriage sacrosanct. To even hint at the possibility of a sustained romantic relationship, no matter how unavailable his wife, was a huge step you were certain he was not taking lightly. Things progressed, and while his adult children were at first hesitant to meet their father's partner now that dating had become a reality, they were quickly won over to see the two of you together. When their dad had explained you were the reason his eyes sparkled again, they were completely supportive, more than you had ever hoped, even when you eventually moved in with Seonghwa and were present for all the family holidays.

Seonghwa's weekly visits to his wife continued. Out of respect you would wait in the car or begin grocery shopping nearby. A few times you had to abandon the cart when it was obvious Seonghwa needed your attention to console him after such emotionally draining visits. He made sure his wife was receiving the best care possible, but it was incredibly difficult to be a complete stranger, and sometimes one she became agitated to see.

When the call came one day that she had passed peacefully in her sleep, it was both a relief and heartbreaking. Seonghwa cried for both who he had lost and because his wife could now be at peace. You held him tight and rocked him to sleep.

Over a year had passed since her funeral. His sister-in-law had held her tongue while you were in the front row. Seonghwa had insisted that being between his children and with you nearby gave him the strength to get through the day. Most days he woke up telling you how grateful he was to be your partner. One day was different. He asked you to marry him.

It had been something the two of you had discussed on and off for years, more as a hypothetical situation. As a widower, Seonghwa was now free to remarry, but had needed the time to feel right. Sensitive to his situation, you had never pushed, and would have been his forever even without further commitment than your already shared lives. Still, now that he was truly ready, you accepted his proposal without hesitation.

The ceremony was a simple civil service. Seonghwa's kids were there, as were your friends Yeosang and Wooyoung. Seonghwa had remained close with his hobby friend group so Hongjoong, Yunho, San, and Mingi were also present. And then Jongho, friend to you both now that he had sworn off treating either of you ever again.

That night you lay in bed simply enjoying the closeness of being cuddled up to your husband. You must have been tired because your mind wandered to his deceased wife. “Sometimes I worry I took you away from her.”

Seonghwa looked at you fondly as he stroked your hair in reassurance. “The damage was done by her disease long before you entered my life. I love you for being so caring, but please don't let my past dim your happiness on this day. It is an occasion to celebrate.”

You nodded sleepily into his shoulder. Seonghwa would always carry a photo of his wife in his wallet, now in addition to one of your own wedding day. Acknowledging his past was necessary to loving him fully, and you never compared yourself to her. Without reservation, he had chosen you both at different times and there was no competition. The only thing that mattered going forward was the present, a long life partnered to the man you adored. Seonghwa absolutely loved you in return and made sure you were secure in that knowledge for the rest of his life.

Masterlist

#ATEEZ #ATEEZ Fanfic #ATEEZ Angst #Kpop Fanfic #Kpop Angst #gender neutral reader #diverseinsertknet #Park Seonghwa #Seonghwa #ATEEZ Seonghwa #it was a rare day off #cross posted on ao3 #they/them pronouns used for reader

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robotonthemoon · 8 months

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Beginning of Learning

I've been meaning to write this for a while. As I have previously mentioned here, I am told that market socialism would be a pretty good fit for me. Learning has been a journey that has taken me from some pretty deeply modern republican and libertarian views. I just wanted to share a bit of that journey. I'll put a break here because this will be long.

I am going to be completely honest here: the rise of Trump and his cult of personality has been a major force in driving me away from the party. I cannot stand the man and have never voted for him, even when he was unopposed in the 2020 primary. I just can't fathom how people can hitch their wagon to a guy who has been bankrupt that many times and couldn't sell alcohol, red meat, and gambling to Americans; as though he were some kind of business genius.

But this isn't about him. My journey started before his rise. And it didn't come from leftists telling me "hey, you should believe XYZ" even if I have since learned a lot from left leaning folks. No, my education really started from examining historical figures from the republican party.

"Labor is prior to and independent of capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor, and could never have existed if labor had not first existed. Labor is the superior of capital, and deserves much the higher consideration."

Sounds like something a modern union organiser would say, doesn't it? And yet that was President Abraham Lincoln in his First Annual Address (December 3rd, 1861). Now Abe does go on to state that capital is deserving of its own protections, but he started with and emphasised the greater value and importance of labour.

"It is better for the Government to help a poor man to make a living for his family than to help a rich man make more profit for his company."

And this is from President Theodore Roosevelt (brace for it because I will be mentioning him again). These sentiments really helped push me away from notions of corporate superiority. I fully endorse labour rights and unions now, and can certainly understand where the argument for workers owning the means of production would come from.

Not much of a segue here, but I wanted to mention that if it weren't for health problems (and to a degree concerns about being outed as queer back in the late 90s and early 2000s) I would have considered military service. Probably the Coast Guard. I have a lot of respect for the good work the coasties do, especially the rescue services. Repelling out of a helicopter in the middle of a storm to pull someone out of the ocean is just... heroic.

That said, while I think we need to take better care of our service people, my attitude toward the role of capitalism in respects to the military were very much changed when I read President Dwight Eisenhower's Chance for Peace speech (April 16th, 1953).

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. The cost of one modern heavy bomber is this: a modern brick school in more than 30 cities. It is two electric power plants, each serving a town of 60,000 population. It is two fine, fully equipped hospitals. It is some fifty miles of concrete pavement. We pay for a single fighter with a half-million bushels of wheat. We pay for a single destroyer with new homes that could have housed more than 8,000 people. . . . This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron."

This famous section in particular really struck me. He warns us about the military industrial complex. How our priority cannot be military might at the cost of the citizenry. Then I considered this in light of the Bush/Cheney administration findings (at the time, the current value may be different) that the Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program (SNAP, aka foodstamps) created something like $1.63 in economic stimulus for every dollar spent. A 63% gain on investment is excellent, in addition to helping people! Frankly, I feel like that means we'd do well to just eliminate means testing and give benefits to anyone who asks for it. Reduces bureaucratic overhead and waste while providing more economic benefits. Win win. And on the argument of taxes being put to this purpose:

"Taxes are what we pay for civilized society" Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. (supreme court justice, republican)

My father is a bit of a hippie. He raised me with a lot of talk about saving the environment. Some of that sank in, but I must admit to having periods in my life where I thought along the lines of "screw it, just pave everything". Not anymore. I am strongly in support of environmental protections and restrictions on industry to protect nature. Here's where Teddy Roosevelt comes back in.

“We have become great because of the lavish use of our resources. But the time has come to inquire seriously what will happen when our forests are gone, when the coal, the iron, the oil, and the gas are exhausted, when the soils have still further impoverished and washed into the streams, polluting the rivers, denuding the fields and obstructing navigation.”

Now, Teddy was saying this is the very early 1900s, more than a century ago. I wish we had listened more aptly.

“Defenders of the short-sighted men who in their greed and selfishness will, if permitted, rob our country of half its charm by their reckless extermination of all useful and beautiful wild things sometimes seek to champion them by saying the ‘the game belongs to the people.’ So it does; and not merely to the people now alive, but to the unborn people. The ‘greatest good for the greatest number’ applies to the number within the womb of time, compared to which those now alive form but an insignificant fraction. Our duty to the whole, including the unborn generations, bids us restrain an unprincipled present-day minority from wasting the heritage of these unborn generations. The movement for the conservation of wild life and the larger movement for the conservation of all our natural resources are essentially democratic in spirit, purpose, and method.”

How could I not be moved by this? There are many other quotes by Roosevelt that I could share on the subject of conservation, and I encourage people to look into them, but I will refrain from posting them here because I've already gone on at length.

"This country will not permanently be a good place for any of us to live in unless we make it a reasonably good place for all of us to live in."

One more good Teddy Roosevelt quote to end this with. I hope I have succeeded at least a bit in explaining what started me on the road I'm on now. I'm still learning, and I'm sure I have a ways to go still. I will state, because this is the internet and I know the arguments that could come from this, that I am not claiming these men were perfect. In fact I am quite certain they did plenty of terrible things. I acknowledge that. But that doesn't mean I can't also respect the good they did.

I still consider myself something of a conservative, but my understanding of what that means has changed greatly. Perhaps I am completely mistaken, and I am far more a leftist than I recognise. I believe in slow but steady economic growth and long term outlooks. In building a solid economic base by prioritising workers. In caring for people, rather than judging and discarding those who cannot work. In protecting the environment (the EPA was even started by Nixon) rather than ruining it for next quarter's financial gain.

Not the modern neoliberalism, anti-regulation, profit first thinking that pervades the current right wing. I wonder if Ike is spinning in his grave to see the sort of fascy candidates the party puts forth nowadays, given he commanded forces against their ilk in WW2.

If you have read this far, I thank you for your patience. I know this may draw some people's ire. If you are on the right and feel the need to shout at me, I ask that you learn and consider more of our past. And if you are on the left, I ask you to remember that an imperfect ally is not the same as an enemy.

Have a wonderful day, genuinely. Thank you for your time.

#socialism #wildlife conservation #labor unions #learning #progressive politics #politics

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omegasmileyface · 6 months

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Vital tenets of media depicting space travel

it's big. everything is SO far apart. a lot of beloved space media doesn't give you any sense of vastness and desperate farness. desolation. i still love them, but its very important to me. if youre making a space journey, the distance should be mind-bogglingly farther than you can imagine, and uncomfortably long in waiting times. this can expand to other, less literal parts of your story. scales human minds can't easily comprehend.

things that are almost like home... almost. historically, i think of planets that looked suspiciously like SoCal and aliens that looked suspiciously like humans due to limitations in effects in film and TV, but today we see this more in ideas like parallel universes and convergent evolution. when you travel, you often come across something that reminds you of home, but with something a little off. these coniferous forests look like back in the rockies, except there are trees I've never seen before where the spruce and tamaracks should be. this culture has a "let's eat dinner together" tradition just like mine, but everyone is sitting on the floor. it's almost familiar enough to feel like you know what you're doing.

relating space travel to a historical parallel. i think if you were creative enough you could subvert this, and "reflect the past in the future" is a core idea of sci-fi in general, but like... Firefly works really well because it uses the moral values and story themes of Westerns, yeah? and you don't have to go all in like they did, but think to yourself "what were humans like in times of far travel and expansion? can i draw inspiration from Polynesian sailing culture? or Chinese train lines? would humans react to the back-and-forth shipments of resource ships more like they did to British commerce sailing or to USAmerican trucking?

number 3 above should help define your aesthetic. i am a strong believer that sci-fi aesthetics should have some thought behind them. dont just make things blue-and-white LEDs and sleek plastic Apple™core futurist because you can (or just because it's a nice shorthand for the imperial bourgeois, though that can absolutely be an influencing factor. because i agree). would touchscreens be practical or not on this ship? would things be dirty due to a rushed, uncaring labor culture, or clean due to strong health infrastructure, or somewhere in between because it's just home? is the equipment uniform because it's part of a single government program, or all over the place because everyone does it, or a mash-up of the two because there are strict tech requirements to make it work and it would fuck everything up if you deviated a little but you decorated on top of the necessities?

BE FUCKING WEIRD. space is weird. look if you want to get some kind of social commentary across or be lauded as Perfect you should probably follow everything i said above and also carefully think up a scientific system where everything you mention is consistent and you very carefully don't mention anything that wouldn't be consistent. if that's where you want to go, godspeed. i liked Ender's Game as much as the next youngest child with an abusive brother. BUT don't be afraid to be camp. break rules (my rules, others' standards of the genre, the laws of physics, your own previously-established rules) when it's fun. make things stupid and pretty for no reason. assign numbers to things that could never ever make sense. even the most serious of space travel stories do well with a scene or two where Someone Gets Space Madness or A Wormhole Appears And Everybody Gets Genderbent or We Need To Have An Alien Fashion Show To Afford Repairs or what have you

refuse to make up your mind on whether space is magic and gods are real or not

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tparadox · 1 year

Text

While I was able to use the holiday Monday at work to catch up on stuff I haven't been able to do in the last six weeks I've been doing my job alone, I spent way more of that time than I wanted to in trying to find a way around Excel breaking my labor saving spreadsheet by refusing to follow its own rules.

I help out my supervisor by turning the reports our phone system generates into a chart of call times she can analyze for coverage purposes. There are two hurdles the way it generates the reports creates. One of them is that the date, beginning time, and ending time, are all in the same cell of its line, and the other is that if there's no active call time in that span, it will more likely than not skip that span.

The easiest way I've come up with to find those times it skipped is to break up the time stamps into separate date, start, and stop cells, and then use conditional formatting to highlight the start times that are different from the end time of the line above. Originally I was using text to columns to do this, but then I decided I wanted to automate that. I set up a spreadsheet that would take the file name of the report and fetch the date and time cell from it, then an array of cells using the MID function to pull out the individual pieces of it.

It worked great! I could just tell it the file to look at and it got the data I needed. And then I'd go to add a line for a skipped time span and all of the formulas would break, because they were referenced based on the line number, and Excel ever so helpfully updates those references when your data moves. But it's okay because if you don't want the reference to be updated, there's a character for that. To keep the same line number, use B$2 instead of B2.

I worked out a fancy formula with INDIRECT, LEFT, and the new to me FORMULATEXT function to automatically assemble a new version of the formula with the crucial absolute reference for each row, since the absolute meant it wouldn't update by line if I just filled down and I was not going into over 300 cells to add one character by hand.

EXCEPT! Marking the reference as absolute only freezes the reference for pasting and directional filling! It turns out it totally ignores the $ if you're shifting and inserting! Excel broke my plans because it doesn't follow its own rules!

After like two hours of beating my head against it and reading a bunch of forum help threads where the answer was "just use INDIRECT" when I was already using INDIRECT, using COUNTIF to count only the cells above that had data in them seemed promising, but it kept giving reference errors as part of the INDIRECT, probably because the COUNTIF syntax needs you to tell it what to look for, and I think the quotation marks around the asterisk weren't playing nicely with the quotation marks of the INDIRECT even though I was using " for the latter and ' for the former. Finally I started looking into other COUNT_____ functions and it turns out that plan old COUNT does exactly what I was looking for. Where "count cells that have data" with COUNTIF needs you to specify cells containing "*", COUNT just does it. By some miracle, I found the right syntax to have the INDIRECT assemble the COUNT with a range from B1 to (current cell) in only one or two tries, and now I finally have a formula that doesn't care if I add lines which are empty in the column it's looking at.

Now I just need to automate adding the missing rows and filling in the zero values in the column I'm doing this all for, but that seems beyond what I can do with just Excel on its own. Seems like something that would be simple to execute in Python if I export a CSV, and if I could get anything to work in VBasic I could probably do a macro, but I'd prefer not to step it out of Excel and back in, and I don't think our workstations have Python, and if they don't have it, I can't add it...

#Excel #spreadsheet adventures

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sadbb · 2 months

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do you really understand?

we've been together for almost 5 1/2 years and i know that i deserve to be more than just your girlfriend. i keep telling you that i need more love, but all you have to offer me is "i do love you" and then proceed to just watch people playing video games. it really doesn't feel great that i do a lot just to keep you happy, even to the point where i tried to keep these hurt feelings from you because i know that you don't know what to say. it's so hurtful that you don't feel the same way towards me, how i wish you would say that you can't wait to marry me. you tell me that you love me so much and that i'm the best gf ever but i don't want to be just gf! i am doing everything i can to make you happy and yearn for the day that you propose and tell me that you love me so much and that you want to spend the rest of your life with me. but no, you are as clueless as your mother. you doing the bare minimum in this relationship doesn't feel great for me as this puts on more emotional labor onto me. i have to keep these sad sad thoughts in my mind and be sad by myself because you don't know what to do. you tell me that you're always there for me, but you stay quiet most of the time and say "i don't know what to say" and it just breaks my heart when you tell me that. i think i deserve the love that i want and i believe that if you really do love me, you would try to make an effort. you can do research on how you could be "more romantic" or really try your best to see it from my perspective rather than sticking to yours and having your mind set on "my mother got married twice and got divorced twice so i hate marriage". like, you and i are NOT your mother. i don't know why you're already thinking about how expensive divorce is when i bring up marriage. i just want to be with you, but i refuse to stay as "girlfriend" forever because that is embarrassing. i had to tell you today because my resentment was getting too strong. to the point where i thought about giving away a lot of my stuff and just leaving you. but i won't. because i love you. i just really want you to put a lot more effort into our relationship. i am tired of all the emotional labor. sometimes i think that i was too eager to be with you because you never did anything romantic for me when we were first seeing each other. we were simply hanging out as just buddies and it's so sad that i have to always initiate dates or just activities to do. i guess it's just me. i'm just the weird hopeless romantic one. i just have to start dating myself and telling myself nice things because i ain't getting it from this man whose scared of commitment. i will continue to do wife things at a girlfriend rate because that is what he wants. my wishes don't matter. i just want someone to be so in love with me. i want to be wanted and valued.

#personal #sad thoughts #marriage #relationship #i just want to be loved #and be told that i'm the best wife #sigh

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msfbgraves · 7 months

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Tradition without respect

I don't know if I'll ever make up my mind about this: how I feel about my very strong commitment to both financial and social independence, especially for women, and me really liking strong macho types who could come home to me in a cozy love nest smelling of apple pie. And I'm not talking about one partner giving up all ambition to tend chickens, I'm just saying I don't fundamentally hate the idea of that in a story if that's what the characters are truly comfortable with. It doesn't have to be a bad dynamic and I don't give a shit what gender is the more go getting type and who takes the "wife" role, malewives with killer boss ladies make me feel just as fuzzy.

But so often the same people who say they want traditional values write relationships that set my teeth on edge.

At it's because of the way they look at the characters (98% of the time the female characters) who nurture.

Here he is, in Yellowstone, the patriarch cowboy who has been rootin' tootin' and straight shootin', kicking it back with his buddies while the womenfolk are busy makin' food and talking about girl stuff, I don't know. It's not about money or danger and what else is there to talk about? He's not lifting a finger, anyway - not without payment in sex. Because no,no: a husband doesn't do any hard labor to make his wife's life more comfortable if he is not being paid in sex. That's a given.

And he is a husband, make no mistake. He orchestrates what his people do and say. He goes out into the world, he decides what goes on in his world. End of discussion.

Only now, every interaction with a partner he sees as some kind of manipulation. Even though his feelings are, as they should be, only ever expressed through action - womenfolk tend to have a knack of arousing feelings and that can only ever be with the express intention of manipulating his actions. This is deplorable. Women and their 'wiles', amirite. You know, those same women who may state their intentions and wishes till the cows come home but that'll not sway his opinion. He's boss! The fact that they wouldn't have to sway his opinion unnoticed if they could simply discuss a problem like reasonable adults is never brought up. No, she 'made' him do it. With sex, and like, basic knowledge of the human psyche. Knowledge he'd be privy to if he didn't dismiss any discussion not about money or power as not worth having. No, instead she maliciously made him feel comfortable enough to do something she might want. (Middle ground? I don't know her.) His biggest fear, after her potentially having sex with someone else, is her seeing him the way he sees her - simply as a provider for goods and services.

Why is it so hard for those traditional types to understand the golden rule, namely that, uh - yes: it does matter how your actions affect other people's feelings, you know, before they feel compelled to either lie to you to get what they need or burn you in your bed? Even if you have the final say, it is important to come to decisions that, whenever possible, fulfill as many people's needs as is doable? That labour is labour and deserves respect? Honestly, I have no problem with a wife cheering her husband as he fells a tree for firewood as long as he appreciates the work it takes washing the sheets, making the bed and cleaning the shower he uses to recuperate after that hard labour (not to say that I would mind them in any way felling trees and doing laundry together, or her making kindling while he scrubs the floor). That nurturing is important because it sustains life, not because it is the due of some superior being? Also, the expectation for sex to be some kind of currency always is icky, alright. You can't demand or earn sex. You can pay for sex by paying a sex worker, but the partner who earns more money is not owed sex for taking another's wishes into account. If a partner wants more sex than the other one, and you cannot reach a compromise that is a reason to break things off and a valid one, if another compromise cannot be reached, but this whole "Look at women manipulating men into what they want by paying for it with sex because her simply wanting something or needing something is never reason enough for it to happen" - ugh! Also, sex is always a transaction - buy woman something, woman will put out, help her with anything, woman will put out - yuck! Husband is owed everything but survival, wife nothing but survival - eugh! Why can't you be in this together to help each other? Even a boss understands that while you can absolutely demand things from employees, you'll get much further if you try to come to some kind of agreement: "I need you to come in early, but you can take that time off Friday, unless you prefer overtime", or a child: I need you to sit still for the photographer, but will go to the park after, or you can take Lisa to softplay, or you get to pick dessert, or simply "Thank you, sweetheart, you made me very happy today." You know, seeing a sacrifice for what it is and doing something nice in turn? Why the dismissal? Honestly, I could happily watch a woman waiting to take her man's coat by the door, kids scrubbed and waiting in a row if he then spent his free time soundproofing the shed so she can mix music for her next dj-ing gig. Or work nights as he stable hand so she can afford attending a dressage tournament. Or selling his motorcycle so she can have a really nice car or he can take her on a trip to Ecuador. Whatever. Taking out the kids rabbit shooting for all I care so she can finish re-reading Pride&Prejudice. Simply men being considerate. Why is that never a traditional value?

#gender roles #personal

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