#With every new project he is SLEDGEHAMMERING THAT THING

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

Holy shit guys purgatory is literally the meme.

“The real psychological torture was the friends we made along the way”

THATS LITERALLY TRUE

Nobody told the newcomers that the real torture of purgatory was that you would have to leave the friends you made along the way…

QUACKITY WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??? WHAT PSYCHOLOGICAL TORMENT HAVE YOU INFLICTED?!?

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

BakuDeku fic idea

Okay, so I had this idea, and it's been nagging me for like, forever, so, naturally I gotta talk about it.

So, maybe, years later, after they've gotten married and all, Katsuki is organizing Deku's desk because for all that the damn nerd is a genius, he's terrible at organizing things.

And then he comes across Deku's notebook collection, the notebooks that Katsuki would swear up and down were practically an extension of Izuku's soul.

He opens them, having seen them occasionally when Deku would get nostalgic and turn the paces, tracing the intricate lines with a sense of wistfulness, or when he would get right into Katsuki's face saying ‘I figured out where I saw that quirk Kachaan! It was here,’ but he's never flipped through them, despite having Izuku's consent to do so.

And so for the first time, he flips through them, starting from the first, of course, because Katsuki is many things, but he's no madman.

The first one is all bright and wide-eyed, filled with sketches of All Might and other top heroes, and Katsuki can't help the fond smile that spreads on his face as he sees the small doodles of himself dotting the margins of the notebook. It was like staring at a damn kindergarten art project. Deku's admiration for them practically oozed off the pages.

The leading notebooks that came after that were filled with scribbles, points and additions, edits and mentions, but it was all still pretty wholesome (and so Katsuki may have taken a photo of a particularly adorable sketch of a chibi him, with the words 'Lil' Victory upon it, so he can make it into a custom keychain, sue him.)

And then, out of nowhere, they get intense. The sketches were detailed, showing fights, strategies, and damn, even the villains. And the proud smile that grows on his face is entirely deserved, because, that was his nerd, alright. It was like seeing inside the mind of a madman but in a good way. Deku was getting serious, that adorable little nerd.

Somewhere along the way, Deku had begun to record the injuries caused by the quirks. The pages were stained with reds and purples, like some kind of twisted canvas. Bakugou winced, remembering the pain that had carved itself into Deku's skin. The scars on Deku's body had a story, and they were all right there, etched in ink.

(He hates the fact that he had been the cause of most of those scars. Hates the thought of Deku, staring at the scars on his body and copying them on paper, having been familiar with them for so long, that he doesn't even need to double-check. Hates the way that it brings tears to his eyes.)

The notebooks after that were a whole new world. he sketches were practically alive, the movements fluid and precise. It was like watching a damn animated movie. This nerd was on the edge of genius.

The points on quirks had improved too. Notes on how they worked, weaknesses, and strategies to counter them. It was like Deku had cracked the code to every damn hero he'd ever faced. Bakugou couldn't decide if he was impressed or annoyed. Probably both.

That notebook was the culmination of everything Deku had ever learned. The battles were fierce, the strategies ruthless. This was Deku at his damn peak.

He's just about to put them back, telling himself that the tears in his eyes were due to the dust when he sees the last notebook. It's the newest notebook, the cover bright and glossy.

He opens it and expects another one of Deku's meticulous quirk analyses, but this...this was something else entirely.

Page after page was filled with details about their friends, their likes and dislikes, little facts that even Bakugou didn't know. It was like Deku had become some kind of damn detective, gathering every scrap of information he could find.

And then he turned a page and was greeted by an explosion of orange and black, and there it was. His name, his figure, drawn in causal clothes, with little notes written in beautiful handwriting.

The details hit him like a damn sledgehammer. There's an arrow pointing to his middle finger 'wears a ring on this one.' An arrow to his clothes with the words 'prefers soft clothes (best hoodies to steal),' there's one pointing to his neck followed by 'wears a locket with parent's photos' and on, and on, they go. His eyes start to water at 'rich laugh' and 'bright grin.'

He pauses at the one written in red ink with the words 'softest heart' written right next to it.

This damn nerd, he knew him better than anyone else. Knew the quirks and intricacies that made up Bakugou Katsuki.

He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, Deku wasn't so damn bad at understanding people after all.

And if Izuku finds himself bombarded with bowls of Katsudon, well, that's nobody's business but his own. Even if the nerd cries when he sees the keychain.

[blurhawaii]

AO3 roundup 2023

for the first time in many years i actually wrote things. this is largely because i daisy chained fic exchanges for pretty much the entire year, but whatever works, right?

anyway, my new year resolution last year was to write more and i ended up writing 70,980 words across 11 fics. which is, i think, a big success.

1899

werewolf heart | maura franklin/eyk larsen/daniel solace | 7K

part werewolf story, part butchering of selkie lore, all set on an abandoned, haunted steamship

'cause he knows it's all worthwhile, he told me | eyk larsen/daniel solace | 4K

post canon fic exploring the dangers of being pulled early from a cryosleep

mine, yours, and how it went | eyk larsen/daniel solace | 7K

part 1 - daniel doesn't abandon his son at the first opportunity, and eyk is seduced by a sad, wet man attempting to be a dad

the truth has always been a lie | eyk larsen/daniel solace | 17K

part 2 - daniel and maura have coded conversations, elliot is sad, and eyk continues to be slowly seduced by daniel's lacklustre parenting

From

your pleasure's set upon slow release | jade herrera/jim matthews | 5K

jim is schrodinger's widow until tabitha comes back and opens the box. or jade invites himself into jim's bed

Indiana Jones

never knew the cold hand of danger; til i met this one and let it inside | klaber/jurgen voller | 7K

klaber visits voller's classroom at the university of alabama, a possible look into why klaber is so loyal

Project Blue Book

mass migration | j allen hynek/michael quinn | 2K

an entire forest uproots and moves while quinn blindly steps into a precurser to a threesome

a blood pact of sorts | mimi hynek/susie miller | 1K

mimi takes a sledgehammer to a bomb shelter and susie helps

The Nice Guys

for the good life is out there somewhere | holland march/jackson healy | 1K

jackson teaches holland how to take a punch to the face

The Quarry

every fortress falls | travis hackett/laura kearney | 9K

basically a 5 times fic, spanning the entire game. highlighting touch and moments of kindness, sometimes at the same time

and finally, my magnum opus

The Departed

posthumously | billy costigan/sean dignam | 5K

snapshots of a life in slow recovery. or billy survives the bullet and now he has to survive dignam trying to be nice

here's to 2024 and hopefully another productive year !

[tagedeszorns]

I can't believe I'm doing this ...

I found this neat nugget on my doorstep.

Edit: At this post, to be precise. Just for context.

Well, @beril66. Okay. Normally I'm the nice explainer-bear in this part of the woods, answering even the strangest questions in a friendly and detailed way. Normally I'm the damned Credible Hulk who even feeds trolls with lore until they are round and peaceful or at least waddle away into the wilderness again after the winter feeding to survive the frost period …

But this … this is beyond my boiling point!

Listen, you clown - you come traipsing into my blog, obviously didn't even bother to look at the last three posts, obviously don't even know who Saqqara is and therefore don't see the irony behind letting a diabolist explain the world - and instead of just keeping yourself nice and closed, you throw up something like your comments on my living room carpet? What went wrong in your childhood?

But you know what? I just can't help it. I should end this text here, block you back under your bridge and go back to drawing naked Astartes. But instead, once again, I can't get out of my skin and feel the urge to reply.

I can't say now that you give me much to work with. Nothing but "No, it's not like that, I think it's great and you're stupid". That's not exactly the level at which I usually discuss Warhammer - but I'll make it work.

So: If you had looked at my blog even superficially you would know that I like TTS. I am therefore looking at it with a very friendly eye. The fact that I'm not upset about the portrayal of my absolute favourite characters Lucius and Fabius should give you the additional hint that I have no problem at all with something I like being made fun of. But I am not wearing the ultimate fanboy-blinders and am able to keep my distance and can therefore say that I do not find both Magnus and Dorn portrayed "in character". Extensively readable in the Heresy novels (for Dorn and Magnus, by the way, many of the characterisation gems here can be found in the later anthologies. Which explains a lot of the mistakes in TTS, as not much of it had been released yet when they started their project and set the characters. So the creators couldn't know any better. The fact that angry fans are now shitting their incendiary speeches at my feet here is of course then rather unreflective. But I can't blame Alfabusa and the team for that. You don't choose your fans). That you conclude from this that I think the Emperor is great and am humourless is in itself extremely amusing. But you're probably right.

He's the best. I aspire to be like him. Also, please educate yourself about the difference between "well written" and "being a good guy". Because the Emperor is well written in a lot of cases, he just isn't a good guy.

For me, TTS is not the problem. It's people like you who obviously don't want to delve further into the subject matter, but turn memes into canon. No one needs to have read every scrap of lore. I myself am very selective in what I read and I know far too little. Learning new things, changing my mind accordingly - that's a big part of the fun I have in fandom. I allow myself the luxury of challenging my fan-ness with books and opinions that don't line up with mine. At best, I'm even wrong and can add something new to my private Warhammer treasure chest.

I recommend you do the same. Don't stop where you are, read the books. Realise that, contrary to what you seem to believe at the moment, they are not humourless and unreflective, but on the contrary have wit and irony in many shades (quite a few of those shades are called "sledgehammer", but that counts too!).

Now that was severely abbreviated, but I'm tired of it.

Run, little troll! Run, you are free!

[balshumetsbaragouin]

Hello everyone! Chapter ten is online and it is a fun chapter. Danny tries to apologize to Valerie for being so grumpy the last two chapters, and he gets a visit from an interesting character.

Chapter eleven is on track to be posted Saturday, so look forward to it then! Not sure if you want to read? Have a sample below:

His flight through his patrol zone took him around the crown of Fentonworks, looking balder and smaller since the Ops Center absconded. The gaping holes in the roof, and chunks of debris made of brick and concrete littering the street, left the area looking scuffed and dilapidated. His parents promised the Ops Center’s return in three months, max, but until then they had installed a new ghost shield in the walls. They’d spent the last week, in between helping clean up the toxic waste from Main street where the Center crashed, carving out walls and wiring in the new system. He’d hastily grabbed a few things he’d hidden inside the walls of his room, when they’d warned him they’d be doing construction, and hid them at the bottom of his closet under a stack of dirty clothes for good measure. Jazz had complained the whole time, hands over her ears to block out the banging of holes being punched in the walls, that the entire process was unnecessary. It interfered with her study schedule and threw off her beauty sleep. He’d whined about the mess of dust and the potential asbestos it contained, and fought down screams as every pound of the sledgehammer was matched by his headache. His parents hadn’t relented through either of their complaints, assuring them the new shield was imperative until the Ops’ attic shield returned. 

Now, because he hadn’t figured out the new system, he couldn’t phase into his room directly without setting off the shield. He’d tried, two days back, and his whole body clenched recalling the electric pain of the damn thing activating. He’d bounced off of it, flying away to let the defense systems in the house  reset after Jazz deactivated them, and walked in the front door on foot, day ruined and disappointment immeasurable. The trek up the stairs after the shock almost convinced him to sleep on the cold wood instead of finishing the climb, consequences be damned. After the agonizing crawl up the last few steps and slithering his way into his bed, he’d sworn off using his powers around the new anti-ghost defense. 

“The shield is definitely an updated version, it even has entirely new protocols.” His friends were talking to him again, after letting him simmer for a few days. He’d sat on his hands only a few hours before apologizing, and they’d accepted. When he’d ended up staying home because of the family dealing with the fallout of the Center’s animation, the two of them froze him out of texts, only replying to tell him to sleep. He’d have been more annoyed if he had the energy. 

“But, you can bypass them?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Tucker’s smug reply came through the phones as he hovered just outside of the sensor’s new range.

[trollfactory]

New refs for the Troll Factory characters! They are furry now, yeah!

Sanning Söderberg (they/them) is egotistical, arrogant, and sarcastic, but also insecure. They project their insecurities through BOUND, an alt-right group, and call anyone who doesn’t agree with them a troll, which is their favorite buzzword. Doubts still pop up from time to time, but when they meet a real troll the world is turned upside down.

Saga (she/her) is a mysterious being called a troll, a magical being who knows little about society. Saga is shy but also oblivious and clings to Sanning even when they’re a bit mean to her. She is very interested in meeting new people and discovering new things.

Jesper Dahlman (he/him) is a boy of very few words, but when he uses them they’re right on the money. He stays calm in the most precarious situations, but switches very quickly to anger once the bucket is full. Jesper vents his frustrations through basketball.

Dagmar Dahlman (she/her) is an extroverted jack-of-all-trades who never pays attention in school but somehow picks up all sorts of information. In her free time she plays the drums, and makes music together with her best friend Sven who prefers bass guitar. They host all sorts of parties, much to the annoyance of Sven’s parents.

Sven Berglund (he/him) is a bit thick-headed but a very well-meaning and talkative guy. He is Dagmar’s best friend, and they usually host parties at his home. Although Sven is a bit loud, and he doesn’t always think things through, he really means well and he’ll do anything to help his friends.

Edvin Berglund (he/him) is a bit of a nerd and, contrary to his brother Sven, a bit of a scaredy-cat due to his overthinking. His awkwardness makes it difficult for him to make meaningful connections, although he painstakingly tries to initiate one with his crush Sanning.

Freja Havsblom (she/her) is a headstrong fisherwoman and mother of Sanning. She’s usually at sea for most of the working week, but tries to support Sanning however she can when she’s at home. Freja is smart and observant, and always takes action quickly. She fell in love with Sigge after delivering salmon to the restaurant where he worked at every week, and talking a bit everytime. Freja goes swimming every weekend, a rare pastime for a fisherwoman.

Sigurd Söderberg (he/him) is a magnificent cook, although usually he is only a chef at home. Before he was a help in a professional kitchen, but since Sanning’s birth the stay-at-home dad cooks meals every weekday which people can pick up at their house. Sigge is a jovial and fun-loving man. His tendency to overthink turned into a book he used to plan his conversations with his wife Freja in when they first started to meet at the restaurant he worked at.

A ruthless businessman who will do anything if it makes him money. As CEO of the leading company in everything, Mimer Corp., Rasmus Locke (he/him) is obscenely rich and far ahead of anyone else in Midgård. He sees every animal as an opportunity, and every troll as cattle. If something isn’t worth the hassle, he discards it. Locke's silver tongue makes him a formidable opponent even when he’s truly a frail old man.

Gunilla Torsdotter (she/her) is the ruthless overseer of the Troll Factory, only answering to Rasmus Locke himself. Although her job is the creation, demolition is the first word in her vocabulary and she isn’t afraid to use it. Her short temper and sledgehammer makes it very dangerous to piss her off. Gunilla only ever thinks things through when not doing so might cost her the position she holds.

Bengt Yggsson (he/him) is a right-wing politician and the leader of the HAL party. He believes (or he says he does) in honesty and freedom for all to do what they want with as little interference from the government as possible. Although he seems jolly, if not almost a bit aggressive with a hint of delusional in public, in private he is held on a short leash by the lobbying of Mimer Corp. and by extension Rasmus Locke. On the inside Yggsson is a hollow husk of a misguided man once excited to make a better world.

Fredrik Nordsson (he/him) is a politician affiliated with the centrist PSH party, and the current president of Midgård. While he should be making changes for the better, he is a spineless liar who denies anything he has said, and he gets away with it too, being re-elected for the past five terms due to the citizens not knowing anyone better. Nordsson is blissfully unaware (or so he claims to be) of any dirty practices happening in the government, especially inside the HAL party.

[stressisakiller]

Cure

Tony Stark X OFC Soulmate AU

(Metallica, really? Part 4)

Summary: Tony finds a solution and Elizabeth makes a discovery.

Warnings: cussing

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: What is this? 2 chapters in 2 days? Who am I? Hope yall like this one, again I thought that I would be done with the second movie in this chapter but I'm not, oh well. As always I would love to hear your feedback! Enjoy!

Masterlist

Previous / Next

Arriving back at the house you drive the truck down to the garage to get it unloaded. Once unloaded and put back together you all just stare at it for a while. You feel like you can actually see the gears in Tony’s head turning.

“Jarvis, could you kindly vac-u-form a digital wireframe? I need a manipulative projection.” You watch in awe as Jarvis scans over the model, making copies of every building tree and shrub.

“1974 Stark Expo model scan complete sir.”

Tony picks up the scan and moves it to an empty area while still talking to Jarvis. You wonder what the hell you will bring to the table during this whole endeavor, but you knew that you couldn’t leave, Tony needs you whether he realizes it or not.

“How many buildings are there?

“Am I to include the Belgian waffle stands?” You snort at Jarvis’ reply, his snark is one of the things you love most about the AI.

“That was rhetorical just show me” He spins the projection and makes it vertical before him.

“What does that look like to you?” He asks seemingly to himself.

“Holy Shit, it’s an atom..” comes Sarah's voice from beside you.

“In which case, the nucleus would be here” he states pointing at the wire sculpture of the world that resides in the middle. He has Jarvis highlight the sculpture and make it bigger, then has him get rid of the footpaths.

“What exactly are you trying to achieve?” you ask a little confused

“I am discovering, correction, rediscovering a new element.” He states, you look at him surprised, that is not the answer that you were expecting from him.

“And you think this new element will help with your arc reactor?” you pose the question that you were most worried about the answer to.

“Here’s to hoping.” He mutters under his breath, not helping to quell your rising anxiety. He then gets rid of all of the landscaping shrubbery and trees. The parking lots, entrances, and exits are next, until all that is left is the central structure and all of the pavilions.

“Jarvis, structure the protons and neutrons using the pavilions as a framework” All you and Sarah can do is stare as the element takes shape in front of you. Tony throws his hands out to enlarge it so that you are sitting in the middle with all of the atoms floating around your heads.

“Holy shit” you whisper, Sarah, lets out a small giggle beside you.

“Dead almost 20 years and he is still taking me to school,” Tony says, sucking on his teeth before smiling, the first real smile you had seen from him in a long time.

“The proposed element will serve as a viable replacement for palladium.” You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding before letting yourself smile. Tony’s safe, he’s going to be ok , plays on repeat in your mind. Your heart breaks a little when you hear him mutter a quiet “Thanks Dad.” while looking at the projected element.

“Unfortunately,” Jarvis’ voice startles you out of your thoughts, “it is impossible to synthesize.”

You look questioningly at Tony, “Ok so what does that mean for us?” You ask, worried that this was all for nothing.

“It means,” he says, sending you a carefree grin that has the knot in your stomach loosening, “we need to get ready for a big remodel. We are back in hardware mode.” He claps his hands together walking out of the garage, leaving you and Sarah looking at each other confused. There is a beat of silence before Sarah shrugs and then grins at you, grabbing your hand she pulls you with her, following after Tony.

Hardware mode as it turns out involves a lot of busting through concrete walls with sledgehammers, Tony even gets out a jackhammer at one point although he doesn’t let either of you get your hands on that one. You and Sarah really should not have had as much fun with it as you did, but as it turns out hitting the shit out of stuff is great stress relief. It takes Sarah a minute to understand what exactly it is that Tony is building but when he pulls out these large black tubes from a wooden crate she laughs in surprise.

“Leave it to you to build your house with the ability to power a particle accelerator.”

You look at her in confusion, “Particle accelerator?”

“It will allow him to move the particles fast enough for them to stick together and create the new element.”

“Huh, that’s Fun” You deadpan, making Sarah dissolve into a fit of giggles.

You and Sarah ordered food, eating while you watch Tony work. At this point, he is in his hyper fixation stage, but you are able to at least convince him to drink some water and eat a spring roll. You are sitting off to the side chowing down when Agent Coulson walks in.

“I heard you broke the perimeter.” He comments to Tony, you clear your throat before correcting him.

“He didn’t, actually, I did, and anyways it was for the purpose of the project that Fury has him working on.” Shrugging your shoulders as you finish speaking.

A fleeting look of shock passes over Coulson’s face before he composes himself, his voice still betraying his surprise. “How do you know about Fury?”

“Google,” You state maintaining perfect eye contact, looking unbothered, “or ya know a couple of really smart people who are good at hacking.” Coulson rolls his eyes at you as you break into a smile, “I wouldn’t be a good PA if I wasn’t good at finding out about people.” You wink at him before turning your attention back to your food and letting Tony get a word in.

“I’m playing for the home team Coulson, you and all your fabulous furry freak brothers. You going to let me work or break my balls?” You can’t help but snort into your food container as Coulson pulls a red white and blue circle out of a crate. Is that supposed to be a shield?

“What is this doing here?” Coulson asks, holding it up for Tony to see.

“That is actually exactly what I need right now, bring it over.” You giggle when Tony makes Coulson help him place it under one of the tubes. Leave it to him to use something that looks important as a prop.

“I’m busy, what do you want?” He asks while checking to see if the tube is level.

“Nothing. Goodbye. I’ve been reassigned. Director Fury wants me somewhere in New Mexico.”

“Oooo, Land of Enchantment,” you call out, “did something fall from the sky?” You snort at your own joke until Coulson gives you a weird look, “Holy shit something did fall from the sky, didn’t it?” Your eyes widen in surprise, while you let out a chuckle.

“I’m not at liberty to say.” He says, always straight to the point.

“Secret Stuff?” Tony asks, knowing he won’t get a straight answer but enjoying messing with the man in front of him.

“Something like that” Coulson says before saying his goodbyes and leaving you all to your work.

After Coulson leaves Tony goes straight back to setting up the particle accelerator getting it ready to create his dad’s new element. You and Sarah sit back, you’re occasionally asking him questions and writing down his answers, if he is going to make a new element then someone needs to document it. Of course, your version of documenting includes stupid jokes and quips about the process, you like to think they will make Tony laugh when he looks back at your notes. Sarah is going on and on about this annoying guy from Hammer industries that keeps trying to proposition her, and not only to switch companies.

“He just won’t leave me alone, like dude take no for an answer, I don’t like you and even if I thought you were a decent human there is no way in hell I would leave my best friends at Stark industries to come work for your off-brand wannabe company.”

You snort at her impression of the guy and nod along at her observations. You really missed being around her. She's too smart for her own good sometimes but she has a heart of gold. Apparently, you had a propensity for attracting those types of people. Not that you minded of course.

You hear Tony call out for you both, saying that he is ready to begin and asking you to stay where you are before walking over and handing the two of you blacked-out safety glasses. He grasps each of your faces pulling you forward to place a soft kiss of good luck on the tops of your heads. You roll your eyes at his antics but can’t help the warm feeling that fills your chest. Sarah gives you a nudge and a knowing look, you just shake your head at her.

Tony heads back over and jokingly tells you to “Hold onto your butts” before starting the particle accelerator. You watch as the laser from the accelerator burns a line through the wall, cutting everything it comes across in half. He finally gets it lined up with the triangular vessel that the element will inhabit and strains to keep the beam in place as a bright light encases the core. He holds the beam in place for mere seconds before shutting the whole assembly off. You and Sarah remain seated for a moment longer.

“Did it work?” you ask, concerned that it may have failed.

“Jarvis?” Tony calls.

Congratulations Sir, You have created a new element.” Is Jarvis’ reply. Tony places the element into his redesigned arc reactor and you all watch with bated breath as the reactor begins to whir and glow.

“Sir, the reactor has accepted the modified core. I will begin running diagnostics” comes Jarvis' calm voice. Tony turns to look at you and Sarah a huge grin on his face. You glance at each other before running over and engulfing him in a giant hug.

“See Tony, I knew that we would figure it out.” You say pulling back a little from the hug to look him in the face. Tony gives a choked laugh before erupting into a fit of giggles, followed quickly by you and Sarah. You can’t remember the last time that you were this happy or this relieved.

“Holy shit it worked,” you say shaking your head “you’re going to be ok.” You allow yourself to fall a little more heavily into Tony’s arms, taking a moment to soak in the fact that he is safe.

Tony is telling dumee to clean up, while you are lounging on the couch looking through the news. Sarah had left a little earlier, her department needing her to look over the experiment that they are currently working on. You laugh at Tony’s exasperation when it comes to the robot, he threatens to take dumee apart all the time but you know that he would never be able to do it. Your laughter teeters out when you hear Jarvis say that there is a phone call from a blocked number coming in.

“Oh, my phone privileges are reinstated. Lovely.” You roll your eyes at him and turn your attention back to your tablet. You pause and sit up when you hear an unfamiliar voice flood the room, looking over at Tony you see that he is standing stock still, every muscle in his body tense. He says something about the man sounding good for a dead guy before muting the call and asking Jarvis to trace it. You quickly stand and walk over to Tony watching the screen that is pinpointing the call, it narrows the search down to Manhattan before the call is dropped. You rush to grab your tablet pulling up the last news story that you had been reading before the call came in.

“Look at this,” you say pushing the tablet into his field of view, “Hammer is holding a demonstration, it has to do with the suit that Rhodey took. Tony, it’s in Manhattan.” Tony wastes no time grabbing the new core and slamming it onto his arc reactor, ignoring Jarvis’ protests. The reactor glows brighter and you watch as the black lines from the palladium poisoning slowly fade, Tony coughs and says something about it tasting like coconut and metal before telling Jarvis to assemble his suit. You know that it is useless to try and stop him at this point so you don’t. Instead, once the light has died down you step in front of him and grab one of his hands getting him to look at you.

“I’m not going to tell you not to go,” you say, your voice firm but soft, “ but, I am going to ask of you the same thing you asked of me when I left.” you take a deep breath before looking from his hand in yours up to his eyes. “Come back to me.Please.”

He gives you a small smile and a nob before heading to his suit. You try to think of anything you can do to help him but there is nothing. He is about to fly out of the garage when you remember something Pepper told you when you were in her office. Fuck.

“Tony!” you yell, his helmet turns towards you so that you know he’s listening. “Pepper is at the expo!” you call your fear obvious.

“I’ll make sure she's safe.” He assures you, answering the unsaid request.

As soon as he leaves Jarvis pulls up the helmet feed without you having to ask. His insight causes you to pause. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Why are you showing me what’s happening inside his helmet? I mean you’ve allowed me to do this once before but it seems like something that should be private. “

“Because sir is your soulmate, is he not?” Jarvis’ words feel like a bucket of ice water being poured on your head.

“I’m sorry, how do you know that?” You ask, blinking away your surprise.

“The tattoo on your arm, Miss, once Tony became Iron Man its implication was obvious to me.”

“But Tony doesn’t have a mark, so what if you are wrong? What if I am wrong about this..” Your voice wavers a little at your question, scared of the answer.

“I don’t believe you are, Miss, yes it’s rare but there are a couple of instances of soulmates not getting their tattoos until they were ready for them.” Jarvis’ voice is calm, steadying your racing heart.

“Well if that is the case then why do I have one and he doesn’t?”

“I believe, Miss, that your mark is there as a reminder not to give up on sir, no matter how much you would like to,” Jarvis notes, his words take a moment to sink in but when they do you are able to give a small smile

“When did you get so philosophical J?”

“It has been known to happen on occasion, Miss.”

“Well J, let’s keep this information to ourselves, if or when Tony gets a mark then we will tell him, agreed?” You are concerned that he will feel obligated to immediately point out this new observation. You are relieved when he consents.

“I agree, Miss, but please know that if he ever asks me I will have to tell him the truth.”

You aren’t surprised with this stipulation, it was something you expected when you asked him to keep the secret. “I understand Jarvis, thank you, now I need you to focus 100% on Tony, bring him back to me in one piece J.”

“Yes Miss, I will keep the feed up and a line open in case you have any suggestions.” You don’t say anything to this, Jarvis is needed by Tony as you watch him approach the Hammer expo.

tagged users: @graniairish

[dragonofthedepths]

Is Lupin Still Burning fic ideas

I haven't actually watched this episode but that won't stop me from digging my fingers into every single angsty implication I can think of and dragging multiple fics out of it *mutters* now if only I could get around to actually writing some of these

Holding on by the Fingertips 14.1.22 Mamo underestimated Zenigata's obsession with Lupin. He can break up the rest of the gang but he can’t pry the Inspector off of Lupin with a crowbar, a sledgehammer, or a healthy dose of literaly-never-met. Zenigata has never heard of or met this man but by the gods he will keep chasing him no matter what. It's weird to chase a thief you can't even prove exists, predict his movements like they're second nature even if you've nothing to go on, but if anyone can do it it's Zenigata.

They get stuck 14.1.22 Mamo is defeated but they're still stuck in this new timeline and only Lupin has his memories. Platonic OT5.  Jigen is homeless, reduced to begging on the streets to survive. Goemon is silently suffering as he is exploited for his skills as an assassin, wondering if he has lost his grip on honor completely. Fujiko is guarded and tense, trusting no-one and watching to make sure her allies don't stab her in the back in the dog-eat-dog world of criminals. Undistracted by Lupin's insane nonsense, Zenigata has become incresingly mired in the ICPO's corruption, unable to fight it or remain free from its taint himself, leaving him feeling like his soul is being slowly crushed. Lupin is determined to pull the gang back together regardless, even if the end result is a bit of a different shape then before. (In other words they all have additional trauma and Zeni becomes a theif.)

Coin Flip 14.1.22 Mamo’s messing around with the timeline to break up the Lupin gang up ends up somehow causing Zenigata and Lupin to switch places. Zenigata waking up as the world famous theif Moneta, and Lupin as ICPO Inspectod Lenormand. Reversing things back to normal is a bit of a trick, and the Moneta gang would like an explanation as to why these two are suddenly getting along so well.

Eldritch Lupin 14.1.22 Lupin spends a lot of time undoing Mamo's work to get his gang back together. A lot of time. It works in the end and he gets everyone back where they're supposed to be, but he's not complely human anymore. Spending that much time with your head in the time-stream has consequences.

Jigen keeps his memories 14.1.22 When Mamo messes with the time-stream, for some reason Jigen is the only one to keep his memories in the new timeline, and he's stuck working with one heck of a handy-cap to try to fix things. Lupin comes easiest, the maniac more willing than most to trust a random homeless person off the street who swears up and down he's from another timeline where they're partners. The rest are harder to convince, but Jigen is freaking stubborn and more than a little nuts, he'd have never survived adventuring with Lupin if he wasn't.

Day (228/100) in my #∞daysofwriting  @the-wip-project  I decided to just go ahead and post everything I had for today instead of reserving some of it to be updated once I caught up to my backlog, because I honestly can’t remember why I was doing that at all. 

[caitlesshea]

to all the stars that light the road

For @malex-cupid Day 1: “I just wanted a chance to look at the stars with you.”

2017 

“Woah.” 

“You like it?” Alex asks and Michael just nods his head, staring at the gorgeous house that Alex brought him to.

“I love it,” Michael breathes out, and he does. 

It’s perfect.

It’s almost everything they talked about when they were kids, complete with the courtyard out front. If only it didn’t…

“It needs some work.” Alex breaks his train of thought and Michael nods.

“Not too much.”

“Wait til you see the inside.”

“Well alright Private, show me,” Michael drawls as Alex unlocks the front door. 

Alex isn’t lying, it does need work but it’s still gorgeous. 

“The work is cosmetic,” Michael tells him.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, unless you need plumbing or electric?”

“No, inspection said they were newer.”

“That’s good,” Michael says quietly as he looks at the kitchen.

A memory hits him of him telling Alex he’d do all the cooking for their little family one day, kids and all. It hurts to think about.

“I definitely want to do some upgrades.” Alex walks around the kitchen and touches the counters lightly. 

“Yeah, it’s a little stuck in the nineties,” Michael jokes and Alex smiles at him. 

Michael always wants Alex to smile at him. 

“I think I can work on it when I’m on leave, and then once I’m out it’ll be a nice project.”

“Yeah,” Michael responds, nodding along as he listens to the changes Alex wants to make to the house. 

“I want to keep the architecture and kinda bring it back to life you know?”

“Like a Southwestern vibe?”

“Exactly. You get it,” Alex smiles and Michael gets it,  he does. 

Because it’s his dream, too.

“I think some new wood cabinets, a tile backsplash, upgraded counters would do a lot of good in here.”

“And where did you hear that, Guerin?”

“Hey, Isobel’s an event planner.”

Alex raises an eyebrow and Michael is unable to resist.

“Alright so I watch a lot of HGTV, sue me.” 

What Michael doesn’t say is that he watches a lot of HGTV while dreaming up a life he could have with Alex. Could’ve already had with Alex if he wasn’t such a fuck up when they were younger. 

He shakes out of it as Alex laughs at him, pushing him towards the rest of the house, showing Michael two rooms and two bathrooms, an office, and a decent sized backyard. 

Perfect for stargazing.

“Right? That’s what I thought, too.”

Oh. 

Michael said that out loud. 

“C’mon, I’ll show him the garage. You’ll love it.”

Michael follows. 

2018 

Michael takes one look at the bathroom and brings the sledgehammer down onto all the hard work he’s done.

The green and blue tiles, the nice brown cabinets, the glass door. 

Shattered. 

All of it. Like his heart. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket but he ignores it, again. It’s Isobel but Michael can’t be bothered. He can’t face her inquisitive stare and know it all looks. 

He takes another swing, momentarily pleased when the faucet breaks off from the sink and he uses his powers to fling it farther into the broken shower wall like it’s target practice. 

His phone buzzes, again.

“What?” Michael growls into the phone. 

“Michael?”

Michael freezes. He knows that voice. A voice that is not Isobel. A voice that has been haunting his dreams since that call…

“Alex?”

“I’m okay.”

Michael drops to the ground, sledge hammer rolling away. He can feel that he’s sitting in glass and bits of wood but he doesn’t care.

“I thought…” Michael chokes down a sob and Alex makes a soothing noise.

“I know, I’m sorry I couldn’t call.”

“That’s okay.”

Alex sucks in a breath and it sounds like he’s crying.

“What is it darling?” Michael let’s the endearment slip in a moment of weakness.

“My leg…I lost my right leg.” 

“Alex.” Michael doesn’t really know what to say. His heart aches. 

Alex babbles a little bit, pain meds Michael figures. They hang up with Alex telling him he’s being transferred to Roswell from Germany in a couple of months. Michael stands up and looks at the mess he’s made.

He winds the sledgehammer up into the air and swings down on the vanity. Alex will need an accessible bathroom. 

He better get to work. 

2019 

Michael feels awkward. He knows he shouldn’t. But he does. He’s picked Alex up before, driven to meet him in other states, seen where he’s lived through the years. 

But this is the first time he’s picked him up on base. Usually Alex will get a friend to drop him off somewhere. But Alex said this time he wanted Michael here. 

So, he waits. Cowboy hat low on his head to block the midday sun, jeans slung low on his hips, belt buckle be damned, shirt opened just enough to be indecent. 

Michael sees the top of Alex’s head first, then as the other people part, he sees the rest of him, whole, and here. 

“Private,” Michael drawls and Alex’s eyes crinkle. 

“Michael.”

Michael isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do, just get in the car, hug Alex, grab his bag?

Alex answers that for him by coming closer and hugging him. Michael sinks into his warmth, relishing in the fact that he still gets to have this. 

“Glad you’re back.”

“Yeah.”

Michael separates himself from Alex even though he doesn’t want to, but the sooner they get off this base the better.

“Where to?” Michael asks as Alex fiddles with the radio.

“The airstream? I don’t think I can handle an air mattress at the house.” Alex shrugs and groans like he’s thinking of all the work that has to be done at his house. 

“Sure, want me to stop for food?” 

“Can we wait til Roswell? The Crashdown sounds amazing.”

“Sure.” Michael smiles and points to a bag on the floor with some of Alex’s favorite snacks.

“Oh, thank you.” 

Michael chuckles, he figures Alex will eat all the sugary candies he can and then he’ll crash but they’ve got a couple hours drive so that’s okay. 

When they finally cross the city limits into Roswell, Alex is out like a light. Michael sneaks into the Crashdown, grabbing Alex’s favorites, and then makes the drive toward Alex’s house.

When Michael finally turns the ignition off Alex starts to stir. Once he wakes fully Michael waits until Alex realizes they’re in his own driveway. 

“What? Michael?”

“C’mon, I wanna show you something.” 

Alex winces as he gets out of the car and Michael pauses. 

“It can wait…”

“No, no, show me, then we can sleep.” 

Michael smiles ruefully and then turns the little corner into Alex’s courtyard and watches as Alex takes in the changes.

“What’s all this?” Alex asks as he walks around the chairs and fire pit set up, the café lights, and small bar he made to go with the space.

“Do you like it?”

Alex turns toward him and Michael smiles as he nods his head. 

“There’s more, c’mon.”

“Michael…” Alex says a little choked up and Michael ushers his inside, watching as Alex takes it all in. 

His relationship with Alex is a fickle thing, similar to the plants that he’s placed throughout the house. It needs nourishment and time to grow, years of patience and dedication. 

He’d like to think after over a decade of trying to work on his life with Alex that he would’ve understood every reaction he’d have to someone secretly renovating his home through the last couple of years. 

But this, this reaction he wasn’t ready for. 

Alex has one hand over his mouth as he stares at the changes. His eyes are shining, happy tears falling over his cheeks. 

“Alex?”

“You did all of this?” Alex asks as he takes his hand away from his mouth. 

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind.” Michael shrugs and then suddenly Alex’s lips are on his and Michaels breathing for the first time in years. 

When they pull apart they’re both smiling, giggling almost like they’re seventeen again, and Michael’s never been more in love. 

“I can’t believe you did all of this, and my stuff...” Alex walks around, seeing his tapestries on the walls, books on the shelves, guitars in the corner. It’s all here.

“I took it out of storage, figured I could get it setup. It’s all done too, so you can sleep in a king sized bed tonight instead of on my crappy mattress.”

“I like that mattress.” 

Michael chuckles. “I can change anything you don’t like if - ”

“No. It’s perfect.”

“You haven’t even seen the rooms or the bathrooms yet.”

“I don’t care. It’s perfect Michael. Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

“And the yard?” Alex asks as he walks towards the back door.

“Perfect for stargazing.” Michael comes up next to Alex as he unlocks the door with his powers. 

They walk outside. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

[mightydragoon]

Luke and Leia vs the Galaxy

@silvereddaye 

.Our favourite Space Twins against the Empire with varying degrees of success. 

1. Legacy ---myrlendi (thehistorygeek)

Three months after the Battle of Endor, Luke Skywalker goes in search of a rumoured Jedi temple in a secluded part of the Mid Rim. He finds within the temple nothing but a strange artifact, which unexpectedly brings him much closer to the Jedi of old than he ever thought he would be.

When Luke fails to return from his mission, Leia goes after him, retracing his steps to the ancient temple — and to the past, to the time of the Clone Wars and the waning years of the Old Republic. Under suspicion by the Jedi Order, the twins struggle to find a way back to their own time while trying to keep their knowledge of the future from affecting the past.

This, however, turns out to not be as simple as it seems.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221810/chapters/35304947

2.  Skywalker Family Values- Ariel_Sojourner

Camp Chippewa is proud to be the Empire’s foremost camp resort for privileged young adults. Located on the picturesque forest moon of Endor, your child will have the opportunity to participate in wholesome outdoor activities and socialize appropriately with their peers. We invite your offspring to join us for the experience of a lifetime and a bright future in service of the greater glory of the Empire.

On opposite sides of the galaxy, on opposite sides of a civil war, Darth Vader and Padme Amidala unwittingly send Luke and Leia to the same camp during school break. Chaos naturally ensues.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258124/chapters/32883750

3. Back To The Future - PinkEasterEggs

Teenage Princess Leia, heir to Alderaan's throne and her twin, Luke Vader, heir to the Imperial throne, get thrown back in time with the chance to save their parents before it's too late. With the Force finally on their side, they decide to have a little fun whilst they try and save their father's soul.

What could go wrong?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217674/chapters/53048092

(Part of the Back To The Future series. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648657) 

4. No Time Like The Present - PinkEasterEggs

In a Galaxy where Princess Leia Organa and Imperial Prince Luke Vader didn't Time Travel to save their father's soul, a deadly discovery by their biggest enemy throws their entire lives upside down. Yet again.

Now on the run from the Empire, the Skywalker Twins find it their mission to bring peace back to the Galaxy once more. And with Darth Vader on their trail, that mission is far more complicated than they originally believed.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754825/chapters/59851300

(Part of the Back To The Future series. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648657)

5. Great as the Sea-- Valkirin

Rescuing the last of Alderaan's survivors was an important duty, not an obsession, and Leia did not need to take a break. She did not have time to think about Darth Vader, the Force, or Luke Skywalker. It’s just her luck that the Force sends her with Luke Skywalker to a time where Darth Vader is about to rise.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384253/chapters/25491066

6. turn my sorrow into treasured gold - cosmicocean:

“It might be better for you to die,” Obi-Wan muses as she holds her children in her arms. Padmé looks up at him and arches an eyebrow.

“I didn’t mean literally,” he clarifies.

“I know what you meant. I’m thinking about it.”

Padmé survives childbirth, dies as far as the rest of the galaxy is concerned, takes her children with Obi-Wan, and runs.

Pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7435467

7. The Assassin's Blade - LadyVader23

Two years after Order 66, Padme is both an assassin for the Rebellion and a mother of twins. She will stop at nothing to bring democracy back to the Galaxy, even if it means killing Imperials to do it. But news of suspicious assassinations reaches Sidious, who dispatches Vader to hunt down this mysterious assassin. What Vader discovers will change the fate of the Galaxy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432867/chapters/48475367

8. anything is possible the second time around cloverblob

Leia Organa is sure that she died. She laid herself down, ready to become one with the Force. Except that she isn't dead--she hasn't even been born. So how did she end up on Tatooine? And why would fate bring her right here, right now?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21941050/chapters/52364929

9.  Influence of Time Cateyes1401 and  SkylaDoragon

A freak accident sends Luke, Leia, and Vader splitting off to different points of the galaxy, over twenty years in the past. While Vader is careful to correct any errors his sudden appearance may cause in the timeline, Luke and Leia are not so cautious.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20333248/chapters/48211621

10.  Laying Down the Sand - Knitzkampf

An AU set at the time of ESB. Han Solo abandons Luke, Leia and Chewie to settle some unfinished business and sparks a series of events that challenges each one's destiny and the fate of the galaxy. An epic tale of friendship, love, family and lightsabers.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9921947/chapters/22232960

11.  Binary Sunsets, Binary Siblings - Coffeesforcatchers

The projection was as blue as the Tatooinian sky, making it hard for Luke to discern its features. But as the audio began to play, Luke felt his heart seize in his chest.

"Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

Luke stared at the droid, his mouth open. "That's my sister!"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14111466/chapters/32514372

12.  Deja Vu - oncomingstorm42

Time travel AU fix-it wherein Luke and Leia are sent back in time to halfway through The Phantom Menace. They proceed to unscrew the timeline and save their parents while also kicking ass.

(note* Private story. To read you must have an AO3 account) 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408782/chapters/22984893

13. Heralding Home -planningconquest

Family can be what we make of it. It can be lost and found and comes together in strange and amazing ways.

(Note* Modern Au but still same principal applies) 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130767/chapters/40288283

14.  Like Fire in Our Bones --- acuteneurosis

With all of the most important things in the galaxy literally exploding around her, Leia is given the chance to go back and help keep a promise she never personally made.

But then, for Skywalkers, saving the galaxy was always a family matter.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735813/chapters/46710241

15.  I am as Strong as the Seas are Stormy (And as Proud as an Eagle's Scream)- RhiannonOfTheRoses

Leia Skywalker is only hours old when the Empire rises.

Leia Organa is twenty-three when it finally falls.

OR: The one in which Leia Organa is explored, and her life is uncovered.

16.  Of Queens, Knights, and Pawns chancecraz

I went to sleep on the worst day of my life and woke to find myself in the past on the second worst day of my life. As experiences go, I don’t recommend it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8543680/chapters/19586203

(Part of the Of Queens, Knights, and Pawns series https://archiveofourown.org/series/825216)

17.  Runaway SilverDaye

Imperial Prince Luke runs away from home to escape his overprotective father Emperor Vader. Jumping from planet to planet he finds himself creditless on Tatooine. While working for more money to leave the planet, Luke meets an old man named Ben Kenobi. But Luke knows he can't stay in one place for long for surely his father is hunting him down.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630196/chapters/33813027

18.  take the spade from my hands (and fill in the holes you've made) A_Different_Type_of_Flower

With her dying father's last request, eighteen-year-old Leia Organa sets out for the Outer Rim to find an exiled Jedi master and a brother she knew nothing about.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219026/chapters/20908517

19.  Sparks SpellCleaver

Vader had every intention of ignoring that petty—if notorious—burglar on Coruscant, until evidence suggested that this "Angel" had Rebel ties.

Meanwhile, Luke never expected his father to actively hunt him down, and he doesn't like it.

20.  the price of forgetting - surabayuh

 Vader always thought that epiphany would come in waves; in the middle of meditation, perhaps, or a dream while he was resting, giving him unimaginable glee and satisfaction at its revelation.

He’d never thought epiphany would sledgehammer him here, at cell room number 2187, in the middle of an interrogation session, with an unconscious Alderaanian Princess laying on the floor.

(Part of the  the bang the war-drums series) 

(Note* Read the rest of this series seriously its so good) 

21.  heirs of the desert -- surabayuh

There was something about her, something familiar beyond the hairstyle or the attire; It was like a hole in his chest mended back by her presence. They walked closer to one another, slowly, slowly—like a planet realigning to their axis.

Dreams of a different life, a different reality, haunting him for as long as he could remember. Dreams of lush greeneries, of clear blue waters, of a high castle, of a brunette with bright brown eyes crinkling with laughter.

Leia, her name was Leia and he felt like he had known her his whole life, as if he'd known her as old as he had known time.

Around them, the Force sang.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22226950/chapters/53070706

(Part of the  the bang the war-drums series)

22. taste the regret (it's bittersweet.) - surabayuh

Han Solo didn't want much, really; he only agreed to pilot his way away from the grips of Jabba the Hutt, and maybe have a little adventure along the way. That was why he said yes to that old man's offer, back in Tatooine, why he came back to aid the Rebellion, back in Yavin.

But then again, who knew that somewhere down the line, he would have to be the middle-man in a galactic family drama that could determine the very fate of the universe?

Well; certainly not him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452316/chapters/53646223

(Part of the  the bang the war-drums series)

23. Endings and Beginnings, and Everything in Between - ITookTheOneLessTravelled

Dad might be mad at them, but Leia doesn't regret it. Luke and Leia Skywalker might be only fifteen, but they'd never have left their Dad in an Imperial prison cell to rot.

OR: Anakin raises the twins. Everything changes, but also nothing does.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757639

24.  No Heroes on the High Seas - SpellCleaver

When Luke's aunt and uncle are executed by order of the Emperor's right hand, Lord Vader, he flees his home to search for his sister and the mother he never knew. But then Obi-Wan Kenobi stows away aboard the same ship, Vader gives chase, and Luke is dragged into a conflict that his family are at the very heart of.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092340/chapters/40194893

25.  Ad Utrumque Paratus - obeyingthemuse

It's hard to bring balance to the Force when the only method you've seen is your black-cloaked psychic cyborg sorcerer dad with a severe breathing problem throwing an old man down the Death Star reactor shaft. As much as Luke would like to see the not-yet-Emperor dead, he doesn't want to be arrested by his unusually attractive(?) war-hero dad and spend the rest of his indeterminate time in the past dropping Ewok beats in a jail cell. Also Leia would probably kill him. But not before breaking him out of jail.

So when the twins wake up on Tatooine decades in the past, they play it safe. They take over a planet, reconnect with their adoptive and real parents without weirding them out (too much), and accidentally cause the Chancellor perpetual near-death experiences.

Nailed it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168628/chapters/16273712

Tags 

Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker 

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

TPWP Introspective

Hey guys!! So, as you noticed, there was no update today either, like I had commented that I may try and do if possible. The reason I didn’t post today, though, is because I remembered that I wrote a little introspective thing about TPWP a few days ago that I wanted to post before the next chapter, if possible. I spent the last hour and a half intermittently touching it up (while also talking to friends, ha). I wrote this after waking up at five in the morning and not being able to go back to sleep, so I was fairly tired and rambley when writing it, ha. 

Anyway, this is pretty long discussion about something that’s bugged me about TPWP for a little while, which is why I’ve made Taka so sexual despite not really thinking he would be like that in canon. In my attempt to write about that, my exhausted self also went into another problem I have with TPWP, which is the fact that neither Taka nor Mondo are really like their canon selves anymore. And while that was a purposeful thing, I never could pinpoint why, and I think I managed to in this post, so there’s that, ha. 

Now, it’s getting late and I’m very tired, so I’ll add my introspective thingy in a read more. It’s about 5k words and goes over a lot about Taka and Mondo’s interpretation in TPWP. 

Hey all! So, I wanted to go over something that’s been bugging me for a while in TPWP, though no one else seems annoyed by it. But I kind of am, so I just wanted to… I don’t know. Discuss it in case anyone else also has problems with it, but just isn’t bringing it up in comments. And the thing that I wanted to talk about is the fact that I’ve made Taka and Mondo so sexual in this story, despite this not really striking me as something Taka, in particular, would be like. In order to discuss all that, though, I have to go through a bunch of other explanations about what my main goal in this story has always been, as a kind of backstory. So, buckle up, my friends. This is a doozy.

 See, while I didn’t have much of an idea when I started writing, the one thing I knew I wanted to play around with was the idea of dismantling Taka and everything that makes him tick. In the game, he is shown as a strict, passionate, highly motivated character, spending so much time studying and trying to better himself that he lost sight of who he is other than that. He doesn’t have friends and confesses to Makoto that he doesn’t even understand how people make friends through connecting over things like television, since he’s so detached from anything other than his goals. The writers even comment on how he is almost mad with his passion and righteousness. 

 That whole persona seems so unattainable to me. I’m someone who seeks ‘perfection,’ right? I’m a perfectionist and it burns me so much to know that no matter what I do, there will always, ALWAYS be faults in the things I create. I put myself and my creations against others and always find myself lacking. It burns me and makes me feel so… I don’t even know. Unhappy.  Upset. Things like that. And I’ve gotten much better with this over the years, right? I accept that my work will not be perfect, and that anything I can create is enough since I created it and I enjoyed creating it. But the feeling is still there. The unhappiness. The discontent. 

 So, when I saw Taka and his madness to become better, I wanted to take that and see if I could deconstruct it. If I could break Taka down to his core, expose all of the secret little things inside of him that he must be hiding to present such a ‘perfect’ front, and turn it on its side. To give Taka reasons for his madness to better himself and then take it apart. Or, in other words, the entire premise I had for this story was to take Taka and break him down. And then, then I would build him back up. Into something less ‘perfect,’ less rules oriented, but a hell of a lot happier. Because in canon… Taka didn’t really strike me as happy. Not based on the things he would say to Makoto in both free time events and the school mode. 

 In order to do that, of course, I had to completely break apart the things that made him so rule oriented in the first place. And to someone who has spent almost their entire life building up this one persona, that sort of thing can be terrifying and uncomfortable. And it can lead to a lot of confusion and scrambling afterwards. 

 Chapter 17 was where I made the biggest break for Taka. I’d been chipping away at him for the first 16 chapters, and then 17 was the one where I took my sledgehammer and went to town. That chapter was the one in which Taka realized just how unhappy and discontent he had been growing up. He’d always stuffed that down and ignored it in order to keep going, forcing himself to ignore his pain so that he could become all that he wanted to be. He wasn’t even conscious of doing this since it was so deeply engrained in him by that point. Like I said in the very first chapter, Taka would run so fast and so fervently from his insecurities growing up that he didn’t even notice that they were occurring within him. Or if he did, he ignored them until it all went away.

 In chapter 17, Taka stopped being able to run. His feelings for Mondo created a huge rift inside him and he didn’t know how to handle it. And then, after his conversion with his father, he realized that he’d been forcing everything down for all of his life, to the point that he didn’t know who he was. He wanted to be an upright, moral individual, but how could he be if he is in love with a man? How can he be when he can feel such impure, base desire for someone, a man especially? And I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with a man loving a man, not at all! Just… it went against the carefully constructed morality Taka, personally, had spent his entire life forcing himself to abide by, and that was a huge blow to him. He couldn’t comprehend it and he just… fell apart. 

 But he didn’t fall apart alone. Mondo was there to catch him as he fell, was there to help gather the pieces, and Taka latched onto that. He didn’t know what was happening or why, but he knew that Mondo was a vital component to all of it. In a way… Mondo was everything to him. 

 The main point is that I wanted to break Taka’s character apart, mostly because I cannot imagine someone being that moral and upright while not being completely miserable (or without actually being completely immoral, like all those people who preach righteousness while actually doing horrible things behind the scenes without care). There’s a sort of misery in enforced righteousness, especially considering how horrible the world can be. I liked Taka and I wanted him to be happy. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, imagine him being the way he was portrayed in the game and also being happy. Maybe that’s just me projecting, but… I don’t know. 

 But deconstructing years of a carefully constructed persona is— like I said— terrifying. And for someone like Taka, whose entire life plan was crafted around a certain image? I can only imagine that would be like jumping off a plane into a black, inky darkness, no idea where you’re going to land. But Taka did that, because the only other option was to continue living with intense unhappiness, lying to himself to keep his sanity. But the problem with lying to yourself is that it gets so much harder once you know the truth. It can be done, of course, but it leads to even more unhappiness and pain and Taka… Taka realized that he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be in pain anymore. He… he wanted to be happy. Which is an incredibly hard thing to accept when you’ve spent years silently accepting your own unhappiness as a fact of life. 

 As such, everything that has occurred since chapter 17 has been Taka’s attempt at constructing a new personality, in a way. A personality that marries the beliefs and goals he has always had while also combining them with a new sense of happiness and contentment in his life that before now he’s never felt. And this… this is so, so hard for him to do. 

 And it gets harder when his and Mondo’s relationship shifts. When he gets a taste of something he’d previously not allowed himself to ever, ever feel. Which brings us to the questions of why, exactly, I put so much sexual content into this story, despite it not seeming like something Taka would really want to do in canon.

 Because… it’s not about pleasure. Right? It was never about pleasure or desire. It was about Taka allowing himself to feel something that every human feels (or, you know. Not every human. But a lot). It was about making Taka acknowledge that he is feeling these ‘impure,’ ‘sinful’ desires and allowing him to feel it. And, of course, this can be overwhelming. Taka has never allowed himself to feel these sorts of things before, had always pushed them so far down he couldn’t even see them. So far down he could pretend they weren’t there. 

 But they were. They always were. Taka can feel desire and attraction. He can feel them just fine. The whole point of the sexual content was to show Taka that it is okay to feel like that and that it’s not wrong or immoral. That Taka can feel attracted to someone, a man especially, and not feel ashamed. But more than that, it’s about allowing Taka to acknowledge that can be who is he in general without shame. That he doesn’t always have to be ‘perfect’ or infallible. That he can just be… Taka.

 The biggest problem in all of this, however, is the fact that Taka is not the only character in this story. He’s not the only one going through a metamorphosis. Because Mondo? Oh, you can bet your sweet behind I was making Mondo go through his own metamorphosis, too. 

 Because everything I said about Taka up until now? I also feel about Mondo. I view Mondo’s tough guy, biker persona just like I view Taka’s upright, moral one. It’s a facade. Something that is hiding what is truly going on under the surface. It protects their soft, gooey innards, keeping them both safe whilst also providing them a sense of being. Of belonging. 

 But it’s not healthy. Hiding behind a persona, not letting your true emotions show. It’s unhealthy and leads to, you know… pain and unhappiness. And Mondo… Mondo also strikes me as a somewhat unhappy character. His disconnect in the game is less towards other people, however, and more towards himself. Makoto acknowledges many times after speaking with Mondo during free time events that he has a hidden side to him. A softer, ‘cuter’ side that he tries (and fails, ha) to keep hidden. 

 Like with Taka, I wanted to break Mondo’s carefully constructed persona and remove this hidden person inside him. I wanted to bring that person to the surface, finally allowing Mondo to stop feeling like he has to hide behind anger and rage and being ‘strong’. I wanted… I don’t know. To allow Mondo to not feel so ashamed of his weaker side, I guess. 

 This was a lot harder to do than with Taka, though, for a couple reasons. One, I was not writing from Mondo’s perspective in TPWP, which means all of his metamorphosis was being seen through the eyes of another. Which is not always easy to portray, sadly. For another, Mondo has a huge reason to keep his inner self hidden and locked away. Taka’s reason is shame and a desire to prove himself, right? This, in my eyes, is fairly simple to deconstruct. All you have to do is find a way to remove the shame and realize that it’s okay to feel what you feel. And yes, this is challenging, but… it’s not impossible. 

 Mondo, though? What’s keeping Mondo back isn’t just shame and a desire to prove himself. No. What’s holding Mondo back is guilt. Mondo feels guilty for his weakness. He feels guilty that his supposed ‘weakness’ killed his brother. He feels guilty that this same ‘weakness’ is preventing him from telling the truth, from accepting the responsibility for his supposed crime. Mondo, in many ways, hates himself. In this story, at least. And guilt is a much, much harder emotion to deconstruct than shame. There’s also the fact that I made Mondo an abuse survivor, which adds another element into this all that I won’t get into since this whole thing is already much longer than I’d initially intended, oof. 

 Anyway. The point here is that both Taka and Mondo are going through this metamorphosis at the same time. And I did this purposely since I wanted to have them help each other grow. Right? Because I view Taka and Mondo as very similar characters. They both have a need to prove themselves and a sense of inner righteousness that guides them in what they do. They just took opposite paths in their expression of these things. But ultimately, at their core, Taka and Mondo are very similar in my eyes. 

 Honestly, that’s part of why I had them hate one another in the beginning (on top of the fact that they didn’t get along in the game at first either, ha). That was each of them seeing themself in the other, and absolutely hating what they saw. Because they hate themselves. Because they cannot stand the persona they’ve created. Because it’s such a painfully false front that it’s almost offensive to them to see it on another. 

 Chapter ten was my way of letting them acknowledge a sense of self love for the first time. By accepting the other as flawed, but still fundamentally good, it allowed them to see themselves in a somewhat positive light for the first time. To accept that this person they once hated with all of their heart is… not that bad when it comes down to it. And not only are they not that bad, but they’re actually kind of amazing, really. 

 I… hm. I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I am very tired and am kind of just rambling at this point. I guess I just… I wanted to acknowledge that I’ve changed both of these characters a lot from canon, Taka especially. And this change has been expressed in a great way in Taka’s increased sexuality. And that I know this, that I know this isn’t really what canon Taka would act like, but that’s kind of the point. As much as I love Taka as a character, he’s kind of one dimensional. All of the characters in Danganronpa are. I think, in a way, they’re meant to be. But when you spend time with them, during the free time events and the school mode, you begin to see a slightly more well-rounded picture. 

 But it… it still feels a little flat to me. A little hollow. So, in this story, I just… wanted to flesh out these characters that I like and see so much potential in. I wanted to take them, give them tragic backstories, and see if I could find a way to give them balance. To keep them somewhat the same as they once were, to not fully remove their canon aspects, but not have that be their sole, defining characteristic anymore. Taka is still the Ultimate Moral Compass, and Mondo is still the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader. But that’s not all they are. Not by the end of the story. 

 Now, did I succeed in my plan? I… honestly, I don’t know. This entire thing was never something I consciously thought of while writing. It was more… a desire of mine, which might be why I’m having such a hard time describing it here, ha. It’s up to all of you to determine if I succeeded in writing these characters in a way that respects their canon characterization, while also adding a sense of balance within them. 

 Also— not to sound pretentious (though I know I am, oof. I always am when dead tired, sorry)— but in a way, this whole story was a metaphor for self-acceptance and self-love. And allowing yourself to find peace in who and what you are, no matter what. I made Taka and Mondo literary parallels in this story for a reason, giving them similar backstories (Taka was abused by bullies and neglected by his father; Mondo was abused by his father and neglected by his mother. Mondo’s brother died, leaving a hole in his heart; Taka’s mother died, leaving a hole in his heart. Taka watched his grandfather fall from grace and used that as a catalyst to ‘better’ himself, thus hiding all the unpleasant and unsavory aspects about himself; Mondo watched his brother die and used that as a catalyst to ‘better’ himself, thus hiding all the unpleasant and unsavory aspects about himself… etc.) to showcase this metaphor, in a way. 

 And it… it was to show that them helping the other grow symbolizes allowing yourself to grow, too. It symbolizes taking all the harsh and ugly parts of yourself that you hate, seeing it in another person, and realizing you actually love them, really. It symbolizes showing kindness to yourself for your faults, something I personally struggle with. By having Taka and Mondo love one another so fiercely, even without fully knowing why… it symbolizes, in my mind, letting you love yourself. 

 And, like… I know how pretentious this sounds, ha. And I don’t think I really succeeded in portraying all of this, unfortunately. But I just… I don’t know. I love the idea of Taka and Mondo and I wanted to write a story where they love one another unconditionally, while at the same time learning to love themselves too. 

 In many ways, I wish I had made this story take place over the span of a longer amount of time. Three months is just… it’s too quick to do everything I wanted to do in this story. Like I’ve said before, this story was never meant to be so long, word count wise. And a lot of what I wrote about here was not really planned when I started writing. While I wanted to deconstruct Taka, I didn’t really realize how long that would take, oof. Or what it all would entail. I thought three months would be plenty of time in universe, but then more and more things started happening, and by the time I realized it would need more time to progress naturally, I had passed the point of no return, pretty much.

 If I could do this story all over again, I think I’d make it take place over the span of a year instead. I’d start the school year in April, like it’s supposed to be in Japan, and extend the amount of time Taka and Mondo were enemies. I’d have them become friends shortly before summer break and when they come back, have them go through the beginnings of their friendship like I had it in the story, but allowing it more time to progress. Taka and Mondo would still have their fight on Halloween, since that’s kind of an important aspect of that chapter, but they’d have had a longer time to be friends before that occurred. And then, after that, they’d have their physical relationship progress a lot more naturally and less hurriedly, the relationship spanning from perhaps right before winter break begins to the end of the school year in Japan, which is March. It would give them more time to come to terms with everything and accept themselves. 

 Part of me honestly kind of does want to change around TPWP to do this, but it would change a lot of fundamental parts of the story, which would be a lot of work. And if I was planning on publishing this story, I’d definitely do it since I think it would fix a lot of the problems that I have with how this story progresses. Three months is not long enough to completely deconstruct your entire personality, really. A year is a lot better and makes more sense to me. But, as it stands, I… I like TPWP. Is it perfect? No. But… that’s kind of the point? Nothing is perfect and if I allow myself, I’ll keep digging myself into more and more holes with this story, and at some point, I just… have to acknowledge I did the best I could and move on. Also, I do think that having it take place over three months isn’t completely unrealistic. Not with how unhappy both Taka and Mondo already had been. And there are some things that would be unrealistic if it took place over a year, too, so… eh.

 I really don’t know where I’m going with this anymore, dear god. I’m going to go back to my original point real quick and hopefully finish this now hour long, rambling rant I’ve for some reason been going on. Jeez. 

 So. The purpose of the sexual content in this story. It— like a lot of other things in this story— was more meant as kind of like… a metaphor. It’s not about the sex, it’s about self-acceptance. Taka spent so many years denying himself and his sexuality, fearing it and feeling ashamed of it. By allowing himself to be sexual and intimate with Mondo, he’s accepting that aspect of himself and embracing it. But, because he spent so long denying it, he doesn’t quite know when it’s too much. He’s spent his life pushing down his discontent and discomfort to become what other people want him to be, and as such, he doesn’t quite know where his own boundaries lie. 

 And I’m going to be quite honest with y’all: Taka doesn’t enjoy the sexual acts quite as much as he thinks he does. No, I’m not saying that Mondo is taking advantage of Taka, or that Taka hates what they’re doing, not at all! Just… Taka feels uncomfortable with the things he and Mondo are doing, but because he enjoys the sensation and enjoys being close to Mondo, he pushes down the feeling of discontent, like he’s done all of his life. He just… doesn’t know what else to do. He knows he likes being close to Mondo, knows he enjoys the things they do together, but can’t quite put his finger on the fact that he doesn’t really enjoy being sexual. That he only likes the sexual acts because it’s the only way he can be close to Mondo in the way he wants, both physically and— in a way— emotionally. 

 And part of Taka does realize this, right? The deep, deep, hidden part of himself that only comes out at night when everything else is silent. I call this the ‘introspective’ part. But this is a hard part of yourself to access and acknowledge. Especially when you’re young. I, personally, am a very introspective person. It’s why I can write about emotions and feelings decently, and why I am currently writing this little introspective about TPWP. But it was a lot harder for me when I was a teen to realize what that introspection meant. It’s why I didn’t realize I had undiagnosed anxiety until I was eighteen and in college, which was ironically a lot easier for me than high school was. It took me being out of the situation I was in to look at myself and realize exactly why I felt what I felt, even though I knew I felt that stuff much earlier. 

 Taka’s still in his bad situation, though. He’s still struggling with the desire of what he wants and what he’s forcing himself to settle for. And, basically, he doesn’t understand why he’s unhappy at being sexual. He knows on a base level that he is, but he can’t quite place his finger on the why. Which is, as I’ve said, because it’s not really what he wants. He’s settling for having Mondo in whatever way he can because he thinks he has to. But it’s not what he wants, and it’s honestly killing him inside to be so close to his desired outcome, but not have it. He hates that the only way he can have Mondo is in such a shallow, debased way, but he’s forced himself to believe that this is all he will ever have, and that he must be happy with it or else he will lose it, like he’s lost every good thing in his life before that point. And the thought of losing what he and Mondo have is just… it’s too much for him. He’s still figuring himself out, still building his new personality from the ruins of the old, and he kind of needs Mondo to help prop him up as he does this. 

 (Which is, by the way, unhealthy in a relationship. It’s very codependent and can lead to some negative outcomes in its own right. But this rant of mine has been going on for almost two hours, so I’m not going to get into this right now. Just know that I know, and that it’s not intended to be portrayed as a good thing. None of Taka’s coping mechanisms are, which is why they all fail in the end, leaving him discontent. But as of now, Taka kind of needs Mondo, so he’s overlooking the potential negative outcome and is just allowing himself to have Mondo. Make sense?) 

 In the end, the only way for Taka to fully come to terms with everything that is swirling within him is to have Mondo acknowledge the love they share for each other, since he can’t accept everything about himself until Mondo does. He needs Mondo to look at him, look at his flaws, and say ‘I love you no matter what. You are not perfect, but I still love you.’ And while Mondo has done this to some degree, it’s not the love Taka not-so-secretly desires. But, like I said earlier, Mondo is going through his own metamorphosis and isn’t quite at that stage yet. 

 All of this comes to a head in the last three chapters of TPWP. Does everything get resolved by the end? No. Of course not. There’s just not enough time for that. Discovering yourself takes years, really. And you never finish. Even if I had elongated the amount of time this story takes place to a year, there still would be things unresolved when the story ended. 

 That being said, the main problems both Taka and Mondo are going through reach a conclusion. I don’t want to go too much into this to prevent spoilers, but just know that everything I brought up here? Gets some form of acknowledgment in the last chapters and gets some manner of resolution. And everything else was initially intended to be resolved in sequels, which may or may not be written, who knows. But TPWP ends in a way that even without further writing from my part, I firmly believe that all of y’all can see where Mondo and Taka will go from here. That it won’t be easy, but that they will eventually figure themselves out. 

 So… yeah. That insanely long and complicated rant boils down to this: Taka and Mondo being sexual is not really about them being sexual but is about them understanding and accepting their love not just for one another, but for themselves, too. It’s a catalyst. And I didn’t go over Mondo’s views on this all, and I won’t since this has gone on so long (plus I’ve not written Mondo’s perspective on those chapters yet, so even I don’t fully know, though I have ideas), but believe me when I say it’s more than just sex for him, too. That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t really want to categorize this story as explicit at first, since it’s never been about the sex to me. It’s… more than that. 

 I don’t know if any of this made any sense, but I think I’m going to stop now. Maybe I’ll go back when I’m less tired and expand on this (and I’ll let y’all know if I do, writing after this break if I added anything or not) (I added a little to some parts and took out a couple of parts, but mostly this is the same thing I wrote between 5 and 7 am when I couldn’t sleep, ha), but for now, I’ll leave it. 

  ~

And— final thing (that I added after trying to fall back asleep and failing, ha)— maybe I’m being more pretentious about my writing than it deserves. Maybe I’m saying all of this to try and excuse the flaws in my writing, like I always do internally. But… I don’t know. This is legitimately the sort of thing that went through my head whilst writing. I knew I wanted to put these elements in my story, even if I wasn’t consciously thinking about it, but trying to do all of that is just… hard. And I’m limited as a writer, I’ll acknowledge that. My thoughts are too big for my head and trying to write them all down is complicated for me. It’s why this little introspective is so long and rambling. It’s my way of trying to not just get you all to figure out what I mean, but also get myself to understand it. Because, while I know what I mean on an abstract, metaphysical level, I don’t really understand it all myself in a concrete, definable level. And this rambling is me trying to make sense of that. Does… does that make any sense at all? Or is this just gibberish? I don’t know. I think I understand it, but I have no idea if anyone else will. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

 Anyway. I hope this didn’t come across as too pretentious or like I’m trying to show off how ~~intellectual~~ I am. That’s not my intention at all. It’s just… it’s how I think. And it’s how I show myself to the world, in a way. My written work is always so personal to me. I put a lot of myself into my work, sometimes intentionally, but often unintentionally. And I’m not saying I went through any of what I put Mondo or Taka through. In fact, almost none of it relates to my life at all. I was never abused by anyone, nor was I bullied in school. I have a fairly good relationship with my parents and was well liked by my classmates, even when I didn’t really go to class often due to illness. I am not impoverished, nor have I ever really faced high expectations from family or the people around me. I’ve never really had to anguish over my sexuality, since I accepted myself as asexual pretty easily, though I still struggle to be open about it with everyone. And I’ve never lost a loved one.

 So… no. It’s not that I’ve gone through what the characters have gone through. But… the emotions. The feeling. All of that… it’s me. Even if it’s imagined or created, I feel everything that I write and put down. It’s why angst comes more naturally to me, since I’ve felt a lot of negative emotions in my life. And most of it is self-inflicted. Like… I mentioned that I never had high expectations from family, but I did from myself. I expected so, so much from myself, and I still do. And while I was always well liked by my peers, I still felt alienated from them, like I… I don’t know. Didn’t really belong. And I feared that if they ever got to truly know me, THEN they’d hate me, and that was just… I don’t know. Too much for me. The thought that these things could happen. That I could have good things and then, through my own personal failings, lose them. 

 These fears are where I come from when writing. My fear of being hated and isolated. My fear of never being enough. My fear of letting everyone down. My fear of always being alone and losing the people I love. I write about it in my stories and I… I find a way to fix it. To show myself that even if something like that did happen, it… it can get better. You can still be loved even if you are flawed and kind of broken inside. And maybe I don’t believe that I ever will find love, maybe I can’t believe that anyone would look at me like that if they truly got to know me, but it’s still nice to read about it. To see my fears in characters I love and have them be okay in the end. It’s why I always like to have at least somewhat happy endings in my stories. I need to see that it’s okay. That even if the worst-case scenario happened… I’d still be okay. 

 (Also, I know people are going to ask this, but please know that yes, I am okay. I get like this sometimes, where I think a lot about stuff, and it can be overwhelming, which is why I write it down. It’s funny that I’ve never had a diary or journal, since it seems like something that would help me, but writing things down for my personal perusal never made sense to me. It’s why I always post things like this. It’s really personal, but it helps me feel better. Like I’m being understood in some way. So, just… know that I’m doing alright. I just wanted to try and explain something that has been bugging me in this story for a while now that I finally found the words for. And by letting it out into the world, I can remove it from my chest, I suppose. But introspection doesn’t really upset me much. It’s cathartic more than anything. Painful and confusing while going through it but relieving once it’s done. All I ask is to be heard, that’s all. And understood if possible. If you’re willing.)

 (Also also, please know that I wrote this little introspective several days ago while very tired, and I’m over this burst of emotions by now mostly. So, again, I’m really okay. And I’m not pulling a Taka, trying to pretend I’m doing alright when I’m not. I do mean it, ha.)

 (Also also also, but y’all can see where I get my writing style from when looking at this, ha. This is basically my thought process written down, which is why TPWP is written the way it is. I write like I think, which is long, rambling, and emotive. Just a little fun fact. ^-^)

[azure-steel]

So it’s munday, and I’m not really about the selfie game because I’m kinda ugly and no one wants to see that xD

So, instead I’mma share a couple stories from my job (Well... bad clients I’ve had, names omitted of course~) under the cut because people have this misconception that what I do is like a rockstar’s job and is all kinds of glamorous, I can promise you it really isn’t~

If you haven’t read my rules page yet (tsk tsk, you should!) then know that I’m a tattoo artist at a relatively successful little town shop in the centre of the UK. I’m fairly busy and have a pretty good client base. I don’t own the business, I just work under that particular banner. For the most part my days are pretty uneventful and chill but there are the odd times when things can go a little wayward.

Anyway, onto story time:

1 - THE NIPPLE MAN

Ugh... this guy lol. Okay, so in short he’s a lil bit kinky and he comes to us once every few months asking that we “level up” his areola. For whatever reason he’s convinced that his nipples drop - yeah, DROP... W H A T??? - over time and start to look uneven or unsymmetrical. 

This confused us all because we could never see an issue so we asked him (regrettably) why he thought this. Turns out he has a kink for his boyfriend SWINGING OFF HIS NIPPLES (his words not mine) which causes them to droop. Like... dude... that isn’t how this works but okay, whatever. He has areola the size of digestive biscuits now. They do not look good but he thinks they look amazing. 

to each their own I suppose. 

2. THE PASSER OUTTER

Okay, so I’ve had my fair share of these. It happens, people get all worked up and nervous and sometimes tend to black out during the process. It really isn’t that big of a deal but this instance I’m about to talk about has scarred me somewhat xD

It was her first tattoo, and she’s made the rookie error of watching tattoo horror stories on youtube of people generally not doing well under the needle prior to her appointment. So she’s nervous as all hell, but I sit her in my chair and I chat extensively about how it’s really not that bad. It’s more irritating than painful, like a cat scratch and that I’m there and her mom was only in the other room and everything will be fine. It was only some simple line art she was having anyway, a 20 minute job, tops. 

WRONG!

She complains that she’s feeling weird about 3 minutes into the project, so I pull away, but before I manage to place my machine back onto the station she’s out for the count and slipping out of the chair. She was a big girl so the best I could do at that point was grab her legs with both arms and prop my leg on the chair to stop her hitting the floor like a sack of spanners. A few seconds go by, she comes to and I’m like “Hey there~ I lost you for a couple of seconds, you okay?” She says she’d like to sit out front with her mom for a little while so I help her into the front but she’s a bit dramatic about it.  Whining, moaning and groaning that she’s not feeling well. 

WELL. I go back to my work station just to make sure everything is in order and step in a puddle... ... when she’d passed out SHE’D PEED ALL OVER MY CHAIR AND ALL OVER THE FLOOR. I was, in short, utterly horrified that I now had to clean up this girls piss from around my work station and disinfect the entire area as well as myself and she hadn’t even the decency to tell me what had happened! 

I go back out front and whisper to her mom what’s gone down and request that she go buy her daughter a new pair of pants because I can’t work on her again if she’s gonna be sitting in my chair with soiled pants. 

That 20 minute job ended up taking me 4 fucking HOURS. I don’t think she’ll come back for more after that... 

(I’ve also had a couple people literally throw up on me too but I won’t talk about those...)

3. STINKY MCSTINKERSON

Oh yes, I was a mere apprentice when I was subjected to this rather aromatic gentleman. My work mates called it my Initiation into the Tattooers Club, assholes. 

Anyway, the guy poles in for his appointment, it was a warm day but the guy showed up wearing these odd plastic trousers (kind of like waterproofs you wear when riding a motorcycle in wet weather) and this thick fleece hoodie that was utterly ingrained with dog hair. The guy looked like he hadn’t had a bath for about 6 years and the SMELL hit you like a sledgehammer as soon as he walked in. I knew I was in for a bad time... he was booked in for 6 hours Dx

The design was to go on the back of his thigh, so I ask him to present the area to me so I could check the size of the piece. He just drops his pants right there in the reception area in front of EVERYBODY, us, clients... and he’s wearing these comic book underpants that were clearly made for a child and his ass cheeks were hanging out of them, it was a whole fucking mess. 

I remember needing to have a few extra breaks just to get away from his stink and I broke down in tears half way through the day because it was just THAT BAD! 

The piercer was shovelling mints down my throat all day to try and mask the smell and I threw myself so damn hard into that project that guy left with one of the best tattoos I’d ever done! 

I love my job, I do, I will never do anything else, but it really isn’t as cool as people think xD

[phantom-curve]

find the strength, find the melody pt. 4 (working title)

I think I like this title but I can’t decide so don’t kill me if it changes!

also, you guys are amazing. your love for this lil fic makes me feel so happy. I’ve never written this much this fast for a side project. it’s actually starting to take over all of my writing so I might have to slow this roll a bit and catch up on my actual novel before I can post most. 

or maybe I’ll just lean into the insomnia writing even more! stay tuned to see!!

as always, lemme know if you wanna be added to the tag list! @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles (hey lookie there, a title! also sorry not sorry you cried, but at least you were in good company with me and Julie), @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​,  @kat-maybe-not​

Later that night, long after her father and Carlos had gone to bed, Julie crept out to her mom’s studio. She knew she was going to have to tell her dad about the music program eventually. She was shocked her Tía hadn’t beat her to it already. She needed something positive to offset the disappointment he would feel. Her dad had been gently prodding her to go out to the studio and at least maybe clean it up a bit for weeks now. He would love this improvement, that is, if she could work up the nerve to actually play. Sheet music clutched in her numb hands, she wrenched the studio door open. It was exactly as she remembered it.

Her eyes slipped shut as she stepped inside. She didn’t need to look to know where the couch, coffee table, and chairs would be gathered. She knew exactly how to avoid bumping into the ladder leading up to the loft. Her hand reached out just in time to catch on the fabric covering the piano, Julie allowing her fingers to lead her down the side of it until her pinky brushed a key. One soft note rang out, and her eyes opened, staring down at where she pressed lightly on the white key.

Her feet moved on their own, skirting around the bench, her knees bending automatically as she lowered herself to sit. A tight sensation built in her chest, her breaths picking up speed. The sheet music shook as she forced herself to lift the pages and spread them out on the music rack. She arranged the piece in the correct order, wasting time as she avoided touching the keys for now. Her eyes traced over the song again, her mind showing her exactly how her hands would dance along the instrument, exactly how her voice would reverberate in the silent space. Her gaze snagged on her mom’s final message once more.

You can do it.

Warmth blossomed in her chest, replacing the cold, lifeless feeling that had lingered there for the last year. Julie felt it all at once. Her mother’s love shining off of the pages in front of her, filling up all of the empty spaces inside of her. She could hear her voice, whispering those words in her ear. Tears sprang to her eyes again, but they were different this time.

Julie had thought that she would never be able to play without her mother because she never had. Every defining moment of Julie’s life was underscored by a soundtrack mastered by the one and only Rose Molina. She had thought that without her mother, the music would fall flat. She had thought it would be meaningless without the significance her mother, specifically, attached to it. Julie never realized until this moment that she had been the soundtrack to her mother’s life as well. The two of them, the soundtrack to her brother’s and father’s lives. It hadn’t only been Julie suffering for the last year.

A new type of determination surging through her veins, Julie placed her hands on the cool keys, lining her fingers up with the opening notes. Her mother deserved to be remembered like this, her music recognized and loved by more than just Julie. She would have hated the fact that Julie hadn’t played in so long, would have given her that sad smile, that soft, disappointed mija sigh. Her family deserved to come out of the silence she had forced upon them. They deserved to enjoy music the way they always had before Rose died. It was cruel the way she had taken it away from them. And Julie herself deserved this moment too. She had been punished long enough. Her mother’s love overwhelming everything else, Julie took a deep breath and began to play.

Here’s the one thing I want you to know

You got someplace to go

Life’s a test, yes

But you go toe-to-toe

You don’t give up, no

You grow

The opening was shaky, her fingers clumsy as they stumbled over the unfamiliar notes. Her voice cracked a bit, rusty from disuse. But then muscle memory took over, and Julie felt the tension drain from her body. Her fingers began to move with a mind of their own as she read the notes on the pages in front of her, voice smoothing out as she worked out the frogs. She made it through the pre-chorus easily enough, but the chorus hit her harder than expected. Like her mother was giving her permission to forgive herself for all of the hurt of the last year, reminding her that it’s who you are at your core that matters most. Telling her she still had the time to pull herself out of this spiral. That old message about how the music was always bigger than just the two of them coaxing her out of the shell she had hidden herself away in for the last year.

Better wake those demons

Just look them in the eye

No reason not to try

Life can be a mess

I won’t let it cloud my mind

I’ll let my fingers fly

Her fingers really were flying. She couldn’t even really feel the keys anymore, so sure as she pressed down against the ivory that she didn’t even have to look at the sheet music. Her eyes closed, head lifted as she belted the pre-chorus into the sky. The chorus hit again, but she was ready for it this time, emotion powering every line as she poured her heart and soul into each note. Visions of her mother filled her mind and Julie could practically feel the warmth of her love radiating throughout the studio. She glanced down to read the lines for the bridge and the words hit her like a sledgehammer. Like a secret letter from her mother written exactly for this specific moment.

So wake that spirit, spirit

I wanna hear it, hear it

No need to fear it, you’re not alone

You’re gonna find your way home

Her voice rang out pure and clear as she held the word as long as she could. Home. She really was home now. Here, in her mom’s familiar studio, playing the last song her mother’s hands touched, Julie was finally home again. The sense of rightness filled her completely as she finished the last round of the chorus. Her hands dropped from the keys, reaching out to gather the papers to her chest once more, the most precious treasure she had ever touched. 

Eyes closed, basking in the afterglow of playing, she imagined her mother’s spirit behind her, ghostly arms wrapping her in the sweetest hug. Julie shivered against the electricity coursing through her system. She felt alive again. An unexpected clatter sounded from the doorway. Julie’s eyes popped open, anticipating Carlos or her father walking through the doors. Nobody appeared, but she caught the tail end of a muffled curse. It was just loud enough to send a ripple of awareness through her.

“I can hear you, you know.”

She already knew who it was. She expected him to beat a hasty retreat, maybe yell something out in a horribly disguised voice before he melted into the shadows. Without warning, he appeared in the doorway, shoulders raised and a sheepish smile on his face. His eyes darted around the studio, refusing to meet hers. Her mouth fell open. Where does he keep appearing from?

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you, I just...I heard you playing?”

He said it like a question, an unsure tone she’d never heard him use before coloring his tone. She watched the way his bicep flexed as his hand rose to scratch at the back of his neck. That seemed to be his nervous tick. His body language told her he wished he was anywhere else right now. Then she glanced at the clock.

“What the hell are you doing creeping around my house at 1:00 in the morning?”

Luke’s cheeks turned bright red. The tips of his ears, peeking out of that same orange beanie, colored too.

“I’m not creeping!” Julie met his gaze steadily, raising a brow at his defensive declaration. “I uhhh, I just...I don’t really sleep? Or...well I guess...I don’t really have a place to sleep...sometimes...?” 

His voice trailed off, uncomfortable in every sense of the word as he stammered his way through his explanation. 

“My parents and I don’t always get along. Sometimes it’s easier to tell them I’ll crash somewhere else, only there isn’t always a somewhere else available.” 

He shrugged, careless and cocky, but it was off. Everything about him was off right now. 

“I make do. It’s no biggie, just gives me more time to soak in the club scene. Gotta stay one step ahead of the competition, ya know? It’s like a blessing really, gives us that edge.”

His rambling words painted a picture she was sure he would rather keep private. It didn’t take a genius to read between the lines. She didn’t buy his cavalier attitude for a minute. He was lying through his teeth. She knew. She had been lying for a year straight to practically everyone in her life, had nearly rotted her teeth through with all the saccharine sweetness she had faked. Her lips twisted in a sour smirk.

“You’re full of shit, but whatever. That couch pulls out into a mattress. You’ve gotta be gone by 6:30, that’s when my dad wakes up for work.”

“What?”

The squeakiest note yet. Julie looked Luke square in the eyes. That same intense energy from the other day sparked between them. The moment stretched on a beat too long. Julie gulped and forced herself to soften her tone. It was easier than expected.

“Stay here for the night, Luke. I’m not gonna ask about your parents, and no one is going to bother you in my mom’s studio. Sleep on the pull-out couch. There’s a bathroom in the back. It even has a shower and I think there’s still some soap in there though I can’t promise it isn’t floral scented. You can disappear in the morning and we won’t ever speak of this again.”

He stared at her, blue-green sea glass eyes cutting through to her very soul. She didn’t respond, letting the silence stretch and morph into something entirely too intimate. The tension between them pulled taut, Luke’s gentle smile breaking the moment as he took a few shy steps into the studio.  Julie ducked her head, tucking a few loose curls behind her ear, before she moved to meet him in the middle of the room, gracefully spinning around his body so her back was pressed against the doors. Their eyes caught again. One of those strong hands reached up to scratch at his neck once more.

“Thank you.”

The words were a quiet whisper, almost as sweet as when he returned the song to her earlier. She could hear everything he left unsaid with those two words. Thank you for not asking. Thank you for giving me a safe space. Thank you for caring. Unable to help herself, she bit her lip, gave him a small nod, and ducked out of the doors in a near perfect recreation of his response outside of the school that afternoon.

Heart a little lighter, she sneaked back into the house silently. It wasn’t until she was safely tucked away in the darkness of her bedroom that she dared peek out the window at the studio. The lights were off, but Julie swore she could make out a shadowy figure peering through the windows up at her room. She dropped her curtain like it was on fire, diving into bed and burying her head under the pillows. Heart racing, she laid with her eyes closed and tried to convince herself that Lucas freaking Patterson wasn’t slowly making himself a home in her heart.

[cantdwellonanyofit]

The Pacific / Meta

I’m going to start that new thread because like you mentioned the old one is very long XD I’m always chuckling as I’m scrolling for ten years to get to the recent conversation.

@stolperzunge

I also think Gene always had anxiety pre-war. Plus throw in a little depression too as we've previously discussed. And now he's kind of a wreck. He manages it better as time goes on, but I think he'll always struggle. I also think he's determined though, and he'd try hard to overcome it by doing whatever recommendations his father would give him. I think being science minded makes you more prone to seeking out cures/research. Or am I projecting....again? XD Ohhh yes...Snafu is just like a little tomcat sliding up next to Gene and purring gently until he relaxes. And Gene always feels so honored by the affection because, just like a cat, it's not given freely to many people. Maybe Snafu rubs the bridge of Gene's nose or his eyebrow until he calms down *heart eyes emoji*

Okay but can you imagine Mr Heebie Jeebies, going into Mr Sledge’s doctors office at least once a week and being like “Sir, it’s serious! I have this spot there-” “Merriell, son… that’s just a mosquito bite…” Mkay, let me tell you something stolperzunge. Since I can't call you by your name since I don't know it (it’s like Sledgehammer/Snafu, it’s your lil’ nickname :'D) I often laugh pretty intensely at the things you say because you're absolutely hysterical. But this time..............There were tears in my eyes. How ....how did I NEVER think of this? How absolutely hysterical. And Snafu can't stop pronouncing ailments wrong and Mr. Sledge tries to take him seriously because he doesn't want to hurt Snafu's feelings. I've booked my ticket for this train and I won't be leaving you behind on it just because I can't cope with my emotions *stares at Snafu, shakes him gently* All aboard.

Snafu deeeeeefinitely liked Ack Ack. I think Snafu even saw him as a bit of a father figure, which was a very big deal for him. Snafu heads right into the war after losing his parents, and I think he was very lost in that direction. I think it helped him be a bit ruthless because he was thinking 'well, fuck it, I have no one to answer to.' But then Ack Ack is there and Snafu surprises himself by wanting to impress him. Or at least get his shit somewhat together around him? Then he dies, and Snafu is again struck by the loss of someone he loved. I like to be sad, folks. But I really feel that way. Even from their incredibly limited interactions...*clears throat loudly so you can't hear the forced hc's* Gene definitely admired Ack Ack. I think the whole lot of them admired and loved him. Ughhhhhh yeah, I really liked Hillbilly so I was like D: that entire scene. And the boys nearly getting themselves all killed just to carry HillyBilly, and Ack Ack is just like ‘take him back.’...so angsty. But I liked the dynamic of Ack Ack and Hillbilly. 'Excuse me, why are you guys beating the sh*t out of each other?' 'Old friends in Mobile? That explains it' I think they would've been a lot of fun if those two got up to banter.

Oh man, that's one AU I'd be obsessed with. Snafu and Leyden would be a riot together. When Leyden starts ragging on Peck about his 'girlfriend' after Peck gets shitty with Snafu, and Snafu is behind him just grinning....shitheads. I feel the same about the more I watch him the more I like him. That's so true! He does really cling to the gentle people and kind of take them under his wing. I really like Leyden being the only one to say what they were all thinking to Snafu 'grab a brush and help us?' I love his inability to back down from a fight. Including literally getting punched in the face. :| I die when Gene is fighting the Japanese soldiers after Bill is wounded and Leyden just keeps desperately calling out 'Gene' and reaching for him. (Side note, I was rewatching that scene to see what else I missed and the very next scene is the one where Ack Ack says you can't dwell on any of it, and I never noticed Gene looks right at Snafu then. And Snafu just casts his eyes down...@_@ CHARACTER ANALYSIS ACTIVATED.) I love Burgie, so much. Every scene he's in is a blessing. He’s so multifaceted. I like to think at some point after the war that Snafu and Gene would  go together to find Burgie solely because they miss him. 

I 100% see him pressing a kiss to the crown of Gene’s head at least once in their lifetime because this little man loves his ginger bff just so much! Yes! 100% ;_;

Definitely agree with you about faith! I think it's good to surround yourself with different practices and ideas. I think it helps people not get trapped in a bubble.

I always hate that when you throw out a quote and people are like '?????' XD

I looove the heebie jeebies scene!! And the sledgehammer/ball-peen hammer scene you also quoted! It’s fun to imitated their pronounciations even ^^ I love that scene too. Snafu is the worst and best. Also, not to be a Debbie downer but as I was going through some of the old scenes I forgot how much Snafu really ragged on Peck. I now have even more ammunition that Snafu would blame himself for Peck inevitably losing his shit. Just gonna casually take a good thing and ruin it XD 

[freebooter4ever]

Rubber Ducky Road Trip

Fun Fact: the rubber duck actually surged to popularity after WWII when a sculptor started manufacturing a cute yellow version of it as toys for kids instead of just dogs! Anyway, Joe’s photo with the weird creepy roadside giant duck statue? 100% inspiration for this. Thank you @badgerms​ for editing this for me!

Post War AU, Snafu still left Sledge on the train. One day Snafu gets it in his head to go see the newly constructed World’s Largest Rubber Duck on the side of the road somewhere in Oklahoma, and he decides to stop at Sledge’s first because Eugene’s letters say Eugene is taking up bird watching now, cause ducks totally count. Also they adopt a dog.

Snafu doesn't understand civilian life. The things most of his neighbors consider commonplace - well balanced meals, regular showers, polite conversation, underwear - Snafu no longer has the patience for. He was never a good civilian before the war, and he's an even worse one after. Not like Eugene with his perfect manners, and stalwart ideals, and easy conversation. If Snafu imagined a model upstanding citizen, Eugene Sledge's face was the first to pop into mind. A deep indefatigable ache came with it.

Eugene's face also brings to mind guilt. In two forms - one: guilt for having cut off all contact with him, and two: guilt for having had any contact with him in the first place.

Snafu doesn't kid himself - Sledgehammer probably would never have gotten through the war on his own. But Eugene Sledge always deserved better. Snafu knows Eugene got off that train to meet a welcoming party, exactly like Burgie. He'd been watching Eugene's face when Burgie hugged his little brother tight. Eugene was looking at them with understanding, empathy. He wasn't baffled by the scene, like Snafu was.

Snafu got off the train to nothing but crowds of strangers. He disappeared. And hoped Eugene would imagine a lie when he thought of Snafu. Maybe a father who stayed up all night just to be there at the station at three am, a mother who had food waiting just for him, a house warm and clean for his little sister to actually have a childhood in. Anything Eugene could invent is probably better than the reality Snafu never told him about.

When Snafu imagines Eugene's civilian life, he imagines white picket fences, and a hoard of smiling extended family wearing bright clothes in the sun, and lots of unnecessary hugs. That's where Eugene would fit in. That's what Snafu wants for Gene.

All the things a good civilian is supposed to have in their life. None of which make any damn sense to him. He's still young, which keeps off most of the pressure to become respectable. But he sees the odd looks thrown his way, he knows the talk. Every bit of gossip compounded now that he's a veteran, and suddenly that means his vices can be overlooked - that means he's eligible. But only if he keeps up appearances. Only if his nightmares stick to night.

What a joke.

He expounds upon this topic loudly and at length to anyone who will listen. Very often this means to his coworkers during after work drinks, sometimes over a game of cards. It doesn't make him many friends.

On one such night, a few years after V-J day, one of the coworkers tosses a strange yellow toy into the betting pool.

"What the fuck?" Snafu asks, snatching the thing up, "You trying to cheat us? Ain't no way this is worth anything."

Apparently, though, it is. The little yellow toy is called a "rubber duck" and it's the latest craze to hit the United States. The things are selling out everywhere, and they're on every child's wish list this winter. Not that Snafu would ever know what the latest trends are. He doesn't follow fads or styles. He understands them even less than he understands civilians complaining about things like slow service or cold weather. And this new yellow toy is the worst trend yet. Personally, Snafu thinks it's the ugliest thing he's ever seen - plus it looks nothing like any duck he's ever seen.

His coworkers laugh at him and chide him for being a confirmed bachelor with no kids at home throwing tantrums over toys. As if that's something Snafu could even begin to understand. This generation of children - demanding toys instead of being grateful for what they got.

He wins the card game and collects his money, but promptly tosses the duck to the first child he passes in the street.

Somehow word gets around that Snafu Shelton is giving away rubber ducks, because the next time he steps foot outside of his apartment, the grubby neighborhood kids swarm him like he's Santa Claus or some shit. He barely escapes with his life.

Luckily Snafu knows a friend in the rubber manufacturing business, and a week later a sack full of duck toys just happens to fall off the back of his friend's truck. Snafu distributes them amongst the neighborhood. It's not a free for all, he carries one or two around in his pocket and hands the ducks off to the weird kids. The small runty ones wearing castoff clothes too big for them, who come home from school with bruises and empty stomachs. Snafu remembers what it's like being small and watching fads pass by instead of taking part. 

So Snafu is less like Santa Claus and more like a kingpin throwing wrenches into the carefully balanced schoolyard popularity hierarchy.

This being a poorer neighborhood on the outskirts of New Orleans, no one really has the means to designate social status. It's all just silly things like who can afford something as small and inessential as a rubber duck and who can't. Snafu himself rents a shitty top floor apartment with a private entrance that doubles as a fire escape. It isn't so much an apartment as it is a room with a twin bed. But there's trees all around, and a big window at the foot of his bed, and a narrow decorative balcony (the useless kind not meant to hold humans - another part of life Snafu doesn't understand) attached to the window.

The first thing Snafu bought after the war, even before he bought a bed frame, was a beautiful stone birdbath. The kind like the one in the park his mom used to take him to. They'd sit on the park bench, and spend hours watching the birds splash around, and it bored Snafu to tears but it was the only time of the week his mom didn't cry so he learned to sit as still as he could.

Snafu put his brand new birdbath on his useless balcony and for two years every spring morning he woke with the sun, crawled down his bed, and watched the birds sing their thanks through the open window.

This year, as winter approaches, Snafu looks at his now empty birdbath and gets an idea. He didn't keep any of the rubber duckies for himself, but luckily his friend in the business has connections and manages to get him one extra. And Snafu's lonely winter mornings are assuaged when he wakes to see a friendly yellow face bobbing happily in the cold bath outside his window.

Snafu thinks he's simply cleverly besting migratory bird patterns until more yellow ducks start showing up in his birdbath. This time wearing hand sewn floral bonnets, or flower crowns, or top hats, or in one particularly painful case - a tiny toy army helmet.

The little neighborhood shits are climbing his trellis to his balcony and putting the damn things in there at night. Every couple of days the rubber ducks will disappear only to be returned wearing new themed outfits. When Christmas comes and Snafu wakes to discover he has a completely full bird bath containing not only a duck wearing a santa hat but also all twelve reindeer ducks - one of which has a painted red nose - Snafu finally admits this fad is here to stay.

And that is how Snafu becomes known around town as the weird bachelor who collects rubber ducks.

It gets so bad even the secretary at the lumberyard where he works saves him a newspaper clipping about a town two states over. The girl sneaks it to him during lunch and Snafu reads the article over his shitty thermos of soup.

The world's largest rubber duck is being erected somewhere in Oklahoma by some hodunk town hoping to put themselves on the map by throwing excess rubber, no longer needed by the war effort, into a useless vanity project.

Idiots.

A few days later Snafu is playing cards, and winning as always, when he finds himself rethinking his stance. He stops mid-sentence when he realizes he is having a conversation with his coworkers about ducks. And it's normal. And he doesn't want to roll his eyes right out of his head.

Maybe he is adapting to civilian life after all.

He collects his winnings and goes home. He ignores the New Years themed duck floating outside his window and goes straight to the crooked chest of drawers wedged in between his bed and the wall. He opens the top drawer, pries off the false bottom, and lets the stack of letters and all his life savings fall to the floor. He gathers up the letters carefully, leaves the money, and sits on his bed to read.

There are a bunch of letters - each addressed to Snafu in the same beautifully written cursive. The handwriting inside is neat, and elegant, and never strays from tight measured lines, as if the author places the blank sheet of paper over a lined page to use as a guide. If each letter wasn't signed with a no nonsense, perfectly legible "Eugene", Snafu would never guess they came from the same man he watched scribble away in a bible - writing that looked more like chicken scratch than actual words.

Snafu shuffles through the letters until he finds the one he's thinking of. Eugene's letters are full of normal things Snafu no longer relates to. They're artificially pleasant in the way of small talk, and say the kinds of things people who have nothing in common say to each other. Snafu doesn't like to think about him and Eugene no longer having anything in common. Whenever Snafu receives a letter, he reads it, feels his heart shrink two sizes smaller, and then slides the letter into his secret drawer to forget about it. If he hides it and doesn't reply he can pretend civilian Eugene would still care about him, no matter how all fucked up Snafu feels.

He never forgets what he reads though, and this letter in particular from a month ago details Eugene's new found hobby - bird watching.

Finally, they have something in common.

He scoops all his savings off the floor, adds his week's paycheck and tonight's winnings to the pile, and calculates how much gas he'll need. Then he fills up his truck, borrows a tent from his friend, and starts off down the road.

A day later he shows up on Eugene's porch.

He knows he made a mistake when a butler answers the door. It's shock that keeps him rooted to the spot for the few minutes it takes for Eugene to be called in from whatever activity Snafu interrupted. He knew Eugene was one of them rich kids, but a butler was beyond even his imaginings.

Shock keeps him there initially, but it's amusement that keeps Snafu on the porch when Eugene appears in the frame, takes one look at him, listens to Snafu's brief "I hear you like birdwatching" quip, and slams the door in his face without another word spoken.

Snafu can hear Eugene's mother's scandalized outrage through the walls of the house.

The door opens and an older woman with an aristocratic but comfortable air takes Eugene's place.

"I'm so sorry," she says, slightly out of breath, "Please, come in. Sit. I'll get you a glass of iced tea. I don't know what's gotten into that boy sometimes."

He and Mrs. Sledge exchange introductions, and she immediately recognizes his name.

"Oh, you're the one Eugene's been sending all those letters to," she says. She doesn't mention the tiny detail that Snafu never sends any letters back.

Snafu smiles and perches on a stiff chair in the parlor. He accepts the glass of tea, and drinks it to avoid awkward conversation.

Mrs. Sledge bustles around rearranging things to make more room, and also to avoid awkward conversation. "Eugene Bondurant Sledge!" she calls, "Get out here!"

Eugene obediently appears in the doorway, a petulant look on his face that Snafu knows well. Eugene's stubborn presence does nothing but force Mrs. Sledge and Snafu to carry the conversation.

"Your friend's come all the way from New Orleans to see you," Mrs. Sledge prompts.

Eugene remains silent. And standing.

"A stop along my way, actually," Snafu says. His charm is turned up as high as it will go. Partially out of respect for the mother of his best friend, and partially to see Eugene's blood pressure rise with every obsequious word out of Snafu's mouth.

"Oh, where are you headed?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Out aways, into the middle of nowhere. Woke up one morning and got it into my head I wanted to see the world's largest duck," Snafu may be talking to Mrs. Sledge but his eyes remain unwavering on Eugene.

"I dare say," Mrs. Sledge says, "And what  species of bird is this exactly?"

"Can't be sure, ma'am," Snafu says, "That'd be more Eugene's area of expertise."

"Well, how big is the world's largest duck?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Don't know, haven't seen it yet," Snafu drawls with a grin.

Eugene looks fit to burst.

"How far do you have to go to find this bird?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Just a couple of days drive, maybe a week round trip," Snafu says, "Was gonna ask Eugene if he wanted to come along."

"What a splendid idea," Mrs. Sledge is delighted, "Eugene doesn't have any plans scheduled for the next few weeks. It'd do him good to get out for a while."

Eugene's petulance slowly transitions to horror as the conversation goes on and he realizes there is no polite way to extricate himself from this situation without disappointing his mother terribly.

Which is how Snafu ends up with a silent and surly Eugene sitting next to him on the bench seat in his truck's cab and a basket full of gifted provisions neatly tucked into his truck bed next to his borrowed tent.

Snafu fiddles with the radio, switching stations whenever he gets bored with whatever murder mystery radio play or big band music is being broadcast until they drive too far out into the sticks to get any kind of signal.

The minute he switches the radio off, Eugene finally speaks up.

"Since when are you interested in birdwatching?" Eugene's tone is accusatory.

"It was kinda forced on me," Snafu shrugs, "Or I forced it on myself. On accident."

"And we're going to see the world's largest duck?"

"Ahuh," Snafu agrees.

"And where would that be, exactly?"

"Oklahoma."

Eugene screws up his face. He pulls the atlas out from underneath the bench seat, and flops through it till he hits the southeastern United States.

"Alabama is not in between New Orleans and Oklahoma," Eugene points to the map. As if Snafu doesn't know his geography and Eugene needs to prove to him the position of Oklahoma and Mississippi.

"Never said it was," Snafu says calmly.

"You said picking me up was a 'stop along the way'," Eugene argues.

"I said it's a stop along my way. Never said my way was the most direct."

Snafu keeps his focus on the road, but he can feel Eugene's eyes on him.

"Yeah? Missed you too, Snaf," Eugene says as if that answers an unasked question and settles more comfortably in his seat. He props the map up on his lap and traces the spider web of roads with his finger.

Everything goes smoothly the first day. They eat lunch on the side of the road. It's warm, and the heat of the truck's engine makes it warmer, but they prop the doors open to let a breeze flow through and make sandwiches from the food Eugene's mom packed. Snafu provides the desert. He brought a slender bar of chocolate, provisions in case Eugene turned him down.

Now he breaks it in half and shares it with Eugene and watches him suck melted chocolate from his fingers.

Eight hours of driving later when it's almost too dark to see they stake out the tent on a dirt field to sleep. Snafu tosses and turns until he rolls to face Eugene and finds wide unblinking eyes staring back at him. They decide sleeping on the ground isn't for them, and set the tent up in the bed of Snafu's truck instead. The wooden slats are hard and a little uncomfortable but it's different enough from memories that they're finally able to fall asleep pressed back to back.

The next morning is quiet, and still. They snack on fresh snap peas for breakfast and strike the tent in silence. They don't need to talk about it. Snafu senses Eugene's understanding. For once it's nice to not need to explain his particular brand of insanity.

Later on the road again, in between casual conversation, Eugene brings it up.

"Best sleep I've had in months," he says.

"Me too, Sledgehammer," Snafu admits.

On the second day it rains. At night they park at the edge of a small town in the lot of a gas station run by a friendly old lady who lets them use the outhouse on her property and the outdoor shower behind it. Snafu laughs at Eugene becoming so spoiled he needs daily baths now. And Eugene retorts that not everyone can have as nice of a natural musk as Snafu, and it's enough like a compliment to shut Snafu up quick.

Snafu leaves Eugene toweling his wet hair dry in the truck cab, and runs across the few feet of muddy gravel to use the outhouse. When he comes back he starts to hastily climb into the truck, but stops when he notices a strange shadow under the carriage hiding from the rain.

He reaches over the bench and pokes Eugene awake.

"Flashlight," Snafu whispers, gesturing to the floor.

Eugene hands him the flashlight. And then pulls the blanket over his head to go back to sleep.

Snafu crouches on the runnerboard of the truck to keep his feet off the ground for an easy escape, bends down, and shines the light underneath.

A head lifts up and a pair of reflective eyes look back at him.

Snafu flicks the light off, lifts himself back into the cab and digs through the picnic basket for the leftovers from dinner.

"Snafu, what are you doing?" Eugene complains from under the blanket.

"Just give me a minute," Snafu says.

He jumps to the ground and waves a bite of chicken to the darkness under the truck.

"C'mon, boy," he says.

It doesn't take much to get the big shaggy dog out from underneath the carriage and into the cab. Eugene gets a rude awakening, however, when the dog decides to make a bed out of his lap.

Snafu can see Eugene jolt awake, but instead of kicking the weight off his lap, he just shifts to accommodate it.

"Snafu, next time warn me if you're going to sleep on me," Eugene grumbles.

"S'not me, boo," Snafu says with a grin.

Eugene peeks from behind his blanket, sees the dog, and promptly sits straight up in his seat. He grabs his towel and starts drying off some of the water and dirt matting the dog's fur.

The dog chooses that moment to fart.

Snafu starts laughing at Eugene's scandalized face that looks so much like his mother's, until Snafu starts choking from the smell, and then he leans over Eugene to roll the window down. Just a crack, enough for fresh air but not enough to let rain in.

It's rather cramped in the truck cab, with the tent (more useful keeping out mosquitoes than rain), and the picnic basket, and the two boys, and the dog, but they manage.

Snafu wakes up to whines. At first he thinks it's the dog. It's the middle of the night, there are no street lamps all the way out here, and he can barely see. Until there's a jerk of movement on the other side of the cramped bench seat and the dog climbs over Snafu to shelter under his feet.

"Eugene!" Snafu exclaims. He takes Sledge's arm and then remembers what happened the last time he watched someone being held down mid-nightmare. He keeps a safe distance and says loudly, "Sledgehammer!"

Eugene snaps awake. He lurches forward, and stops when he sees Snafu sitting up and watching him.

Snafu takes his hand then. Eugene twines their fingers together. He's still breathing hard with his mind half out of this world. Snafu can see it in his eyes. The dog wanders over and places his head back on Eugene's lap. Eugene looks down, sees the dog for the first time since he woke. He turns to Snafu.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Eugene asks.

"No," Snafu says firmly.

 Neither of them fall back asleep for a long while after that. 

The next morning the dog plods slowly along when they walk to buy groceries. He patiently waits outside the door for them to finish and plods along after them when they go back to the car. When they open the car door to wedge the grocery bag into the picnic basket, the dog jumps up and sits on the bench seat between them.

"I think you accidentally adopted a dog," Eugene tells Snafu.

Except it's Eugene who feeds the dog, and Eugene's lap that the dog chooses to sleep on most of the time, and Eugene who names the dog 'Fred'.

"What the fuck kind of dog name is that?" Snafu asks.

"Like you're one to talk Merriell," Eugene retorts. Eugene uses a fond tone for Snafu's given name like it's a good thing, and that throws him for a bit of a loop.

"Sure thing, Bondurant," Snafu croons.

Eugene throws a slice of turkey at Snafu's smiling face in response, which is a dreadful waste of food, but Freddie happily eats the discarded turkey and licks Snafu's face clean.

At one point the car breaks down. Fortunately it happens on a flat stretch of road so not only can they see the gas station in the distance, but it's also fairly easy to push the truck along. Snafu jerry-rigs a contraption to keep the steering wheel pointed straight, and off they go. The dog lumbers into the truck bed, watches them push for a bit, and then falls asleep in the sun.

When they reach the station, Snafu pays for use of the tools, but does all the repairs himself. The mechanic who runs the station is jovial and sharp tongued. He and Snafu trade stories and exchange barbs while Snafu works.

Eugene sits and waits in a camp chair off to the side, the dog in his lap and his fingers stroking the dog's fur. He watches Snafu with keen eyes, but doesn't say a word.

Snafu winks at Eugene when he peels his sweaty button down off and bends over the engine wearing nothing but his undershirt.

"Come on, Freddie, let's go for a walk," Eugene stands and leads the dog out of the garage.

They're not gone long. Fred isn't the 'go for a walk' type of dog. Eugene shows up again twenty minutes later carrying a large panting dog bundled in his arms.

"He got tired," Eugene explains.

Snafu hastily grabs a clean tin from the mechanic and fills it with water for the dog. When Eugene takes it from Snafu's hand, their fingers brush.

Snafu thinks about that brief second of contact for the rest of the day.

With the car up and running again, they finally reach their destination. It's around four pm, and the sun is beginning to set, but the baked dry land around them is still warm. The large rubber duck is not actually in town, though they have to drive through town to find it. The buildings still show the ravages of the dust bowl - peeling paint bleached by the sun, splintered wood, missing planks, weeds everywhere. Feels like home.

They take a turn onto a single lane of freshly paved road at the edge of town and drive to the end till there is nothing but fields around them.

"Snafu…" Eugene starts. Neither of them have gotten out of the truck yet. Fred is fast asleep between them, farting as usual.

Snafu grins wide, his hand tight on the steering wheel as he pulls the truck into park.

"Snafu, that is the ugliest sight I have ever seen in my life," Eugene states.

"Surely not the ugliest, don't you remember Leyden?" Snafu asks.

"I thought we were going to find the largest duck in the world?" Eugene asks.

"And here we are," Snafu gushes, gesturing to the view outside their windshield.

"You failed to mention the duck is rubber," Eugene says.

"Never asked," Snafu responds. He kicks the truck door open and jumps down excitedly.

In Snafu's mind, the world's largest duck does not disappoint. It's a good few feet taller than him and the duck's bill comes right up to his head. And if he leans his face forward enough he can make it look like the duck is either eating or kissing him.

"Snap a photo," he calls to Eugene with his head still in the duck's mouth.

Eugene clambers out of the truck to comply. Once done, Eugene sits on the curb and watches Snafu examine the duck.

Snafu circles the statue. He pokes at it and tries to gauge if it's actually made entirely of rubber.

"Think this thing's hollow?" Snafu asks.

"Like your head," Eugene drawls.

Snafu leans around the duck to grin at him.

"He's got your eyes," Eugene comments.

"You've been paying attention to my eyes?" Snafu goes round to the front of the duck and notices the eyes are painted an unnaturally vibrant shade of robin's egg blue.

"Hard not to Snaf, when you ask me if they're yellow every time I turn around," Eugene says.

"One time," Snafu says.

"Once was enough," Eugene says.

Snafu remembers that time. And if he remembers that time, the first time he touched Eugene's skin for reasons other than necessity, he also then remembers the more recent time, with the dog bowl. And his fingers start to itch.

He places his palms flat against the hot rubber of the duck. It smells like car tires, and wood chips, and fresh air and summer. There's no gasoline or any other rotting stench to remind him of other days involving the strong smell of rubber. This smell is childhood, and innocence.

Snafu looks over at Eugene.

Eugene meets his eyes. "I can't believe we drove all this way for a rubber duck," he says.

Snafu smirks and picks his way over to sit next to him. Their shoulders brush, and that is also a familiar touch.

"Not just any rubber duck, the world's largest," Snafu counters.

"They all look the same," Eugene says.

"Not true," Snafu says, thinking about his ever changing birdbath.

Eugene stands, marches to the truck, grabs the rubber duck off Snafu's dash, and sits back down. He places the duck in Snafu's hands.

"This one's got a hat," Snafu points out, flicking the little green helmet on the duck's head.

Eugene rolls his eyes, "This and the big one in front of us could be cast from the same mold except for size."

"What, you think I oughta curb my enthusiasm?" Snafu taunts.

Eugene looks at him deadpan.

"Get it?" Snafu nudges him with his shoulder, "Cause we're sitting on a curb?"

"Oh good lord," Eugene puts his head in his hands.

Snafu laughs.

He doesn't laugh for long because Eugene removes his head from his hands, cups them around Snafu's face, and pulls him into a soft kiss.

And if Snafu failed to mentally prepare himself for the excitement of seeing the world's largest rubber duck, he certainly didn't prepare himself for this.

It's wonderful. And suddenly it makes sense. All that affection, rattling around in Snafu's empty tin heart like glass marbles. It didn't have anywhere to go. But now it does.

He still doesn't know what to do with his hands.

So he clasps them on his knees, leans in as close as he can get while staying seated on the curb, and lets Gene kiss him.

They sit there necking so long they miss the sunset. It's twilight by the time Eugene pulls away. He doesn't go far, keeps his hands on Snafu's face, and caresses Snafu's cheek as if unwilling to actually part from him.

"Gene," Snafu breathes.

Eugene smiles.

The dog wakes up from where he was sleeping behind them and sits straight so he can rest his head on Eugene's shoulder. Gene laughs, takes the Marine Corps rubber duck from Snafu's hands, and tosses it a few feet away.

The dog immediately becomes alert. Freddie watches the rubber duck fly, watches it bounce to the ground, watches it stop moving, then slowly trots over, picks up the duck in his mouth, and slowly trots back. Freddie sets the rubber duck in Eugene's lap, lies down across both of their feet, farts, and then goes to sleep.

"I think we've accidentally adopted an old dog," Snafu observes.

Eugene grins and leans in closer to Snafu's side. Eugene's arm wraps around Snafu's waist and he kisses his neck before settling his head comfortably against Snafu's shoulder.

"I think we can teach him new tricks," Eugene says, patting the dog on the back.

"In Mobile or New Orleans?" Snafu asks.

"New Orleans," Eugene replies, "But not before Sid's wedding in a few months. You'll have to come to mobile for that."

"Good thing it's on the way," Snafu drawls.

"Yeah," Eugene laughs, "Good thing."

"I ain't gonna be the most agreeable person to have in the wedding party, Sledgehammer," Snafu warns. He lights a cigarette and turns so the smoke doesn't blow in Eugene's face.

"Me either," Eugene says.

Snafu snorts, "Naw, you're always a delight."

"Not always," Eugene says, a little more seriously, "Not always."

Snafu pulls away. He doesn't stand because he doesn't want to disturb the dog, but he moves enough that Eugene takes his hands off him. Because it's not the same. It's not the same and he needs to convince Eugene somehow.

"Why don't you find a nice girl, Gene?" Snafu asks, "Someone who could be a bridesmaid. Or a bride."

"You sound like my mother," Eugene complains, "I don't want some girl. Never have." He stays quiet for a minute and then voices his own insecurities, "Have you? I mean, I know you used to flirt with all the girls on the journey home…"

"Never have," Snafu says.

"Then why…?"

"T'make you glare at me," Snafu smirks, "Make you jealous. Always figured it was me getting the girls you were jealous of though."

"Nope," Eugene sighs, "Afraid it was the other way around. Didn't like that the girls got you"

Snafu laughs. They sit quietly while he finishes his cigarette and the last bit of light fades from the sky. Somewhere behind them a street lamp turns on and illuminates the giant rubber duck in an eerie orange glow.

"Shit, it got uglier," Snafu drawls.

Eugene's shoulders shake with laughter. Snafu likes how the movement transfers into his own body. He likes how close they've drifted together again. Like they can't keep apart, even when not deliberately touching.

"Always knew I wanted you, Snaf," Eugene says.

That's a sobering thought - Eugene wanting him. 

"Situation Normal All Fucked," Snafu says. He leans as close to Eugene's face as he can get and smiles at him, "I guess if you leave out the 'up' my nickname could be fun."

He can't imagine how he could be of any use to Gene. Aside from the obvious. It'd be a lie to say he never recognized the heat in Eugene's eyes when he looked at Snafu.

He tells Eugene as much, while also trying not to say anything.

"Oh for goodness sake," Eugene says, "I don't love you because you're useful. That's not how it works."

Eugene kisses him quiet. And this time Snafu holds his chin and kisses him back.

_____

Here is snafu's truck: ^_^ 1946 chevy currently in the process of being rebuilt but you get the idea

[anniekoh]

elsewhere on the internet: talking about racism

This set of articles has been languishing at the back of the queue for three years! 

Political Correctness Wanted Dead or Alive: A Rhetorical Witch-Hunt in the US, Russia, and Europe

Anna Szilagyi (2016, Talk Decoded)

Possibly the most common way of attacking political correctness, is to label it “tyrannical”. Covert speech strategies may also support this construction. For instance, anti-PC politicians often utilize adjectives for fear (including “afraid”, “frightened”, “scared”, “terrified”) to describe how PC affects the behavior and feelings of people. The former leader of the UK Independence Party, Nigel Farage claimed: “I think actually what’s been happening with this whole politically correct agenda is lots of decent ordinary people are losing their jobs and paying the price for us being terrified of causing offence.” Suggesting that the British are “terrified” because of political correctness, Farage urged his listeners to think of PC in terms of intimidation.

At the same time, the fearsome vocabulary provides a background for anti-PC populists to present themselves as “brave” and “courageous” “saviors” of their “victimized” societies. The next quote by Nigel Farage exemplifies this trend: “I think the people see us as actually standing up and saying what we think, not being constrained or scared by political correctness.” In a similar fashion, Geert Wilders  declared: “I will not allow anyone to shut me up.”

Why White People Freak Out When They’re Called Out About Race

Sam Adler-Bell (2015, Alternet) @SamAdlerBell

Sam Adler-Bell: How did you come to write about "white fragility"?

Robin DiAngelo: To be honest, I wanted to take it on because it’s a frustrating dynamic that I encounter a lot. I don’t have a lot of patience for it. And I wanted to put a mirror to it.

I do atypical work for a white person, which is that I lead primarily white audiences in discussions on race every day, in workshops all over the country. That has allowed me to observe very predictable patterns. And one of those patterns is this inability to tolerate any kind of challenge to our racial reality. We shut down or lash out or in whatever way possible block any reflection from taking place.

Of course, it functions as means of resistance, but I think it’s also useful to think about it as fragility, as inability to handle the stress of conversations about race and racism

Sometimes it’s strategic, a very intentional push back and rebuttal. But a lot of the time, the person simply cannot function. They regress into an emotional state that prevents anybody from moving forward.

...

RD: I think we get tired of certain terms. What I do used to be called "diversity training," then "cultural competency" and now, "anti-racism." These terms are really useful for periods of time, but then they get coopted, and people build all this baggage around them, and you have to come up with new terms or else people won’t engage.

And I think "white privilege" has reached that point. It rocked my world when I first really got it, when I came across Peggy McIntosh. It’s a really powerful start for people. But unfortunately it's been played so much now that it turns people off.

The Language of “Privilege” Doesn’t Work

Stephen Aguilar (2016, Inside Higher Ed) @stephenaguilar

I believe that “privilege” is a sterile word that does not grapple with the core of the problem. If you are white, you do not have “white” privilege. If you are male, you do not have “male” privilege. If you are straight, you do not have “straight” privilege. What you have is advantage. The language of advantage, I propose, is a much cleaner and more precise way to frame discussions about racism (or sexism, or most systems of oppression).

... does giving up a “privilege” seem incoherent? It might, because generally privileges are given and taken by someone else. They are earned, and are seldom bad things to have.

Now try shifting your language to that of advantages. Ask yourself, “What advantages do I have over that person over there?” That question is much easier to answer and yields more nuanced responses.

Kimberlé Crenshaw on intersectionality

Bim Adewunmi (2014, New Statesman) @bimadewunmi

“I wanted to come up with an everyday metaphor that anyone could use”

“Class is not new and race is not new. And we still continue to contest and talk about it, so what’s so unusual about intersectionality not being new and therefore that’s not a reason to talk about it? Intersectionality draws attention to invisibilities that exist in feminism, in anti-racism, in class politics, so obviously it takes a lot of work to consistently challenge ourselves to be attentive to aspects of power that we don’t ourselves experience.”

...

“Sometimes it feels like those in power frame themselves as being tremendously disempowered by critique. A critique of one’s voice isn’t taking it away. If the underlying assumption behind the category ‘women’ or ‘feminist’ is that we are a coalition then there have to be coalitional practices and some form of accountability.”

The Persecution of Amy Schumer: Political Correctness and Comedy

Teo Bugbee (2015, Daily Beast)

We have developed highly advanced ways of recognizing and articulating when we feel offended, but very few ways of making something productive out of our own hurt feelings.

I’ve questioned if my choice to overlook what’s hurtful in Schumer’s comedy for the sake of what’s insightful is a sign that I’m complicit in the faults of white feminism, not valuing the importance of others’ feelings on this matter enough. This argument of apathy gets used often on social media to raise awareness around issues of race, sex, gender, and other topics surrounding justice and a need for change, and it is often useful, but it can also be a blunt instrument. Where I’ve landed for the moment is that not all marginalized people feel the same way about every issue—even on social media, but especially outside it—and asking everyone to respond in the same way to the same joke takes a simplistic view that flattens the complexity of marginalized communities just as much as it does the white, cisgender mainstream.

However, if we’re going to ask audiences to keep in mind the multiplicity of responses that a person might have to a work of art before they attempt to control someone else’s opinion, then it’s only fair that comedians follow the same rule.

What’s Wrong (and Right) in Jonathan Chait’s Anti-P.C. Screed

J. Bryan Lowder (2015, Slate)

One of the main problems with the constellation of leftist ideas he bemoans is that many of the people who use them most loudly do so out of context. Concepts like “microaggressions,” “trigger warnings,” and “mansplaining” originally had specific meanings and limited uses, often within the academy. They described or were meant to address specific situations or phenomena, and more important, they were intended to function as diagnostic tools of analysis, not be used as blunt, conversation-ending instruments. Believe it or not, most of these “PC buzzwords” are actually useful from time to time:  “Straightsplaining” is a real (and very annoying) thing, and it’s often a productive way of thinking about an interaction. But it’s also not always a useful or fair way to characterize a disagreement between a queer person and a straight interlocutor. Precision is what’s needed.

Additionally, though it is impossible to say this without sounding condescending myself, a lot of the abuse of PC rhetoric comes from young college students who have not yet grasped the difference between a measuring tape and a sledgehammer. Of course, given that contemporary mainstream politics offers little for those hopeful souls who want to make truly radical change in the world, you can’t really blame them for gravitating toward a mode of critique that at least feels somewhat empowering. Here, first-year, is a framework by which you can reveal the (screwed-up) hidden structures of the world and use your newly honed textual close-reading skills to mount offenses against those structures—go for it. What works on a novel doesn’t necessary translate to a complicated, changeable human being, though, so it’s no surprise that the deployment of microaggression and cissexism and other social justice lingo can sometimes come off as strident and simplistic. It often is.

But then, so is crying that only Reason can save us from the illiberal wolves waiting in the wings of our great system, which has a “glorious” history on social justice, by the way.

Want To Help End Systemic Racism? First Step: Drop the White Guilt

Sincere Kirabo (2015, thehumanist)

The point of identifying and exposing inconsistencies within the social systems and cultural norms of the United States isn’t to make whites feel guilty, but to garner greater empathy that will inspire change. The main problem with white guilt is that it attempts to diminish the spotlight aimed at issues germane to marginalized groups and redirects the focus to a wasteful plane of apologetics and ineffective assessment.

This is why some don’t like discussing racism, as those more sensitive to these matters sometimes allow guilt to creep into their thought processes, effectively evoking pangs of discomfort. This can lead to avoidance of the primary issues altogether, as well as the manifestation of defense mechanisms, including denial, projection, intellectualization, and rationalization.

Many are acquainted with the concept of Catholic guilt. Catholic doctrine emphasizes the inherent sinfulness of all people. These accentuated notions of fault lead to varied degrees of enhanced self-loathing. I liken white guilt to Catholic guilt: both relate to a sense of inadequacy emanating from misguided notions. Though the latter is anchored in an imagined source, they both speak to feelings of remorse and internal conflict that does the individual having them no good.

Keep in mind that the call to “recognize your privilege” does not translate to “bear the blame.”