#Or that you were too emotionally charged to deal with it rationally until later

[rosepetalsthings]

Me, fighting the urge to argue with people on Tumblr

[horizon-verizon]

Twilight "Mates"

Have you ever wondered what the deal was with the Twilight movies and books having their vampire couples be called "mates"? Well, they aren't exactly soulmates.

I've had this information with me for literal years. I can forget what I had for lunch, but not this apparently. Now it's your turn to share in my misery.

For those that don't know, vampires in Twilight are not at all like the traditional, erotically charged vampires of modern popular media.

Like humans, vampires in Twilight can have many partners or have monogamous relationships but they cannot "break up" with their lovers and move on to new ones like humans can. At least not psychologically and truthfully enough to be in "real", new relationships. Vampire love-grief is a state or emotion they can't "forget" bc they literally cannot "forget" anything, and that's one of many unsettling things about Twilight vampires. which is why they never give up until the murderer of their mate is dead themselves, or if they are like Victoria, whoever they love the most or anything similar to their own sort of love, is dead. Either way, vampires will likely take their revenge. Vampires are forever stuck in the psychological state/personality they had right before they were turned. So they don’t respond to change all, and they really don’t need to except in special circumstances that require it, so they’re even less inclined to be psychologically adaptive. Only falling in love has the influence to significantly change them. As Meyer makes it. 

Because Meyer makes it that vampire’s enhancements apply to absolutely everything.

Twilight is a romance fantasy, not a vampire tale, but there is still a marked difference to how vampires versus humans form attachments, including their romantic ones, that all comes from their particular brand of "vampirism". The vampire lore is meant to build into and support the relationship of the main couple: Bella Swan and Edward Cullen. AND how vampires form lasting romantic connections are majorly inspired by Mormon celestial marriage and the exaltation principles.

A)

In Stephenie Meyer’s world, Bella and Edward are technically soulmates and Edward in Midnight Sun claims that Alice/Jasper and Rosalie/Emmett are, too. Other vampire couples don't seem to have the Cullen "privilege" or state of being soulmates who were drawn together emotionally, though:

AroxSulpicia

AthenodoraxCauis

AmunxKebi

JamesxVictoria

Descriptions:

Aro basically arranges his own mating by courting Sulplicia This clearly is not a spontaneous or freefall progression we'd imagine for how a bond b/t soulmates.

He and Caius lock up their mates so they could avoid the same debilitating grief and vulnerability that Marcus has. It is not necessarily for their wives’ sake.

Back in ancient Egypt when he was worshipped as a god, Amun picked Kebi out of all his slaves.

James had two main reasons to stop trying to kill Victoria when he hunted her down: he wasn’t able to AND he saw she'd useful. He later sees himself as having “won” anyway because now she’s with him forever by falling for him. To me, he considers their relationship to be him “owning” her and her gift, both useful for when he needs to get the hell out of Dodge.

These particular relationships reveal feelings and circumstances of ownership and selfishness, especially on the men’s part.

If soulmate relationships are supposed to be mutually compulsory between the two people, why the emotional incongruencies, power imbalances, and clear rationalization that goes into how most of the shown Twilight pairings are formed? 

And If someone is able to choose a romantic partner based on what they perceive are convenient and the motivation weren't pure-hearted or emotionally-driven...doesn’t it negate the one essential part of soulmateship? That someone out there is absolutely the best romantic option and the perfect match for you even when you didn’t choose them, and they were metaphysically given for both of your happiness?

At the same time, vampires can never forget their lover nor lose the memories of them, nor can those memories lose their sharpness, clarity and intensity. Makenna found herself still in love with Charles even after her first year as a newborn so she went back for him and turned him. He just so happened to still be in love with her after that year. Marcus literally can never forget how he feels about Didyme, nor can he feel less about her than when they first met or when they first acknowledged each other as their “person”.

B)

Soulmates (as a trope) have been depicted as anything from emotional/psychological prisons to psychologically safe havens. Sometimes both depending on the actual pairing’s dynamics, the action of the plot, and the themes of the story.

I think that the “both” sometimes happens in the romantic vision of Twilight when it comes to vampire mates.

This “both” still belies the very idea of a soulmate: that this one person is the best, inevitable, perfect, and only romantic option for one other person. 

If only one pairing are definitely true and real soulmates (as Twilight claims Bella/Edward are) and most of the others are circumstantial first-come-first-serves, can we really claim that mates in Twilight are definitively a destined soulmate? Or that soulmates even exist in the world of Twilight?

Instead, Twilight vampires experience another take/revision of the soulmates trope.

C)

THEREFORE: Twilight vampire mates are not supposed to be ideal nor true “soulmates” like those proposed by Plato and those portrayed in media ever since. 

There are no soulmates in Twilight. Not in either the "purest" nor original meaning of that word.

Instead, as a vampire, calling your "forever" romantic partner your “mate” is a both linguistic phenomenon and a narrative device that describes and realizes the potency, doggedness, and persistence that characterize how Twilight vampires love their "mates".

Meyer has her vampires use the term "mate" because:

Outside of the U.S. and in the U.K., the “mate” part of “soulmate” can be associated with the same word used for someone’s platonic companion or acquaintance. But in the U.S., it's used in with a scientific connotation--particularly observing nonhuman animals--. Thus it is regarded as too formal to seriously use in one’s casual day-to-day in the U.S., or it’s considered way too British and people who do use it casually do it either to be facetious or it's become a habit.

Meyer wanted to further distinguish vampires from humans and used their more animalistic, bestial qualities (their instincts to devour and attack) to characterize them as having “mates”. Paralleling them to nonhuman animals, which again, refers to how researchers and those taking care of the animals call their reproductive partners their “mate”. ironic since vampire women and girls cannot birth vampire or vampire hybrid offspring.

Twilight vampires dissociate themselves from humans, so of course they’d have a different term for their “important” lovers.

The term--or the idea behind the term--has been used in the vampire world of Twilight since before many vampires existed (Aro and Cauis) and I imagine that vampires would say, “why bother changing it now?” Unless it was a “recent” term, but no evidence suggests that.

Vampires canonically themselves don’t “change” values, philosophies, or mindsets without there being an intense catalyst, the strongest of which Meyer makes romantic (BellaxEdward) or very quasi-familial love (Tanya, Irina, Kate, and Sasha). 

Soulmates, as an idea, are supposed to be nonchanging and unavoidable, or “constant”, permanent, and position two people together inevitably. The word “mate“ illustrates the circumstance of not being able to change/display a “persistence” of the bond being out of the control of the singular vampire. They cannot determine their own romantic feelings but it's because they themselves cannot "change" (no matter how slippery the substance this is under closer inspection, that's the lore we're working with). The persistence associated with the nonhuman animal mate-bond and with any sort of social bond--human or nonhuman facilitates.

And following the assumption being made about nonhuman animals collectively being more creatures of instinct than humans are, like nonhuman animals Twilight vampires are also creatures of mostly instinct. They are “slaves” to their own instincts so that they often lose control and break things and people around them if they don’t practice not to.

D)

So finally, the word “mate” in the Twilight saga seems to be an associative term to express the reality of being a Twilight vampire in love.

Irina quite literally is willing to kill and die for Laurent, a person who didn’t like her as much as she liked him because she will never be able to forget Laurent nor the times they spent together and will always feel the pain of losing him with the same intensity as the first time of losing him.

Love in Twilight appears to be perilous and futile in the sense that it regularly makes vampires risk themselves in foolish ventures to ruin those who killed their mates. Yet (emotionally as well as thematically/symbolically) love for vampires is also necessary.

It both is one of only ways they get any sort of meaning or emotional satisfaction/compensation for their changeless lives. Yet it can easily become the cause of near self-destructive revenge missions that involve other vampires, perpetuating cycles of violence.

E) Mormonism

Meyer has Twilight vampires’ culture (and the central romance) centering itself around overlaps of love and danger when the stakes are desolation and eternal loneliness or loss of autonomy/power. However, if one is also familiar with Meyer’s loyalty to her Mormon faith and the Mormon principles of exaltation and eternal/”celestial” marriages, I think they’d notice that these two principles inform and provide the structure for both vampire matings and falling in the best kind of love.

Exaltation is a principle that:

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS Church) [teaches and believes in] that mankind can reach the highest level of salvation, to eternally live in God's presence, continue as families, become 'gods' or like God, create worlds, and have spirit children over which they will govern (Wiki).

So exaltation is when you become like God, you become "eternal" and live forever. Because you ha e died and have become literally closer to God. However, it is t enough to just die and go to heaven to be metaphysically/psychologically close to God.

Celestial marriages and sealings between family members--two requirements for exaltation--ensure that the marriage and the family are preserved after death until all the persons are in heaven together as “gods”.

And having children is a huge prerequisite for starting the type of families that religious Mormons seem to believe will bring them closer to God. Sexual reproduction/procreation is understood as a godly power because it provides the means for a devout to be like the creative God himself. God who made Adam and Eve and subsequently all of humanity. God who instructed Adam and Eve to go out and "multiply".

Adam and Eve took the apple from the tree to become more like God and to live in an “eternal relationship” (Weiss142) with God, each other, and their kids. The result, according to Mormons (including the LDS), is that humans struggle to triumph over their fallen state/human nature same term the “natural man”, who isn’t wicked so much as separate and alienated from God....but in practice is imagined as truly bad and wicked. Religious Mormons believe(d) the Joseph Smith (the 1830 Mormon founder) saw and understood all this reading of Adam and Eve in his first visions and wrote it into the Book of Mormon, which al provides the justification of exaltation and celestial marriages, etc.

Vampires in Twilight are very powerful due to venom and are like gods in the DC universe/Superman kind of way, but can’t procreate sexually--instead they have changeless lives and create other vampires usually through violence and carelessness. So they are both like gods but aren’t, possessing also the “natural man” state with their “bestiality”. They are, like Superman, very emotionally detached from humans and even from other vamps. They lack this “godly” power of procreation that humans and that Rosalie envies.

However, Bella gets to have true, valid, the “best” eternal life: a celestial marriage with Edward and having an immortal child that she, like Jesus and the perfect Mormon, put her body and very existence at risk for.

In the End

The idea of mates in Twilight is reserved for vampires and the nature of mating follows the soulmate trope without actually claiming to be the trope itself. 

Mates are not soulmates. It is a shallower re-invention that heavily depends on context and how language forms in a society to describe a social phenomenon set up by a steadfast interpretation of the reality of being a falling in love or entering a romantic relationship as a vampire. 

To repeat myself, when vampires take or recognize a mate, it’s not because that is the one and only person the universe/higher being grants them as a fit partner, so to speak. That person isn’t a mystical other half that completes them so much as the first and only person they fell deeply in love with or wanted to be so intimate with. First come, first serve. 

And the phrase above only applies when the person in love is a vampire in Twilight because it is an conventional, semi-arbitrary social term. Just how “spouse”, “girlfriend”, “lover”, “friends with benefits” are all social terms to label and describe a person who is meant to be one’s prioritized sexual/romantic partner.

So, to repeat myself, Twilight vampires are forever stuck in the psychological state/personality they had right before they were turned. Falling in love has the particular influence to significantly "change" them. As Meyer rules her lore. If they’re single and meet someone they eventually fall so deeply in love with (or become infatuated with), then that person will literally be the only person who could possibly romantically satisfy them. Ever.

In Twilight, mating can be either a decision (or coercion) or a circumstance or a mixture of both. It depends on the person’s intentions and desires and external circumstances. They must be in the right place at the right time to even be able to connect with others, as vampires are also solitary, very territorial and very violent. Still, humans similarly experience forming and getting into relationships circumstantially. 

[lovelivingmydreams]

As adults

 Okay... so people liked my emotionally fueled writing... So instead of just an additional short like I said I’d make, her’s is the conversation between Patton and Logan. I might venture into he mind of our snake boy in another post before I write what happens the next day. I tried to tag everyone who liked or reblogged my original post but I might have missed one or two.

AGAIN SPOILER WARNING FOR THE LATEST SANDERS SIDES!

Here’s the previous instalment Summary for that part: When Roman leaves he doesn’t go to his room straight away. Maybe his turbulent mind sought this place out to fit his mood. Maybe deep down he knew that there was only one person who could help him understand what he did wrong.The conversation leads to discussions and reminiscing of their past, why the King ever split, why Virgil left to the ‘dark side’ to begin with and the reason Virgil doesn’t trust Deceit despite living with him and the others for years. Summary for the story below the cut: After leaving Virgil to help Roman, Patton goes to talk with Logan. They can talk about this like grown men can’t they?

When Patton arrived back in his room in the mindscape he took in a deep, calming breath. Today had been a hard day. And he had a lot of apologizing to do. Janus had helped him look at his life in a new light, one he didn’t want to acknowledge until now. First stop: Roman. Patton went to work on a good cup of coco to bring along as a sign of good will. Roman had been trying so hard lately. Trying to support Patton in his decisions, trying to share center stage more with the others, trying to be more open about his feelings. And when Roman needed him in his corner, Patton had managed to make him feel betrayed. It hadn’t been intentional, even Janus had been surprised at that turn of events. Patton clenched his teeth as he thought back to Roman’s face when he left. He’d failed him. Roman had clearly been hurting for a while and Patton had been too busy with his own issues to pay attention. Self-care meant nurturing every aspect of yourself. This included the parts you thought were fine. With a cute kitten cup of coco that said ‘you are meauwvelous’ in hand he walked over to Roman’s door. Cheer Roman up, rebuild his confidence and get him to give Janus another chance. He could do that. Piece of cake. He gently knocked on the door and cleared his throat. “Roman? You in there sport? I brought hot coco?” he asked gently. It was quite for a bit and right when Patton thought he should knock again he heard movement on the other side. The door opened to reveal... Virgil? Patton hadn’t really seen him since he left for his room when they left the reception. He hadn’t expected to see him quite so soon. At the same time he was surprised the younger side hadn’t appeared as soon as Deceit showed himself. Patton noticed the headphones hanging around Virgil’s neck. Had he been drowning out the discussion on purpose to spare Thomas?

Before Patton’s thoughts can stray any further, Virgil speaks. “He’s taking a nap. Seems really out for the count. I was going to check up on Logan next, but could you do that? You know how emotional roller coasters like today take it out of me. Besides, I think Lo would much rather hear from you anyway. I’m going to nap in here. My room is a bit too much for me right now you know?” Virgil spoke just a little too quick, something Patton probably wouldn’t have caught on to if not for everything that had happened today making him stand on high alert. Virgil was trying to get him to leave. Though Patton didn’t think he was insincere in his concern for Logan, the worry in the protective side was clear and genuine.

Logan... God’s he’d have to talk to him as well. He knew this as soon as Logan left of course. But Patton had tried to view the rest of the day as one task at  a time. He was almost relieved to find that both Roman and Virgil were giving him a pass to postpone his full apologies to them by a day. So he chose to go along with the lie for now in favor of keeping Virgil in the loop. He didn’t want the anxious young man to feel blindsided by Janus’s presence tomorrow.

“Oh, of course Kiddo! You take it easy. I’m going to need to talk to you about something though...” How to say this without making Virgil switch to fight or flight? “How you’ve left Janus of all people in charge of Thomas’s post learning moment aftercare? Yeah, Roman gave me the headlines.” Patton’s eyes widened. Right, Roman was there. While Patton was making coco, Virgil had already been taking care of their friend. And if the look on his face was anything to go by he didn’t like the decision. Virgil sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, most likely to calm down his own anxiety. When he looked back at him, his eyes were determined but also trusting. “I trust your judgment Patton. But I don’ trust Jan. Not for a second.” He stated it so plainly, Patton wanted to say something on the yellow side’s behalf but Virgil raised his hand to stop him. “He’d never hurt Thomas on purpose, I know that, none of us would. Thomas isn’t self-destructive by nature. The problem is, I’m not sure if he’s ready to see that he can hurt him on accident.” It was quiet for a minute. Virgil had no clue how close to home that statement hit. Would Patton loose Virgil’s trust once he learned that he too was capable of hurting Thomas?

“I think I know what that’s like...” Patton admitted. Then he took a deep breath. Time to be brave. If Virgil was to realize how much damage Patton had done with his good intentions then Patton would rather have it be because of him. and not because of anyone else. And if that meant Patton would be someone Virgil now would see as a potential danger to Thomas’s health and happiness then so be it. Virgil deserved an apology as well. Even if it hurt to say it. “I’m really sorry kiddo. I know that I’ve been the cause of a lot of your pain too,” Virgil blinked in confusion as Patton bit his lip and searched for the words to explain. How could he cause his dark son so much pain? “I remember when Thomas was still young and you just started to really manifest. Before... Before we pushed you away as a bad thing. You’d hang onto me and panic whenever I got nervous about Thomas doing a wrong thing, thinking a bad thought...” The memory was so bittersweet. The sparkle in Virgil’s eyes at the magnificent creations of the King and later his shy laugh at the antics of the twins. The way he’d listen with rapt attention when Logan explained what caused the loud noise or the creepy shadow making it a little less scary still. The way he nodded along at Patton’s words of comfort and love and his quiet giggles at his silly jokes. But even if Virgil sought comfort and steadiness with Patton back then, it had been him who caused many of his episodes and creativity who had soothed him more than any of them could. If no amount of rationalizing from Logan or encouragements from Patton could convince Virgil that there was no monster in the closet, then the King or Roman and Remus could convince him that there was nothing to be afraid off. Because they were brave warriors and Virgil was their knight. And together they were stronger than any monster could hope to be. The scary thing became an exciting adventure Thomas could smile about as he fell asleep... And Patton had ruined that perfect picture. Shattered it with his own narrow mindedness. “I did that to you. Because I was too strict and I was teaching you to think in black and white too. And when we pushed you away... Of course you thought you had to be the bad guy to do your job. I taught you that. And I hate it. I wish I could go back. Go back and hug little you and me and say that it’s okay. But I can’t. I just hope that you’ll believe me when I say... I’m really sorry and I’ll try to be better.” Please forgive me, please don’t push me away. I want to be the person you thought I was back then. I want to deserve the way you used to look at me. A few more moments of silence hung between them and just when Patton was about to despair, Virgil spoke carefully. Choosing each word as if everything depended on it. “Pops... you aren’t entirely to blame for me believing I was bad. Janus, has just as much to do with that, if not more.” Patton felt something twist inside. Another question he’d failed to ask that he really should have before today. “What do you mean kiddo?” Virgil shifted his weight nervously before shoving his hands deep in his pockets and looking down at his shoes as he recalled times before he was welcomed at the table.

“The thing about him is, he deals in extremes. Today you might have seen him in a sincere and nurturing mood, but we have all seen how deceitful and destructive and manipulative he can be,” Virgil explained gently. Mindful of a sleeping friend who wasn’t really asleep. “You saw what that behavior did to Roman, even if he didn’t mean to hurt him.” Patton felt both pain and comfort at that statement. Pain because his friend had been hurting and he was once more remained that he’d failed to see that. But comfort because he was just so glad that the friendship these two once shared was getting back to what it once was. It had been something so precious in Patton’s eyes when they were young, to see the king pretend to be slain and Virgil frantically imploring him to be better, a wish that was always granted. Or Roman nearly being done in by his brother which encouraged Virgil to be brave and help Roman. Remus had been fine with it. The game was: make Virgil not afraid anymore, so if he had to lose two on one for that to happen then the green clad twin would take it. The close bond between creativity and caution had been lost for much too long. But now, it was back. Patton forced himself to redirect his attention to Virgil’s explanation. “One moment he looks at you and sees a friend a brother... A son.” Oh... Oh. Was that it? Was that why Virgil was a bit shy about being treated like Patton’s son all of a sudden? Because Janus, his former parental figure was back and it brought back bad memories? “The next, you are a pawn to be manipulated in any way that suits what he thinks to be the greater good in that moment. And when he speaks you never know for certain if it’s a painful truth you need to hear to become better, stronger, or a hurtful lie to make you suit his needs.” Virgil took in a long breath and let it out with a sigh. Patton held back the urge to hug him. Hot coco in his hands. Hugging wasn’t a good idea. “It’s a long story, and you should really go get Logan hot coco just the way he likes it. He deserves some patented Patton love as well,” Virgil urged with a slightly forced smile. Patton nodded and offered a look of comfort and understanding in return. “Alright kiddo. Thanks for being honest with me. I hope you’ll tell us all the story later so we can understand. But take your time,” he insisted. And then, because he wanted to be clear and honest in his communication with Virgil, “And thank you for trying to spare my feelings by not telling me that Roman isn’t ready for a talk yet. You two rest up. Take care of him for me, and tell him... Tell him I’m sorry I let him down.” Virgil’s sheepish look at getting caught in his lie changed to a worried frown as he nodded in confirmation to ensure that he would convey that message to Roman. “I’m sure he’d say that you did nothing of the sort. Don’t let Janus get into your head too much. Ugly truths and painful lies Patton. Don’t fall for the latter just because he gave you a little of the former,” Virgil warned. Patton nodded. Like with Virgil, it would take them some time to figure out how to talk to the new side at their table, but they would manage. Patton was confident in that much. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good night then. Thomas should be taking a day or two to relax and take care of himself so you should get plenty of time to recover,” Patton assured Virgil. “Night, see you in a minute when something goes wrong anyway.” Patton chuckle at Virgil’s jab before closing the door. When he emerged from his room for the second time that night, now with a mug that only had a single paw print as decoration for Logan he spotted a figure at Virgil’s door... It was Janus. “V... Do you want me to beg? Because I will,” he warned, his voice shaky with emotion. “He’s not in there,” Patton offered helpfully, feeling for the other side. He hadn’t heard the story yet, but he could gather that Virgil and Janus had been close once. The snake themed side probably missed his friend. Patton was happy that he tried to make amends right away. Janus looked up in surprise. “Oh... Patton I figured you’d be with Prince Charming still,” he muttered a little uncomfortable now that he was caught in what he thought as a private moment. “Me too. But Virgil was looking after him already. I’m on my way to Logan’s. Take a rest Janus. You earned it. Virgil is probably going to stick with Roman as long as he feels he is in danger.” It was something they’d noticed about the side. If any of them had a rough day, Virgil tended to hover over them a bit more until he felt certain that whatever had caused them distress had passed. Only exceptions being if he himself was overwhelmed. Janus looked back at the door a little dejected. “Oh... Well... Perhaps it’s better if he gets used to the idea a bit first anyway,” he mused, not sounding too convinced. “I’m sure it’ll all pan out. Roman and Virgil had a falling out that lasted close to two decades and now they are almost back to old times. Whatever happened between you two is going to sort itself out as well,” Patton assured Janus. The other side nodded and waved him off.

“Good luck with Logan,” he muttered, still sounding upset about his missed chance to talk to Virgil tonight. Patton almost followed after him but then decided that this problem was the kind where the best way to help was to stay out of it. Virgil and Janus had to solve their own issues. Now, he had a hot beverage to deliver. “Logan?” he asked gently as he knocked on the pristine door to the room. “I know you don’t want to talk, and you don’t have to, but I thought you might like a hot coco anyway?” After a few moments he heard the sound of a lock being taken off and the door opened. “A hot beverage would be pleasing,” Logan allowed stiffly as he let Patton into his room. Patton quietly walked into the spotless room. Aside from a few sciency posters and a lot of bookshelves, the room was very bare bones. Patton sat at the kitchen island and Logan joined him on the other side, accepting his drink. “Virgil is worried about you. I’m sure he’d like to hear from you that Janus didn’t hurt you when he took your place,” Patton offered. “I see. I shall talk to him about it later. When we’ve all gathered our bearings,” Logan nodded as he took a sip. “This is quite good,” he complemented. “Thanks... Logan. I just want to say I’m sorry for skipping your help... The truth is I was panicking and desperately trying to find clear instructions to follow that were impossible to find and if I listened to you, I might have realized what Janus was trying to teach me sooner... Like how listening to you helped us deal with Remus... I made so many mistakes Logan... I’m sorry I made you feel inadequate or not respected because of my own insecurities... I’ve hurt you all so badly. I’m sorry.” Logan nodded throughout the whole apology, seemingly more focused on his cup than the words. “I feel like my whole existence, I’ve been half blind and now I was forced to get a better prescription and see the damage I’d done... And I’m sorry that you were caught in the metaphorical fallout of this whole thing.” Logan nodded once again. “I appreciate your clarification on your use of figurative speech. Also you put effort in this offering,” he took another sip as if to stress what he was talking about. “and you were careful to direct your apology mainly at any distress your actions may have caused, rather than the guilt you feel. Your apology was sincere and therefore I accept it.”

Patton smiled gratefully at Logan. “Thank you Lo. And, if you change your mind and decide that you do want to talk, I’m here alright? I won’t push you away ever again. Even if what you have to say makes me feel uncomfortable or scared,” he vowed. Logan nodded again. “Let’s agree, that should someone’s behavior overwhelm you in any way, you signal me. By taking of your glasses by example. Even if I were to be the one to make you feel pressured, I will take note of this and attempt to calm the situation down enough for you to focus. Does that sound agreeable?” Patton nodded. “But only if you promise me to tug at your tie three times when you feel like you aren’t being listened to,” Patton insisted. Logan allowed for a small smirk and nodded. Satisfied with this agreement they both talked about simpler times. Patton asked Logan about his favorite memory of before Remus and Virgil were moved away from them and Logan recalled when Remus wanted to perform one of the experiments Logan had read about in a kids science book. Remus had some... Interesting additions. This had made Logan extremely curious. It was a mess and Logan hadn’t even cared. He didn’t have that much fun in ages before or ages to come. Roman and Virgil had performed the original experiment as a control case. They all realized that the results where whatever the twins would imagine it to be, but they had fun pretending they were serious scientists. “Sometimes I wonder...” Patton started as his nostalgia started to become clouded with regret. “Nothing could’ve been done about the situation Patton. Sooner or later, Virgil and Remus would be found Unwelcome by Thomas and they would have still ended up in the subconscious.” Logan sounded so sure that Patton let himself believe it for tonight. Then the scene shifted. “Thomas is getting ready for bed,” Logan observed. Before Patton could make to leave Logan alone he said something quite surprising. “Do you want to keep me company as I supervise the dreams? Roman is most likely not up for it, and I’d much rather Thomas get a full nights rest.” Patton smiled amused and nodded in understanding. If you let Remus anywhere near the dreams they would get really weird. Even by his standards. “I’d love to,” Patton nodded as he let Logan lead him the way to the observatory.   As they settled into the comfortable chairs to observe the dreams they heard a voice drift trough the mindscape. “Who’s good or bad who’s to say?” And as that song continued Thomas fell asleep, feeling better than he had in months.

So I hope you liked that follow up. See ya! Edit: fixed spelling

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[staliasjeronica]

Similarities Between Jeronica and Carmuel (Elité)

While one ship is canon and the other isn’t, Jughead and Veronica and Samuel and Carla have so much in common. Here’s highlighting why!

Jeronica and Carmuel both involve a boy who is classified as poor, or lesser than, and a beautiful rich girl.

The boys use the girl to get to the bottom of the mystery, and the girls use the boy back to make sure he doesn't find out anything. Basically, an interesting version of cat and mouse?

However, despite that, both ships end up falling for one another while at the same time continuing on with their mission because they’re stubborn and feel obligated to stay loyal and on the path for why they started in the first place.

It’s mostly a guess for Jeronica since they are not canon, but if they were canon, the similar path Samuel and Carla went is more than likely the path Jughead and Veronica would go based on their characters and their dynamic in Riverdale.

Girl is a dominant bad bitch and boy loves it.

Mostly fanon for Jeronica but, again, this is mostly guessing based on how their characters are and how their dynamic goes.

According to Carla’s wiki page these facts can show just how much Carla and Veronica are basically the same person.

Carla and Veronica are similar in that they use their intelligence and beauty to their advantage. Because their fathers raised them to be successful and confident and I-get-what-I-want, both girls can be very manipulative and use sex as a way to get what they want. Basically, they let others believe that they’re begging on their knees and that the other person has all the control, when it is actually the opposite.

Both Carla and Veronica are seen as cold-hearted, prideful, and selfish characters who are willing to do anything to put the odds in their favor. However, both of them are very loyal to the people they love and care about (Carla to Polo, her father, and her friends, Veronica to her friends and somewhat her father—which is mostly bad writing since they won’t let her branch off— and her mother)

With these qualities, neither character are as cold as the front they put up. Both girls share a more vulnerable and soft side of their personalities, appreciating non-luxurious places (Veronica’s is fanon for how the fans write Veronica as liking personal interactions because that’s how her character can be read) such as Samuel's home, his food, and even having fun as an ordinary girl without money, sex, and mind games involved. This softer side emerges only when Carla is with Samuel. That is much how Jeronica’s see what would happen if Jughead and Veronica were actually given a chance. Both of their (Jeronica’s) softer sides would emerge when they’re with each other, like how Jughead is allowed to show his softer side with Betty (and not around the Serpents) and Veronica with Archie (not around her father or friends).

Sadly there is no personality snippet for Samuel on the wiki and Jughead’s doesn’t really highlight it all, however…

Both boys are soft and caring and loyal (in s1, when bad shit didn’t hit the fan). until they are pushed to a space where they aren’t (Marina is murdered, Jughead joins the Serpents). They are ruthless and will do anything to uncover the truth. Marina’s death pushed Samuel to harden, and his usually humorous and normal teenager side was pushed to the side as he adopted this darker version of himself. Which is a lot like when Jughead joins the Serpents, and made him want “to be better than they were and to stay true to himself” which forced him into tough situations where he had to cast aside his more innocent season one self.

Samuel and Jughead started out as “low class” funny, loner (Samuel when he went to the private school) boys who are able to skirt by on the sidelines just being themselves. However, later on as things come to a head, they are both impulsive yet oddly able to wait and strike… it’s a very weird thing but I noticed that they act that way.

Since the boys didn’t have much of a personality description I decided to go through all of the personality types and choose who would be what.

Ironically and not surprisingly, Veronica and Carla (would most likely be) a Commander, ENTJ.

Jughead is an Architect, INTJ, and Samuel would most likely be an Adventurer, ISFP. However while going through each personality type Samuel did fit some of Jughead’s strengths and weaknesses, but Adventurer fit him a bit more. Since the girl’s share their personality profile I will go over their’s first. I won’t give a fully detailed one because this isn’t a personality profile post, but I will give the highlights and such.

Commanders are natural-born leaders, they embody the gifts of charisma and confidence, and project authority in a way that draws crowds together behind a common goal. However, they are also characterized by a ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination, and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they’ve set for themselves. Commanders love a good challenge, big or small, and they firmly believe that given enough time and resources, they can achieve any goal. Commanders are dominant, relentless, and unforgiving. If there’s anyone Commanders respect, it’s someone who is able to stand up to them intellectually, who is able to act with a precision and quality equal to their own. That is why Carla and Veronica vibe so well with Samuel and Jughead—those boys are able to keep up with them and bring on a challenge that they need and actually yearn for.

Commander strengths are efficient, energetic, self-confident (they trust their abilities, make known their opinions, and believe in their capacities as leaders), strong-willed, strategic thinkers (they are known for examining every angle of a problem and not just resolving momentary issues), and charismatic and inspiring.

However, their weaknesses are stubborn and dominant, intolerant (“It’s my way or the highway”), impatient, arrogant, poor handling of emotions (commanders often trample others’ feelings, inadvertently hurting their partners and friends, especially in emotionally charged situations), and cold and ruthless.

Looking between the two characters, it makes sense that they are the same type because they act in almost the exact way, and were brought up by their controlling, rich fathers were want to stay on top and will do anything to stay on top. Now, to see how their type deals with romance.

Commanders approach dating and relationships with a set of goals and a plan to achieve them, and proceed to do so with impressive energy and enthusiasm. Romantic relationships are a serious business, and Commanders are in it for the long haul (of course, this is about people irl and these are TV show characters so it won’t always be completely right. Still, the rich lonely girl who’s only had people use her for something would totally want something permanent and long-standing).

Sensing others’ feelings and emotions will never be a comfortable skill for Commanders, but it is critical that they work consciously to develop it, both for their partners’ sake and for their own healthy emotional expression. If they don’t, they risk dominating and overruling their partners, and this insensitivity can easily break a relationship, especially early on.

Their authentic confidence makes Commanders’ sex life dynamic to say the least, and they often push to explore new ways to express their affection with imaginative enthusiasm (both couples are sensual and hot, so this makes sense that their relationships would show that explicitly).

Commanders in particular would do well to remember that their approach is just one angle of a multi-faceted spectrum of alternatives. While Commanders may view criticism as the most efficient route, they should bear in mind that their partners may be more interested in emotional support and growth, an area of self-improvement that Commanders themselves too often avoid. This is where the softness and the trust would come in, where they open themselves up to the other only with each other.

Now, to compare Jughead and Samuel’s personality profiles. Jughead and Samuel may be different in that Jughead reads a lot of books and is more of a shy bookworm and Samuel seems more of like the introverted yet extroverted if needed kind of boy, but at the same time a show that doesn’t really let us in to see how Samuel truly acts is kind of hard to pin him down to a more spot-on personality type and have it be correct. In retrospect, their personality profiles are different but in their underlying personalities on screen, they are very much alike in how they act, think, 

Both Architects and Adventurers are able to be both the “most positive dreamers and the bitterest pessimists at the same time” (Architect), and “...definitely Introverts, surprising their friends further when they step out of the spotlight to be by themselves to recharge,” (Adventurer) they both think about anything and everything, but also can shut themselves off from others to recharge (obviously that’s not exact from the words but that’s what you can take from what the descriptions say). Their strengths and weaknesses don’t exactly match up (unless you dig really deeply into how an architect’s quick, imaginative, and strategic mind can connect to an adventurer’s passion, and etc.) and neither do their profiles, but from how they are perceived on their respective shows, they clearly have underlying comparisons.

It would take like five hours to find every single little thing and compare it, so simply go to their personality profiles and you can see for yourself how they can match up. It’s hard to do so because they’re on different shows and obviously not everything is exactly the same (nor are they placed in the same plots) but overall it’s clear to say that the couples are compatible with one another AND the people inside the ships. 

[marioclash]

im really sorry but this is something ive been wanting to get off my chest for a few years now

kinda emotionally charged post under the cut

Hey, Vsauce. Michael here. Where are your fingers? Seriously. It's a pretty easy question. You should be able to answer it. But how do you know? How does anyone know anything?

You might say, well, I know where my fingers are. I'm looking right at them. Or, I can touch them, I can feel them, they're right here and that's good. Your senses are a great way to learn things. In fact, we have way more than the usual five senses we talk about. For instance, your kinesthetic sense, proprioception. This is what the police evaluate during a field sobriety test. It allows you to tell where your fingers and arms and head and legs in your body is all in relation to each other without having to look or touch other things. We have way more than five senses, we have at least twice as many and then some. But they're not perfect.

There are optical illusions, audio illusions, temperature sensation illusions, even tactile illusions. Can you turn your tongue upside down? If so, perfect. Try this. Run your finger along the outer edge of the tip of your upside down tongue. Your tongue will be able to feel your finger, but in the wrong place. Our brains never needed to develop an understanding of upside down tongue touch. So, when you touch the right side of your tongue when it's flipped over to your left side you perceive a sensation on the opposite side, where your tongue usually is but isn't when it's upside down. It's pretty freaky and cool and a little humbling, because it shows the limits of the accuracy of our senses, the only tools we have to get what's out there in here.

The philosophy of knowledge, the study of knowing, is called epistemology. Plato famously said that the things we know are things that are true, that we believe and that we have justification for believing. those justifications might be irrational or they might be rational, they might be based on proof, but don't get too confident because proven is not a synonym for true. Luckily, there are things that we can know without needing proof, without needing to even leave the house, things that we can know as true by reason alone. These are things that we know a priori. An example would be the statement "all bachelors are unmarried." I don't have to go survey every bachelor on earth to know that that is true. All bachelors are unmarried because that's how we define the word bachelor. Of course, you have to know what the words bachelor and unmarried mean in the first place. Oh, you do? Okay. Perfect. That's great. But how do you know?

This time I mean functionally, how do you know? Where is knowledge biologically in the brain? What are memories made out of? We are a long way from being able to answer that question completely but research has shown that memories don't exist in the brain in single locations. Instead, what we call a memory is likely made up of many different complex relationships all over the brain between lots of brain cells, neurons. A major cellular mechanism thought to underlie the formation of memories is long-term potentiation or LTP. When one neuron stimulates another neuron repeatedly that signal can be enhanced overtime LTP, wiring them more strongly together and that connection can last a long time, even an entire lifetime. A collection of different brain cells, neurons that fire together in a particular order over and over again frequently and repeatedly can achieve long-term potentiation, becoming more sensitive to each other and more ready to fire in the exact same way later on in the future. They're a physical thing in your brain, firing together more easily because you strengthen that pattern of firing. You memorized. This branching forest of firing friends looks messy, but look closer. It could be the memory of your first kiss. A living souvenir of the event. If I were to go into your brain and cut out those cells, could I make you forget your first kiss or could I make you forget where your fingers are? Only if I cut out a lot of your brain. Because memories aren't just stored in one relationship, they're stored all over the brain. The events leading up to your first kiss are stored in one network, the way it felt to the way it smelled in different networks, all added up together making what you call the memory of your first kiss.

How many memories can you fit inside your head? What is the storage capacity of the human brain? The best we can do is a rough estimate, but given the number of neurons in the brain involved with memory and the number of different connections a single neuron can make Paul Reber at Northwestern University estimated that we can store the digital equivalent of about 2.5 petabytes of information. That's the equivalent of recording a TV channel continuously for 300 years. That's a lot of information. That is a lot of information about skills you can do and facts and people you've met, things in the real world. The world is real, right? How do you know?

It's a difficult question, but it's not rocket science. Instead, it is asking whether or not rocket scientists even exist in the first place. The theory that the Sun moved around the earth worked great. It predicted that the Sun would rise every morning and it did. It wasn't until later that we realized what we thought was true might not be. So, do we or will we ever know true reality or are we stuck in a world where the best we can do is be approximately true? Discovering more and more useful theories every day but never actually reaching true objective actual reality. Can science or reason ever prove convincingly that your friends and YouTube videos and your fingers actually exist beyond your mind? That you don't just live in the matrix?

No. Your mind is all that you have, even if you use instruments, like a telescope or particle accelerators. The final stop for all of that information is ultimately you. You are alone in your own brain, which technically makes it impossible to prove that anything else exists. It's called the egocentric predicament. Everything you know about the world out there depends on and is created inside your brain. This mattered so much to Charles Sanders Peirce that he drew a line between reality, the way the universe truly is, and what he called the phaneron, the world as filtered through our senses and bodies, the only information we can get. If you want to speak with certainty you live in, that is you react to and remember and experience your phaneron, not reality. The belief that only you exist and everything else, food, the universe, your friends are all figments of your mind is called solipsism. There is no way to convince a solipsist that the outside world is real. And there is no way to convince someone who doubts that the universe wasn't created just three seconds ago along with all of our memories. It's a frightening realization that we don't always know how to deal with. There's even The Matrix defense.

In 2002 Tonda Lynn Ansley shot and killed her landlady. She argued that she believed she was in the matrix, that her crimes weren't real. By using the matrix defense, she was found not guilty by reason of insanity, because the opposite view is just way healthier and common. It's called realism. Realism is the belief that the outside world exists independently of your own phaneron. Rocks and stars and Thora Birch would continue to exist even if you weren't around to experience them. But you cannot know realism is true. All you can do is believe.

Martin Gardner, a great source for math magic tricks, explained that he is not a solipsist because realism is just way more convenient and healthy and it works. As to whether it bothered him that he could never know realism was true, he wrote, "If you ask me to tell you anything about the nature of what lies beyond the phaneron, my answer is how should I know? I'm not dismayed by ultimate mysteries, I can no more grasp what is behind such questions as my cat can understand what is behind the clatter I make while I type this paragraph." Humble stuff. What strikes me is the cat.

Cats do not understand keyboards, but they know the keyboards are a fun place to be. It's a great way to get the attention of a human, they're warm and exciting, surrounded by noises and flashing lights plus cats love to get their scent on whatever they can, a mark of their existence. We aren't that much different, except instead of keyboards we have the mysteries of the universe. We will never be able to understand all of them.

We won't be able to ever answer every single question, but walking around in those questions, exploring them, is fun. It feels good. And as always, thanks for watching. Do you want more unanswered questions? Well, you're in luck. Today, nine other amazing channels on YouTube have made videos about questions we still haven't fully answered. Alltime10s has organized them and to watch them all click the annotation at the end of this video or the link at the top of the description. Enjoy.

[ralfstrashcan]

Violence in Fiction

When I don't like something in a TV show it's most likely the way violence caused by the protagonists is dealt with. There are different ways in which that can happen and I'm just gonna explain some by examples, namely Sherlock, Teen Wolf and Shadowhunters.

1) Skirting violence (Sherlock)

This is a good method to avoid having to address violence in any way, at least in theory. Until there is one measly scene containing violence and to keep the balance it's not touched on at all and so things get... really weird.

Taking a look at the first two Seasons of Sherlock and ignoring minor brawlings Sherlock and John get themselves into, there is one scene standing out: In the first episode, where John shoots the Cabbie and Sherlock 'questions' him while he's taking his last breaths. The first part is still mostly okay because it is talked about. It is clear that John has killed people in the past and knows how to handle that, Sherlock asks him if he's alright (so it's made clear that shooting someone is something that potentially leaves traces on a person's mental health) and John answers that the Cabbie wasn't a very nice man. And yeah, I get it, he was a serial killer that killed people through sick mind games to fund the college career of his kids and get a personal kick out of it, but the situation in which John shot him wasn't one of imminent danger, at least not because of the Cabbie. He actually shot the Cabbie because Sherlock was about to take the (only potentially) deadly pill because of his own ego and stupidity, not because the Cabbie forced him or posed any kind of threat to him. So wasn't it a little unjust? Even a serial killer deserves a trial, right? Of course it could be argued that John didn't see all that from his tiny little window, and this part of the scene isn't even what I want to focus on. I just thought I'd mention it along the way.

The real uncomfortable part begins after the Cabbie is shot. Sherlock wants answers, preferably fast before the Cabbie goes west, and so he steps onto his shot shoulder to give him a li'l incentive to spill. And this is.. problematic. Because, you know, torture. Deliberately inflicting pain on a dying person. Not cool. And yeeeaaah, Sherlock is really harsh most of the time and unnecessarily insensitive, but this is crossing the line. And it's not addressed at all, which makes kind of sense, because Sherlock obviously has no qualms and John doesn't know it happened (?) and so it just sits there, uncommented. I always feel really awkward watching that scene because it seems so out of place amidst the other relatively violence-free episodes of S1 and S2.

In S3 and S4 the general tone of the series changes and so the violence when it occurs (Mary shooting Sherlock, Sherlock shooting Magnussen, Eurus killing people whenever) doesn't seem so out of place like that one scene in the first Season did.

2) No real or asymmetrical consequences of violence (Teen Wolf)

Two things, real quick:

i) Everyone should be a lot more traumatized than they actually are. The only person(s) to show any kind of reaction to all the gore are Stiles and occasionally Lydia (and the Sheriff, but the Sheriff is mostly exasperated so it doesn't really count).

ii) I feel like the thing that has impacted Stiles the most so far (I still haven't seen 6B, but since Stiles only has a minor role in this (</3!!!!!!!!!) I don’t think it will really change anything) was the thing with Donovan in S5 and I felt like ???????? shouldn't the whole Nogitsune thing have been way way worse for him??????? I mean okay, in S5 he was actually in control, except he wasn't because it was an accident, but yeah yeah yeah, I get it that it's hard to comprehend and knowing something rationally isn't the same as feeling it to be true emotionally. Still. That was one person that died. While attempting to kill him, mind you. In S3 the Nogitsune killed, like, a lot of people and Stiles, being possessed, didn't only have a front row seat, he also felt his elated emotions while killing them. And the whole thing went on for weeks. That's gotta be worse, right?!

I felt like Stiles acting weird and keeping secrets from Scott in S5 was used as a plot device so Theo could sneak his way inside Scott's head while after S3 there was no time to deal with Stiles-Trauma, so in S4 he was mostly back to normal.... except for that one scene with Malia in the basement, the “Control is overrated”-Scene (which I still don't get by the way, so feel free to explain that to me anytime).

3) Inconsistent reactions to violence (Shadowhunters)

This is probably the one that annoys me the most, because it's inconsistent. I freakin' hate inconsistency. Everything else can be forgiven, tropes, clichés, stupid lines, stupidity, even gaping holes in the logic, as long as it's freakin' consistent. It's why I have absolutely zero problems loving Teen Wolf to pieces, because that show has logic that is downright sketchy at times, but that is a constant, so it's alright. (Except for maybe S4, that was really too much bullshit. But it was funny as hell, okay, so I didn't care. I enjoyed myself immensely watching it.) Anyway, back to my point. Shadowhunters and the way violence performed by the protagonists is dealt with.

There are different types of violence shown on-screen:  

a) Killing Demons

This one is really unproblematic, because demons are Creatures of Evil whose sole purpose of existence is to kill or injure innocent bystanders. Also they are no highly developed creatures and look like really nasty vermin (or at least most of them do, except for 1x01 where all demons where human-shaped and human-looking but I'm putting that down to pilot-weirdness) so it's like killing a bug. It's also really convenient that 'killing' them doesn't really kill them but instead just sends them back to their home dimension where they dwell until the next rift opens. So, really, it's more like putting them in the jail of monopoly.  

b) Killing Downworlders

Eh, I'm sorry, what? Downworlders aren't killed on-screen by protagonists, only by Evil Circle Members! We all know that is Wrong and Bad!

Yeah well, mostly. Except for that one scene in S1 where Alec and Izzy slay Vampires like it's nothing. But let me start elsewhere.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Shadowhunters may or may not have racist tendencies and look down on Downworlders, yet there is that iffy little thing called The Accords that prevents them from harming them. In theory. It is also widely known that most Shadowhunters in higher ranks don't really give a shit about the Accords and feel like ignoring them whenever the mood strikes is totally okay. For example Aldertree torturing Raphael to get information. It's the same when Meliorn is to be brought into the City of Bones for questioning even though he could very well die in the process of said questioning. But, you know, he is evilly withholding information, so it's alright to break the Accords, because surely the Seelies will be too afraid to start a war with the Shadowhunters in retaliation, should anything happen. We all know how the story goes, Izzy 'goes rogue' and steals Meliorn before he reaches the City of Bones and because the Clave is full of shit they drop the charges for treason against her as soon as they get the Cup in their greedy little fingers. Really, you would think a trial for treason couldn't be ended so easily, but whatever. My point is, Izzy is very pro Downworlders for a Shadowhunter, right? In a society where, even though it's dictated by the Accords, being pro Downworlder is very frowned upon. Lydia even warns her to consider what she's saying when Izzy says, “You know what's insane? Thinking we have the right to treat a Downworlder's life as worthless” in 1x11 during her trial, neatly proving both my claims.

I think it's safe to say that Izzy doesn't have these views since yesterday but has had them for a long time, to withstand against a society that tries to teach her differently.

So why the hell does 1x03 happen?? Simon got kidnapped by the Vampires, so to steal him back Clary, Jace, Alec and Izzy break into the Hotel DuMort and Alec and Izzy are the distraction. Meaning they trigger the alarm and proceed to kill every Vampire that comes their way.

What. The. Hell.

I mean yeah, the Vampires did kidnap Simon, but collective punishment much? Who says the other Clan Members even knew what Camille was up to?? In fact we see Raphael and Camille disagree over this whole kidnapping, suggesting that this was Camille's idea alone and the rest of the Vampire Clan had no say in it at all. Of course the Shadowhunters don't know that, but that possibility should have crossed their minds, that's not too much to ask, right? Also, again, don't they deserve, like, a trial? And even if they don't, isn't killing tons of Vampires for one measly abduction where the hostage isn't even lastingly harmed a little excessive?

And yes, the Vampires did attack Alec and Izzy, but they were freakin' breaking into their home and flapping their seraph blades around. Did they expect to be asked to leave politely? What the hell?!

To be honest, from Alec I didn't reaaally expect more, because of the weird racism issue he has (in early episodes he says some super racist things about Downworlders and later it's never mentioned again and not really reflected in his behavior which I find super weird and annoying but that's a topic for another day) but Izzy, who stands out with her Downworlder-friendly attitude??? What was going on with her???

Of course one could argue here that they are just so hardened through all the demon-slaying, but honestly I don't believe that because demons are (mostly) mindless creatures whereas Vampires were real people at some point and still are in spirit if not in biology. Seriously.  

c) Killing other Shadowhunters (namely Circle Members)

And on with the killing of real people. Apparently Circle Members (CM from now on because I'm lazy) don't need a trial, fine. Apparently all the protagonists have absolutely no problem slaying fellow Shadowhunters, even though I believe that before S1 the Circle was officially dead and no more CM were running around and so the protagonists didn't have practice killing people. Izzy says in 1x04, “Before Clary got here, every day was the same. Go on a mission, kill demons. Go on a mission, kill demons.” Demons, not rogue CM. But of course that could have been for the easy parallelism, you know, to keep the sentences short. But I don't think that.

Anyway, even if we leave all this aside... shouldn't all that people killing leave, like, a slight uncomfortable feeling in anyone's gut? Because it really doesn't.

Again, one could argue that they are just hardened and used to all the violence and while I think that is a flawed argument (because I don't believe that killing is something you can get used to if you don't have a grave mental health issue) I will concede the point. For the Lightwoods.

What about Clary? She's been part of the Shadow World for like two weeks and she's joining in on the killing as if it's nothing. She goes from “Oh my god you killed her!!!!!111” in 1x01 to happily stabbing people in two seconds flat. What the hell, Clary.

That she might take to killing demons, okay, because blah blah primitive creatures blah blah. But everything else is just un-freakin-believable, if you ask me.

Of course I understand why this happens in all these shows. It's necessary. It's for the same reason that you don't show every meal the characters eat or every time they go to the toilet; it's obvious they do it at some point but nobody cares about that. If you focus all your screen-time on the mental health issues of the characters you never get to the fun parts like explosions and fights and stuff. I get that.

Still. Can't it be avoided?

Welllllll.

I have to admit, I have seen one TV show that really took the time to portray consequences of violence realistically, and that was Hannibal. In the first episode Will, who is labile on a good day, shoots someone in an entirely justifiable act of self-defense where he had absolutely no other choice than shooting that person or risk the life of an innocent bystander. And then he is traumatized for a while and the frequent visits to the psychiatrist of his misplaced trust don't really improve his situation, but my point is, he struggled with what he has done even though there were good reasons why he did it, there were long term consequences, and he is haunted even Seasons later by this, by his first time killing another person.

Now that is some nice handling of the consequences of violence.

Of course taking all that time on-screen to process his thoughts and feelings serves the plot, so there's that.

I guess what I'm saying is, I understand why it's done, this neglect of dealing with the fallout of violence, but on the other hand it still annoys me. Don't get me wrong, I love all the shows I mentioned and have re-watched them more than once and surely will again, but.

A grain of discontent stays.

[bittysvalentines]

Something Missing

To: @magnetosbf

From: @polaroidpidge 

__________

Jack knows it’s the slap shot of his life as soon as his stick hits the ice. Time moves in slow motion as the puck heads towards the crease, sliding between the goalie’s legs and sinking beautifully into the net. And then the buzzer sounds and time is back to normal again. Jack grins and pumps his fist as the crowd roars and confetti begins to fall.

“Well, there you have it, folks!” The announcer’s voice booms over the loudspeakers. “The Providence Falconers are the twenty eighteen Stanley Cup champions!”

   “Zimbonni!” Tater skates rapidly towards Jack, delivering a hearty slap on his shoulder.  Jack doesn’t even have the chance to respond before the rest of his teammates are pulling him into a crushing celly.

“You did it, kid!” Thirdy says. “We knew you had it in you!”

After some good-natured chirps and Marty pretending not to cry, Jack is finally released. He looks around, searching for his parents, but doesn’t see them just yet. He has a moment to take in the ice as it’s covered in blue and yellow confetti and people embracing.

This is it, Jack thinks to himself, I’ve finally done it!

But for some reason, as he looks around at everyone hugging and kissing, he can’t help but feel that something’s missing.

…

A sign with large blue letters reads “Welcome to the Hapuna Beach Resort” as Jack strolls into an air-conditioned lobby, a massive duffle bag slung over his shoulder. After a series of strange flight delays and an abnormally long taxi ride, Jack can’t believe he’s finally here. He gets in line to check in behind a middle-aged couple, and breathes a sigh of relief.

The vacation was his parents’ idea. After the cup, Jack had been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. When he could barely clean his own apartment post-cup celebratory kegster, his mom had brought up Hawaii and after a bit of convincing, Jack agreed that he could probably use a week in the sun.

“Your room will be in the west wing on the second floor, Mr. Zimmermann.” The cheerful front desk woman says, returning Jack to reality. “Here’s your room key.”  He accepts the plastic card gratefully and re-slings his bag over his shoulder. As he walks down the long, tiled corridors of the hotel, Jack can’t help but feel a little removed from reality. It’s been a long time since he had even a few hours not completely dedicated to hockey and the mellow, balmy aura of resort is foreign to him. Jack finally reaches his room and opens the door with a swipe of his keycard.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad.” Jack says aloud, the beginnings of a smile on his face. The bed looks incredibly soft and plush and even from the doorway, Jack spots a large Jacuzzi tub in the en-suite bathroom. But what really catches his attention are the glass sliding doors to a small balcony with an incredible view. Jack kicks the door shut and drops his bag before making his way across the room for a better look. The latch for the balcony doors takes a little elbow grease to open, but it’s absolutely worth it as Jack steps out into the blissful ocean breeze. The water is crystal clear as it laps against the sparkling white sand in a simple yet mesmerizing fashion. Jack also takes in the greenery surrounding the beach and spots a lone figure sitting on a patch of grass that overlooks the sand dunes. Jack can’t make out much from this distance, but there’s something about that blond hair and those tanned, golden shoulders that make him want to get a closer look.

The impulsive part of Jack debates going down there for a moment before his rational brain catches up with a well-timed yawn. Jack has to admit that he is pretty exhausted from his traveling woes and resolves to at least take a quick nap on his luxurious new bed. He spares one last glance at the distant stranger before going back inside and re-latching the balcony door. Jack’s body relaxes completely as soon as his head hits a pillow and within moments he’s passed out in a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Jack wakes up, the sun is already beginning to lower in the sky and he’s desperately hungry. After quickly splashing his face with water, he ventures out into the resort in search of food. He gets slightly lost in the labyrinth of bright floral decoration, but eventually ends up at the casual restaurant by the outdoor pool. Jack finds a menu posted on a decorative Tiki torch and tries to decide what to order.

“Who does he think he is?” An irritated voice causes Jack’s head to whip around, wondering if the speaker is referring to him. Jack’s jaw goes slack as he sees the source of the outburst. For a moment, all he can take in is miles of sun-kissed, freckled skin, sparkling brown eyes, and a pair of illegally short pink shorts. Jack just knows that this is the same person he spotted from his balcony and struggles to come up with a conversation opener.

“Who, me?” is what eventually comes out of his mouth. And Alicia Zimmermann can’t believe that her son is still single. The man raises his hands in placating gesture.

“Oh no honey, I was just thinking aloud,” he says. “My ex keeps trying to call me again now that he knows my career is finally taking off. Bless his heart.”

“I think I know the feeling,” Jack says ruefully, thinking about the strange congratulatory dm he’d gotten from Kent on twitter about the Falcs winning the cup. It had been accompanied by a single sushi emoji and Jack is still confused. “I’m Jack, by the way. Jack Zimmermann.”

The man gives him a warm smile.

“Very nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Eric Bittle, but my friends call me Bitty.”

“Bitty?” Jack tilts his head to one side.

“It’s a nickname.” Bitty blushes. “I got it in college when I played hockey.”

“What school did you play for?” Jack asks, suddenly curious.

“Cornell,” Bitty answers. “We managed to get to the frozen four a couple of times, but we almost always got beat out by this school called Samwell. Don’t suppose you’ve heard of it?”

“Uh…” Jack thinks about his next words carefully, as he really wants Bitty to like him.

“I’m just messing with you, Mr. Zimmermann.” Bitty says, playfully touching Jack’s arm. “I remember you perfectly from the ice. All those insane slap shots that would just blast past our poor goalie.” Bitty smiles. “I suppose that’s to be expected from a top level NHL player.”

Jack ducks his head sheepishly, realizing the jig is up. “Guilty as charged,” Jack says. “I’ll admit, I didn’t recognize you at first but now I remember. You were number fifteen, right? Always so fast on the ice! It was like no one could touch you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Bitty replies, although he’s clearly glowing at such high praise from Jack.

“How about I just buy you dinner instead, then?” Jack asks. Bitty flashes a dazzling smile.  

“I’d love that.” Without thinking, Bitty offers Jack his arm, which Jack takes gracefully. This is one hundred percent not how Jack was expecting this night to go, but somehow he doesn’t mind it as Bitty leads him over to a table near the bar. Maybe I should go on vacation more often, Jack thinks as Bitty makes some comment about piña coladas and it’s suddenly the funniest thing in the world, yep, definitely.

Jack’s not usually great at small talk, but somehow talking to Bitty is easier than breathing. They don’t linger for long on hockey, and find their way to talking about family, pie crust making techniques, and everything in between, all interspersed through bites of over-priced cobb salad and pasta.

“And I’d always thought of writing a cookbook as a long-term goal, you know?” Bitty says. “But when my agent suggested that I approach Harper Collins myself after my Youtube channel started blowing up, it felt kinda crazy, even though I knew I wanted to do it.”

“Sometimes making the right choice is scary,” Jack replies. “I know how stressed I was leading up to the cup final about doing the right thing.’”

Bitty nods sympathetically.

“But I guess it all works out in the end. Several months later and boom! The book that used to just be a dream is now a glossy hardcover at the top of the New York Times bestseller list!” Bitty ducks his head. “Gosh! My mama always said it’s not polite to brag but I can’t help but go around telling everyone.”

“As you should,” Jack replies. “You should be so proud of yourself, Bitty! That’s an amazing accomplishment!”

“Thanks, Mr. Stanley Cup champion.”

“Touché.”

They both pretend they’re not blushing.

“So that’s why I’m on vacation, actually.” Bitty says, finally returning to his original train of thought. “I figured I could use some me time after months of mockups and editing. And I’ve been in a wonderful mood until someone started calling me just this afternoon.” Bitty glares at his phone as if it’s personally offended him as it rests face down between the salt and pepper shakers.

“I’m not the greatest person for advice on dealing with exes,” Jack admits. “But blocking him might be a good place to start.”

“I know, I know.” Bitty sighs. “And I know nothing good would ever come from talking to him again. I just…” He trails off, at a loss for words. Jack waits a moment before reaching across the table and taking Bitty’s hand. “I guess my heart is stuck on old habits,” Bitty says softly.

“Well I guess your heart just has to make some new habits then,” Jack replies. He rubs circles into Bitty’s hand with his thumb and Bitty chuckles.

“I think I’ve already started working on that,” Bitty says, making steady eye contact with Jack as he speaks. Jack smiles at Bitty and feels a warm fluttering in his chest. Jack feels like he’s thirteen again with his first major crush but he’s never felt better.

After they leave the restaurant, Bitty suggests they go for a walk by the beach and there’s no way that Jack can refuse. The sun is setting properly now, and dark purple and pink hues light up the sky with ethereal beauty. They walk in silence, too captivated to speak much at all. But at some point Bitty’s fingers interlace with Jack’s and words aren’t necessary. At least, not for a little while longer.

When the sun finally dips below the horizon, Jack offers to walk Bitty back to his hotel room, but Bitty wonders if they can’t stay and look at the stars for a few minutes. In reality, his suggestion has very little to do with celestial bodies and Jack knows this. There is a moment of silence where Jack looks down briefly at Bitty’s lips before making eye contact with the blonde as the stars watch.

“Bitty?” Jack’s voice is soft and barely audible.

“Yes?” Bitty breathes.

“Can I kiss you?” Jack’s question hangs in the air for a second before Bitty nods and then Jack is leaning down, pressing their lips together with an insistent tenderness that makes Bitty’s toes curl. And there, in the magical air of summer, Jack feels like he’s finally found that ‘something’ that’s been missing.  

[jordan202]

Maybe This Time - Part 5

Links to previous chapters are HERE. 

Thank you everyone for the amazing, incredible responses! I cant believe how many of you have messaged me waiting for this. You guys are awesome. Here it goes!.

Maybe This Time – Part 5

The room was nearly immersed in total darkness, but through a thin ray of moonlight coming through the window Amelia was able to identify the book placed on Owen’s nightstand, opposite to her.

After she was done exploring the place with her eyes, Amelia diverted her gaze to the man who was now comfortably sleeping next to her. Apparently, Owen had been reading one of her books that she’d left behind after moving out. The realization brought a happy smile to her face and she felt even closer to him.

Owen was deeply asleep, his relaxed facial expression a complete contrast to the fierce, strong look he usually had on. Amelia felt her heart fluttering when she thought about the passionate moments they’d shared on that bed only a few hours before.

After their deeply emotional exchange in the living room, she had cried in Owen’s arms while he also let his walls down for her. Through a heartfelt conversation, they had finally been able to voice their feelings and properly apologize for their mistakes. And when all the pain was finally exposed, they had comforted each other, first with words and then in the way only Owen was allowed to comfort her.

Amelia had never felt this intimate to someone before. Sure, she had had relationships with guys she had liked, maybe loved even. But it had never felt exactly like this. With Owen, it simply felt like it was more. As if she wasn’t sharing just her body, but mostly her heart and her soul. And the most amazing part of it all was that not only Owen did the same, he also seemed to be just as awed by that new reality as she was. No one had ever made Amelia feel that loved, cherished and safe, all at the same time. Owen was the only one who had that huge impact on her and she was determined to keep it that way.

When he had asked her to stay for the night, Amelia didn’t even hesitate before saying yes. She had wanted that night with him more than anything and even though she was sure that at some point they’d have to sit down and talk about what it really meant, she didn’t regret her decision. Her body was still ignited in every single place his hands and lips had touched. Owen was a generous lover and he’d proved that through the whole two hours they’d spent together before he’d finally fallen asleep, defeated by physical and mental exhaustion.

Amelia had dozed off quickly after too, but now she was too blissful to actually relax properly. Unable to resist the urge, she gently touched his face with her fingertips, hoping she wouldn’t wake him up.

Very slowly, Amelia traced the outline of his face, smiling with joy when she felt his arm tightening its grip around her waist to pull her closer. Even in his sleep Owen could be possessive and demanding. Not that she minded, actually. It felt amazing to be touching him while she distracted herself with the masculine angle of his jaw.

Owen slowly regained conscience, secretly fighting his sleep. His body and mind were too relaxed, but when his eyes opened for the first time, what he saw enchanted him so much that he didn’t feel like going back to sleep anymore.

Amelia was staring at him with a sweet, adorable lazy smile while she traced the outline of his face with one of her fingers. After noticing he was awake, the neurosurgeon still didn’t say a word; instead she brought her head closer, nearly touching the tip of her nose to his as she kept intensely looking at him with that gorgeous pair of silver eyes.

The day before had begun horribly, with him drowning in doubt, guilt and anger and not really sure how to deal with those emotions. Later on, Amelia had surprised him by showing up at his doorstep and, to Owen’s sheer satisfaction, she’d spent the night wrapped in his arms, right where she belonged.

After seeing the joyful expression on her face, Owen returned her smile, feeling just as happy as she seemed to be. His hand went around her waist and up her bare back, pulling her against him at the same time Amelia’s thumb gently brushed his lips.

“You have pretty lips,” she decided, widening her grin. Owen chuckled in response to her unexpected comment and watched the satisfaction in her eyes. “I mean it,” Amelia reinforced after seeing the incredulity on his face.

Owen kept busy exploring the softness of her skin against his touch, marveled by her spontaneity and plain adorableness. It was no secret Amelia that didn’t have a filter, and long ago he’d noticed she wasn’t the kind of person who’d say something nice about someone because she had an agenda. So he didn’t doubt she was serious about her unusual compliment. Not that he was sure having his lips called pretty was in fact a compliment, to be honest.

“You say the darnedest things,” Owen joked, loving the way she laughed in response. He didn’t wait until she caught her breath, leaning over to kiss her smiling lips.

After they broke apart, Amelia remained lying by his side in bed, feeling like she would never get enough of that moment.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Owen said after a while of silently staring at each other. His voice was serious but the playful look on his face betrayed his intentions.

“Like what?” Amelia smiled mischievously, openly flirting.

“Like you’re going to cost me my job,” Owen explained, “if you keep smiling like that you’re only going to make me keep you here in bed all day long,” he heard her delightful laughter in response and rolled to her top.

“Would that be so bad?” Amelia provoked him, swiftly running her fingers on the extension of his arms and shoulders to finally wrap them around his neck.

Owen looked deeply into her eyes, noticing the relaxed, happy expression on her face.

“No,” he muttered in response right before kissing her lips with desire.

Amelia gladly took up on his initiative, kissing him back with just as much passion. The previous night had been amazing and this morning was no different. Except before, there had been too much built up tension, causing their time together to be intense and explosive.

This time around it was like they were slowly getting back to their usual synchrony, though. Amelia knew there was absolutely no rush, just as she knew she’d enjoy every single step of the way and longed for it. As Owen’s lips traced a downward path on her neck, she arched her back, eager for what she knew was coming next. Even though it was exciting and fun, Amelia forced herself to be patient because she wanted to make the most of their time together.

“I missed this,” she confessed, running a hand through his hair and gently scratching his scalp in an affectionate caress. “I missed you,” Amelia added when Owen brought his head up to look into her eyes.

She watched as his expression transformed when he heard her words. A happy, loving smile stood out on his face as he smoothed her hair, gently pulling a brown lock from her face.

“Me too,” he replied with a whisper, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “So much…”

Amelia felt the touch of his lips at the same time she buried her face on the crook of his neck, too pleased to have him that close. His hands traveled through the whole extension of her body as his lips followed suit. When she thought it couldn’t get any better, Owen disappeared beneath the covers, spending the next minutes entirely dedicated to giving her pleasure.

Amelia’s hands dug in his scalp as she pulled him nearer, too overwhelmed with pleasure to have any rational response to the sensation his tongue was causing. Before she could control it, her entire body seized with a delirious response that left her out breath and Owen absolutely satisfied.

“I have to admit,” Owen confessed with a smirk, too proud to hide it, “this has become my favorite thing to watch,” he added, obviously referring to Amelia’s climax.

She gazed at him, smiling widely between heavy breaths.

“I can’t complain,” Amelia provoked him back, pulling him closer.

Owen kissed the smile off her face, feeling his heart fluttering with absolute adoration for the woman who was capable of not only sexually charging him, but also of emotionally involving him in a web of love and affection he simply never got tired of.

“I want you,” Amelia declared, rolling over him to take control of the situation. Owen grinned with satisfaction as he watched her straddle him, staying on the perfect position to absolutely torment him with the sway of her hips. He allowed Amelia to take the lead, feeling shivers running through his spine once her hands started to slowly run on the extension of his arms until their fingers intertwined and she pushed theirs hands against the pillows.

“You can absolutely have me,” Owen joked in return, delighted and totally pleased by the kisses she was now planting on his chest.

“You know…” Amelia’s voice turned into a whisper as she reveled in the smooth, warm texture of his skin, “when we were just back from the hospital,” she said, and Owen knew she was talking about the time he’d asked her to move back in when she had been discharged after her tumor removal, “I used to lie here on this same bed at night and think about how much I wanted to do this…” Amelia slowly traced a path of kisses from his chest all the way up to his neck, absolutely unaware of how much her confession meant to him. The honesty of her words messed with her own emotions and Amelia didn’t hesitate before letting go and saying everything that her heart was feeling. “And this…” she added with the same husky voice, capturing his earlobe between her teeth, causing Owen to feel a mix of pleasure and adoration for her. “Or this,” Amelia breathed in and out, finally letting go of his fingers to cradle his face between her hands, gently brushing her lips on his. She saw the look of expectation in his eyes. Owen was so good to her, so generous. He loved her without expecting anything in return and she was determined to never again take that for granted, hoping that she could only make him as happy as he made her. “Owen, I am so sorry,” Amelia apologized again, looking deeply into his eyes. Owen noticed how anguished she looked and in that moment, he had no doubt she meant every word she was saying.

“I know,” he said with an understanding smile, using one finger to wipe an unshed tear from her eye. “You don’t have to apologize again, sweetheart. I know…” he comforted her, pulling Amelia for an embrace at the same time he rolled over her, keeping her trapped under his body and between his arms. “I have already forgiven you,” Owen gently pulled apart, smiling with adoration in his eyes as he touched his forehead to hers, as if he could look into her soul. Amelia still seemed upset and at that moment, Owen surprised himself, because he thought he couldn’t love that amazing woman more than he already did and yet he constantly found himself falling harder for her. “Now it’s time for you to forgive yourself,” he reminded her, hating to see her in pain.

Amelia’s mix of sorrow and relief clogged her throat when she took in the meaning of his words. The sensations Owen had just caused on her body were now mixing with the emotions he was giving her, causing the neurosurgeon to feel more vulnerable than she’d felt until now.

“I am scared, Owen…” Amelia admitted with a sheepish voice.

“Why?” Owen frowned slightly, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“Because,” Amelia looked straight into his eyes as she let all her walls down, “whenever I am this happy, something bad happens and screws it all up,” she painfully remembered, thinking back about each and every happy time of her life. “Usually, I screw it all up.”

Owen chuckled, unable to resist her.

“Nothing bad is going to happen,” he reassured Amelia with absolute conviction. “All the bad stuff we went through, the shame, the guilt?” he looked into her eyes very suggestively. “It’s all gone, now. For good,” Owen said with determination. Both he and Amelia had seen enough hurt and heartbreak for a lifetime and he was determined to never let her go through any other nightmare, ever again. “Nothing bad is going to happen because I won’t let it,” he said with security.

Amelia stayed in silence for the following seconds, apparently having an internal battle with her own emotions.

“Promise?”

Owen couldn’t help smiling with affection when he saw the look on her face. Amelia’s child-like expression instilled the most primitive protection instincts in him. When she looked at him looking so small and vulnerable with so much expectancy and trust in her eyes it completely tore him apart. He would do everything within his power to make sure she only had reasons to smile from now on. And that began now.

“I promise.”

Owen sealed his vow with a kiss that promptly reignited their passion. Amelia responded to his touch by giving back in the same rhythm as he gave her. And when Owen was sure he couldn’t take it any longer, he finally ended their agony, thinking that nothing in the world felt so good as when Amelia’s legs were wrapped around him and he buried himself deep inside her, drowning them in the most delirious fits of pleasure.

.

“Why are you acting so weird?”

Amelia’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Meredith’s surprised voice.

“What?”

“You have a lost look on your face, like you’re miles from here,” the general surgeon clarified, squinting conspicuously. “Are you daydreaming again?”

“No,” Amelia tried to sound convincing.

Of course she was lying. Her mind really did feel like it was miles from there because even though she had a patient’s chart in her hand, all she could think about was Owen.

And how the world seemed to have suddenly stopped when he’d loved her that morning.

“Are those Kimmie’s results?” Meredith asked, finally bringing Amelia back down to earth.

“Uh,” the neurosurgeon blinked twice before focusing on the lab files again. “Yes! Yes, they are,” she nodded, already tuned back to the present moment. Her patient’s latest exams showed no acute abnormalities in the critical hours post procedure. Amelia had every reason to assume everything was working out. “My main concern is to make sure her renal function remains alright after the protein I injected her with, but so far so good,” she stated with a proud smile. “Properly functioning kidneys,” Amelia added with an excessively happy smile.

“You’re weird,” Meredith let out a sigh before rolling her eyes and finally devoting herself to the charts she’d come to the desk to get.

“Yeah, tell me something new,” Amelia replied unaffectedly, grabbing her things before leaving the area. She really didn’t want to give the other surgeon the chance to ask why she hadn’t gone home the previous night, choosing to let her believe that she’d stayed at the hospital for Kimmie.

The thought about the night she’d just had brought back a smile to Amelia’s face. She longed to be with Owen again and meet him at the house later that night. The neurosurgeon still had no idea how she would justify another night of absence to her sisters, but she could worry about that later. For the time being, she preferred that whatever was happening between she and Owen remained only between the two of them. It was already complicated enough trying to figure it all out without involving other people.

What were they, anyway? Was there a category they could fit in? Judging by what she’d seen lately, the possibilities were endless these days, and everything had a label to choose from. Maybe friends with just too many benefits that also happened to be soul mates and actually had divorce papers waiting to be signed was actually a thing now? Amelia had no idea, but her silly thoughts made her chuckle. Nodding her head in disapproval to her own sarcastic ideas, she pushed the elevator button, too distracted to see who was passing by around her until the loud ding of the doors opening finally brought her back to reality.

“Hi,” a thin brunette woman walked past her, entering the elevator and waiting for her to do the same. “You’re not coming in?” she asked after hesitating.

Amelia took a fraction of second to realize she was once again wandering inside her mind and took a step forward, finally allowing the doors to close.

Carina DeLuca was looking at her, but at the moment Amelia gazed back, the other woman looked away, apparently too embarrassed to be caught staring.

After the morning Amelia had walked in on Carina having breakfast with Owen, the two of them hadn’t really interacted much. And the fact the Italian doctor knew she had slept with the husband of the woman standing right next to her added a whole new load of tension to thicken the already awkward atmosphere.

“Hot day today, isn’t it?” Carina started, obviously trying to make small conversation. That short elevator ride seemed to be taking longer than usual. “It’s always rainy and chilly here but today it’s incredibly warm.”

“It’s funny you said how we went from a chilling cold to a comfortable warmth,” Amelia lied with an evil grin. “I could swear someone else had the exact same impression earlier this morning.”

Carina didn’t fully understand the meaning of the neurosurgeon’s words, but she figured it was better not to ask.

“How is your little patient doing?” the obstetrician asked with her thick accent. Like everyone else at the hospital, she’d heard about the Kimmie’s case and sympathized with the plight. “I heard she had surgery yesterday.”

“It wasn’t exactly surgery, but yeah, she got her procedure and she is doing fine, thank you,” Amelia nodded, grateful for the other’s seemingly genuine interest. “Are you working on any more of those cool MRI cases today?” she asked, immediately regretting it.

Suddenly, associating Carina DeLuca with orgasms didn’t seem so amusing as it had once been.

“Not really,” Carina replied with a smile, glad to be talking about work. “I am actually working with Pierce and Hunt in the ER today,” the obstetrician elaborated. “One of Robbins’ patients collapsed during grocery shopping. Pierce thinks she had an atrial fibrillation, Hunt is worried about her mildly ruptured liver,” Carina explained. “I am just hoping she won’t go into premature labor.”

Amelia didn’t exactly register those words because just as she obstetrician mentioned Owen’s name, she had been surprised with how much it had actually bothered her to hear that Owen and Carina were working together.

When the obstetrician walked out of the elevator after saying goodbye, Amelia was still distracted with her own thoughts. She was just being stupid, she told herself. Owen and Carina obviously hadn’t had anything meaningful. Just like she and Koracick, whatever had happened between the two of them had been purely physical and clearly not that deep. It was no secret that the Italian surgeon was still into Arizona Robbins, just as Amelia was sure that Owen had meant every one of his words when he’d told her he loved and missed her.

Amelia spent the following minutes pondering why she felt so annoyed all of a sudden. Okay, maybe she was a little jealous of Carina because she’d slept with Owen. But that wasn’t enough to justify her sudden restlessness. There had to be something else she couldn’t quite grasp at that moment. And just like it happened whenever her mind was racing with emotions she couldn’t quite figure out, the neurosurgeon chose to focus on work, realizing at least there she’d find answers to her questions.

.

Despite Amelia’s best efforts to leave the hospital at a decent hour, work got the best of her and it was already late when she finally wrapped everything for the day. Even though she wasn’t living with Owen anymore, for some reason the house he’d bought felt a lot more like home than Meredith’s place.

Two knocks on the door was all it took for Owen to welcome her with a tight hug and a playful kiss on the tip of her nose.

“You took forever,” he complained but it was obvious on his expression he was the happiest to see her.

“Did you think I was going to bail on you?” Amelia smiled against his lips, seeing in his eyes that the idea had definitely crossed his mind, but he was too kind to say it. “I am not going anywhere this time, Owen. I mean it,” she assured him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him closer.

“It’s not like I was going to let you, anyway,” Owen raised his eyebrows playfully, determined to pass the matter off lightly and keep a comfortable atmosphere between them. “I hope you’re hungry,” he added, looking into her eyes. Amelia didn’t look like she had any intention to let go of their hug and he loved it. “I made us dinner.”

“I am starved,” she confessed, feeling her heart skip a beat when he looked so obviously satisfied. Amelia looked from the living room to the kitchen, noticing that apparently Owen had been busy. “Can I take a shower first, though? I spent the entire day at the hospital,” she justified, reluctant to sit down to dinner with him after being in and out of the OR and ICU all day.

“If I had known, I would have waited for you,” Owen answered with a spark in his eyes. Amelia then noticed his comfortable pajama pants and a grey T-shirt.

“I won’t be long,” the neurosurgeon promised, standing on the tip of her toes to give him a peck on the lips before running to the shower.

Even from a distance, Amelia caught the delicious smell coming from the kitchen as Owen finished preparing their meal. Fifteen minutes later, she returned from the bathroom, delighting Owen with the sight of her naked thighs suggestively disappearing under one of his shirts that unsurprisingly were too large for her.

There was something extremely sexy about watching the woman he loved in his own clothes. Not only Amelia looked absolutely cute on them, she also reminded him that she was obviously comfortable in his presence. And then there was the fact that it made Owen feel like she was his, and no one else’s.

“The food smells amazing, when can we eat?”

“I am just setting the table,” Owen replied.

“Let me help,” Amelia stepped up to get the plates, thinking it was the least she could do. “What’s under that bowl?” she asked with a contaminating smile, her charming dimples dancing on her cheeks as she looked at him.

“A string of garlic,” Owen replied with a fake solemn voice, looking in her direction with his eyes darkened by desire. “To hang around your neck.” Amelia threw her head back in a fit of laughter that broke all of his defenses and Owen couldn’t hold a wide smile any longer.

“I thought that was for vampires only,” she said approaching him and the food he’d prepared.

“No, it works for evil little witches too,” Owen playfully added, absolutely delighted by her smile.

“But really, what’s under the bowl?” Amelia looked at him with sheer joy. “What did you cook for us?” she didn’t wait for his answer and lifted the top of a pan.

“There is garlic bread for appetizers and fettuccini Alfredo for dinner,” Owen finally answered, seeing on her face that she’d definitely approved it. He wasn’t surprised, though. His choice of dish had not been a coincidence.

Amelia looked at the beautiful creamy sauce she’d smelled from the bathroom. Her empty stomach was now more than ever craving for food that probably tasted as wonderful as it looked.

Still amazed by her own thoughts and anxious to sit down to eat, the neurosurgeon distractedly asked:

“That’s one hell of a good menu,” she smiled playfully but her compliment was honest. “And what’s for dessert?”

“You.”

His lack of hesitation and serious tone amused her, and Amelia looked up to meet Owen’s intense gaze. By the time she processed his answer, she was already laughing contagiously again. Owen chuckled as he reveled in her happiness, thinking that he wouldn’t mind if every other evening of his life went exactly like this.

After they had dinner, the pair sat down on the couch to watch TV. Owen had to be honest and admit that even though he was trying his hardest to pay attention to the movie, it was getting increasingly more difficult to do so when Amelia kept moving in his arms, reminding him at every ten seconds that she really was there, that they were really together. Her small figure was gently weighing against his as Amelia lay down with her upper body on his lap, holding his hand between her own at all times.

“You’ll spend the night again, right?” he whispered in her ear before gently capturing her earlobe with his lips.

Amelia chuckled with the ticklish touch of his trimmed beard against the skin of her neck.

“Of course,” she shifted in his arms, forgetting all about what was on TV as she rolled opposite to it, facing Owen instead. “There’s something I’ve been thinking since earlier today…” Amelia started, unsure how to tackle the subject. At the same time she really was determined to communicate better with Owen from now on, it wasn’t exactly that easy either and it would probably take practice.

“Go on,” he encouraged her, just as eager to make sure they could talk about anything.

“Remember when I came to the house that day I was going back to work after my surgery?” Amelia finally brought up the uncomfortable subject that involved their separation. In her room in Meredith’s house, Owen’s wedding ring was still well kept inside one of her drawers. She knew eventually they’d have to make a decision about their marriage and their impeding divorce, but they didn’t have to jump straight to deciding at the moment. They needed, however, to make sure they were on the same page. After seeing on Owen’s face that he was keeping up with her, the neurosurgeon added “we agreed at the time that we would be friends, right?” she inquired, seeing the confirmation in his eyes. “And well… We also agreed that we could talk to each other about the people we were dating and-”

“What?” Owen interrupted her, suddenly not following the conversation anymore.

“You know…” Amelia bit her bottom lip, unsure of how to address what she wanted to say. “We had this conversation and agreed that we would openly talk like friends if we were dating other people-”

“Are you saying you want to date someone else?” Owen interrupted her again, obviously bothered by the idea.

“No,” Amelia chuckled, feeling like a huge weight had just been lifted off her shoulders with his response. “I am saying that I don’t.”

“Oh,” Owen finally understood why she’d brought up the subject and smiled, just as happy and relieved. “Fine, then,” he kissed the top of her head with affection. “Let’s forget we ever agreed to that.”

The trauma surgeon also knew that eventually, they would have to decide where their marriage was going and talk about if they still wanted the same things or not to make sure what they should do about the divorce. They were trying again and both were clearly invested in making it work, but they didn’t have to rush into anything that would probably only add pressure to their already fragile reconciliation. For the time being, he would settle for having Amelia in his arms and spending time with her.

And especially, he would settle for not sharing her with anyone else.

“Good,” her voice distracted Owen from his thoughts. “I spent the whole day so stressed over this,” Amelia admitted, unaware of how much she was touching him. “I didn’t even realized I was bothered until I was actually faced with the idea of you seeing other people… It took me a while but I finally realized that and thought we should talk about it… You know, just to be clear.”

Owen smiled, too pleased by her confession. He had spent so much time unsure about so many things, including her feelings, that now he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to hear her talk about them every time she brought up the subject.

“Why were you so bothered, though?” Owen teased, hoping she would admit she was jealous.

Amelia brought her head up from her chest to look deeply into his eyes.

“Because I love you.”

Owen was taken by surprise by the sweet sound of her words and wrapped her tighter in his arms, kissing her with passion. He’d provoked her expecting Amelia to respond with jealousy, but she’d given him something infinitely better in return. Owen knew she had used the same sentence she’d unknowingly forced him to say the day before, and her consideration and smart manners only added to the affection in his heart. He simply loved her with everything he had.

“So…” when they pulled apart, Amelia looked into his eyes with a smile that mixed tenderness and mischief, sneakily grabbing back his hand. “Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?” she teased, kissing his fingers before biting his knuckles.

Owen seemed confused for a moment.

“No,” he joked, seeing the momentarily apprehensive look on her face before he clarified. “I can’t be your boyfriend,” Owen tilted his head and teased her, “you see, technically, I am your husband.”

“Okay, but I want you to be my boyfriend too,” Amelia insisted like that was the final decision.

Owen couldn’t think of a response to give, settling for kissing her instead. He wanted the same thing. He wanted to date her and take care of her as much as she would allow him. Amelia was amazing and he loved everything about her. Her looks seduced him, her wit impressed him and most of all, her caring heart completely broke all of his defenses. All Owen knew at that moment was that he wanted her in his life forever.

Amelia kept on teasing him, playfully nudging his nose with hers and distracting Owen with kisses in the most important parts of the movie. By the time it was over, he had already trapped her under his body on the couch and made love to her with torturing ease.

As they went to bed that night, Amelia’s mind was too relaxed to think about anything else. The neurosurgeon knew she couldn’t change what had already happened, but the moments she was living now were a vast improvement compared to what the past few months had been. As she lay in bed in Owen’s arms, quickly falling asleep inside his soothing embrace, Amelia didn’t yet have any idea of just her life was about to alter even more. Just minutes before on the couch of their living room, a seed had just been planted. A big change was about to happen, first in her body but then in her life and Owen’s.

And dealing with the tiny new addition that was about to come would surely serve to shape, modify and completely improve their entire future.

 –

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Hi! I love the imaginetonyandbucky blog, there's so much amazing fic and art on here. Prompt: Alpha Tony, Omega Bucky. Can be as G-rated or as smutty as you want, I'm simply flat-out tired of submissive Tony. Give me the alpha who fought off hostile businesses and gold diggers, and the omega soldier who followed orders. Optional Beta Steve.

Combined with:

I’ve seen a lot of alpha!Bucky/omega!Tony, but not much the other way around. Just… Bucky in the 40’s, only dating female alphas because most alpha men were jerks. No respect in the army ‘til he learns to snipe. HYDRA injecting him full of chemicals because an Asset in heat is just inconvenient. Tony being scorned by Howard because he’s too soft, too small. Tony never liking the alpha stereotypes or the reputation he gains because of them… Them meeting their equal but opposite in each other.            

and:

Imagine a switch on the A/B/O where Bucky is the Omega and Tony is Alpha. Bucky gets pregnant.      

and:

Imagine Bucky completely hiding his sexuality in the 40s (if he got arrested who would look after Steve?), 70 years later Tony is his first (male) everything.

No Such Thing as Soulmates (Probably) - Part I of II

The scent hits Tony the moment he steps out of the elevator; sweet, almost cloying in its intensity, settling thickly in the back of his throat when he breathes in too deeply. It’s overwhelmingly strong, and has Tony stagger before he braces himself with a hand against the wall, blinking rapidly and shaking his head against the fog threatening to descend over the more rational parts of his brain.

This isn’t Tony’s first encounter with an Omega in heat, not by a long shot, but it’s the first time since early puberty that his body and hindbrain are reacting in complete, harmonic unison without his say-so. He has to close his eyes, and cup his hands over his nose and mouth, breathing in the smells of a day spent tinkering in his workshop to calm down his racing heart, and soothe his Alpha instincts currently going absolutely haywire.

Once his head feels a little clearer, Tony slowly removes his hands, takes an experimental breath, and lets out a relieved sigh when nothing happens. He considers heading back to his own floor, and scouring his own, much emptier fridge for something to eat, but the sour, distressed note buried under the prominent Omega in heat scent makes him hesitate. Worrying his bottom lip, Tony cautiously makes his way towards the kitchen, but stops in the doorway when he’s greeted with a growl.

Barnes is sitting on the floor amidst a mess of loose tea leaves and shards of a shattered mug, pressed back against the cabinets, legs drawn up against his chest, arms resting on his knees, and face buried in his arms. He doesn’t look up at Tony, but he does make another low warning noise when Tony carefully inches across the room, reminding Tony to keep his distance.

(Watch out for the break!)

Tony concentrates on radiating calm, trying to appear as harmless and non-threatening as possible, but Barnes remains tense and suspicious while Tony gets two new mugs, fills them with water, and puts them in the microwave. He rummages through the first aid kit until he finds the heat pack, wets a dish towel, and then grabs the ginger tea and adds a bag to each mug when the microwave dings.

When everything’s ready, he sits down across from Barnes—who has lifted his head in the meantime, just enough to track Tony’s movements—far enough away to not encroach on his personal space, and puts his offerings on the floor between them. “Hi,” he says, nudging the heat pack a little closer to Barnes, and smiling reassuringly. “These things are great for muscle pain.”

Barnes watches him warily, and Tony can’t blame him. They haven’t had much to do with each other in the month and a half since Steve brought Barnes in, apart from a couple of meetings with Helen and Bruce to discuss the issues with Barnes’ prosthesis—comfort clearly hadn’t been a priority of the goddamned butchers who first installed it—and how to fix them. And now Barnes is in heat, in a bad one from the looks of it, as vulnerable as he’ll ever get, and Tony is an Alpha he barely knows, an almost stranger his instincts are most likely telling him is a possible threat.

Even though Barnes could easily take Tony out with both hands tied behind his back. While blindfolded, probably. Saying as much makes one corner of Barnes’ mouth twitch up, and his shoulders relax minutely, which Tony decides counts as progress.

“The tea’s ginger, it’s supposed to help with nausea,” he says, nodding at the mug. “And we still have some of that mixed flower honey Nat brought back from Switzerland, if you want.”

Barnes shakes his head, and reaches for the towel, draping it over the back of his neck with a quiet hiss. “This is fine,” he says, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. He grabs the heat pack, too, and uncurls enough to slip it under his shirt, pressing it against his abdomen. “Thanks.”

His hands are trembling when he goes for the mug, bad enough that some of the tea sloshes over the rim, and he nearly drops it. Tony reacts without thinking, and leans forward to put a hand over Barnes’ to steady him, and they both freeze. Tony’s about to apologise—way to be a pushy Alpha douchebag—when he notices that while Barnes’ scent has flared up, it’s not with fear or anger or defensiveness, but with interest.

Tony feels it a moment later; a warm tingling sensation, fanning out from where Tony’s fingers are touching Barnes’, and slowly but steadily spreading up Tony’s arm, over his shoulder, and down his back, across his whole body. He’s suddenly hyperaware of Barnes, all senses tuned in on Barnes, and Barnes alone.

And he knows what it means, too. They’re compatible.

People less jaded than Tony call it the soulmate phenomenon, and tend to romanticise the whole thing, talk about finding their one true love. It’s a nice idea, albeit an inaccurate one. Some people have dozens of compatible partners, while others have none at all. The only thing being compatible really means is that the compatible parties are biologically and emotionally as close to perfect for each other as possible, and that there’s the potential to form a bond, if the people involved decide to put in the time and work.

“Oh,” Barnes breathes, and lifts his free hand to brush a tentative thumb over Tony’s cheek.

Tony gasps, the skin under Barnes’ thumb flushing and warming, and sways into the touch for a moment before he catches himself. “This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Barnes’ eyes are wide, his pupils blown when he looks at Tony, but his expression is serious nonetheless. “Doesn’t have to. Could, though?”

Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He sucks at his bottom lip, considering, and watches Barnes’ eyes drop down to his mouth before lazily, unashamedly being dragged back up to Tony’s. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

“‘M thinkin’,” Barnes says, and puts the mug down on the floor next to them so he can, after waiting for Tony’s nod of permission, settle both his hands on Tony’s waist and tug him closer, “that ‘m hurtin’, and there’s a gorgeous Alpha right in front of me. An’ that he could help me out. That it’d be good.”

“What about suppressants?” Tony asks, even as he moves with Barnes until he’s straddling Barnes’ now outstretched legs. “Spending your heat with an Alpha isn’t the only option you have here.”

That makes Barnes’ bare his teeth, his scent bittering with anger. “‘M full to the gills with suppressants already. Whatever HYDRA did to me, I didn’t have heats while I was with ‘em, as far as I remember. Doctors think my body’s tryin’ to catch up now.”

“Shit,” Tony says, the picture of eloquence. He winces apologetically. “I’m sorry. About, well. All of it.”

Barnes shrugs, dismissive. “‘S not your fault. ‘Sides,” he waggles his eyebrows, but he’s grinning a little, making it look more dorky than sexy, “heat partners are s’pposed to be better than suppressant, ain’t they?”

“Definitely the case when it comes to ruts,” Tony agrees, and lets some more of his weight settle in Barnes’ lap. “That what you want? A heat partner? Just this once, a favour kind of thing? Or make it something regular? Something more?”

To his credit, Barnes takes a couple of seconds to think about it before he answers. “I want someone to do this with me, this time. An’ if it goes well, maybe do it again. ‘M open to more, if you are.”

“So,” Tony says, wiggling in place a little, anticipation building now. “Hot, mindblowing heat sex now, see how it goes, and go from there? You’ve got yourself a deal, Barnes.”

“Mindblowin’, huh?” Barnes teases, and Tony kisses him.

Barnes growls again, low and full of promise this time, and grabs Tony by the back of the neck with his metal hand, tilting his head for a better angle. Tony lets himself be moved, shuddering when he tests Barnes’ grip, which is tight enough that getting away would be a struggle. “Bossy,” he murmurs against Barnes’s cheek, flicking his tongue out to lick at the corner of his mouth. “I like it.”

That makes Barnes pull back a little, brows drawing together into a frown. He flexes his fingers, seemingly fascinated when Tony lets out an appreciative moan. “You do,” he breathes, awed. “I didn’t think—I’ve never done this, any of it, with an Alpha. Or another guy.” He smiles, sheepish. “‘M used to takin’ charge.”

“No complaints here.” Tony winks at him, and ducks in for another quick kiss, before sitting back. “We can take it slow, do as little or as much as you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I want everythin’,” Barnes groans, eyes fluttering. He pushes up with his hips, grinding his erection against Tony’s ass, and guides Tony back in to bring their mouths back together. “Been waitin’ for so long, you have no idea. Never could, before, was too dangerous. Couldn’t let myself get caught with a Beta guy, or ‘nother Omega, they woulda locked me up for good, taken me away from my family. Couldn’t risk havin’ some shithead Alpha claim me, either, put me behind a stove, force me to pop out a bunch of kids for ‘im.”

Tony pauses at that, and moves back, despite Barnes’ protesting whine. “Have you done any of this before? Alpha women weren’t legally allowed to claim anyone until the 70s, and Beta women can’t—”

“‘M not into women,” Barnes says, pushing his free hand under Tony’s tank to grope at his pecs. Tony has no idea what his face is doing, but he must look pretty close to how horrified he feels, because Barnes winds both arms around him, hugging him close. “Sucked for a lot’a us back then, but it was what it was.”

“So,” Tony asks, burying his nose in Barnes’ hair to breathe him in. “You never dated? Anyone? Or—are you a virgin?”

He feels more than hears Barnes sigh. “Depends on your definition of the word. I dated, had a few steady Alpha girlfriends to keep up appearances, took ‘em out to dinner or dancin’, all very proper. A kiss here an’ there, coupla handjobs. Not sure I woulda managed to do more, anyway.”

“If you want to stop—”

“Does this,” Barnes twitches his hips up again, his cock still rock hard, “feel like I want to stop?”

Tony wants to ask if he’s sure, but swallows the question back. Barnes is a grown man, who’s had more than enough choices taken away from him in the past. Tony’s not going to be someone who makes him feel like his decisions aren’t valid or getting respected. He does press closer, though, and rub his cheek against the top of Barnes’ head, covering him in his scent in a possessive, blatantly obvious soothing gesture.

Barnes hums, amused, and playfully nips at the hinge of Tony’s jaw. “Such a good Alpha.”

He’s being a little shit, the rational part of Tony knows that, but it makes him preen anyway. Barnes laughs into Tony’s neck, sliding his hands up over Tony’s back, scratching softly through his shirt. Tony gently bites at his ear in return, grinning when it makes Barnes breath stutter, and asks, “What do you want?”

“A bed would be pretty nice, for starters,” Barnes says, voice sly, and jostles Tony a little. “Gettin’ heavy there, buddy.”

His knees are definitely happy about getting off the floor, but Tony still shoots Barnes a flat look as he levers himself up. “Too bad you don’t have superhuman strength,” he says, deadpan, holding out a hand. “Up and at ‘em, Barnes, come on.”

Barnes lets Tony pull him up, then links his fingers through Tony’s. “If you plan on stickin’ your dick in me, you should probably start callin’ me Bucky.”

- Potrix

[mikami]

Apologies if you've talked about this before, but what is your opinion on Light's relationship with his father? Do you think his affection and emotions towards Soichiro were genuine (specifically during Soichiro's death scene), and what are your thoughts on the comments he makes about his father being a fool in the warehouse scene after Matsuda shoots him?

This… is an ask that I left sitting for half a year, so I sincerely hope by some miracle, you still find it, anon…

But to answer: yes, I think Light sincerely loved his father. In fact, I would argue that Light’s adoration for Soichiro is the key factor behind him becoming Kira in the first place, which makes their relationship all the more sad.What Light says in the finale actually only goes to confirm this, in my view.

“Overtly earnest people like him always end up the loser. Do you want a world where people like him are always made fools of?”

I think in shouting this Light is more honest than ever about the nature of his ‘boredom’ and why he feels the world is rotten.

Light grew up admiring Soichiro’s policework and wishing to follow in his footsteps as a great policeman, yet as he grew up he learned to see that crime is endless. His father was fighting it so hard (to the point of being away from home very often), but he never achieved lasting change.Light’s boredom is the boredom with a world that is always the same, always rotten, always restarts the cycle of crime and punishment. He feels defeated at the prospect of living a life that won’t hold long-term meaning. Light loves and admires his father, but he can see his struggle is futile. That stings him, that makes him belief the world is rotten.

Light also takes his whole personal morale from his father. Soichiro is the living embodiment of “you have to make personal sacrifices for the greater good” and regularly proves this by placing his family second behind his job.This is something that his children both internalize greatly. Sayu blames herself for the trouble her kidnapping, essentially saying she should have known better and doesn’t want to prioritize her personal feelings for the greater good.Light employs this sacrificial logic when he justifies becoming Kira to himself. Before meeting Ryuk he rationalizes it as sacrificing himself (his peace of mind, his time, etc) for the good of humanity. That is in line with Soichiro’s teachings because self-sacrifice is good, right?

Soichiro’s influence is also the cause of Light’s visceral reaction to being called evil.

When Lind L. Tailor says it, Light initially looks vulnerable before getting angry, because evil is not something he can ever allow himself to be. A later scene with Soichiro provides context for this:

It’s one of Soichiro’s mantras and Light lives by the man’s teachings. His self-esteem is partially reliant on feeling worthy of his fathers approval, which is not something he ever had to call into question before.

Here as well, you can see how it hurts him to hear Soichiro call Kira evil. He can’t look him in the eye for a moment and quickly excuses himself.

We know that it’s not an act either, because Light is still affected when he’s out of the room and alone with Ryuk, who is prodding him about it.

To read more about this state of relationship / influence at the start of canon, I direct you towards Supernova, a great pre-Kira Light analysis. It states matters so elaborately and in a way I agree in wholeheartedly, so I feel like going too much into depth here myself would be reinventing the wheel.

We’re moving on.

Light’s father continues to be a vulnerable point for Light all through canon.

Just look at the shock he displays when his father has his heart attack.

But then in the hospital, Soichiro deals another sharp blow to Light’s feelings.While he sharply rejects the idea that Sayu is Kira without even entertaining it for a second, he still makes veiled appeals to Light that display his doubt about his son:

Which is another thing Light doesn’t take well too, likely both because of the ‘evil’ keyword and because of the difference in trust between son and daughter.

Again it is something that haunts him until he is out of the room:

His father is the number one person who can truly emotionally get to Light.

Here a short excursion about Soichiro’s feelings that nobody asked for:

I do think it’s sad how within Soichiro his absolute love for his son and his doubts about his innocence intermingle. Though to Light’s face Soichiro says he knows Light isn’t Kira, as soon as Light goes into confinement he says this:

Light being Kira is a real possibility he entertains and it’s emotionally affecting him immensely, to the point of asking for himself to be confined.

It’s interesting that he asks for this because it means he doesn’t only thing he’d do something reckless if Light was Kira, he also fears he might lose his calm in other ways during the time Light is under arrest. 

Thus, he goes through torturous long imprisonment himself because he really loves this son of his whom he can’t quite trust.

And then he takes some more Desperate Measures and. Wow.

Well. This sure is Soichiro shooting his son in the face. Whether or not there was any physical damage done, this is still a good few traumatic minutes of Light genuinely believing his father would kill him on charges that, as far as Light knows, aren’t even true. I think it speaks volumes to Light’s love for his father and willingness to rationalize his actions that he comes out of this mostly forgiving him.

During the Yotsuba Arc their relationship takes an interesting turn though. After having been estranged for a while, this is where they consistently spend a lot of time together and it shows in how much more casual and familiar they start acting. Light also for the first time starts talking back to his father and asserting his own ideas. He begins de-idealizing his father as he gets him to knows as a human (who would pretend to shoot his son, so uh). This is another thing that has always been covered extensively by casuistor though. Hellscape is quite long, but for further reading I recommend at least the Soichiro parts. Just search for his name in the text, haha.

We’re moving on to after the timeskip, when Light has grown up and is far more aware of his father’s shortcomings as a person. Second arc Light spends a lot of time talking sense into his father, because he has finally realized that the ultimate purist self-sacrificial attitude Soichiro has isn’t the best way to go about things.He has to remind his father to not let himself die, for the sake of those who love him - which includes Light, of course.

When it comes to Soichiro’s death, the anime kind of glosses over how it was absolutely not Light’s plan for Soichiro to die. He meant for it to be Matsuda.

Soichiro volunteering comes as a complete shock to him.What’s interesting here is that after Soichiro volunteers, Light can perfectly reason as to why he did it and why Soichiro would never be stopped from doing it - he would have thought of this had he ever considered Soichiro at all. His father’s death just wasn’t even a factor in his plans to start with.

Another interesting thing that casuistor pointed out a while back is that Light never finishes the thought about what to do once the end of the 13 day period arrives, leaving it open whether he would kill his father or try and convince him to keep writing names so he can keep him alive. 

Regardless of what is true there, Light still clearly feels conflicted about what is happening with his father. The averted eyes are always an indicator of such for him.

And this finally guides us to the scene you asked about, Soichiro’s death scene.

The final time Soichiro gets to punch his son in the guts:

Years and years after pseudo-shooting Light in the face to prove his innocence, Soichiro finally confesses to having had doubts nevertheless. Even after what he did to Light, he still dies with the statement that he could never fully trust him.We’ve already established that Soichiro’s approval means a lot to Light... so this is a sucker punch for sure. It’s also where Light’s worry changes into the strategic attempt to make his father kill Mello - in the end, Light is someone who rationalizes for the ‘greater good’. Like his father always taught him.

Lines like this make Light seem incredibly fake during this scene, but I do think a fair bit of it is Light lying to himself.

These tears meanwhile I believe to be completely genuine. Crying is not something we normally see Light doing and his manipulation isn’t done by pretending to be emotionally vulnerable. Faking a crying breakdown would be an outlier for him. He might not even be able to cry on command to start with.

As with previous scenes the true proof of him being affected lies in how he behaves after the moment is over.

First there is a timeskip of undefined length in which Light mourns over his father’s dead body, then for the whole rest of the chapter we don’t get to see Light’s eyes again. 

He’s a shell of himself when he walks out of this hospital, all chances of ever reaching his father’s approval stripped away from him.

Light after this point is a lot more severe and less charming than he used to be. With his father no longer around, he also changes investigation methods (see: using Takada) since he no longer has to do as his father respects.He avoids his family, cancelling coming home for New Years (mirroring what Soichiro does in the first arc tragically).

The “I’m sure Kira understands that what he does is evil” speech (chapter 75) also follows after his father renouncing Light’s actions in his final breath. Light resigns himself to this now more than he ever did before.Of course, that doesn’t mean he intends to condemn himself or stop:

Because in the end this is how it’s always been. And Light had hoped Soichiro would also recognize it after Kira’s victory.

And all of this finally leads us up to this panel:

Light renouncing the father who renounced him.

As I outlined, I believe firmly that this is the result of how much he loves his father, how much he valued his approval and trust... It’s exactly because he could attain neither of these things that he has to distance himself to keep from hurting.

AND NOW I MADE MYSELF SAD BY WRITING ALL OF THIS ;_;

Special thanks again to casuistor, whose insights provide the very baseline for my understanding of Light and his father.

[justdrifting]

your m'gann/maggie fic is SO GOOD. your AN said throw prompts at you so what are your headcanons for how M'gann even ended up in National City? And when did she first meet Maggie? =D (I mean id love a whole fic but only if you're interested/have time & energy :)

​thank you ok so i’ve been thinking about it, and you know i have no idea why m'gannwould choose national city. what do you think? does she like to stay in oneplace for a long time or does she prefer to move from place to place? i wonderif, with the reveal of superman and then supergirl – aliens that humans likeand trust – good aliens kind of flock to those cities, in the hopes of maybemore acceptance, protection, and community. so metropolis and then nationalcity become kind of hubs of alien populations. but i don’t know if m'gann wouldfeel the same way? also i think she’s been in national city longer thansupergirl’s been around so. i’m not sure?

but m'gann and maggie. oh boy. i’m determined to write this fic, at some point. but for now, here’s some ridiculously long headcanons.

1. m'gann has learnt that a bar/pub is kind of a perfect place to be. youcan talk and connect and socialise with people, without having to get tooclose. which is exactly what she wants, because she craves connection but shealso like, doesn’t think she deserves it. [until maggie freaking sawyer. maggie’s pretty damn good at turningpeople’s lives upside down, as we know. sometimes m'gann wishes she’d nevermaggie, because genuinely caring about someone, someone genuinely caring aboutyou – it’s hard, it’s scary, it’ssomething m'gann has had only a handful of times in her hundreds of years andsometimes it all feels too much and like things were simpler before. but thenmaggie will smile, or hug her, or just bethere, and m'gann is so goddamn grateful.] er, anyway…

2. maggie stumbles across the bar by accident. she’s tailing a suspectand they lead her there. she sits in a booth in the back, nursing a beer,watching them, thinking she’s being subtle. and probably she is – though this’dbe a few years back when she’s still a rookie so she wouldn’t be as good as sheis now – but while m'gann isn’t a detective, she pays attention and she’sperceptive, so she notices. after like an hour of maggie just sitting there,letting her beer get warm because she’s not going to drink on the job, m'ganntakes pity on her and brings over a bowl of fries. “if you’re going to sithere all night you should at least eat something.” before maggie canreply, m'gann’s like, “so what’s your deal? cop? angry ex? stalker?”maggie chokes. “god no.the first one. the first one.”“i see.”“you know anything about that alien?”and because m'gann is so nice and always trying to be good, to help, shesays yes.“well then, please.” maggie motions to the seat opposite her.they end up sharing the fries m'gann brought over.

3. days later, after maggie finishes her case, in part thanks to theinvaluable information m'gann provided, she goes back to the bar to share thegood news with her and thank her. maybe m'gann is just getting off her shiftwhen maggie arrives, and maggie insists on buying her a beer in thanks (sidenote: i wonder what/if m'gann drinks). so i imagine it would start somethinglike that. maggie keeps coming by, sitting up at the counter if m'gann isworking or waiting till she finishes. m'gann likes maggie a lot, she seems so effortlessly good and righteous and justwants to help people- m'gann likes being around her. maggie finds m'gannfascinating – she’s so quiet and reticent but tough at the same time, andalways so ready and willing to help.

4. [maggie finds out m'gann is not human when she’s coming to the bar onenight and stumbles across a fight in the alley outside. a weedy looking alienis being attacked by three much bigger, much scarier aliens. maggie’s about tostep in, though how the hell she’s going to take down three guys by herselfshe’s not sure, when another alien – female this time, green skin, black form fittingsuit with red stripes – joins the fray, knocking down one of the attackers andimmediately going for another. maggie doesn’t think twice after that, justjumps into the fight. she and the alien woman manage to fight off the attackersfairly quickly, but they run away when they realise they’re not going to win somaggie can’t arrest them. after, she turns to her crime fighting partner andstudies her. it’s dim in the alley but…“do i know you?” maggieasks.

m'gann doesn’t respond for a minute, but then she sighs, and shifts backto her human form. maggie is smart and she’ll figure it out eventually, shefigures. might as well get it over with.

maggie is shocked, but only for a second, then she laughs. “why ami not surprised?” sensing that m'gann might need some reassurance, sheputs her hand on her shoulder and directs her towards the bar. “come on,we both deserve a drink after that. and you can tell me all aboutyourself.”

over the years, m'gann has revealed herself as a green martian to acouple of people, some of them even friends, so maggie isn’t the first, but sheis the first in a long time.

this is also the night she tells maggie her name is m'gann, not megan,and when maggie softly asks if she would prefer maggie call her that, m'ganndecides yes, yes, she would. it feels good to be m’gann again, even with just one other person.]

5. maggie flirts a lot. as ifshe wouldn’t. m'gann is hot and she’s a good, interesting person, maggie is alittle bit enamoured. m'gann is kind of confused [i have so many feelings about “i feel it too, i just didn’t knowwhat it was”, my sweet sweet girl] but she likes maggie, more than shehas anyone in a long time, she likes having a friend or at least someone shefeels a connection with. i can’t decide if she knows maggie is flirting and isadorable and awkward and blushing all the time (making maggie just redouble herefforts), or if she is completely oblivious until maggie just outright asks ifshe can kiss her and m'gann is like ‘what????’ but also ‘ok, go ahead’

6. anyway, so they date for awhile. maggie has recently ended a prettyserious relationship (maybe kate kane in gotham, and the breakup the reason shemoved to national city) and m'gann has probably not had many, if any,relationships [this probably isn’t the time to go into my headcanons aboutmartian sexuality lol but i have them.]so it’s fairly…low-key? it’s not casual or a fling, and they care about eachother a whole hell of a lot and they like being together but it’s not thisintense, whirlwind, emotionally charged relationship. which is exactly whatthey both need. maggie feels like she can finally breathe easy again and m'gannhas the space and support to explore what relationships and feelings – caringand being cared for – might mean to her. m’gann never asks for anything maggieisn’t willing or able to give, and vice versa.

7. in this universe maggie also knows m'gann is a white martian. she isone of, if not the only person who has ever known this, and m'gann doesn’treveal it by choice. something with a fire happens. maybe they’re cooking and aflame gets out of control and too close to m'gann and her white skin showsthrough, or maybe there’s like a serious fire somewhere, in one of theirapartments or the bar or something, and maggie is maggie and rushes in to savepeople, and m'gann is terrified butshe’s not about to let her die so she runs in after her, and through the flamesmaggie turns and sees her girlfriend – not morphing, melting almost? and it doesn’tlook intentional either –  into somethingshe’s never seen before, definitely not her usual form.

after, m'gann won’t look at maggie. she’s convinced maggie’s going tonever want to see her again. but maggie is so soft, so kind. “you don’thave to tell me anything you don’t want to, i respect that. but if you do, iwant to know. whatever you think i’m going to hate you for, i won’t. i justwant to know you.” she’s sincere and open and m'gann can’t help butbelieve her, so she tells her. maybe not the whole story, but enough of it tobe fucking terrifying opening up about something she tries so hard to lockaway. maggie doesn’t look at her differently, doesn’t hate her, and it’s soincredibly necessary and incredibly healing from m'gann.

8. i feel like they probably date for a…not insignificant amount oftime. but as they both start healing a little –  as their relationship allows them that – theyboth independently come to the understanding that it’s love, yes,but…probably more platonic than romantic? m'gann still doesn’t really get it but she thinks that what shefeels for maggie isn’t that ‘in love’thing people talk about. and maggie’s kind of itching for that heady, rollercoaster kind of love again. they were never particularly overtly coupleyanyway, but they slowly become even less so. they’re both super awkward andtrying to hide it around each other at first, because they don’t want to hurtthe other, but eventually it comes out.

it’s pretty much the healthiest breakup of all time. they’re maggie andm’gann, they’re both such rational (ok mostly), conscientious people. they talkit out. mutually, they decide to break it off. they’ll take some time, maybe,but then they’ll give this friend thing a go. they’re kind of all each otherhas, they’re not going to lose that.

oh god i have to have to stop there, who knew i had this manyfeelings??? we haven’t even gotten to part 2: the friendship years. butbasically from then on they’re each other’s biggest cheerleaders througheverything. and they still hug a lot, because are there any characters who needa cuddle more than m’gann and maggie?! so they can cuddle each other. ok? ok.

[syao]

#TentenAppreciationWeek: March 9th (Thursday) - Birthday

Read Time: 10 minutes.   Pairing: NejiTen-ish

For a single woman celebrating her twenty-ninth birthday, there weren’t a lot of social options for her when the clock strikes past seven. 

All her friends had spouses and children to go home to for the night. The few ones who didn’t, like Aburame Shino, had students to meet the following morning. 

The former village leader, Tsunade-sama, would probably have gamely accompanied her, but that would have meant getting dragged to gambling dens with suffocating tobacco smoke and boisterous jeers. 

Not exactly her cup of tea.

(Plus, while Tsunade-sama perpetually held a queenly place in her heart, even she had to admit that the former Hokage had terrible, terrible luck in games of chance, and she held no desire to start her twenty-ninth year in this world with a co-borrowed debt from Konoha’s loan sharks.)

So in the end, she picked up a bottle of heavy sake and grilled pork skewers, and headed home.

"Happy birthday, Tenten!” greeted her landlord and landlady when she arrived in front of her rented flat. The couple seemed to have just returned from their weekly date night, as attested to by their clasped hands and over-the-moon smiles.

“Thanks, lovebirds!” She took two skewers from her food bag and handed these to the aged couple. “Here. Partake in my luxurious birthday feast of grilled pork rinds, bought and paid for by my limited edition discount voucher!”

Her landlady peered at her curiously, almost disbelievingly even. “Are you celebrating alone? Didn’t you invite a special friend over?”

She fought a sigh that threatened to escape from her throat. This was neither the first, nor the last time she would be asked this.

The old woman continued, “There’s a lid for every pot, my dear. Your biological clock is ticking, and your eggs may go stale...”

“AHAHA, you got me!” She raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. “As a matter of fact, I did meet someone.” 

“I knew it!” The elder lady beamed smugly.

She drew closer to the intrigued woman and lowered her voice dramatically into a whisper. “And we’re totally hitting it off! In fact, we’re already on first-name basis! I just need to call him once, and he comes a-runnin’ to me!” 

Her landlady looked absolutely thrilled. “My, such youthful love!”

“He’s a bad boy, though. A very naughty boy.”

“Eh?”

“Last night, when he thought I was sleeping-- get this-- he licked my face all over!”

The landlady’s cheeks turned flushed. “Erm, what’s his name and which clan does he belong to?”

"His name is Hachiko, and he’s from the clan of Shiba Inu.”  Her chest puffed out in pride. 

“Hachiko! Down, boy! Down!” She laughingly pushed down her still-growing dog down, which pounced on her the minute she opened the door. “You can smell the skewers, can’t you, boy? That’s right! We’re having meat tonight, boy. Meat!”

Locking the door behind her, she was met by a spartan studio-type space which looked barely lived in. Aside from a couple of picture frames of her former teammates and the recent photo of Hachiko, her room bore no trace of its owner’s personal touch.

She had lived there for the past nine years.

Placing her food and booze on the table, she pulled up a seat and sank back against the lone chair in the room. She shut her eyes tight, taking in the quietness of her home. 

It was a night very much like the few others she spent here when off-mission, except she had meat and wine to share with her dog tonight.

The solitude felt empty, but it didn’t necessarily feel lonely. It was just something she had gotten used to by now. Just like her life.

After Uzumaki Naruto and Hyuuga Hinata’s wedding, her friends slowly followed suit. Wedding. Baptism. Sending kids to the Academy. Family vacations. 

She was happy for them, that was for sure. There were even instances at the start that she felt envious of them opening new chapters in their lives. 

But as years passed, she had learned to embrace and appreciate the direction her own life took. As the acknowledged weapon mistress of Konoha, weapon enthusiasts from all over the continent flocked to her store to admire and purchase her merchandise. And her shinobi missions introduced her to people that she otherwise would not have the opportunity to meet if she merely stayed in the village.

All things considered, life was good for her. Unfortunately, her circle of family and friends didn’t think so. And they felt obliged to do something about that.

How many times did she have to deal with the embarrassment of having her well-meaning fellow kunoichi shove her to the front of the crowd so she could finally catch the bouquet? 

(If she really wanted to, she would have caught it without a problem even if it were thrown fifty feet away)

How many times did she have to come up with lame excuses to get out of Gai-sensei and Rock Lee’s blind date setups?

(Those dates only came in handy when she was tired of her ramen cups)

It was, frankly, exhausting trying to explain the fact that she held a different set of priorities than them.

It didn’t matter how much she insisted that her life-saving shinobi missions and her weapon shop were enough for her at this point in her life. In everyone’s eyes, she was denying herself the opportunity to be truly happy, as if the satisfaction she held right now was nothing but fake.

They said her weapons would not look after her when she grew old.

The people she met and saved weren’t going to properly fill her need for belonging. Not the way a husband and children would do, at least.

She was dooming herself to a life of loneliness, they said.

And the only person who could probably have understood her, defended her ‘unorthodox’ life choices, and taken her side no matter what? 

He died on her many years ago, that jerk.

Hachiko let out a whine, interrupting her reverie. Clearly, he was waiting for his portion of the rare meat treat.

She tossed him a barbecued pork skewer, which the latter accepted with profound blissfulness. His pointy ears were practically bouncing as he chowed down on the grilled rinds with drooling gusto.

“You like it, don’t ya, boy?” she asked, rubbing his head with bubbly affection. “Well, don’t get too used to it. We’re back to military rations tomorrow.”

She was about to take a bite of her own skewered meat as well when the doorbell rang.

It was her landlord, carrying an armful of large Casablanca lilies. The sight of the familiar beautiful flowers brought a warm smile to her face.

“The night delivery never fails every year,” said the old man cheerfully as he handed her the plentiful bouquet. 

“Yes.” She once asked the florist’s courier why they had to be delivered at such an unusual time, to which the latter explained that these fragrant flowers only ever bloom at night. The sender himself knew this, and stated he deliberately picked them for that reason.

After closing the door, she carefully gathered the flowers into a tall crystal vase that she especially purchased years ago for the yearly bouquet.

The flowers only bore the same message in the card every year: a formal birthday greeting. Yet she kept each and every card with great care. 

After all, it was her lone tangible remaining connection she had with its ‘sender’.

She recalled that when she received the same flowers for the first time (around a year after the great Shinobi Wars), they were delivered by the last person on earth that she expected to appear on her doorstep.

The respected head of the Hyuuga clan, Hyuuga Hiashi himself.

Later, as she offered him her poorly-made tea, the clan head explained his presence. After sorting through his deceased nephew’s belongings, he found a planner and the lone marked date on the calendar with a note to visit the flower shop. 

Out of curiosity, Hiashi dutifully went to the shop on the said date and learned that Neji was supposed to pay for the delivery of the flowers that date. He asked for the delivery details, and ended up at her flat.

The man wanted to know what kind of relationship did she and his nephew had. She said they were teammates, and that it was her who was in charge of covering for his blind spot.

Upon learning this, the older man looked satisfied. He then declared that the Hyuuga family will continue to send her the flowers on Neji’s behalf for the rest of her birthdays.

Neji, the Main Family leader explained, was someone who would not easily disclose his vulnerability to just anyone. Therefore, it meant she was someone he greatly respected. She was the famed woman that the clan’s young prodigy exclusively approved of.

“It’s the least we could do to honor the man who gave his life to protect our clan’s important member and the village’s hero,” he ended with a pained smile. “We can’t bring him back to life, but perhaps we can help at least part of his will to continue living.”

Nine years after, the flowers were yet to miss a delivery. Perfectionist Neji would have been pleased as a peach.

She picked up a picture frame that held Team Gai’s photo. The young Hyuuga Neji looked emotionally constipated as always, especially when he stood next to hers and Gai’s beaming faces and an uncomfortable Lee who seemed to want to bolt from the picture so he could resume his ultra-marathon.

But she of all people knew that this was not his true face at all. 

Until the war that cruelly claimed his life too soon, Hyuuga Neji showed her a kinder, mellower side of him that she knew not many people knew he was capable of. 

The proof stood on her table in all their elegance and grace-- the vase of fragrant night lilies that he intentionally picked just for her. Flowers that bloom at their most beautiful during the nights, in order to entertain her and keep her company during the hours that she was all by herself. 

It was his way of telling her that being alone didn’t have to mean being lonely. That happiness wasn’t just something you exclusively get from other people.

Years after he passed away, she finally realized why she couldn’t quite forgive him for the sacrifice he made. 

It wasn’t merely because he left her to her own devices in dealing with Gai and Lee. No, that wasn’t it.

It was actually because Hyuuga Neji might just have been her first love... and her first heartbreak, following his untimely demise. 

If she were to be asked if Neji was the reason she didn’t actively pursue romance from that point on, then she would respond with a resounding ‘no’. 

She harbored what-ifs and nostalgia, but not trauma from losing someone precious to her. If anything, her loss only strengthened her will to protect the village so no one would have to make Neji’s sacrifice again.

She had no intention to close any doors, whether it be one, five, ten, or thirty years from now. But she wasn’t in much hurry to find herself a man, either.

With the peace and contentment she had found for herself, she had bigger things to worry about than how long her eggs could remain viable, or how there were less and less partners to choose from as women like her age further.

She has found her own path, and she was going to keep at it.

Wherever he was right now, she knew Neji must be suppressing a smile of approval. He’s got her back, like he always had.

As the clock struck twelve, officially ending her birthday celebration, Tenten stored the leftover sake in the refrigerator while Hachiko took his place by the foot of her bed.

The first day of her adventure at 29 and single was about to begin... after a good night’s binge sleeping, that is.

<END>

[iriscasefiles]

The Strange Case of Starship Iris: AUDITIONS pt 2: INFO & ROLES

All actors must be at least 18, as per Procyon Podcast Network guidelines. Beyond that, you are not required to be the exact same age as the characters, as long as you can credibly sound like you are.

You are more than welcome to record a couple of different takes, with different interpretations!  You are more than welcome to try out for multiple roles!

Send an mp3 file of your audition(s?) to iriscasefiles at gmail.com, along with the following:

1.       Your name (a pseudonym or online handle is fine) ETA: and the role(s?) you are trying out for

2.       Are you potentially okay with being cast in a role besides the one you auditioned for?

3.       Are you potentially okay with being cast as a morally ambiguous person, and/or villain?

Auditions go from January 23 to February 2. Callbacks are February 3 through 6. My goal is to have all the roles listed here cast by the end of February 6.

There will be another round of auditions for a few more roles in April.

For now, available roles are below!

MAIN CAST

 Brian Jeeter

He/him pronouns. A trans man (seeking trans actors only, please!)

Note, because this is something I’ve been asked: I don’t have set headcanons about where Brian is with regards to transitioning; if you wanna try out and you’re not on testosterone, you should still totally try out!

Any race

Sounds to be in his mid-twenties to early thirties

A laidback, friendly affect, to the point of maybe coming off like a slacker. You’d probably need to talk to him a few times to realize that he is deeply loyal, and intensely passionate when it comes to his areas of expertise (xenolinguistics, making pizza bagels).

To audition, perform this section:

(Laughs) I dunno, though. Wasn’t all bad. I made some cool friends. That’s how I met Krejjh, actually. I’d been doing fieldwork out in Neuzo, and— (realizes the word and the place are both going to require explaining) Sorry, the Neutral Zone. It was a cluster of planets and stations, kinda out by Telemachus, founded by this very weird Libertarian billionaire. Technically outside any government, so it was one of the few places humans and Dwarnians could trade, talk, whatever.

Shady place. We’re talking arms dealing, gambling, drugs you’ve never heard of. Like, name a vice, you know? Crawling with spies, too. People used to say that’s why both sides kept it standing; they had, like, intelligence assets or something.

But it wasn’t violent. Not like you’d think. Not at first. There were these rival mafias, and they kept the peace? Kinda. I mean, everyone’s fortune was built on keeping Neuzo out of the war, keeping the war out of Neuzo, so there weren’t, like, laws, but nobody was allowed to kill anyone. At first.

Sana Tripathi

I wrote the character with she/her pronouns but I’m flexible on this if a nonbinary and/or genderqueer person wants to audition

Any actor trying out for this role should be of Indian ancestry (Indian-American or Indian-British, etc, is totally fine) ETA: Changing this more generally to “should be of South Asian ancestry.” (ETA2: Elsewhere in a different post, I mistakenly said “Southeast Asian” but I meant more generally South Asian: India, Nepal, Pakistan, etc. The moral of this story is I need to actually look at a map before I type words. I’m so sorry.)

Sounds to be mid-thirties

Warm, decisive, and extremely competent. Comfortable being in charge, but prefers to work via consensus when possible, if only for ideological reasons. A certain daredevil streak surfaces every now and then. The sweetest person you’ll ever meet, until push comes to shove and you see the core of steel that’s been there all along.

To audition, please perform this section:

You’re right, Brian, I’m not your mom. I’m your captain, and I’m your crewmate. And that means I am depending on you to take care of yourself so you can do your part to keep us safe.

(Weighty) Look, you know how tenuous it can get in the deep. You know how much more life is worth out here. That includes yours. We need a translator, Brian. We need a translator and we need a guy who has our back. We do not need a martyr. (A beat, and then, lighter) Also, I’m the boss, and you have to do what I say.

Krejjh

Seeking a genderqueer and/or nonbinary actor of any race

Note: the character is part of an extremely humanoid race of space aliens whose culture finds the whole notion of a gender binary confusing and goofy. Obviously, this is not a perfect analogue to being a nonbinary human; I mean, we are talking about a purple space alien. But the character definitely doesn’t identify as cisgender, and after a lot of discussion and soul-searching, this seemed like the most respectful option.

Sounds to be mid-twenties to early thirties

Concept: Dashing, silly, and generally in love with life. Fun at parties. Has more than a little classic fighter pilot swagger. A sucker for compliments. Adrenaline junkie. 

Note: in a later episode, you are gonna have to speak in a made-up alien language, but I’ll try to write it out phonetically. No big deal.

To audition, please perform this section:

(making an announcement over the ship’s PA system) Folks, I wanna apologize for the turbulence. We are currently flying at—downright unsafe speeds through a debris field that is—taking some damn impressive stunts on my end. Gonna advise that you all make your way to the nearest secure spot and—WOO!!! Yeah! (triumphant laughter)

If conditions persist, you might wanna take a sec and pray. Deity of your choice; I figure, cover as much ground as we can. And if conditions get much worse, I’m gonna need Crewman Jeeter up here, pronto, for a little good luck kiss. Can’t hurt, right?

In the meantime, I advise you to remember that the closer we are to danger, the more clearly we can hear the elemental thrum of our own vitality! In this moment we are living!

…Kids, you are gonna want to hold onto something.

SUPPORTING CHARACTERS

Alvy

He/him pronouns

Any race

Sounds to be mid-twenties to early thirties

A chill and fun dude.

To audition for this part, please perform the following section:

Jeeter, my man, my pal! What is up? No doubt this message will be unexpected. Get in line! Surprise assignment. A short vacation from the lab. Safe to say I’m living large. Of course, the mission’s secret but: exotic locales? Limited work? Seems almost designed for me.

Eejjhgreb

Seeking a genderqueer and/or nonbinary actor of any race

Note: the character is part of an extremely humanoid race of space aliens whose culture finds the whole notion of a gender binary confusing and goofy. Obviously, this is not a perfect analogue to being a nonbinary human; I mean, we are talking about a purple space alien. But the character definitely doesn’t identify as cisgender, and after a lot of discussion and soul-searching, this seemed like the most respectful option.

Ideally, sounds to be about forty or older. I am willing to be a little flexible on this point, though.

Concept: A diplomat. Stately, commanding, traditional. Not unfeeling, but emotionally repressed like it’s a period piece.

To audition for this part, please perform the following section (that is not in the podcast because most of Eejjhgreb’s actual lines contain spoilers)

There’s not much more to be done about it. The agreements were reached, the papers were signed. Do I wish it had gone differently? Perhaps, but it’s a matter of obligation. It’s a matter of loyalty. I know you don’t think so right now, but it is possible you’ll understand someday. Assuming you don’t get yourself killed in the meantime.

Campbell

Any actor trying out for this role should be of African ancestry (African American, African British, etc, is totally fine)

I wrote this character with he/him pronouns but I’m flexible on this if a nonbinary and/or genderqueer person wants to audition

Sounds to be between late twenties and mid thirties

Concept: A brilliantly talented forger and counterfeiter. Easygoing, charming—that rare person who seems to be friends with everyone. Definitely friends with the crew. Good in a crisis. Hard to really shock.

To audition for this part, please perform the following section:

Tell you what, send me your info. I’ll work on it remotely and pass it over to my contact in Elion for printing and pickup. How many IDs do you need? Four? We can have them done in two hours.

Yeah, I know that’s probably longer than you want to wait, but uh. It’s getting scary out there. You don’t wanna cut corners on this.

Don’t worry about payment, we’ll handle it later. I’m guessing you’re too nervous right now to really try that hard at haggling anyway, takes all the fun out of it. Sending you my guy’s coordinates for when you land. Ask for Red Gregor.

Guard

Any race

Any gender

Any European, Australian, or distinctly regional American accent

Just trying to do their job out in space, far from home

To audition for this part, please perform the following section:

Attention! We’re conducting a sweep of all interstellar vessels. I’m going to need you to comply with the following instructions. (Pause) Attention, attention! Rumor, do you copy?

Ricky

I wrote this character with he/him pronouns but I’m flexible on that if a genderqueer and/or nonbinary person wants to audition

Any race

Sounds to be late twenties to mid-thirties

Persuasive, self-centered, one of those people who considers themselves to be extremely rational and reasonable.

To audition for this part, please perform the following section:

Listen, that’s the nature of the beast. You don’t always win. It’s not my fault if you drew a weaker hand. You’ve got the option of not blaming me for it, you know? Take it or not, but you’ve got that option.

Junior Agent

Seeking a genderqueer and/or nonbinary actor 

Any race

Sounds to be early twenties

Unlike Agent Park, hasn’t yet reached burnout in the job. Might get there pretty soon, though.

To audition for this part, please perform the following section:

I’ve taken the liberty of trimming about an hour of audio from this portion of the transmission, all available in the archive in the, uh, in the honestly pretty unlikely event it is needed? Resuming in the cockpit, forty-four minutes after the Rumor touched down on Elion. On-ship time estimated to be seventeen hundred hours. 

[madamlaydebug]

American Psychosis By Chris Hedges January 30, 2017 "Information Clearing House" - "Truth Dig" - Reality is under assault. Verbal confusion reigns. Truth and illusion have merged. Mental chaos makes it hard to fathom what is happening. We feel trapped in a hall of mirrors. Exposed lies are answered with other lies. The rational is countered with the irrational. Cognitive dissonance prevails. We endure a disquieting shame and even guilt. Tens of millions of Americans, especially women, undocumented workers, Muslims and African-Americans, suffer the acute anxiety of being pursued by a predator. All this is by design. Demagogues always infect the governed with their own psychosis. “The comparison between totalitarianism and psychosis is not incidental,” the psychiatrist Joost A.M. Meerloo wrote in his book “The Rape of the Mind: The Psychology of Thought Control, Menticide, and Brainwashing.” “Delusional thinking inevitably creeps into every form of tyranny and despotism. Unconscious backward forces come into action. Evil powers from the archaic past return. An automatic compulsion to go on to self-destruction develops, to justify one mistake with a new one; to enlarge and expand the vicious pathological circle becomes the dominating end of life. The frightened man, burdened by a culture he does not understand, retreats into the brute’s fantasy of limitless power in order to cover up the vacuum inside himself. This fantasy starts with the leaders and is later taken over by the masses they oppress.” The lies fly out of the White House like flocks of pigeons: Donald Trump’s election victory was a landslide. He had the largest inauguration crowds in American history. Three million to 5 million undocumented immigrants voted illegally. Climate change is a hoax. Vaccines cause autism. Immigrants are carriers of “[t]remendous infectious disease.” The election was rigged—until it wasn’t. We don’t know “who really knocked down” the World Trade Center. Torture works. Mexico will pay for the wall. Conspiracy theories are fact. Scientific facts are conspiracies. America will be great again. Our new president, a 70-year-old with orange-tinted skin and hair that Penn Jillette has likened to “cotton candy made of piss,” is, as Trump often reminds us, “very good looking.” He has almost no intellectual accomplishments—he knows little of history, politics, law, philosophy, art or governance—but insists “[m]y IQ is one of the highest—and you all know it! Please don’t feel so stupid or insecure, it’s not your fault.” And the mediocrities and half-wits he has installed in his Cabinet have “by far the highest IQ of any Cabinet ever assembled.” It is an avalanche of absurdities. This mendacity would be easier to repulse if the problem was solely embodied in Trump. But even in the face of a rising despotism, the Democratic Party refuses to denounce the corporate forces that eviscerated our democracy and impoverished the country. The neoliberal Trump demonizes Muslims, undocumented workers and the media. The neoliberal Democratic Party demonizes Vladimir Putin and FBI Director James Comey. No one speaks about the destructive force of corporate power. The warring elites pit alternative facts against alternative facts. All engage in demagoguery. We will, I expect, be condemned to despotism by the venality of Trump and the cowardice and dishonesty of the liberal class. Trump and those around him have a deep hatred for what they cannot understand. They silence anyone who thinks independently. They elevate pseudo-intellectuals who adhere to their bizarre script. They cannot cope with complexity, nuance or the unpredictable. Individual initiative is a mortal threat. The order for some employees of several federal agencies, including the Environmental Protection Agency, the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s research service, the National Park Service and the Department of Health and Human Services, to restrict or cease communication with the press or members of Congress, along with the attempt to impose 10-year felony convictions on six reporters who covered the inauguration protests, signals the beginning of a campaign to marginalize reality and promote fantasy. Facts depend solely on those who have the power to create them. The goal of the Trump administration is to create an artificial consistency that conforms to its warped perception of the world. “Before they seize power and establish a world according to their doctrines, totalitarian movements conjure up a lying world of consistency which is more adequate to the needs of the human mind than reality itself; in which, through sheer imagination, uprooted masses can feel at home and are spared the never-ending shocks which real life and real experiences deal to human beings and their expectations,” Hannah Arendt wrote in “The Origins of Totalitarianism.” “The force possessed by totalitarian propaganda—before the movements have the power to drop iron curtains to prevent anyone’s disturbing, by the slightest reality, the gruesome quiet of an entirely imaginary world—lies in its ability to shut the masses off from the real world.” Trump’s blinding narcissism was captured in his bizarre talk to the CIA on Jan. 21. “[T]hey say, is Donald Trump an intellectual?” he said. “Trust me, I’m, like, a smart persona.” “I have a running war with the media,” he added. “They are among the most dishonest human beings on earth. And they sort of made it sound like I had a feud with the intelligence community. And I just want to let you know, the reason you’re the number one stop [in the new presidency] is exactly the opposite—exactly. And they understand that, too.” He launched into an attack on the media for not reporting that “a million, million and a half people” showed up for his inauguration. “They showed a field where there was practically nobody standing there,” he said about the media’s depiction of the inauguration crowd. “And they said, Donald Trump did not draw well. I said, it was almost raining, the rain should have scared them away, but God looked down and he said, we’re not going to let it rain on your speech.” He has been on the cover of Time “like, 14 or 15 times,” Trump said in speaking of his criticism of the magazine because one of its reporters incorrectly wrote that the president had removed a bust of Martin Luther King Jr. from the Oval Office. “I think we have the all-time record in the history of Time magazine. Like, if Tom Brady is on the cover, it’s one time, because he won the Super Bowl or something, right? I’ve been on it for 15 times this year. I don’t think that’s a record, Mike, that can ever be broken. Do you agree with that? What do you think?” [Editor’s note: Photographs or drawings of Trump were on the cover of Time 10 times in the last year and a half and once in 1989.] Trump’s theatricality works. He forces the press and the public to repeat his lies, inadvertently giving them credibility. He is always moving. He is always on display. He has no fixed belief system. Trump, as he consolidates power, will adopt the ideology of the Christian right to fill his own ideological vacuum. The Christian right’s magical thinking will merge seamlessly with Trump’s magical thinking. Idiocy, self-delusion, megalomania, fantasy and government repression will come wrapped in images of the Christian cross and the American flag. The corporate state, hostile or indifferent to the plight of the citizens, has no emotional pull among the public. It is often hated. Political candidates run not as politicians but as celebrities. Campaigns eschew issues to make people feel good about candidates and themselves. Ideas are irrelevant. Emotional euphoria is paramount. The voter is only a prop in the political theater. Politics is anti-politics. It is reality television. Trump proved better at this game than his opponents. It is a game in which fact and knowledge do not matter. Reality is what you create. We were conditioned for a Trump. Meerloo wrote, “The demagogue relies for his effectiveness on the fact that people will take seriously the fantastic accusations he makes, will discuss the phony issues he raises as if they had reality, or will be thrown into such a state of panic by his accusations and charges that they will simply abdicate their right to think and verify for themselves.” The lies create a climate in which everyone is assumed to be lying. The truth becomes suspect and obscured. Narratives begin to be believed not because they are true, or even sound true, but because they are emotionally appealing. The aim of systematic lying, as Arendt wrote, is the “transformation of human nature itself.” The lies eventually foster somnambulism among a population that surrenders to the magical thinking and ceases to care. It checks out. It becomes cynical. It only asks to be entertained and given a vent for its frustration and rage. Demagogues produce enemies the way a magician pulls rabbits out of a hat. They wage constant battles against nonexistent dangers, rapidly replacing one after the other to keep the rhetoric at a fever pitch. “Practically speaking, the totalitarian ruler proceeds like a man who persistently insults another man until everybody knows that the latter is his enemy, so that he can, with some plausibility, go out and kill him in self-defense,” Arendt wrote. “This certainly is a little crude, but it works—as everybody will know who has ever watched how certain successful careerists eliminate competitors.” We are entering a period of national psychological trauma. We are stalked by lunatics. We are, as Judith Herman writes about trauma victims in her book “Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror,” being “rendered helpless by overwhelming force.” This trauma, like all traumas, overwhelms “the ordinary systems of care that give people a sense of control, connection, and meaning.” To recover our mental balance we must respond to Trump the way victims of trauma respond to abuse. We must build communities where we can find understanding and solidarity. We must allow ourselves to mourn. We must name the psychosis that afflicts us. We must carry out acts of civil disobedience and steadfast defiance to re-empower others and ourselves. We must fend off the madness and engage in dialogues based on truth, literacy, empathy and reality. We must invest more time in activities such as finding solace in nature, or focusing on music, theater, literature, art and even worship—activities that hold the capacity for renewal and transcendence. This is the only way we will remain psychologically whole. Building an outer shell or attempting to hide will exacerbate our psychological distress and depression. We may not win, but we will have, if we create small, like-minded cells of defiance, the capacity not to go insane. Chris Hedges, spent nearly two decades as a foreign correspondent in Central America, the Middle East, Africa and the Balkans. He has reported from more than 50 countries and has worked for The Christian Science Monitor, National Public Radio, The Dallas Morning News and The New York Times, for which he was a foreign correspondent for 15 years.

[lodelcar]

THE PARADE OF PENCIL AND PAPER AND THE WHIMSICAL COMPLAINANT VOTERS

Picture: illegal trash dumping in Meise (Belgium)

Considerations about the local elections in Belgium

Belgium will have two important political moments in the coming half year. Last Sunday, 14 October 2018 took place the elections for municipal councils and provincial councils. Out of these elections majorities will be formed that will rule the municipality and the province over the next 6 years. Majorities in the city council choose mayors and aldermen, as executive body. In the provinces the provincial governor is a civil servant, but the permanent delegates form the executive body and are chaired by the governor. Belgian municipalities and cities have traditionally extended powers. The powers of the provinces have be cut back and transferred partly to the cities and municipalities partly to the regional government.

The municipal and urban powers are very broad and include everything that has to do with the "municipal interest", in other words with the collective needs of the inhabitants. In theory, a municipality can do everything that is not forbidden, from building a sports hall to building roads. The municipalities are competent for public works, social assistance, law enforcement, housing, education, ... Of course, these projects are subject to control by the supervisory authorities, namely the federal state, the communities, the regions and the provinces. The municipalities must also carry out the tasks that are imposed on them by the higher authorities. They are mainly in charge of the police forces, with the management of the civil status and with the keeping of the population registers. It is also at the municipal level that the Public Center for Social Welfare is established, which provides social assistance.

In the Flemish region provinces are made responsible for a.o. construction and management of provincial domains, bicycle routes, hiking trails, ...,management of waterways and prevention of flooding, management of nature reserves, provincial spatial planning and environment policy, coordination of the policy on economy, employment, ... in the province and for its own initiatives in that matter, crisis coordination at provincial level. In the region of Wallonia provinces are responsible for guardianship over the communes for certain matters (mainly budget and accounts, status of the agents), the candidatures for certain judicial bodies, the coverage of the deficit of the church management bodies (called church factories), the establishments in charge of the temporal of the orthodox and Islamic cults, the establishments of laic moral assistance, the maintenance of the order ... Among the most important or most frequent optional assignments are teaching, culture, social assistance, heritage ... There are 10 provinces in Belgium + the region of Brussels Capital. The number of inhabitants is as follows: [1] [2] [3]

In May 2019 will take place the national elections, with impact on the regional authorities (regional parliament and government), the federal authorities (federal parliament and government) and European authorities (European parliament).

Participation to the elections is compulsory in Belgium. The Belgian electoral system is the system of “Proportional representation”. It is an electoral system in which the percentage of seats achieved is –with a good approach- proportional to the percentage of votes obtained. A party that obtains 20% of the votes is therefore entitled to (approximately) 20% of the seats in a system with proportional representation. To determine the number of seats per party, the total number of valid votes cast is divided by the number of seats to be forgiven. This number is called the quota. The number of seats that a party receives is the number of times the electoral quota has been completed. Seats that remain are called residual seats and divided among the parties that have achieved the electoral quota. The advantage of this voting system is that the preferences of the voters are well reflected in the chosen body. The disadvantage is that the majority on which a government or a provincial or municipal executive council must support will almost always be a multi-party coalition that has to conduct a compromise-based policy. This can make it difficult for coalition parties to explain the actual policy pursued to their electorate. However, this can be seen as an inevitable consequence of democracy, in which different opinions must be expressed.

The Netherlands have a full system of proportional representation during the elections. In contrast to some other countries, the Netherlands have virtually no electoral threshold. In Belgium too, the system of proportional representation is used in elections, although in Belgium this system is combined with a district system and a 5% -electoral threshold at all levels of government.[4]

This article translates some Belgian press columns about the municipal and provincial elections.

The voter, a whimsical complainant [5]

We have been angry again. On who? On our politicians. Scour some forums, talk to people in the street or drink a pint in the café around the corner: politics is the focus of annoyance, anger and scorn. The hobbyist who collects clichés about politicians, may abhor work, the platitudes appear naturally:hustlers, pocket fillers, liars, bunch of troublemakers, suckers. Should you not gradually be totally nuts for taking up a political mandate by now? And then you go from door to door to know what is really alive, you listen until you’re deaf and even that is not good enough.

Why is that so and how is it that many governors do not get a grip on this? Politics roughly consists of two things: management and imagination. Let us start with management. Things must move. There must be roads and bridges, electricity and water, hospitals that make us healthy, legal courts that are not crooked, habitable houses and squares where we can kiss each other in the autumn sun. The expectations about this have increased up to the same degree as the ability to express dissatisfaction when things go wrong.

Of course, a critical view of the political scene is inherent in a healthy democracy. The temptation to feast on the meat pots will always be there. Unfortunately, there have been many scandals in the past four years. Even more transparency and control should counter this. Every malpractice is one too many and politicians can give a good example in this. If we become poorer, while we are eating and afterwards it appears that elsewhere is eagerly being hunted, the logic in the voting booth is gone. On top of the guarantee of rational and proper management of the things of life, politics is a machine driven by imagination. Politicians must bear the enormous burden of what we seem to be unable to do ourselves: being happy. Elections are over and over again about: the hope of a better life or the disillusionment about the absence of it. Anyone who promises nothing in this context will not be elected. Who promises too much will inevitably disappoint. Simple is not political. Voters have become a capricious species.

Whoever wants to be elected today must above all be emotionally competent. Also, credibility and steadfastness help but provide no guarantee. A good governor needs to know where we are stuck in ourselves. And then offer solutions. Because if it turns out later that they only sold baked air, the deception inevitably seeks its way through less fresh-smelling drains: Donald Trump, Viktor Orban, Geert Wilders. Anger is a - albeit spiny - form of commitment that is driven by the hope that things can be improved. Politicians must therefore be prepared to stand in the place where people shout their disillusionment into the world.

At the same time, as a citizen we can use some self-reflection. Politicians have to solve everything that we ourselves are not capable of, and in the meantime we are proud to deal with the extent to which we manage to evade taxes. Or think about the obligation to vote. Every day we claim our right to freedom of expression, but every so many years one has to give his opinion appears to be a burden for some, almost as unbearable as the devastating sulfur rains from Biblical Sodom and Gomorrah.

Probably there is less error than before, but we complain more about it, because we suffer from what the German theologian and philosopher Odo Marquard describes as the law of increasing annoyance: the better it goes with us, the less we endure that still something goes wrong. For example, relatively limited problems - such as a circulation plan in a downtown medieval city - acquire a disproportionate dimension. In other words, the more people listen, the louder the complaint that we are not heard. Complaining is also liberating in a sense. While we grumble about the failure of others, we can just look away from our own struggles with life.

Together with the divan of the psychiatrist, politics have become the place to air our hearts. Apparently there are few possibilities or places to tell each other something. Or do we all have the feeling that nobody really listens to us? For what else is this constant moan about politics except for one elongated sigh to be heard? Do we not end up with a remarkable paradox? Never before has there been so much chatter as today, but apparently we do not (or no longer) speak anymore.[6]

The parade of pencil and paper[7]

With the many blows under the belt and bitty campaigns we sometimes dare to forget it, but elections are the feast of democracy. At the municipal elections I was allowed to experience it more than usual. I was called as chairman of a polling station. A fate that allegedly will be waiting for me again at every election, but no hair on my head that was thinking of renouncing my civic duty with a cheap excuse. The generous compensation of 19 euros and the free sandwich were of course not to be sneezed. Admittedly, initially I was quite skeptical about the organization of the whole event. I was responsible for a polling station with pencil and paper. The love for paper apparently applies across the board. Chairmen and assessors must complete and return old postcards to accept their call. When one receives instructions, one must confirm receipt in writing again. At the end of the vote, one must even deregister all names and addresses of voters who have not come up in an official report. The system of proxies can also be simpler.(…)

But gradually one also realizes the grandeur of the whole event and the importance of citizen involvement in all checks and balances. On the election day, more than 8 million people have to vote. In a city like Ghent alone, there are 273 polling stations and 182 counters, where about 3,000 people help organize the feast of democracy. Everyone involved in the organization does this in addition to a normal job. Due to the low frequency of elections, this also applies to the civil servants who have to lead it all in the right direction. It is a miracle that there is so little error. And it has to be said: the atmosphere was always very constructive: city staff who provide advice and assistance, a sympathetic neighbor who is immediately prepared to be secretary of the electoral office, assistants who perform their duties dutifully and a warm welcome when one arrives at the counter of the counting secretariat with the ballot boxes. The absent or faint excuse seekers are wrong. As someone entrusted me during the day: 'I have never had any interest in politics, but by being so closely involved with it, I'm going to follow how it all ends.'

Democracy is a precious commodity that we must cherish, and one realizes that even more when one experiences it up close. It is important for the credibility and trust in the result that the citizens themselves remain involved as much as possible in the organization of the election party. This also applies to the ballot box itself. Some suggest that this would happen better via an app or the internet, but I do not agree with that. At the rector elections at Ghent University we were able to vote behind our PC, and that is not comparable to a whole neighborhood that pulls the ballot box at the same time, a neighbor who greets you with a joke, teenagers who are nervous because they are to vote first, the ritual of voting itself and results that come in drop by drop. Give me a classic high mass with pencil and paper that we collectively, tangibly and consciously experience. Just a pity that there is only one voting round.(…).[8]

Louis Delcart, board member European Academy of the Regions, www.ear-aer.eu

[1] Official language: Dutch

[2] 2 official languages: Dutch and French

[3] Official language: French, except in 8 municipalities in the East of Belgium where the German speaking community (74.169 inhabitants) is located with its own government and parliament.

[4] https://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evenredige_vertegenwoordiging

[5] IGNAAS DEVISCH, De kiezer, een grillige klager (The voter, a whimsical complainant), in De Standaard, 16-10-2018, translation L.Delcart

[6] Ignaas Devisch teaches medical philosophy and ethics at Ghent University and the Artevelde College.

[7] GERT PEERSMAN: De parade van potlood en papier (The parade of pencil and paper), De Standaard, 16-10-2018, translation L.Delcart

[8] Gert Peersman is professor of economics at the UGent.

[amycathryn]

Telepathy 101

Yep. It's a real thing.

I'm not talking about mentalism or reading body language, either. I'm talking about the real deal—having the ability to understand the thoughts and mentality of others via a psychic connection on a telepathic level—without cues, such as facial expressions or body language.

Just as I've stated in a previous blog entry that everybody's psychic, I will also state that everybody's telepathic. We just don't realize what we're doing is actually a form of telepathy. 

Caveat: Long read. Also, everybody can be a strong empath AND a strong telepath at the same time! The purpose of this 101 blog is to bring more awareness to your own telepathic gifts and how to harness them.   

So What is "Telepathy"?

Telepathy, according to Merriam-Webster, is:

: communication from one mind to another by extrasensory means

But unlike X-Men and other superhero movies, telepathic communication is more than just the stereotypical mental walkie-talkie. It's the ability to communicate thoughts, concepts, ideas, and visualizations. Not to be confused with empathy, which is emotional communication, telepathy is strictly mental communication.

Amongst intuitives, it is generally agreed upon that empathy resonates at a lower frequency closer to the physical realm than telepathy. In turn, because the telepathic frequency resonates at a higher level than empathy, it also has a shorter wavelength. This may be why thoughts can be fleeting, but emotions tend to stick around longer. 

Signs You're a Telepath

Below is a list of signs that you have telepathic abilities or have used telepathy. The more you check off, the stronger your telepathic abilities might be, and the more likely you're a telepathically-dominant intuitive.

You get frequent headaches, such as cluster headaches or migranes

You have a habit of finishing other people's sentences

Other people have a habit of finishing your sentences, or saying what's on your mind

You know what your pet, child or partner is about to do—especially if you make eye contact

You have a hard time gaining the trust of others

One or more of those closest to you may show signs of mild apathy when making decisions, or struggle to make decisions around you

Those around you tend to exhibit cognitive dissonance—especially regarding a topic you disagree on

You pick up random thoughts, words or ideas while driving that didn't originate from your train of thought

You know when others are lying to you

You are good at gauging the mentality of a crowd (such as at parties or meetings) 

It's easier for you to convey thoughts and concepts over feelings and emotions

You understand ideas, thoughts and concepts (regardless of complexity) that others try to convey with relative ease

You know when someone is about to do or say something—and often times know what they're about to say or do before they say or do it

It's easier for you to solve a problem when you're around people—as if you're brainstorming with them nonverbally

You react differently to stimulus than most people (pain, adrenaline, shock, crisis situations)

You have the keen ability to suppress your emotions and think rationally in emergency situations—perhaps even in a more lucid state than you are normally

Being around too many people (or just strong personalities) for a long period of time can sometimes make you feel out-of-touch with your identity

You like being alone (especially after being around groups of people) to "clear your head"

You get along better with (and understand) people who think rationally more so than those who think emotionally

You are a logical and/or strategic thinker

You have an above average IQ (over 135-ish)

You have a hard time around people with extreme "type A" personalities

People tend to be competitive with you

You may even see the synapses fire in another person's brain—like fireworks, "connecting the dots", or that "eureka" moment

You just know things, and assume everybody else knows them too (as if it was common knowledge—this is called claircognizance)

College/school was/is easy

You think clearly under pressure and may even deliberately create pressuring circumstances so you can think clearly about something

You feel mentally drained from being around groups of people for long periods of time (especially type A personalities)

You feel "brain static" and find it harder to focus or keep a steady train of thought after being around one or more "loud" personalities

You find yourself saying things or doing things a certain way to see how others mentally react

You are gifted in subjects such as math and/or science

You like to be around people to see how they "tick"

You mentally understand people more when you make eye contact with them

Discussing topics such as philosophy, math, science and other high-minded subjects energize you

You daydream and may find yourself daydreaming more while around groups of people

You are drawn to people who think creatively and/or dynamically 

Types of Telepathy

Another common misconception about telepathy is that it is only a one-way thing. Nope! There are actually two different types of telepathy: senders and receivers. Just as with telephones, a good telepath can both send and receive information. Most people tend to be receivers, but there are a few people out there that are naturally good senders of information as well. It's good to know how to do both, and practice becoming good at both types.

Receivers

Like I said earlier, most people out there are actually really good receivers and don't even know it! The way to tell if you're a good receiver is if you like to daydream and/or have an active imagination. Good receivers can also be type B personalities—but ultimately a good receiver is someone who can "let go" and put themselves in a receptive state.

A telepathic experience that indicates you're a good receiver is when someone calls or texts you, and you know who it is before you look at your phone. Or, you have an ability to do something before someone asked you to do it. Those are signs you can "hear" things telepathically really well—and chances are you're probably doing it subconsciously and didn't even know it!

I have personally experienced this and like to play a game with myself to see if I was correct in guessing who texted/called me. Often times I will find myself picking up the phone to look at it moments before someone calls or texts me, and as I practiced this game with myself, I became better at figuring out who called me.

Senders

There are people out there that tend to be naturally good senders, and are less common than receivers. Great senders tend to have assertive personalities. I've also noticed that some naturally great senders tend to have type A personalities. I think this is why some telepathic savants have a hard time being around type A personalities—because they're constantly being "bombarded" with thoughts from the type A/sender. The way to send a thought is to focus on the person to send it to, get emotionally "charged" or "excited" about the topic, and then send it! After that, LET GO! Forget about the thought, or sublimate/substitute it for another thought.

A telepathic experience that indicates you're a good sender is when people do things for you before you ask them, or you think about someone and they call you a few minutes later. You sent those thoughts, and other people received them! Those are signs you're good at telepathically "telling" people things, without even realizing it!

I have personally had experiences with telepathic senders—both subconscious and deliberate. One of my closest friends and I will often think about each other before we call. "I was thinking about you yesterday!" one of us will say on the phone. We often send each other thoughts to call without realizing it, until one or the other caves and calls the other!

Another "sender" experience I've had, was when a co-worker was trying to telepathically change my mind on a topic. I was upset they had done something differently than I asked, and as I spoke with them in their office on the topic, I noticed a shift in my thoughts—a shift that didn't originate or stem from my energetic train of thought. As I became consciously aware that this shift in thought originated outside my mind, I also noticed a drilling/pressing sensation in my frontal lobe. I energetically pushed this back out and then my thoughts went back to normal. That person was a good "sender" and since I was a good "receiver", I almost didn't realize they were sending me a thought at all!  

Practice makes perfect

Being a good telepath takes both practice and discipline. Most people are naturally good at being a sender or receiver, but it's important to practice so you're good at both. I would recommend getting a deck of zener cards and finding a partner to work with practicing sending and receiving. Sometimes having a partner isn't always possible, so if you don't have a partner, it's important to have the ability to observe the people you're sending information to. Also, keep in mind there are PLENTY of psychic development communities, boards and chatrooms on the web—the perfect place to do practice tests with like-minded individuals. 

Also keep in mind, time only pertains to the physical realm. Telepathy can and does exist outside time. So if you missed sending a practice message to someone at a certain time, you can simply visualize sending it back in time!  

Telepathic Hygiene

The techniques for telepathic hygiene are very similar to the techniques for empathic hygiene that I discussed in my Empathy 101 blog. The only difference is the chakras associated with the ability and the frequency of the ability. Both empathy and telepathy are comprised of energy, so it's just a matter of using the same techniques at different frequencies to get the results you're looking for. Think of energy like radio waves, and the different types of energy are the different channels. Once you know which channels to "tune into" you'll have better control at turning up and down the volume of that channel. 

Much like empathic hygiene, telepathic hygiene is important for one's sanity. Learning to cut telepathic cords, blocking, and shielding are essential for being able to focus. As you progress spiritually, your abilities will increase, as will your sensitivity. Honing your abilities and learning to control them is just as important as having them to begin with. Additionally, it's important to recognize when to use them, and when not to. Often times we will be tempted to use our abilities in a situation that does not morally reflect the best interest of all parties involved, so it is important to discern when you're using your abilities to help others, or when you're using them for reasons that may not serve the highest good of all parties involved. 

The Trifecta

The key to being good at anything psychic is meditation, grounding and setting boundaries (cutting cords/shielding). I cannot preach this enough. If you don't learn to meditate, ground and cut cords/shield every day, you can easily become overloaded with input from others. 

Meditation

Meditation has probably a zillion proven health benefits that aren't even psychic-related. Just Google it. However, for the topic of this blog, meditation is important because it not only quiets your mind but also allows you to sense energy both inside and outside the body better. If you are going to practice psychic development at all, meditation should be your top priority. And don't be mistaken, meditation isn't just about chanting and sitting in odd poses. It's about being in the moment. Breathing. Putting yourself in the present. Feeling the air as it fills your lungs or your hands on the steering wheel as you drive. Meditation is about being present. Simply put.

Grounding, Shielding, and Cutting Cords

I went into detail on grounding, shielding and cutting cords in my Empathy 101 blog (at the bottom). The only difference that may apply to the parts regarding shielding and cutting cords pertain to the locations and frequency in which you shield and cut cords. For shielding telepathically, visualize your 6th chakra (your 3rd-eye chakra)—located between your eyebrows—and imagine a shield bubble emanating from that area that spreads around your head protecting you from telepathic input. Visualize it like a space helmet, except it is a one-way mirror. You can see out, but no one can see in. 

For cutting cords, instead of visualizing a guillotine cutting the cord between you and another person, visualize a radio link between you and the other person that connects via brainwaves. Now visualize an on/off switch (or even dial) and slowly begin to set the switch to the "off" position. Visualize that connection turning off (or on if you want to increase it).

Porcupines

Yep, this method can be applied telepathically as well to increase/decrease your gifts. To increase your telepathic sensitivity, Simply imagine needles or tendrils emanating from your head and extending out to the person you wish to connect to. I strongly recommend grounding and shielding before you do this so you are doing so in a protected environment. 

To "turn down" your abilities, simply do the opposite. Retract the porcupine needles (or tendrils) and visualize them locking into place once they are back inside your brain. For good measure, place a bubble shield around your head to keep them from accidentally and unknowingly coming out again. 

Visualization is Key

The reason why all of these methodologies incorporate visualization is that visualization is key to understanding and manipulating energy. Our imaginations and the "claires" (claircognizance, clairvoyance, clairsentience, clairaudience, etc...) are the foundational tools we must learn to use in order to gain control and discipline of our energy.   

In Conclusion

The most important takeaway from any of my intuitive blog posts is the importance of your capacity to discern one energy from another, right from wrong, and good from bad. Learning to quickly (both emotionally and intellectually) discern the right course of action in a situation is what separates those who wish to help the world, from those whom wish to help themselves.

As with everything in life, there is a huge grey area in-between—but it's up to your ability to discern that will ultimately determine whether or not you are a good practitioner.

As always if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to contact me.   

Best of Luck!