#and Slav recognizing what the problem is

[adobe-outdesign]

Have you reviewed nimmos by any chance? They arent my favourite pet but i do think my dislike of them comes from how theyre posed rather than their actual design

We actually have two different frog Neopets, but I will say they're pretty different from each other. While Quiggles are inherently silly guys and very short, Nimmos are tall and considerably less silly. In contrast, hey have a sort of meditative guru vibe to them, which is sort of evident in the pose with the hands and the stance.

In terms of the design, I like them overall. The wide mouth makes for a fun kind of :3 expression, and the body has a pretty distinct shape to it that makes it so they're not too much like a real frog. I could kind of take or leave the underbelly—I don't mind it, but they're thin enough that it doesn't feel like it's needed to break up the space, and it feels like it should go under the mouth as well or something.

I also agree that the posing of these guys is a little weird, as they're stuck in like a weird sideways slav squat. I like the idea of them having long frog legs in contrast with the Quiggle, but the problem is that the knees of the legs go to the side instead of the front, when in reality they should be facing forward like at least 20% more and the top part should be more horizontal to the body. The butt being above the ground rather than on it also doesn't help anything. Oddly, there also aren't many options that let you break from this pose—even colors like Faerie maintain the same off putting leg structure.

Nimmos have mostly stayed the same after customization and arguably improved, with minor fixes like adjusting the feet so they're actually at the right perspective relative to the body.

Favorite Colours:

Baby: First off, having the baby Nimmo just be a tadpole is a great concept, and secondly, it's pretty cute as well. The face is just similar enough for it to still look like a Nimmo, and the dark spots on the body provide nice contrast with the more teal-ish colored tail. There's both a converted and UC/styled version, though this is a rare instance where the converted is way better—the pose is more lively, the pupils are larger so it looks less dead-eyed, and the shading has been improved.

Toy: The toy Nimmo is actually based on the IRL Sand Critters frog plush, but even if you didn't recognize it off the bat, it's still a great design all around. The green and orange striping makes for a nice palette, the subtle spotting adds a nice texture, and the red eyes pop. Also, this kind of highlights what I was talking about earlier with the underbelly—it looks a lot more natural extended up onto the jaw.

Wraith: The wraith Nimmo is not the best wraith pet or anything—the swirls are very arbitrarily placed over the body instead of contouring and playing with the body's actual shapes, and the bulk of the swirls are a bit too low-contrast. However, the big thing here is the lovingly detailed face... on the stomach, with a regular face to match. I have no idea why it's like this because no other Wraith pet does this, but damn if it doesn't look cool as hell, and more than makes up for the lack of flow in the rest of the body. I also really like the neat swirly pupils they used here.

BONUS: The Maraquan Nimmo is both one of the worst and yet also one of the best Maraquan pets, and I absolutely hate and love it. Why is it a spider crab? Why does it just look like a normal crab with a Nimmo's face? Who cares. 10/10 get this thing out of my house

[alpaca-clouds]

The forgotten parts of the ancient world

Time for my weekly history ramble and today I am gonna talk about how our understanding of history is not only eurocentric but also otherwise quite skewed. Because we even ignore half of Europe.

When we talk about the ancient world, we will usually talk about it in terms of the "advanced civilizations", aka those civilizations that build a lot of stuff and who we know more about because of it. Which means usually... we are going to talk about Rome, Greece and maybe we are going to talk about Egypt. But that is going to be the end of it.

With that we obviously ignore all of Europe outside of it.

Admittedly. There were times when Rome basically was "most of Europe", because Rome was quite colonialist, but... we tend to just ignore the other cultures that existed in Europe at the time.

Sure, if you have grown up in Europe, you will know about the Germans and the Celts and you might be vaguely aware that the Slavs also were already around and doing their thing. But chances are, that you do know exactly jack shit about what those cultures were doing or, for that matter, which cultures were included under those rather wide names.

The celts are a really good example of this. Because the nominative "celts" actually involves a plurality of different cultures, that were related, yes, but still their own. The name "celts" was in the end an exonym given to them by first the Greeks and then the Romans, who were then just lumping those foreign cultures into one.

A big problem, of course is, that the celts, Germans and Slavs did not in fact write much of anything down. So we basically do not have anything in terms of primary sources on them, outside of the Romans and Greeks interacting with them and writing about it, before the cultures slowly died off (or rather were forcably converted to Christianity in many cases).

But then there are also the other cultures - even "advanced cultures" we kinda do not speak about and will not learn about. Especially if you grow up in a majority white country. Things like ancient Persia and ancient Mesopotamia are only ever mentioned in passing. Minoan Greece is something you usually not learn about until you actually start to properly learn history. Ancient cultures in Asia and Africa? Ha, good luck. America and Australia? Yeah, most certainly not happening.

And while the latter two have the "excuse" of there really being near to nothing in terms of written history we have from there, the same obviously cannot be said for the Ancient civilizations of Asia, who did in fact write a lot down.

Usually the excuse for the ancient civilizations of Asia and Africa (minus Egypt) being excluded is, that "Well, you live in an European country. So it does not have to interest you." As if in the ancient world there was no trade and no exchange of ideas happening. Part of which is actually documented.

Heck, even if we talk Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt, we will often find, that those kinda each get lumped in, as if they were just one solid culture that suddenly appeared out of nowhere and then suddenly disappeared into nowhere. Like a blip, that lasted for a couple thousand years. With just one culture that never changed and was just solidly one thing.

But I have talked about this before: No, those cultures were not "one thing". They developed over time. If you were to look in close it would actually be super hard to say when each of those cultures began and ended. It kinda fizzled in and fizzled out. There were not just people going there and being like: "Alright, time to build some pyramids now!" Or: "Yoooo, let's build like some great temples to some gods on some mountain."

And those cultures changed over the time they existed. A 900 BC Greek would have not quite recognized the world a 500 BC Greek would have lived in.

Why do I take that much of an issue with that?

Simply put: Because this lack of widely shared information will be used again and again by white supremacists to push their agenda. And that is true for so many aspects of this.

You probably might have seen some people meming about the "classisist" twitter or youtube pages, that simp over ancient Roman and Greek architecture. You also might be aware of the white supremacist proudly declaring themselves to be "anglo saxon" or "germanic". You will also know about how they will talk about "the actually advanced cultures" and only focus on the white cultures of course. And you will very certainly know about the entire "ancient aliens" conspiracy, that very much is based on the idea that only the Greeks and Romans could've been truly advanced, while all other cultures had to have had the help of aliens to archive their amazing feats.

And all of that is all linked to this: The lack of general awareness of the ancient world and how it looked - what the cultures looked like, how they changed and how they interacted.

Heck, those white supremacist asshole, who spout that shit often do not know anything about those cultures either. They just think it sounds could and that it makes them feel superior to other people.

But it is all... just a lack of information.

Yes, in some cases that information has been lost to time completely. But in quite a few cases it is just the lack of general awareness on the topic. Nothing else.

So we need to do better in teaching this stuff. Because it is important.

[backmaskedliedermacher]

Trans Gendercide

CW: Genocide, suicide, transphobia (This one is heavy, folks.)

I have a book by a gentleman by the name of Adam Jones called Genocide: A Comprehensive Introduction - the third edition from 2017. Jones is, that I can tell, one of the preeminent scholars in the field of Genocide Studies.

I am interested in academic perspectives, but my interest in the topic of genocide is not currently, at this point, a strictly academic one. Within the trans community, one hears it a lot. I probably say the word more than most. It feels necessary. No other framing of what's going on seems adequate.

What does it mean, though? What does it mean to be part of a marginalized group currently undergoing a genocide?

Jones' book interests me in several different ways. First, there is the unusual matter of his preface, "Why Study Genocide?" He starts by justifying his interest in genocide.

This isn't a criticism of Jones. That he has to justify his professional vocation is a mark of privilege, but privilege is not a dirty word. Others may differ on this opinion, but speaking as a member of a subaltern group, I value and appreciate it when people who do not have to consider such topics nonetheless choose to do so. This, to me, is the real mark of the justification - not that he has to justify it, but that others require him to justify his interest. To study genocide is to immerse oneself in an unpleasant topic people not subject to genocide have the luxury of avoiding, should they so choose.

The challenge I find myself facing as a member of a group facing genocide is not so much those who would deny the genocide - though this is a problem, to be sure - but those who choose to look the other way. To charge genocide is a confrontational act. This stance of confrontation, however, is calculated, deliberate. We charge genocide because denial is, in this case, the lesser evil. Because the choice is to charge genocide or die in silence. That Jones chooses not to look the other way is of immense credit to him.

Having said that, I find little that addresses directly the specific form of genocide trans people face in his book, although the book is wide-ranging and addresses genocide from perspectives most people don't consider. There are merely the barest threads of a framework.

Jones does devote chapter 13 to the topic of "Gendering Genocide". He seems to be more than usually knowledgeable on this topic, having written or contributed to several books on the topic of what is known as "gendercide". I find the term "gendercide" to be remarkably appropriate to the conditions transgender people have faced, both in the present and historically, but the academic meaning of "gendercide" is not transgender-specific.(1)

Indeed, Jones' coverage of trans issues in general is… I would say about on par for the time in which this book was compiled and published. Jones devotes a significant section of the book, Box 6A, to a consideration of "The Nazis' other victims", which gives wide consideration to a variety of peoples - Slavs, Romani, Soviet POWs, even the Germans themselves - but fails to mention the annihilation of Magnus Hirschfeld's "Institut for Sexual Wissenschaft", and the probable murder ("probable" because their deaths were beneath any observance!) of trans people living there. He does mention "homosexual men" as victims.

Jones certainly attempts to do gender justice in chapter 13. He says at the start of the chapter that "this chapter adopts a more inclusive view of gender" and recognizes, in my view remarkably considering the year of publication, the distinction between sex and gender. Unfortunately, his "more inclusive" framework seems mainly refer to his increased coverage of the gendercidal killing of cisgender men and boys. I do agree with Jones that this is an important topic and ought to be considered more than it has been. I celebrate its inclusion, and if I am a little galled at cisgender men being considered more worthy of consideration as genocide victims than all transgender people, I'm only a little galled. Genocide is not a contest to be won by victims.

Box 13.1 covers "Gendercide and vigilantism against gay and trans people". Though the photograph accompanying this section is of an American Westboro Baptist Church protestor, the entire text of this section centers entirely on anti-gay violence in the Arab world and in the global South. The section on trans genocide focuses exclusively on the murder of trans people in Brazil.

In light of current events, clearly a more thorough examination of trans gendercide is in order. As I said, I am not a scholar, but I'd like to give personal testimony as to my own lived experience of trans gendercide, both past and present.

Jones' particular view of genocide was modified in 2010 from a 1994 statement by Steven T. Katz, and reads:

"Genocide is the actualization of the intent, however successfully carried out, to murder in whole or in part any national, ethnic, racial, religion, political, social, gender or economic group, as these groups are defined by the perpetrator, by whatever means."

The key question here is one of murder. This is what differentiates the current state of trans people from our past condition - the articulation of the active intent to murder us. In this sense, the intended genocide of trans people is a novel phenomenon.

My experience of trans genocide is personally more in line with that defined in Article II of the UN Convention, which in part states:

(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; (c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;

The UN Convention is derived from the work of Rafael Lemkin. Lemkin is an interesting foundational figure in genocide history. He was the so-called "norm entrepreneur" who coined the word "genocide" in 1944, inspired by the branding used by the Kodak company. In other words, the notion of "genocide" is foundationally a capitalist phenomenon, created to address acts which occurred under capitalist conditions.

Lemkin's entrepeneurship was only partially successful. He attempted to define several sorts of genocide - "physical", "biological", and "cultural" genocide. He failed to promulgate the idea of "cultural" genocide as distinct from physical genocide, but that this was a driving force for him is, I think, important.

Trans people are, I must note, excluded from Lemkin's definition of "genocide", which was focused on ethnic groups and excluded other sorts of minorities, including trans people implicitly (of course, not explicitly, as trans people would have been considered beneath acknowledgement in Lemkin's era). We are covered under Jones's definition, but only in cases of "murder". My own view is broader than both.

For me as a transgender woman, Lemkin's attempt to differentiate "physical" and "cultural" genocide is… unnecessary. This is, to my mind, one of the critical points of trans gendercide - the lack of functional difference between cultural and physical eradication. I have seen a great many people argue against "gender ideology". I am not sure whether they fail to understand what this statement means in practice for trans people, or whether they are deliberately engaging in euphemism. In functional terms, it does not matter which is the case. You cannot destroy "gender ideology" without destroying transgender people.

That said, my argument differs from that of Lemkin's in one particular way - it is not a standard legal argument. I am not arguing for punishment of those responsible. This is, I would argue, a flaw in the system of justice itself - it seeks people to blame, to hold accountable. Under retributive justice, every perpetrator is a scapegoat, punished in order to avert a threat to the shared group norms.

I recognize this claim bears certain similarities to the "victors' justice" claim made by some of the Nazi defendants at Nuremburg. For them to make this claim is absurd. If "victors' justice" was a defense against prosecution, justice itself would be meaningless, for it is only the victors who have the ability to enforce justice. That justice is administered by those in a position of power does not make it prima facie unjust.

Not only did the men on trial commit reprehensible acts, they engaged in scapegoating to an even greater, and more conspicuous, degree than those prosecuting them did - the infamous claim that they were "only following orders". Whose orders? The orders of those who were conveniently dead. Hitler. Himmler. Heydrich. In other words, the defendants claimed that, since the norms of their society required them to obey the orders of their conveniently dead superiors, they bore no responsibility for their actions.

To my mind, the highest form of justice to come from the Nuremburg Trials is the judges' decisive rejection of this argument. Complying with the norms of a society, the example of Nuremburg shows, is not exculpatory if those norms themselves are exterminatory.

Rafael Lemkin was a norm entrepreneur. He was selling an idea - that capitalist society could be exculpated for collectively turning its back on the systemic murder of a subaltern group, and that this could be done by defining a new crime, selecting certain members of that group as its perpetrators, and punishing those people. Hannah Arendt, who was a Holocaust victim herself, knew this. Arendt pointed out that Eichmann's trial was incompatible with the stated goals of the rule of law - and then decided against the rule of law, that it was unreasonable to expect the rest of us to exist in the same world as Eichmann. I tend to agree with Arendt on this point. The crime of genocide fails, in my view, to adequately address the problem of the systemic codification of genocidal norms.

My perspective here is that of a trans person who grew up in a culture which had, as one of its basic norms, a belief in the strict binary division of gender on the basis of genital anatomy. We can, by observing the treatment of gender in other cultures, conclude that this situation is in fact abnormal, that other cultures do tend to accommodate, in some form, gender diverse existence and expression. The binary, anatomy-based gender norm, then, is a deviant state which has been defined as normal. Maintaining this norm requires, by its nature, the eradication of all those who do not conform to it. It requires trans gendercide.

These norms are so ingrained that many people who were raised in industrial capitalist societies may be unaware of the ways they are enforced. I therefore offer a brief, partial overview of some of these methods, based on my personal experience and observations as a 46-year-old transgender woman. (The ways these norms are enforced against transmasculine people differ, and I lack the knowledge and experience to do them justice.)

Nearly from birth, popular media taught me it was deceitful, shameful, and repulsive for people assigned male at birth to present in a feminine manner, starting with popular children's television programs (See, for instance, You Can't Do That On Television, 1979-1990.) Feminine presentation was treated either as a "joke" or as a form of sexual fetishism, one strongly associated with humiliation and degradation.

In medical science, only one form of gender non-conformity was recognized - "transsexuality". This was defined, by a cisgender man, as as pathological state that could only be treated by genital reconstruction surgery. The criteria this man used to define "transsexuality" were mostly indicative of his own cultural biases, and bore little resemblance to the sorts of gender non-conformity exhibited in practice by most people. To get treatment, trans people had to appear to conform to his criteria. If they gave histories that did not conform to these criteria, they were denied treatment. If their histories did conform to these arbitrary criteria, they were dismissed as "liars".

The "treatment" offered by medical science required patients to conform strictly and absolutely to traditional feminine norms. Women could be rejected for treatment for such offenses as wearing trousers to an appointment. Once these women had been surgically treated, they were expected to disguise their past and spend the rest of their lives imitating the lives of cisgender women. To be recognized or "clocked" as trans subjected them to social stigma to the same extent or worse than that faced by gender non-conforming people who were not granted access to medical care. As associating with other trans people would increase the likelihood of their being clocked, there was no chance of them belonging to a distinct community of trans people. In other words, "treatment" required the eradication of their transness, as well as isolation from all other trans people.

This made it unlikely that I would ever meet any other trans people. I did, in fact, meet one, but I'd been taught not to trust her. I'd been taught that trans people were pathologically ill and pathological liars. In addition, I'd been taught that I wasn't a "real" transsexual, but was a grotesque fraud and contemptible pervert, so I was too ashamed to ask her about her experience or talk to her about mine in any event.

It is simply not credible to describe this state of affairs as inadvertent or accidental. Its perpetuation required a consistent, sustained level of extreme prejudice against gender non-conforming people.

Having established these conditions, that they are systemic in nature, and that they are intended to eradicate transgender people, I would like to point out how this plays out in practice. The most galling aspect of trans gendercide, to me, is the blatant misrepresentation of the effects of this erasure. I speak in particular here of the phenomenon of trans suicide. It is a well-known and long-observed fact that transgender people kill themselves at an astronomically higher rate than that of the population at large. The cause of these suicides, however, is wholly - one can only say maliciously - misrepresented.

Many of us kill ourselves. Many more of us attempt suicide. Almost all of us experience some form of suicidal ideation or intent. Why is this? To me, as a trans woman, this question is simple to answer. My existence cannot be defined strictly in terms of gender, but gender is a fundamental and intrinsic part of my existence. To be denied one's gender takes a toll on its victims that people who have not experienced it seem categorically incapable of comprehending. It is an act against life itself.

Labelling our shared identity "gender ideology" and eradicating it serves to isolate us from each other and renders our existence intolerable. If we don't kill ourselves, we tend to stumble through life in a dissociated and depersonalized half-world, not existing as others do and often not even aware of this fact. Gender is invisible, it defies definition, but for an untold number of us, the inability to embody our own genders leads and has led to our suffering and death.

Do those who would deny trans people access to care genuinely believe that their actions have no ill effects, nay, that they are doing us trans people good by their actions? If sustaining this belief did not require them to repeatedly malign and discredit trans people, I might almost be tempted to give them the benefit of the doubt. Again and again we have told them how being denied our gender identity affects us. Again and again we ask for the simplest of things. Cisgender people have framed trans existence wholly in terms of surgery, but surgery is our not most pressing demand. What do we seek most urgently? Merely the right to dress in a manner which suits us. Merely the right to take safe, readily available, and widely prescribed hormones - hormones whose effect on trans people, judged by any reasonable clinical standard, are nothing short of miraculous. Merely the right to be called by our name. Do you have any idea how happy that makes us? To be called by our own fucking names? What sort of monster wouldn't do that?

Of course, we know exactly what sort of monster wouldn't do that: the anti-trans voices, those to whom our rights matter less than their own ingrained prejudices. There aren't that many of them, really. It's just that these people are, by and large, far more powerful and respected than we are. Their voices are elevated, time and again, over ours in popular media - on the BBC, in the New York Times, on YouTube, cisgender bigots are given ample space and time to spout bald-faced lies about trans people, while we ourselves occupy a position which is marginal, at best. Those lies are far-reaching and influential - many of us have experienced suddenly being denounced as "groomers", being asked repeated questions about the possible "irreversible damage" living trans lives might cause, and having our gender identities dismissed as "social contagion" by formerly supportive close blood relatives - but they are no longer universal. Twenty years ago, these reprehensible lies were not one of "both sides" to be "debated", but considered to be unassailable fact.

This is the most difficult aspect of today's trans gendercide to explain to cis people. How do I convey that the anti-trans bigotry and legislation which they see as a new and pernicious phenomenon is simply the latest version of trans gendercide? That the history of Western culture has been, from its inception, that of systemic eradication of gender non-conformity? That, to me, trans suicide is a crueler form of genocide than trans murder? That, from my perspective as a trans person, I find more cause for hope in a year characterized by the open endorsement of the willful, systemic extermination of trans people than I did at any time during the first forty years of my life?

It is a strange thing to me, this hope. Those in the highest offices of power cry out against us, and millions upon millions heed their call. Every day the groundwork for extermination progresses, and those with the power to protect us do nothing, offer nothing but excuses to us and conciliation towards our persecutors. Yet I am hopeful, now, while ten years ago, I was not. Why? Because, at last, we are no longer isolated as we once were.

For me, the most total, all-encompassing form of genocide is one wherein those who perpetrate it are wholly unaware of their own work, where the victims are eradicated so wholly that many of us are not even aware of being victims. This was the trans gendercide I grew up under. I am profoundly glad for its passing. Each day each of us lives, each word any of us write, each breath any of us breathe, makes the possibility of that age's return more remote. This, above all else, gives me hope. Trans people exist now, I dare to hope, in a way which is beyond erasure.

The author extends her gratitude to A.S. for her excellent editorial suggestions.

(1) Most trans people do not consider "transgender" to be their gender identity, and Jones, to be clear, does not claim that "transgender" is a gender identity. He defines "gendercide" as to be inclusive of genocide not just on the basis of gender, but on the basis of sexual and gender minority status. Use of the term "gendercide" to refer to genocide against transgender people is established within the field of genocide studies, and is not novel or original on my part.

[kingofthewilderwest]

Voltron Paladins’ Native Languages

So, I’m not like 100% sold on the idea, but I guess it would make most sense that Earth has developed a full-blown universal translator by the time VLD events transpire? Not going to get into the linguistics of where universal translators are problematic, but it’s still the most plausible thing I think could be going on in Voltron.

The Galaxy Garrison is likely an international organization. Now, the global lingua franca (ex: English) could be the official language of the school, and the students they accept might have to pass language proficiency tests. That’s a possibility. But it’s sort of odd that all the Voltron characters have American English accents despite their diverse origins. The United States of course does have people of all backgrounds in the country, but I always felt that the writers were intentionally diversifying the Voltron characters to represent the world... and thus they’d actually be BORN in Cuba, BORN in Samoa, BORN in Japan, BORN in Italy. And yet not a single human has a hint of a non-native American English speaker accent on the Voltron team... not even an American dialect with stigmatized regional features can be heard.

Then there’s the talking-to-aliens aspect we need to consider. The Alteans are capable of visually modifying themselves to help interact with different species, but I don’t think that includes suddenly being able to speak other languages. Not to mention every species that the Voltron team meets can be immediately understood. How are they understanding the Galra or the Balmerans? A universal translator again, avoiding scientific problems of this device would be the trick.

It also explains why Pidge can understand anything Allura says but cannot read Altean. It explains why the only words that don’t translate from Coran or Allura are the words which have no direct translation. So. It could be the case that there’s something like a universal translator each Voltron character has that analyzes audio of a species and translates the audio to the Voltron characters. Why they’re always wearing it and why it’s not seen... uh... let’s not get into it.

But anyway! What’s so great about the universal translator idea is that it opens up a world of amusing speculations. There are all sorts of fun headcanon questions to answer like what languages are the Voltron team actually speaking?

My headcanons, more or less:

(I don’t like the idea of everyone having this much English exposure, but the language is currently a global lingua franca and is an L1 or L2 of 20% of the world’s current population. So I did have to rationalize the language into this).

Lance is a full-blown bilingual. He knows English and Spanish completely fluently, grew up speaking both languages, and prattles in both of them with ease. He’d be great at picking up more languages if he had the motivation to do so - he’s a natural!

When he’s hanging out with the Voltron crew, he’s usually speaking English because English was the accepted international language used in the Garrison’s written reports. So since he first meets Keith, Pidge, Lance, and Shiro at the Garrison, that’s the language Lance defaults on with them. Hearing Allura speak in something that sounds like a British dialect is going to subconsciously keep Lance using English too while they’re in space. But there are times he’s switching between both languages. He definitely speaks both around the crew.

Pidge is somewhat monolingual with decent exposure to several other languages. My emotional heart says that Pidge speaks only Italian I really don’t like the idea of the Voltron crew having a common language and I want that to be my headcanon, but I realize that’s not realistic at all. 

She lives close to the Garrison, obvious in that she’s able to just hop in and break their security. Since the Holts live close to the Garrison, this means that the Garrison is either in Italy or she knows the local language where the Garrison is located. Between those two scenarios I’d say it’s more likely the Garrison is not in Italy... especially given as the news report for the Kerberos’ failed mission is in English. And I would imagine her father has been working with the Garrison for a while, so that disproves the idea of her growing up mostly in Italy and then moving close to the Garrison only within the last few years.

So Pidge knows Italian and whatever-local-language-is-around, and if the local language isn’t English, then also a decent amount of English. English would be useful for programming languages, after all! So she’s got no problem programming and reading in English. However, since her exposure to English is mostly text, she’s not competent at all in a conversation, either listening or speaking in English.

If my heartcanon for Pidge being a monolingual Italian speaker had made sense, then I’d love for there to be this moment that her universal translator glitches maybe the idea still slightly works if the Garrison isn’t in an English speaking nation. Suddenly she can’t understand anybody except for sort-of Lance when he speaks Spanish. The two languages are borderline mutually intelligible, after all. So Lance tries to help her out with Spanish while she’s speaking Italian, they’re somewhat making it halfway function (Lance’s slang is not helping), but she breathes this enormous sigh of relief when she gets the tech fixed.

Keith is monolingual. He knows American English and that’s it. Given as his father seems to speak in one of the Southern United States English dialects, I like to headcanon that little boy Keith lived in the South for about eight years and spoke a Southern dialect. Then he and his father moved northwest, Keith dropped that dialect through lack of exposure before adolescence, and picked up an Upper Midwestern American English accent in place (what we hear him speak on screen). Keith could still speak in a Southern accent if he wanted to, but no one’s ever heard him do it. And no one ever will.

Shiro is essentially monolingual. He’s only fluent in Japanese. He was taught Mandarin Chinese and English in school for many years, but despite being a good student, he was always bad at foreign language. The result is he’s highly limited in both. He’s more than alright reading Mandarin but not so good in conversation. Regarding English, Shiro can understand the language just fine when he hears it (since he’s heard it spoken enough), but he’s never been good at returning a response. If Shiro tries to talk in English, he’s got noticeably slow, broken, ungrammatical English and a reaaaally thick Japanese accent. He demonstrates his limited Chinese and English speaking abilities to the team at one time. They think it’s adorable.

Hunk knows Samoan. Again my heartcanon says it’s Samoan alone, but my head points out that Samoan + English makes sense (depending on where he grew up). Those are the two official languages in the country (with more L2 Samoan speakers than L1), and other Samoan populations are in English-speaking countries like New Zealand and Australia. So it’s just likely Hunk has been heavily exposed to both languages since he was young. But! That said... he’s terrible at English spelling. Downright terrible.

As for Allura and Coran... we don’t know anything about Altean languages and dialects outside of the few words Pidge hears in the training (the Alteans have clicks! woot!). My headcanon says that Allura and Coran don’t speak the same dialect (since the voice actors don’t speak the same English dialect) but they do speak the same language. Allura speaks the most sociolinguistically prestigious dialect of Altea. Coran’s dialect is noticeably different but doesn’t have too much negative sociolinguistic status to it. His speech sounds just as ridiculous to Allura as it does to the Paladins because he uses a lot of his regional slang.

So if everyone’s universal translators broke at once... Hunk, Lance, and and Keith would be able to converse just fine. Coran and Allura are able to talk to each other. Lance and Pidge could get some things to work if they speak slowly and avoid slang. With everyone else Pidge would be shrugging. And there’d be poor Shiro stuck, capable of communicating with absolutely no one beyond gestures, pained facial expressions, and the occasional grammatically incorrect English sentence.

And during the event of a Lion/Voltron fight with said translator glitch:

Shiro: Make... [forgets word for “sword” in English] ...stick???

Pidge: Che palle! Merda! Lance: Con esa boca comes? Keith: Wait, what are you saying? Lance: I didn’t catch it all, but I’m not translating! Hunk: Whoa. You saying Pidge has a potty mouth?

Keith: They’ve got the tactical advantage here. If we’re not careful, they’re going to outflank us. We’ve got to outmaneuver them before they outmaneuver us. Pidge: I don’t understand. Can you explain me in simple English? Lance: Explain me? No, no, Pidge, you mean “Explain to me.” Keith: Fewer grammar lessons, more fighting!

Shiro: Etou... robotto? Make-oo? Keith: What?!?!? Lance: Hey Shiro, we need that in English! Shiro: Ro... no... make-oo robotto. Lance: English! Shiro: Make-oo robotto! Pidge: That is his English! Hunk: What is he saying? Keith: “Make... robot?” Everyone else: Ohhhh! “Form Voltron!”

(P.S. I checked with a friend who speaks Italian for Pidge, and I speak a decent amount of Spanish, but I am only a native speaker of English so I apologize if I made mistakes!)

[urmomsstuntdouble]

89 for the writing promp game? 👀👀 whichever characters u feel like it fits

oof this took a while. wasn’t sure who to write it about, and i didnt use those exact words, but. yeah. here it is! 

(3rd person pov, lithuania x romano)

.

Nobody enjoyed world meetings. It was a known fact, and one regular humans would probably assume without knowing what transpired at such meetings- Which wasn’t much, in all honesty. And while they weren’t fun, they weren’t always bad. Sometimes they’d be in a nice city, and flights would line up with those of friends, and so forth- Today was not one of those days. 

Tolvydas had stumbled off their train at three o’clock in the morning, and into their hotel bed two hours later. Their body now ran on two hours of sleep, and the conditions of the meeting didn't do much to help them stay awake. Jackets and ties were folded over the backs of several chairs, and some of the other nations held small wooden fans in death grips. Some were slumped over, and others stayed at attention. Of the other Baltic states, Estonia had removed his glasses and Latvia was clearly more focussed on his smartphone than the presentation. Tolvydas couldn’t blame them. The heat of the room seemed a cage, pressing in on them and making sweat drip down their back. 

Why did the meeting have to be in Southern Europe? Tolvydas could handle the heat, but being trapped inside for an entire day- On which nothing tainted the pure azure of the sky- was a lot. A glance around told them they weren’t alone, as nearly every forehead shone with sweat. Every now and then, Tolvydas’ head touched their chest and they jerked back to attention. Their efforts were futile, though, and they’d yet to catch a single word of Paraguay’s speech. 

Someone tapped their shoulder- Feliks, sitting at their left. Tolvydas looked down at them, where they’d rested their head on crossed arms. 

“So bored,” they mouthed, and Tolvydas nodded. They shifted their notepad into Feliks’ line of sight and gouged the word TIRED into the paper. Feliks nodded with pink cheeks and drooping eyelids, and swiped the pen away from Tolvydas. Wish there was air conditioning. LORENZO DOESN’T BELIEVE IN AIR CONDITIONING. 

Feliks giggled at that, attracting the glares of some nearby nations. Pink cheeks turned red, and they sank down a bit in their seat, folding their arms. Tolvydas sighed, and rested their head in their hands. Would it be a good idea to tape their eyes open? No, and they didn’t have any tape…shame. Tolvydas tilted their head around, looking for the host nation. Lorenzo. Romano, or Italy- They hardly ever spoke of things related to their nationhood. In fact, they only spoke as a result of social happenstance, that being Feliciano’s friendship with Feliks, and the Italy brothers shared a car, and that Tolvydas had spent much of the 90s on Feliks’ couch. A coincidence Tolvydas was fond of, actually. It was rare that nations befriended each other purely for social reasons. Even Feliks came into their life for the sake of politics. 

Tolvydas looked around the room yet again, this time searching for Lorenzo. Would he be drowning in sweat too, they wondered? The answer seemed to be yes, and they bit back a smile upon seeing him. He sat hunched over the desk, with his suit jacket resting on the back of his chair. Dark circles lined both his armpits and eyes. As if cued by their staring, Lorenzo opened his water bottle and took four hearty gulps, then returned it, empty, to the desk. Tolvydas blinked, and wiped some sweat from their forehead. When they returned to their hotel room, they would get rid of all these clothes and lay on the bed with the windows open until they fell asleep. 

They shuffled their papers about, searching for the weekend’s itinerary. They gave their speech the day before, but about a hundred nations still had to take their turns…According to the schedule, today’s last presenter would be Qatar. So the meeting would be over by…seven, maybe? Tolvydas pushed some air through their lips and picked at a loose thread in their shirt sleeve. 

It wasn’t until about seven thirty that Qatar gave her presentation, and closing the meeting took another half hour. Once that was done, the nations milled about and spoke, as per their custom. Rare was it that they were allowed to be people- Tolvydas would never understand how people could say they ‘didn’t pay attention to politics.’ Paying attention to politics was all they could ever do. Then again, they were Lithuania, not a person. 

Fortunately, many of the nations elected to move outside after the meeting ended. They fit right in with the students, bustling around the university campus. Nations fragmented here, splitting off with friends or returning to their hotels. Most importantly, though, they were stopped by people asking to take selfies. Tolvydas smiled and laughed when required, and let themself be dragged around with the other EU members. 

“Where are we going?” Asked Feliks at their side, and they nodded, glancing around. Tolvydas wasn’t sure they recognized this city- They’d been to so many, it was hard to remember, and European cities started to look the same after a while. 

“Not sure,” said somebody- Hungary. “I think Vene said something about a bar? I wasn’t really paying attention.” She snorted like it was punctuation, and Feliks laughed. 

“Oh, Erzsi! Hey, I didn’t see you there!” Feliks launched himself at her, and was lucky that she reacted fast enough to catch him. 

“Hi, Erzsebet,” Tolvydas said, suppressing a laugh. 

“Hey, losers,” She said, arms clenched around Feliks’ waist. “Glad to see you here, that meeting was stuffy as hell.” 

“Ugh, I know, right?” Feliks said. They righted themself, walking independent of Erzsebet again. “I was practically dying of the heatstroke.” 

“I don’t think you can get heatstroke if you’re not in the sun,” Tolvydas said. 

“You can,” a voice chimed in- Spain. “Trust me, summers are brutal at my place. Hey, can I ask you a question, Lithuania?” Tolvydas glanced over their shoulder, as if there was some other Lithuania he could be talking to. 

“Uh, yes,” They said. 

“Do you have nude beaches in your country?” Tolvydas choked on their own spit, and let out a strangled chuckle. 

“Y-Yes,” They laughed, “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to ask something like that-”

“I was thinking about all the ways I’ve gotten heat stroke before,” Spain told them, holding his hands in front of his chest like a T-Rex.

“And one was at a nude beach?” 

“Well, yes…” He narrowed his eyes. “More than one, actually. I don’t like nude beaches, Lithuania, because if you’re not careful you can get sunburned…I mean, you can on a regular beach, but it’s so awkward to be, like, in front of your people and putting sunscreen on your entire body, you know? And I’m a country, so it’s a lot of attention, and all that…You know?” 

“Well,” Tolvydas said, “Not really, because I don’t get a lot of sun, but yeah, sort of.” They bit their lip- Since they’d been talking to Spain, they had totally lost track of where they were in the city. The university was out of sight, and Feliks was now absorbed into a conversation with Hungary and the other EU Slavs. 

“Hm. You are pretty pale.” Tolvydas tucked some hair behind their ear. 

“Yeah,” They said, not sure what else to say. 

“Yeah,” Spain murmured, eyes darting about the street. “Where are you taking us, Feli?” 

“What?!” Asked Italy. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, causing Finland to crash into him. “Oh, crap! I’m sorry, Finland.” Finland gave him a smile and assured him it was no problem. 

“I said, where are you taking us?” Spain shouted, “I don’t recognize this street.” 

“Umm, I actually forget?” Italy laughed, “My brother has a bar he likes that’s near here, but I don’t like it so I don’t remember what it’s called? And he’s busy now, so- Yeah. Oh, hi Lithuania! I didn't see you there, how’re you doing today?” Tolvydas started, eyes widening. 

“Hi,” They said, “I’m tired, but it’s alright. You have a lovely home.” 

“Thanks,” Italy said, “Though it’s really my brother’s, I…I don’t really like it that much down here, to be honest. Don’t tell him I said that. But it is nice to visit!” 

“Excuse you, it’s lovely here!” Spain said, “I’m telling on you, Feli.” 

“Don't!” Italy shrieked, “Please?” He turned to Spain with wide eyes. Even Tolvydas would have to oblige, and they had plenty of experience saying no to cute people. Well. Cute dogs. And Raivis. And Feliks, and Russia. Maybe they did have experience saying no to cute people after all. 

“I’m only joking,” Spain said, “Besides, Lithuania here agrees with me, don’t you?” 

“Uh,” Tolvydas said, “I do, yes. It’s- It’s a very nice climate you have here. And I like this street- Very, uh, very nice cobblestones.” Italy snorted, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Thanks, I’m glad you like them,” He said, though they weren’t his. Tolvydas hummed, and took a moment to really look at the street they were on. Buildings kept the sun from reaching them, but not the warmth. Storefronts beckoned here and there, with parked motorcycles at intersections and window boxes at second floor windows. Every so often they passed some graffiti, though most of it was nonsensical to Tolvydas. Not once did they see a street sign. If it weren’t for Lorenzo’s lead, Tolvydas would be completely lost. 

Finally, the group made it to the bar. It was a nice, quiet place- Tolvydas felt bad for the staff. They hoped nobody would get kicked out, though it was unlikely. Who was a nation, really, if they’d never been asked to leave a bar before? 

Tolvydas wound up sitting beside Spain, with Lorenzo on their other side. Neither spoke to them- Spain was discussing the art of bartending with Italy, and Lorenzo preferred glaring into his cocktail. Tolvydas wondered if they should talk to him- They’d only spoken a brief hello today, after all, and that was a formality. But he seemed annoyed, with his furrowed brow and crossed arms…And now he was looking at them. 

“Why are you looking at me?” Tolvydas sat a little straighter.

“Um. I, uh, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to talk to you,” They said, mouth dry. Lorenzo bit the corner of his lip, eyebrows raised. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“I don’t know, you looked, like, a bit irritated,” Tolvydas said, “S-Sorry.” 

“You’re right, I am,” Lorenzo said, “Fuckin’ hate hosting world meetings. There’s so many people who are just in my space, you know? And I didn’t even realize there were so many people following me when we were on the way here.” He lifted his cocktail. Black salt rimmed the glass, and Lorenzo licked some away. “Was talking to Belgium, got distracted. But she left to go back to her hotel, so. Anyway.” He hung his head between his shoulders. “That’s a bit much, I know.” 

“No,” Tolvydas said, “World meetings suck, whether you’re hosting or not…I don’t hate it but also there’s that invasion-y feeling.”

“Invasion-y feeling, yeah,” Lorenzo murmured, and licked more salt from the rim of his glass. “‘M tired.” 

“Me too,” Tolvydas said. “I need to bring hair ties tomorrow.” 

“That sounds useful,” Lorenzo mumbled. He took a slow drink of his cocktail, wincing at the end. “You don’t have anything to drink.” Tolvydas glanced down at the bar in front of them, and no, they didn’t. Huh, they hadn’t noticed. 

“I don't,” They said, and glanced over at the bartender. A young man with veiny forearms, chatting as he shook up a new drink. His hair was greased back into a pseudo helmet. 

“Giulio!” Lorenzo shouted, catching his attention. Giulio paused in his drink-making and glanced back, then nodded and went on with his business. “He’ll get you in a second.”

“Thanks,” Tolvydas murmured, “I could’ve waited.” 

“Yeah, but you’re talking to me right now,” Lorenzo said. He sipped his drink again. “And I don’t want to talk to you when I’m drinking and you’re not. Then it’s not equal.” 

“Fair enough,” Tolvydas said, “I can just shut up if you want me to-”

“No, we’re talking now,” Lorenzo said, “I want to talk. And it’s my country, so…yeah.” He took a drink. 

“I think it’s nice here,” Tolvydas said, “Very warm.” Lorenzo hummed, then glanced up- Giulio stood at the ready, finished with his previous drink. He exchanged some words with Lorenzo, who turned to Tolvydas after a moment. 

“What do you want?” 

“Um- Could I please have a krambambula?” Lorenzo relayed the message, and Giulio was up to drink-mixing. 

“What’s a krambambula?” Lorenzo mused, peering over the bar. 

“Wine and vodka,” Tolvydas responded, “Belarus’ favorite.” Lorenzo hummed.

“Didn’t you used to be married to her or something?” Tolvydas bowed their head, letting hair fall in front of their eyes. “So you did, huh?” 

“Y-Yes,” Tolvydas stammered, “Briefly, a hundred years ago-”

“She good in bed?” 

“What?” Their cheeks grew warm, too warm for it to simply be the heat. “No- I mean- I don’t know, see-” 

“Hey, calm down, I’m just making conversation.” Lorenzo waved a hand, “It’s none of my business, I know.” 

“We, um. Never slept together,” Tolvydas said, “She doesn’t like me very much, actually.” 

“Oh. That’s a shame,” Lorenzo said, and Tolvydas nodded, though they weren't sure what the shame actually was. A shame they never slept together? Maybe- Since she didn’t reciprocate their feelings, it was hard to really fantasize. They could daydream about kissing her all they wanted, but they’d still know that acting on it would be assault. So their feelings were in the process of fading away. A shame she didn’t like them very much? Eh, they would get over it. Eventually, maybe. They had time. 

Giulio returned with their drink. 

“Can I have a taste?” Lorenzo asked, “Never tried that before.” 

“Of course,” Tolvydas said, and handed him the glass. He took a sip, and struggled to keep his face from contorting in disgust. “You don't like vodka?” Tolvydas asked, taking a swig.  

“Shit’s nasty,” Lorenzo said, “Tastes like sadness. And like, we’ve all got issues or whatever, but mine aren’t so bad I need to drink vodka.” Tolvydas snorted. 

“Okay. Lightweight.” 

“Lightweight?!” 

“Yeah, vodka’s like 95% alcohol volume.” 

“Psh, whatever.” Lorenzo scoffed, and Tolvydas giggled at the sheer nonsense of it. “Why are you laughing at me?” He asked, leaning forward in his chair. 

“Psh, whatever?” They repeated, “That doesn’t even make sense.” 

“It does so,” He said, “You’re too small-brained to get it.” That stung a bit, but Tolvydas didn't mind. They understood it was a joke, though they didn’t appreciate it any more for understanding. 

“Whatever,” They said, looking away. Their eyes naturally picked Feliks out of the group- He sat on the bar, legs crossed, with a glass of wine held in both hands. He’d unbuttoned his shirt to the third button. Tolvydas shook their head- It wouldn’t be very long before they were completely drunk. 

“I hope Feliks doesn’t overdo it,” They thought. 

“Probably will. They look like they’d be wasted after two glasses of wine,” Lorenzo commented. Tolvydas jolted- They hadn't realized they were speaking aloud. 

“They’re- Yeah,” Tolvydas said, “They like parties, always have, but they get drunk too fast to enjoy it.” 

“Maybe that’s why they like parties so much. ‘Cause they don’t remember what one’s like, from all the drinking,” Lorenzo said, “Toni’s like that, sort of.” Tolvydas hummed, and swirled their drink around in the glass. 

“I don’t think such heavy drinking is a sign that one likes parties,” They murmured, “After all, if you like doing something, wouldn’t you want to experience as much of it as you can?” Lorenzo scoffed, and they turned their head to look at him. His arm was thrown around the back of his chair, with his chest out and facing them. Sweat still clung to his forehead- It was less oppressively hot in this bar than the meeting room, but only just. 

“Part of the allure of drinking is that it can make you forget about things,” He said, “Happy people don’t develop alcohol issues. And, you know, for people like us, it’s different, seeing as how we can’t fucking die.” Tolvydas shrugged in response. They shifted in their seat, feeling the cheap leather through their pants, and took another sip of their drink. Lorenzo was correct in that one liked to drink to forget. For people like them, there were virtually no downsides, save whatever you did while you were drinking. Once, Tolvydas had set a cow on fire and didn’t find out until the next morning when, in the clutches of a hangover, they were arrested. 

“I guess,” They said. Then, mind caught on the cow-arson, “What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done while drunk?” Lorenzo sucked air in through his teeth. 

“Done too much stupid shit to tell you off the top of my head,” He admitted, “But, uh, this one time, I drank up a town’s entire supply of wine. Bad move. Had to regrow my kidney.” Tolvydas winced, a bit less inclined to finish their drink. 

“That sounds painful.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said, “Much like hosting the fucking world meetings.” Hosting the world meetings was terrible- It was a constant headache to have so many other nations around you, especially if it was in your capital city. Tolvydas had never had maggots in a wound before, but they imagined that was what it felt like. 

“Oh, I know,” They said. It was a good thing they all shared the burden of hosting the meetings. Locations cycled through nations, such that Lithuania wouldn’t be the host country for another ten years- They’d still have to do smaller meetings, of course, like the EU and UN and such, but at least it wasn’t a world meeting. Over two hundred nations in the same city could make even the humans feel a bit off. 

“I’d be better if all you people hadn’t- hadn’t fucking followed me here. I mean- I didn’t want my idiot brother to invite the entire goddamn continent.”

“I’m sorry,” Tolvydas said, “I was just going with everyone else-”

“I don’t- You know, actually, I need to continue this conversation outside,” Lorenzo said, and stood up. He said a few words to Giulio and turned around, making for the door. Tolvydas’ skin pricked- What had they done wrong? It was just a simple conversation- But of course they’d manage to screw it up. They remained on the edge of their seat, with their eyes fixed on Lorenzo, as he walked out of the bar. As he got to the door, they stood. Should they apologise? Or- Or did Lorenzo want to fight them now? They pushed away the idea, knowing it was all probably fine. 

Tolvydas pulled out their wallet, and left a few euros beside their drink. They followed Lorenzo outside, stumbling when they left the bar. The moon had risen while they were in the bar. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, bathed in silver light save the faint glow of a lit cigarette. Tolvydas swallowed. While it was dark outside, the heat from the day had yet to evaporate. Tolvydas speculated that if they were to touch Lorenzo’s skin, he’d be as warm as if he were sunbathing. Right, Lorenzo- They were not here to stare at him. 

“Are you okay?” Lorenzo jumped, turning around with wide eyes. His shoulders sagged when he saw them.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, “Just fuckin’ tired. Want to go home.” 

“Oh,” Tolydas said, “Sorry then, I’ll- I’ll fuck off now.” They turned away, poised to return to the bar. 

“No,” Lorenzo said, then bit his lips. “I mean-” He put his cigarette between his lips and took a long drag. He looked hollow for a moment before he turned his head and blew a ring with the smoke. “You smoke?”

“Uh, no, not really…not anymore.” 

Lorenzo hummed. “Shame. I could teach you how to blow rings, if you did.” 

“You still can,” Tolvydas said, voice paper-thin, “If you want. And if I could borrow a cigarette. World meetings are hard on the rest of us too.” Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket. 

“Ah, but you’re not the host, Lithuania. And you represent your entire country.” 

“You can call me Tolvydas,” They said, “I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

“I just offered to teach you how to blow smoke rings. I don’t do that with everyone you know,” Lorenzo said, “Maybe I’m still fucked up from the meeting…But okay, sure. Tolvydas.” 

“Thanks,” They muttered, “Also yeah, sorry about your. Brother.” Lorenzo shrugged, and took another drag. 

“I don't want to think about him right now…No, I want to go home…” He bit his lip, and swayed from side to side. Was he alright? Tolvydas ran through a list of all the little things they knew to do if a nation was sick. Lorenzo coughed, and they twitched, hands reaching out for him. Instead of falling or even stumbling, Lorenzo put his cigarette to his lips another time. His cheeks shone in the orange glow. When he was done, he ground the butt under his heel. Three smoke rings floated away from his mouth. 

“I’m gonna go get drunk at home now…You can come if you want.” He turned on his heel, reducing the cigarette butt into a stain of ash. He had a nice gait, Tolvydas thought. A medium sized stride, and they couldn't help but notice the sway of his hips…

Several short and fast steps later, Tolvydas was by his side. 

song lyric asks

[starlightervarda]

Hi, I read your post on bullying in the TOG fandm and I 400% agree. I understand your frustration, I'm frustrated too, a lot, and I'm white! I'm grateful the fandom has people like you, so I hope you won't be mad if I say that condemning a whole religion (protestantism), and accuse a whole race for crimes committed centuries ago is not fair. I get what you were trying to say, but I must admit, put like that, it hurts a bit. it's a vicious cyrcle, you can't fight prjudice with prejudice :( Peace!

Hi nonny,

I don’t think you read what I wrote clearly, or understood what I was complaining about, let alone my frustration. I suggest you go read it again, carefully, without getting offended.

...Where did I accuse a ‘whole race for crimes committed centuries ago’? Kind of hard for me to do that because I don’t believe in the American concept of race. I don’t consider Slavs to be the same thing as Scandinavians. I don’t even think the Irish/French are the same as the English/Dutch/Germans.

Criticizing the damaging effects of White Saviourism is not me attacking ‘white people’. Criticizing the patronizing and stifling influence of Anglocentrism is not me being prejudiced against Northern Europeans. Me calling this behaviour social-imperialism is not supposed to be hurtful, it’s calling a spade a spade.

I really don’t understand where you got this idea from.

I didn’t ‘condemn’ the sect of Protestantism, I’m pointing the cultural issues it’s influence has on the quote-unquote Enlightened, Advanced and Progressive Western World. That the behaviour we see from Anglophones/WASPs in general and online is line with the Puritan values that were born from this kind of extremism.

Witch-hunts in Protestant lands like Britain, New England and Germany into the Early Modern Era, is not an opinion. It’s something that happened in these lands who since that time have constantly claimed to be more civilized and rational than others and this behaviour persists into this century. I even gave examples of how something dumb you could say as a child could be held against you and used to demean and destroy you decades later, how the demand for people to share their traumas to justify their actions then still be judged and spat on, is born of Puritanism. From a culture that doesn’t believe in absolution/repenting/purging your sins/that you are capable of change.

I literally said “It never fails to amaze me how the loudest collection of edgy atheists behave like the religious fanatics I grew up living in fear of. They see no irony in this.” I’m criticizing their mindset.

I really have to ask, why you think me complaining about manipulative racist behaviour, gaslighting and psychological harassment, is me ‘fighting prejudice with prejudice’? The ‘vicious cycle’ here is purity culture, ideological extremism, and the demand we all bow down to one mindset or perish. This is the kind of thinking that doesn’t allow for discussion or change, this is what I’m complaining about.

Do you get what I meant now?

Nonny, I need to sit, take a deep breath, and ask yourself why you had this response to all the points I made. Because if you’re not one of these people, I’m not calling you out. If you are, and felt called out by it, then don’t get upset, recognize that this is a problem and work on not doing these things and being better.

Hope you have a good weekend.

[evilponds]

why do u 👉👈 not enjoy shadow and bone, if u care 2 answer? + what problems did u see in six of crows? maybe ive just not seen any crit but it shocked me to see a lil !

so i never read the original trilogy and probs never will just cos i feel like first person has to be done REALLY well for me to want to read it. that's more of a personal preference thing though. most of my issue with the show was just like. the racism. it didn't need to be there, it was honestly just upsetting to watch, and it kind of started to feel like the only reason they cast an asian woman to play alina was to subject her character to racism. which isn't to say that i don't think they should have cast jessie mei li as alina - she was great, and also it was nice to feel like they were maybe kind of recognizing that white slavs aren't the only people who live in russia, but i just wish they'd allowed her to just like. be alina without then introducing racism that isn't ever really.. challenged in the narrative. frankly i also just wanted them to be nicer to jesper? i love him dearly and it was frustrated to see him essentially reduced, in my opinion, to how fans would simplify him or whatever, im sleepy, you know the phenomenon im talking about

also the whole nina and mathias thing is just like. ok if it's like, person who practices magic meets person who hates magic and eventually they fall in love that's one thing and i think that can be fun but to also make misogyny part of it is just uh. not great! uncomfortable, even. ive said it before i think but it felt like watching one of those yt videos by a white liberal woman about how her boyfriend is a trump supporter but *~somehow~* they manage to get along and love each other. i think if bardugo wanted to show a character unlearning prejudice and harmful beliefs that's something worth exploring, but seeing that explored through that characters relationship with a person from a group that he's spent his life prejudiced against + persecuting just leaves a bad taste in my mouth for reasons im too tired to articulate but that boil down to like, you should learn to care about people because they're people, not because you want to date someone. or whatever. also i just feel like all the characters were like. too young for the things that were happening to them but that's like, The Way YA Is, so i guess like. whatevs

also. can't stress this enough. grisha is just.. greg. she called a bunch of people with magic powers greg

[qqueenofhades]

I was hoping you would be able to help me form a response when my family says they're sick of hearing of systemic racism and white privilege because THEY have had to work for everything and believe nothing got handed to them (true in the way they're thinking, but you know what I mean).

Welp. First, I applaud you for taking the initiative to engage in difficult conversations with your family, since the only way embedded racist ideas are going to get confronted in white society is if racist white people hear it from their friends and family. They are going to cheerily ignore protestors, academics, newsreaders, popular culture, and certainly politicians who say anything to the contrary, but it’s harder to ignore and brush aside when it’s coming from people who are directly within your own family group. They can still then ignore it, but at least you’re trying to do something that is not at all fun but which is deeply necessary, and good for you.

First, there are a few things for you to consider. Is this a case where they actually don’t know the difference, but are willing to learn, or is this essentially sealioning (where they act like they don’t know the difference, but they absolutely do, and put the emotional labor on you to extensively define and explain and educate while never intending to change their stances on anything). If it’s the former, then there is some point in engaging in dialogue with them. If it’s the latter, it’s a giant emotional trap that you are within your rights not to engage with until they signal that they’re willing to engage productively. You don’t have to educate someone who is categorically unwilling to be educated (especially when it’s often deliberate ignorance). As people like to say, Google is free, and it’s their responsibility to take the first steps to change. You can continue to talk with them, but yes, that is contingent on them actually standing a chance of listening to you and not just you wearing yourself out on something that they don’t want to actually hear (because it threatens them and makes them feel Personally Wrong, and white people don’t like that).

There have been various books written on why it’s so hard to talk to white people about racism, which you may be interested in checking out, not least the book "Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race” by Renni Eddo-Lodge. Ibram X. Kendi has also written “How to Be An Antiracist,” one of the bestselling books of this summer, either of which would be useful either in shaping your own arguments or (if they’re receptive) giving to your family. Once again, this is contingent on them signalling that they’re actually willing to listen, and not just to make you do pointless emotional labor. These books are probably available from your public library (though there’s probably a waitlist) or in other easily available formats.

Next, it’s a basic tenet of an anti-racist education that white people have never had to do this kind of reckoning, and thus get whiny, defensive, guilt-tripping, and “it’s not about ME I’m a GOOD PERSON” when it comes up. This also rests on the damaging and deeply intertwined effects of racism and classism, which has to be understood if you’re going to talk about it. One of the greatest tricks that racist capitalism ever pulled is convincing poor white people that they had more in common with their filthy rich white masters (people whose way of life will never in a thousand years be anything like each other’s) simply because they shared the inherent racial “purity” of being white. There have been political studies written on how poor/undereducated/working class white people have become such a reliably Republican constituency, because they have been successfully manipulated to believe that the white overlords are their “people” and they will constantly vote against their own economic, social, and cultural interests in favor of enriching amoral white demagogues who beat the populist xenophobic drum. Then they blame black and brown people for society’s ills and for the reason that they stay poor, rather than the rampaging oligarchs awarding themselves massive tax breaks and billion-dollar bailouts and refusing to extend unemployment benefits in case people “make too much money” from not working, just to name the most recent example. They are so poisoned on populist politics and white supremacy, which assures them that they’re better than anyone else by virtue of being white, that they actively attack politicians and policy platforms and other social welfare initiatives that would materially improve their own lives as “un-American.” This is maddening and sometimes baffling, but it’s how it works. Whiteness trumps all, currently literally thanks to the Orange Fuhrer. Problems in life are the fault of the Other.

This isn’t to say that poor white people are “dumb” and just unable to realize it, because they’re caught in a system that has done this literally from the start of America. In the early 17th century, indentured laborers and slaves in the American colonies were in fact more likely to be white. (The word “slave” comes from “Slav,” since that was the predominant ethnicity of slaves in medieval Europe; i.e. white eastern Europeans.) But even despite the fact that they were unpaid laborers, they were still white and thus recognized as human by their white masters, and thus when slave ships began arriving, it was easier for everybody to simply outright demonize and dehumanize the black African slaves. The poor white indentured servants got to feel better than the black slaves simply for the fact of their whiteness. Their lives obviously sucked, but their whiteness was in fact a mitigating factor in the suckiness that it involved once it was easier to use “animalistic” black people. And we wonder why America can’t ever confront its racist history properly. As Kendi calls it in his other book, it is stamped from the beginning.

As it has been put before, white people can and often do have difficult lives, because late-stage capitalism devours its workers no matter what color they are, but their whiteness isn’t a factor in why their lives are difficult. They will never encounter racial prejudice, race-based hate crime, discrimination for housing, education, employment, bank loans, daily microaggressions and identity erasure, constantly racist tropes in the media, politicians fingering them as everything wrong with America/the world, casual prejudices or assumptions even from close friends, assumed criminality based just on their race -- etc etc. The list goes on and on. Just because you have a hardscrabble economic background does not mean that your life has been made harder by your race -- because if you’re white, it hasn’t. (And as noted, poor white people have consistently voted for megalomaniac white men who don’t give a shit about them but promise them that everything is fine or should be better for them because of their whiteness, and then blame minorities for being the source of their problems.)

I honestly wonder if racism would still be such a problem in America if we had a remotely more equitable economic system, because when you’re well off and have your basic needs consistently met and don’t need to worry that you’re one paycheck away from disaster, it’s harder to constantly be paranoid that your differently colored neighbors are stealing everything from you and the cause of all society’s ills. The historian Patrick Hyder Patterson wrote a very interesting book on material culture in Yugoslavia in the 20th century, where he basically argued that despite the spectacular collapse of the federation into the Yugoslavian wars of the 90s, things didn’t really go to hell until after the economy crashed following Josip Broz Tito’s death in 1980. While there were obviously ethnic fault lines and conflicts between Serbs, Croats, Montenegrins, Bosniaks, Albanians, etc, when there wasn’t any money and any jobs and everyone thought everyone else was to blame, THAT is when the whole thing blew up into a genocidal civil war clusterfuck. Food for thought.

This is why people talk about economic justice and racial justice as going hand in hand. When there is a scarcity of resources and no social safety net, people are obviously more inclined to look for scapegoats and to blame someone for taking their entitlement (while still somehow refusing to blame the billionaires and corporate oligarch who are ACTUALLY stealing from them). They indeed actively resist any attempts to make their own lives better as being “socialist” or “un-American” and take pride in the fact that there’s absolutely jacksquat nothing (until of course, something like the coronavirus pandemic hits and it’s revealed just how many of us were always one missed paycheck away from disaster). Then when they need government assistance (while disdaining the government as tyrannical the rest of the time, unless it’s Trump’s actively tyrannical lot, but hey, we don’t have time to unpack all that) it’s still shameful and something they shouldn’t be using, instead of their basic entitlement to a decent life.

This country is poisoned on a lot of toxic beliefs, but this is one of the deepest-running one, and which will always get in the way of poor white people dealing with racism: their lives suck, but they have ALWAYS been told that despite that, they’re still better just for being white, which is their consolation prize for supporting white populists who actively rob them, and they haven’t even always consciously registered that. They just feel that if they’re “fine,” even if they’re not fine, then black people are just malcontents and criminals who can’t hack it. In 2016, there was a lot of ink spilled over how poor white people felt a sense of economic grievance and being left behind, which was why they voted for Trump, but... Trump was never going to do a damn thing about that??? He doesn’t actually do anything for his supporters except feed them his jingoistic Orange Nazi stump speeches. They voted for Trump to feel vindicated, not to actually improve their lives, and it’s damn clear by now that not only has he NOT improved their lives, he has no desire to do so. He just wants them to cheer for him and feed his ego, not fix any problems.

Basically, racism and capitalism and the American political system intersect in multiple deeply toxic ways to do precisely what you’re talking about; producing poor white people who feel that they shouldn’t be included in the reckoning with racism because if THEY worked hard and they don’t live in a mansion, somehow racism is fake and black people should just shut up and get a job etc etc. This is because poor white people have been systematically conditioned to support white supremacy at the direct expense of their own economic and social interests; it’s terrible, but that’s how it functions. They will never in a million years have anything in common with the (white) ruling class, but they still instinctively identify with them rather than people in their own deprived economic class who are different races or colors or religions. That is how white supremacy has supported the hyper-inequality of the industrial age, and vice verse, and it is one of capitalism’s best functions for survival, so it’s in the interests of the overlords to maintain it. Stop the workers from recognizing pan-racial solidarity based on economic grievance, and compete with each other and blame each other rather than the overarching system, easy!

Anyway. Once again, this is long. But in short, the attitudes your family are exemplifying are a direct result of both racism and classism as they have been deliberately cultivated in the American social and political system, and the interlocking causes and symptoms of both have to be recognized (and acknowledged) before they can get to dealing with that. I don’t know how that will go, and I don’t have an easy shortcut. But I’m glad you’re trying. Good luck.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Names (νοσταλγία Backstory)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Summary: A little snippet of the Reader’s character backstory, and the importance of names/titles for her.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: I hope you like this! I have plans to write Pov’s of Ivar, Sieghild, and Freydis (maybe even Narses at some point), so I’m hope you’re interested in more pieces like this one! Would love to hear back from you!

Child of Persephone.

Favored by the Gods of the Underworld.

You were born with more titles over your head than stars in the night sky. Daughter of a Spartan General, a man of honor that had claims to Laconia’s throne, Daughter of an Athenian Priestess, a woman of the Gods that singlehandedly kept the Christian God from the people’s hearts.

Born in Eleusis, fertile land of Demeter where she met with Kore each spring, the Elders marked you when you were born as a girl touched by the barren Goddess, to be guided by Persephone, loved by Hades, aided by Melinöe, protected by Demeter.

You were six years old when you stood in the steps of that temple, sobbing quietly by your mother’s side as you both waited for a ship that would never sail again over that horizon; when you saw the redheaded woman for the first time.

She approached you as your mother looked over the waves, her red hair braided in a way you never saw before, her face drawn on with dark colors, and her green eyes uncertain but kind.

She said some words, spoke of a woman that sounded like your Goddess, called her Freyja. She took you with her to her home and taught you to use some plants and waters to heal your bruised knees and scratched palms.

Three weeks later, the marching feet of soldiers reached your ears. The woman, they called her Varangian, held you to her side as they dragged your mother out of the temple, as they tied her to a pole and started a fire underneath her feet.

The Varangian held you tight but she didn’t try to keep you from seeing as they burnt your mother alive, and she didn’t cover your ears as the once-Priestess started screaming, she instead knelt behind you and hummed a hoarse and sorrowful song by your ear in a language you didn’t recognize.

Sieghild claimed you as her own when the Christians tried taking you with them to Constantinople. She took your hand in her bigger, rougher one, and with nothing but the clothes you had on your backs and an old amulet tied on your neck, you departed for what she called the Silk Roads.

She taught you her language, she taught you of her people and her Gods, and allowed you to tell her of your own Gods, of tricks and pomegranates.

And when she tried to make you lift a sword, you grabbed on tighter to the mortar and pestle, and instead of a shieldmaiden like her you decided to be a healer.

Maiden of the soft touch.

Child of herbs and flowers.

Almost ten years went by like that. Side by side, the world ahead. She became your mother and you her daughter, even if you still called her a brutish Varangian and she still called you a soft Greek.

One would think so much time away from Attica, staying at the sides of armies and mercenaries, warriors and rulers, watching first hand as a healer the horrors of battle and the glory of war; would have prepared you, hardened you, for the time war chased you back, like an old friend demanding your presence at its side again.

Eleusis called fro aid as you were on exile through the Silk Roads, and your legacy, your blood, demanded you answer the call. And they welcomed you as Attica welcomed you, made you Priestess, made you one of the Greeks again.

You took your role as healer, this time alongside friends and not indifferent allies. It hurt more when you had to put a couple of coins over a Greek’s eyes than when you had to watch an Arab be sent to their crypt, or when you saw a Rus warrior’s body burnt.

As the raiders and barbarians were pulled back from the once mainland Greece, word started spreading of a descendant of Theseus listening to a Priestess and doing her bidding, of the rituals of the Gods being performed again by you and many others, of the Empire retreating subtly from Greece. Such was the new-found glory of the Attics, that your own blood past the Gulf of Corinth sent forces, and for the first time in so long the new Laconians fought alongside Attics.

Vengeful maiden.

Hiereia of Eleusis.

Problem is, when you give a people enough strength, enough peace, enough time, they start to feel the weight of a tyrant on their shoulders more than ever. It was easy for the Empire to keep the Attics, the Laconians, the Boeotians, under control when the threat of invaders kept them busy with war and death.

But when Greeks tasted their freedom again, when the Gods where honored again, when Laconians and Attics were side by side again…the Byzantine Empire started growing uneasy.

You were on Thebes, listening to men talk about war against the new Slavs that attempted to return to your lands, when the first  message from the Patriarch of Byzantium reached you: renounce your Gods, pledge loyalty to the Empire, or Constantinople will disown your noble birth and its protections over Attica.

Of course, you refused the insulting proposal. Even now, knowing what that choice would bring upon Greece, you would still refuse the offer.

This angered them, of course it did, and they prepared for a ‘crusade’. Trying to convert the Greeks, to make you all renounce the Gods and bend the knee to their sole and distant God.

That’s when you…waged your war. You garnered the loyalty of Narses and his army through ways that would shame you today, and even if the Laconians pulled back their support, the Attics held on and stopped the Christians from advancing over mainland Greece for almost a year.

Then, Athens fell, and so did Thoricus, Laurium, so many others. You retreated to Eleusis, the land that saw you be born, and the last of the free Attics prepared for death.

Narses would join the Byzantine ranks again, had sworn so, and the Empire was not as stupid as to lose him when they needed him the most by renouncing his return. The betrayal stung, but you had no ground to stand on about lies and deception when it came to him.

You stayed behind as the last of the Eleusinians exiled themselves when the Byzantines started marching for your city, and when they arrived, the Christians judged you, tied you to a pyre and lit their fire.

You shouldn’t have survived.

But you have, and now you have a new title over your head, a new responsibility on your shoulders, a new weight in your heart.

Anassa of the Attics.

Queen of the dead and those that remain.

______

Btw, the end of her travels through the Silk Roads takes place around the start of season 4 in canon, tying her very close in age to Ivar and making it so that in Hope, when we take the AU where she did not return to Eleusis, we can work from 4a-b canon onwards.

Anyhow, thank you so much for reading, hope to hear from you! :)

[headspacedad]

I feel like one of the paladins would make a point out of learning ASL. “But who uses that it space?”, “WELL ENGLISH SEEMS TO BE A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE. SO MAYBE ASL IS THE UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE FOR THE DEAF IN SPACE”. Also, non verbal communication is great. Like, you have a sore throat? Sign. You are so worked up you can’t speak? Sign. You want to talk to your friend but you can’t be too loud? Sign. I’m just not sure which paladin would be so set on learning ASL.

yeah, that ‘all aliens speak English (and yet don’t have ‘English’ sounding names)’ was a bit of a weird one.  Granted, it was a kid’s show and kids shows usually tend to skip over the communication gap but writing-wise it does make for some awkwardness.  Plus Pidge was trying to learn Altean so canon acknowledges that there are separate languages no one seems to be speaking.  Having one of the paladins learn ASL is a bit fourth wall breaking therefore if they’re going to use it to communicate with aliens but - really, it would hardly be the only thing that is and its an interesting concept so why not?

That out of the out of the way, I do have Shiro (or his clones at least) communicating with a form of sign in my story Falling.  Not necessarily ASL so much as short-hand signals for more wordy concepts.  The idea being that in the silence of space sometimes its easier or more efficient to just use sign to communicate with your space walking partners instead of using the comms.  Also you should always have back up in case the comms go down.  And lastly there might be things you don’t want recorded but you’d like to communicate.  So in my headcanon at least Shiro knows and uses a kind of short-hand ASL for space walkers that most of the experienced astronauts of that time have picked up and passed along with additions to each new generation.  Military uses a kind of short-hand sign to communicate actions and ideas as well in our world and since the Garrison is quasi-military in structure at least, why not?  So first up, I’d say Shiro.

Which one would consciously and intentionally learn ASL specifically in complete for communication purposes though - that’s a tricky one.  My first thought would be Pidge.  She was already shown trying to learn Altean and it makes sense that she’d continue to want to learn languages that make operating easier for her.  She’s not really a great communicator of the team however and unless ASL helped her interact with computers or foreign techs she might not see as much a point behind it.  She places a LOT of faith in computers and doesn’t seem to make contingency plans for when they break other than ‘fix them’.  So Pidge might be the first one to put in the idea of learning ASL for communication purposes but I don’t know if she’d volunteer to learn it herself unless the rest of the team did.  So I'm going to go with Lance as a good candidate for learning ASL for the purpose of communicating.  He’s the one that wants to interact with aliens the most and if he’s ‘a boy from Cuba’ than its pretty clear that he’s already bi-lingual.  He’s also surprisingly good about anticipating upcoming problems when he puts his mind to it and having ASL to fall back on if the communicators/translators stop working would make sense.  Plus it would let him talk to Hunk while other people are giving long diplomatic speeches so he’d see that as a bonus too - and Hunk would probably be interested in learning ASL if Lance was.   

An interesting addition to this thought, since we’re digging rabbit holes, is - how does sign language work for the aliens?  Do the ones with four arms carry on two levels of talk at once, the top part being the polite social one and the second being what they’re really thinking?  Do the ones with flippers, the ones with tentacles, the ones with multiple or fewer fingers, have their own variations to communicate the same thing?  Do the space pirates have a second type of sign like thieves cant they use to recognize and communicate with each other on the sly?  Can Slav dither in five different thought trains all at once?  Lots of interesting routes this could go and ways it could play out in fics for sure.  Intriguing idea, Nonnie!

[sparkie96]

For the drinking starters “You’re so hot.” With Chris and Leon? 🤗

(Due to Capcom’s bumbfuckery of a timeline, I have decided to make Chris 32 and Leon 38. Chris’s Dad went through the Arklay Incident and sacrificed himself to save Jill, Rebecca and Barry. Claire helped her dad raise Chris and then went searching for Jill and Barry, leaving Chris with their Uncle and Aunt until Claire came back and they moved out. Chris joins the BSAA at twenty-five. Simmons and Senator Davis are still alive and it was just Carla in RE6. Vendetta doesn’t happen, except for the bombing in DC. I said, “Fuck Canon” to make this work.) 

When he had gotten out of work this afternoon, Leon had planned to sit in the local pub and drown himself in his favorite drink and expected to be left alone. He also hoped that it wouldn’t be too busy, so he could enjoy a nice quiet evening with a couple glasses of whiskey. 

Sadly, like earlier, things didn’t seem to want to go Leon’s way. 

After another scathing reprimanding from the asshole that was Derek C. Simmons, his boss, for “meddling” in international affairs and accusing trusted politicians of heinous crimes instead of following orders and not stirring the pot. He was then told that he was going to be suspended for his behavior. Leon and Simmons had gotten into it, Simmons pointing out that Leon had also failed to protect Adam all those years ago and that Leon was going to be reevaluated to see if he was still mentally capable of handling this job. 

And since President Davis was apparently still upset with Leon about the whole Harvardville Airport thing that had happened all those years ago, on top of Leon putting the United States’ interests at risk due to what had happened in the Eastern Slav Republic, and then Tall Oaks and China, and now the bombing in DC and had accused multiple people of being involved but did not have proof. So, because of all of that, Leon had been given not one, but three weeks suspension. Leon tried to plead his case, but the president wouldn’t hear it. Davis apparently did not like Leon outside of “Being a pretty faced Agent”. 

Davis said that there was one way Leon could have made it up to him, but Leon would rather just take the punishment than sacrifice his dignity and let some pig take advantage of him. 

So, here he was, now technically getting that vacation that had been stolen from him multiple times before and he planned on being drunk through it all. But sadly, the start of it was noisy, due to the apparent party of BSAA guys and girls sitting in the back corner, celebrating a bit too loudly for his liking. Though he couldn’t help but recognize the last name of the guy they were apparently celebrating. 

“Redfield?” Leon asked, cocking a brow, “Is that…?” 

He didn’t know Claire had a brother. He remembered helping her try to find her dad, but he didn’t recall hearing about a brother. A mother yes, but not a sibling. Maybe it hadn’t been important at the time?

Leon glanced over to see just who they were celebrating. He could see a man with dark hair and brown eyes, the man looking a bit shy as he smiled awkwardly at his teammates, an older woman, whom Leon recognized as “Jill Valentine” but she looked different. He didn’t recall her having blonde hair before. She wrapped an arm around the young man’s neck, rubbing her fist in his hair in a playful manner and congratulating him on a job well done for what, Leon couldn’t hear. But he assumed that that was “Redfield”. 

Though, he suddenly couldn’t hear anything except the momentary beating of his heart in his chest, pounding in his ears as the young man’s eyes met his own. The sound became louder when neither turned their attention from the other, both wearing faint blushes as they held the other’s attention. 

“Hey!” Fingers snapped in Leon’s field of vision, making the agent turn away from the admittedly attractive man and turn toward the bartender. 

But he wasn’t the one doing it. He turned toward the source of the interruption, noticing a big brawny guy and his girlfriend. The man snapped at him to “move it” claiming that the seat Leon was sitting in was “his seat”. He then told Leon that he had to either move or pay for their drinks. 

Leon glared up at the man with a pout, “Well, I don’t see your name written on it...and there’s plenty of other seats. And I’m not exactly in a generous mood. Had a rough week at work.” 

“That’s a shame.” The man said with mock concern, “Now, what’s it gonna be, Pretty Boy?” 

Before Leon could answer, a bigger body pushed between him and the asshole before him, Leon’s eyes widening in surprise as he noticed that it was Redfield. The raven-haired man was taller and definitely more muscular than Leon, built like a fucking tank. This was Claire’s brother?!

“Is there a problem here?” Redfield asked, his voice light but firm, looking down at the shithead and his girlfriend. 

Shithead didn’t seem too tough now, seemingly afraid of Redfield, much to Leon’s amusement. The guy looked over Redfield’s shoulder at Leon, once again claiming that Leon sat in his and his girl’s seat. Redfield turned to look at Leon before looking at the bar and then the stool, saying the same thing that Leon had said earlier: “I don’t see your name written on it.” 

It didn’t seem like the asshole had his balls anymore, Shithead quickly apologized to Leon before telling his girlfriend that there were other places to sit. The man then bid Leon and Redfield a good night, dragging his girlfriend to a booth in the back. 

Redfield turned back to Leon giving a friendly smile, “Hi. You alright?” 

Leon leaned back slightly, looking the younger man over, noticing that his work-out shirt said “C.Redfield.” He also noticed other things, taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment as he admired his muscles...and other assets, eyes drifting lower before looking up into soft brown orbs and a handsome face, “...You’re so hot...” 

That made the younger man blush and laugh, “C.Redfield” sitting next to him in the empty stool, “Thanks...I think. You’re not so bad looking yourself...though, have we met?” 

“No,” Leon admitted, holding a hand out toward the younger, “But I would like to. I’m Leon.” 

The younger man took his hand in his, shaking it, “Chris.” 

Leon smiled. So, now he had a name to go with that handsome face. Chris had asked Leon what he was drinking, offering to buy him one. Leon politely declined, instead offering to buy Chris one, considering he was here celebrating something. 

“Seriously, what can I get you?” Leon asked, leaning forward and calling the bartender over. 

Chris scratched the back of his neck as he gave a shy smile, “Well...your number would be a good start.” 

[anamericangirl]

Okay, @beachflowerr​ you brought up a lot of things and it’s too hard for me to do this all in replies on the post, but I think they deserve a response. 

I’m not “pulling you into any philosophy” that you didn’t say. The very concept of the privilege that you say I have is skin color, is it not? You told me I was putting myself in a picture I was not a part of and if I was not black, this did not affect me. Those were your words. That means I have the wrong skin color to be affected by this and to be a part of the picture and doesn’t the “privilege” you say I have affect the way I see and understand things? Isn’t this what people call white privilege? And doesn’t the very name imply that I have inherent privileges based on my race and that it has an effect on what I can and can’t understand? That is telling me I have the wrong skin color to understand certain things. That is all based on what you said. I’m not putting words in your mouth or pulling you into any philosophy that you yourself did not project. 

And sorry but the fact that you’re white doesn’t mean anything here. I don’t care what color skin you have you can discriminate against anyone. Even other white people. And just to be clear, I never claimed you were discriminating against me because I don’t think you were. But saying “I'm also white so I'm not discriminating against you” doesn’t prove anything. It doesn’t matter what color you are. 

But yes, please, let’s continue on American history. 

Thanks for the links but I am familiar with the slave trade. However, slavery goes back way before the 15th century. Slavery was literally going on all over the world and had been a thing for hundreds of years before America even existed and it certainly was not unique to African-Americans. Perhaps you are not aware of this but the very root of the word “slave” is slav, which is a reference to the slavic people who were the primary slaves during the Middle Ages and they were white people. 

Also, you are not correct that people from Africa were stolen by Europeans. The Africans who were slaves in America were actually enslaved by other Africans and then sold to the European slave trade. Another interesting fact for you is that most of the slaves in this slave trade did not even go to America, they went to South America. So it’s weird that America is the only racist country because of slavery even though less than 10% of the slaves came here and one ever shames Brazil for racism because of slavery.

But yeah, let’s focus on America because that’s where this issue is. So you might not know this, but not only black people were slaves in America. There where white slaves as well as black slave owners. In fact, at the height of slavery in this country 28% of free black people owned slaves while 1.4% of white people did, yet for some reason only the black slaves matter and only the white slave owners. People in this country like to ignore the fact that there where white slaves and black slave owners (a higher percentage even than white slave owners) for some reason. :)

Slavery did last here for a while but it officially ended in 1865 and that was a long time ago. People like to pretend that all the problems in this country are because of slavery and we, as white people, still have to pay for this evil even though there is still slavery going on in Africa today. Slavery was a bad thing and it happened. But it’s over now. No one alive today in this country was a slave or owned any slaves and it’s not responsible for what we see happening today. 

And let’s be glad those three amendments were added. I don’t get why it matters to you that it was three amendments and not one. Does it surprise you that completely shifting your culture and changing public perception of something that has been seen as normal and has been engrained in your culture for 100+ years doesn’t happen overnight? Is it a negative thing to you that, as a country, we worked and made changes until all people, regardless of skin color, were seen and treated as equals even if it took more than one amendment to get the job done? That seems like a positive thing to me. 

I realize in our country that black people have had a harder time gaining equality, but you are looking at this as a black v. white issue and that is not at all what it was. It was a democrat v. republican issue. If you look back through history at all these racist policies that we have had, every single one, from slavery to segregation, can be traced back to the democrats. Republicans fought since their formation for the freedom and equality of black people. One of the main reasons the republican party was formed was opposition to slavery. So it’s really not fair of you to just act like white people were oppressors and black people were oppressed. That’s a really shallow representation of what the actual issues were. 

You’re also misrepresenting redlining here. You’re acting like because a lot of black communities were subject to redlining because of their condition the reason is because they were black communities. And that’s not accurate. You’re just making an assumption. 

And yeah, I’ve heard of micro aggressions and I think it’s one of the dumbest ideas that has ever been presented. Micro aggressions aren’t real. African-Americans don’t commit more crimes because of micro aggressions, they commit more crimes because they choose to. You are literally trying to remove all personal responsibility here. But for whatever reason you want to think they commit more crimes, that accounts for the higher incarceration rate so it’s not alarming at all and it’s not racism. It’s expected that those that commit more crimes are more likely to be in jail. 

I agree, people can make subconscious race based judgments, but to just assume this accounts for all racial disparities is quite naive. There can be a lot of other reasons for these disparities, jumping right to racism is pretty extreme. Most people, whatever you would like to believe, aren’t racist and aren’t making subconscious race based judgments. Besides, most subconscious race based judgements would have to be rather small and it wouldn’t have a really profound effect on anything. To be infecting the entire criminal justice system, they would have to be pretty conscious judgements. I think there’s a lot you don’t understand about the justice system and that’s ok. But it’s not okay to just call it racist because you don’t understand it and because you, personally, can’t think of any other reasons disparities exist. I looked at that page you linked from the NAACP but you should know that website has a pretty strong political bias and I don’t consider them credible. But it didn’t say African Americans get higher sentences for the same crimes. But even if it did, there are a lot of different factors that are considered at a sentencing so assuming that the difference is just racism is ignorant. 

And I'm sorry, but your transition to police brutality is incredibly weak and makes absolutely no sense. Numerical inequality does not prove racism so you thinking it proves racial injustice and inequality just means you don’t really understand what racism is. 

You are also, it seems, oblivious to how white people can be treated by police. Police brutality is not unique to black people. A lot of white people have been victims of police brutality. They just don’t make headlines and don’t get protests because no one cares. More white people are shot by the police every single year than black people. Here are some for you to look at since you, apparently, think it doesn’t happen.

https://www.dallasnews.com/news/investigations/2019/07/31/you-re-gonna-kill-me-dallas-police-body-cam-footage-reveals-the-final-minutes-of-tony-timpa-s-life/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shooting_of_Daniel_Shaver

There’s a couple to get you started. I know why the protests and riots are happening, but I disagree with what they are saying and I don’t think the reason they are protesting is valid or is something that is happening today. I think all the protesters, like you, are either misinformed or uniformed. There is absolutely no evidence that this killing was racial in nature. You and everyone else who buys into that idea are just saying that because George Floyd was black and Derek Chauvin was white. That’s it. That’s all you’ve got. You guys are the ones focused on race and you literally can’t see anything else. So everything is about race to you. 

I’m perfectly aware of the history. In fact, based on the way you went through it, I think I know more about the history than you do. I also, unlike you, am aware of the changes that our country has gone through and people can’t blame the history of slavery for everything bad that happens to black people.

You don’t seem like you know this so let me explain something to you: literally every race on the planet has, at one time or another, been treated very poorly by other races. Every single demographic has been through oppression of some sort. Why can every race get over their oppression to the point where it doesn’t have this lifelong mitigating effect on all future generations except for black people? Why is their bad history the most important? What you are doing is ignoring all of history except for the parts you want to acknowledge because they fit your narrative. 

I have America in my username not because I’m unaware of the history we have, but because I am aware of it. We have a big history. We have a lot of bad things in our history as well as a lot of really great things. I’m very proud of this country. I'm proud that the people in our history saw slavery for the evil that it was and stopped it. I’m proud that the people in our history saw segregation for the evil that it was and stopped it. I’m proud that the people in our history fought until black people were recognized as fully equal human beings in every single aspect under the law. Though you mentioned things that happened in history, you have failed to explain why this instance of police brutality is racist and how the history makes everyone racist today. 

White privilege is not a thing. And with your little explanation of white privilege you have proved that you were, in fact, telling me I have the wrong skin color to be able to understand certain things :) I appreciate you being concerned about my ignorance, but I would suggest you be more concerned about yours :) your idea of white privilege doesn’t make any sense. A white person is not the least likely to be ostracized or oppressed. You just made that up :) I get what people say white privilege, but I don’t accept that it exists and you have failed to prove that it does. You’ve made one of the weaker cases against it that I’ve seen. White people aren’t oppressed in America and black people aren’t oppressed in America. No one is oppressed in America. And there is no white privilege and there is no evidence that this was racism. I stand by what I originally said because you didn’t make a single valid point against any of it. I suggest you become more familiar with all aspects of our history, not just the parts that fit what you want to be true. To be honest, even the parts you are aware of you don’t really know that much about. 

Stop letting people make you feel like your skin color matters. It doesn’t. Your skin color doesn’t give you special privileges and you are capable of understanding this issue. Just like everyone else, you can see facts. Don’t believe people who tell you that your skin color means there are just some things you can’t understand. It’s racist for people to say or think that. The very concept of white privilege is inherently racist so don’t buy into that crap. 

[calligraphist-artemisia]

I’m Not Calling it a Date

Kidgeweek 2019 - Day 1: High School or College AU . 

Summary: Pidge really needed to learn how to say ‘no’ to Allura’s plans, especially when it’s something she doesn’t fully feel comfortable with. But maybe, just that once, it could lead to something good.

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net (under the username kishirokitsune)

I'm Not Calling it a Date

“I had the most brilliant idea,” Allura gushed as she sat down at a table across from Pidge.

Pidge lifted her eyes from her notes without moving her head, raising an eyebrow as Lance plopped down as well, looking much less pleased than Allura. “Am I going to like this idea?”

“No, because it's an awful idea,” Lance grumbled, glaring at Allura.

Allura rolled her eyes. “You're the only one who feels that way. Even Hunk thinks it's a good idea and he never thinks things like this are a good idea!”

Pidge marked where she was in her notes and then set her notebook aside, more interested in finding out what her friends were plotting than continuing to study. The fact that Hunk thought something was a good idea, but Lance didn't was bound to be entertaining.

“Pidge,” Allura began, taking her friend's hands with both of her own. “How would you feel about going on a double date with me and Shiro?”

Scratch that.

Not entertaining.

Pidge was with Lance, for once. It sounded like an awful idea.

“Don't say 'no' yet!” Allura begged.

“Maybe you've forgotten, but I'm not dating anyone and there isn't anyone I'm interested in either. I don't know if either of you remember the last time you tried to set me up on a blind date at Nadia's suggestion, but it didn't end well,” Pidge reminded them. “I'm sorry, Allura, but-”

“Shiro approves of him!” Allura blurted out in a desperate last attempt.

Pidge snapped her mouth shut and narrowed her eyes. “Shiro knows about this plan and approves of it?”

“Well... I wouldn't say he approves exactly, but he did say that he thought it would be nice if you two could meet and be friends,” Allura said. “You don't have to think of this as a date, if you don't want to. Just four friends seeing a movie and getting dinner.”

Curse Allura for being so difficult to say no to.

Pidge swallowed her inclination to agree to Allura's plan and looked to Lance instead, hoping that he would be able to offer her the perfect excuse to stay home. “So why are you against this, Lance?”

“Because Keith's a jerk!”

Allura rolled her eyes. “Honestly, I don't understand what your problem is with him. You just up and decided that he is your rival and haven't bothered to give him a chance beyond that!”

“Wait, rival? You mean the mullet guy he's always ranting about?” Pidge asked, her gaze drifting back to Allura.

That was interesting. She'd always been a little curious about the person Lance ranted on about from time to time. Hearing that Allura wanted to set her up with the mystery rival only increased that curiosity and it was for that reason that she found herself agreeing to a movie and dinner on Friday night.

“But it's not a date! Like you said, it'll just be four friends having fun.”

Allura squealed in delight. “You won't regret it, Pidge! This is going to be great!”

Lance quietly moaned in defeat, disappointed that no one else wanted to listen to him.

Pidge doubted she'd really have as much fun as Allura seemed to think, but it made her friend happy and she could hardly back out a minute after agreeing. She changed the subject before Allura could continue on, and they all sat around and talked for a while longer before Allura had to head off to class, and Lance to meet Nadia for a late lunch. Pidge stuck around to try and get a little more studying done, but found it hard to concentrate and packed up to head home to the apartment she shared with her brother, Matt.

He was friends with Shiro; maybe he could tell her more about Keith.

Sadly, Matt was nowhere to be found when she got home. After poking around in search of him, Pidge settled in at the desk in her room, leaving her bedroom door open so she could hear when he returned.

She lost herself to several rounds of solitaire on her computer, giving her brain an extended break from her studies. It wasn't like she could focus anyway.

At around four o'clock, as if guided by some unseen force, Pidge looked out her window to the park below. She could see children running around, screaming in glee. There was the old man who fed birdseed to the pigeons every Tuesday. A number of couples strolling along, hand-in-hand. An attractive man with dark hair, running with his massive wolf-like dog.

Pidge took a moment to admire him, as she always did. She wasn't sure what it was that drew her to him; if it was his carefully maintained schedule or just the way his dog stood out from all of the others.

“You know, I'm starting to think you have a crush.”

Pidge jumped and flailed her arms before spectacularly falling out of her chair. She glared up at her brother as he laughed. “It's not funny! And I do not!”

“Uh huh,” Matt responded, holding out a hand to help her up. “I brought pizza home, unless you'd rather sit in here and keep watching him.”

Pidge grumbled at him as she accepted his help, but didn't take the bait he dangled in front of her. Instead, she resisted the urge to take one last look and marched out of her room to their tiny kitchen. “Did you bring me any bread sticks?”

“Of course,” Matt said, still sounded amused.

Pidge happily gathered her food, elbowing Matt when she tried to steal a bread stick, and tried to cast aside all thoughts of double dates and attractive joggers. It didn't work very well when Matt kept casting her amused glances.

She finished off the crust of her first slice of pizza and contemplated the best way to distract him. Unfortunately, the only answer she could come up with was one that would lead to another unwanted conversation.

Although, she didn't have to tell him why she was asking about Keith. She could get her answers without revealing that Allura was trying to set her up on a date.

Pidge chomped down on a bread stick as she debated the best way to begin. “You know most of Shiro's friends, right?”

“Some of them,” Matt said as he stopped to take a drink before his next slice. “Why?”

“Allura invited me to hang out with her and Shiro on Friday and apparently Shiro's bringing a friend too. Keith, I think,” Pidge said.

Matt took too deep of a gulp and sputtered as he tried to collect himself. He covered his mouth and cleared his throat a few times, but that wasn't enough to hide the massive grin he was sporting.

Pidge groaned. “You're in on it too!”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Matt said, and while he sounded sincere, his grin said otherwise. “I'm just surprised Keith agreed is all. He's more of a social recluse than you are, if you can believe that.”

She didn't fully trust that was the reason for his amusement, but as long as he didn't tease her for her potential date, she'd ignore his shifty behavior. And though she didn't find out anything about Keith, she didn't try to ask about him any more. She was tired and frustrated with herself, and more than a little nervous about Friday night, and didn't want to deal with whatever Matt was keeping secret.

Noticing that she was done with that particular topic, Matt redirected the conversation to classes and the insanity that was trying to follow Professor Slav's lessons, which was always a hot topic in their apartment.

Over the next few days, Pidge tried to find out more about Keith from Lance (which was a Bad Choice), Hunk (who twittered on a bit about how cute they'd be), and Nadia (who didn't personally know Keith, but was fully on board with it). She found nothing but frustration from them, and Allura was especially unhelpful, as she insisted that Pidge find out first hand.

She arrived at the theater with every intention to grill Shiro for information, only to stop short when she saw who was standing with him and Allura. It took her a moment to recognize him without his dog, but he was unmistakably the man she'd spent the past year admiring from her bedroom window.

Suddenly, Matt's amusement made perfect sense.

Allura spotted her through the crowd and waved her over. Pidge lifted a hand to weakly wave back and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Praying that her cheeks weren't turning bright red, she slowly made her way over to them.

It was certainly an interesting turn of events.

But she still wasn't calling it a date.

[voltron-s7-8-rewrite]

Launch Party

This is part of my Voltron Season 7 & 8 re-write. If you are interested start HERE

PREVIOUS

Outside of one of the Garrison’s medbay rooms, Romelle, Allura, and Coran watch through the window as doctors perform scans of Luca -the Altean who was found in the Komar mech-, trying to find a way to remove the Hoktril from her head.

Romelle begins to quietly share how she and Luca knew each other, but were never really friends. Despite that, she had always admired Luca and the strength she showed after her family had been chosen by Lotor. She says Luca had so much faith, and always believed she would eventually be chosen and unite with her father and sisters.

As the doctors move, Romelle catches sight of the Hoktril sticking out of the girl’s head and looks away, grieved over what has been done to her.

Allura sees her reaction and steps up, hugging her as Coran puts a hand on each girl’s shoulder. The three stand together, mourning for Luca and the unknown status of their people.

                              ________________________________

As several months have passed since Voltron defeated Sendak and the Kormar mech, Humans have taken great strides to regaining their footing, thanks in no small part to the Rebels and Blade’s assistance.

While Earth is still healing, spirits are high as communication and defenses across the globe have come online. With those in place, the Paladins now feel that Earth is in good enough shape that they can leave.

The Paladins of Voltron, Blade of Marmora, Rebels, and Garrison Command sit in their final meeting, going over The Atlas’ upcoming launch and mission. The plan is that The Atlas will first head to the Altean colony to try to recover any Alteans there, then to find while where the Komar mechs came from. Once they are found the hope is that the forces can unite and end the war once and for all.

With everything thoroughly agreed upon by all factions, Shiro stands and tells those who will be leaving with The Atlas, that because this is their last day on Earth for some time, they should go spend time with their loved ones. With that he dismisses the meeting.

As everyone leaves, Lance and Hunk pull the Paladins and Shiro aside. They explain that since they never got the time to have Romelle’s victory party after Sendak’s defeat, their families -who are staying on Earth- wanted to have a going away party for the Paladins before they leave. They ask if they would be up for that, and they all say yes, loving the idea.

Lance says the only problem is, since it’s last minute their families need some supplies; he asks if they would be willing to help get the items. Everyone agrees, and lists are handed out and they break into teams.

As they head out, Shiro stops Keith and asks him for a favor.

                             ________________________________

Shiro, Matt, N-7, and Hunk head out to gather dinner supplies in the market that’s been set up in the ruins of Plaht City. Hunk is really the only one who knows what to get, while the others are there to assist with carrying everything.

The all the shopping goes smoothly until Shiro hears a familiar voice, and is horrified to see Slav walking around the market.

Shiro ducks down to hide, pulling the others with him. Hunk says that Slav isn’t that bad, but Shiro asks him to think about what Slav will have to say if he sees the ingredients they’ve picked; cause he’s certain Slav will find them all to be the wrong size, color, or shape and somehow that will cause a cataclysmic event ending with the destruction of all reality. Hunk will have to put all the food back and pick only the ones that Slav chooses.

Realizing his food is at stake, Hunk agrees with Shiro’s point and from there it becomes a game of trying to get the supplies without being spotted by the Bytor. Eventually, Slav leaves the market and the group are able to get the rest of the stuff they need in peace.

It’s then that Shiro then realizes what time it is and heads off, saying he has something to finish before tonight.

                             ________________________________

As Keith, Krolia, and Kolivan -who had been invited to come along by the mother and son- head out for their tasks, Keith explains that they need to make a detour. He leads the two over to his hoverbike, which he and his mother get on. Kolivan is unsure about the primitive craft. It’s only when Krolia gets annoyed with his questioning of the vehicle and orders him on that he begrudgingly obeys.

Keith tells the two to hold on and takes them on a ride through the desert. Krolia loves it, while Kolivan holds on for his life.

Arriving at their destination, Keith gets off the bike as Krolia looks around. She freezes in shock as she recognizes the small shack. Noticing her reaction, Kolivan asks where they are. She tells him it was her home when she lived on Earth, though there was once a house that’s no longer there.

Keith explains that after his father died, there had been a freak lightning strike. The house burned down, but the shack survived. No one wanted it, so it was just left there. After Shiro was declared dead and he was kicked out of the Garrison, this was the only thing he had left.

Krolia heads to the shack, gently running her hands along the porch frame before entering.

Keith and Kolivan give her a minute alone before Keith begins to follow after her. He pauses, noticing Kolivan staying behind and asks him if he’s coming. Kolivan says that he figured this was something personal for his family. Keith says it is, that’s why he should come too. Kolivan is taken back by that statement, but is honored by the statement and follows him in.

Inside, the two find Krolia walking around every square inch of the shack, smiling at items she recognizes. Keith disappears into the small room in the back as Kolivan looks around, studying the small shack Keith had called home.

The Black Paladin returns carrying a book, he hands it over to Krolia telling her it’s a gift for her, though Shiro asked to borrow something from it. Opening it, Krolia is overwhelmed at the pictures of her husband and Keith during the short years they had together before his death. Kolivan approaches curiously, and she turns and shares the pictures with him, much to Keith’s embarrassment.

Keith explains that while most of the pictures were lost in the fire, somehow this album ended up in the shack, so it was spared. Krolia hugs Keith, thanking him for the precious item.

After Krolia composes herself, Keith says that they should get going to start the tasks they were given.

As they head back to the hover-bike, Kolivan suggests that the three of them come back later to get the remaining items the shack holds, that way Keith and Krolia can have them as they travel. The mother and son appreciate his suggestion, and agree to it.

                             ________________________________

Lance and Pidge end up with the job of looking for games and decorations to bring to the party, at least that’s what they were told. Their real job turns out to be babysitting Nadia, Sylvio, and Hunk’s cousins. Neither are thrilled about it, but Lance, use to being made babysitter, takes it in stride. Pidge however, not use to this scenario at all, decides to make the best of it by laying down rules on how the kids are to behave.

Lance tries to warn her to stop, but she doesn't take the hint. The children are unimpressed by her demands, and as soon as they get to the bazaar set up in the former Plaht City Mall, become overly excited and run wild, breaking every one of Pidge’s rules. Lance says he told her so as they try to round the kids up and gain some semblance of control.

Eventually Lance has to pull the “Favorite Uncle” card by bribing them with sweets, causing the kids to immediately fall in line. Pidge pouts at this, but Lance gives her some sweets as well, telling her it will take some time to learn the right tricks for her newly appointed ‘Aunt’ status to the kids.

Pidge is still sulky until the kids follow up and call her ‘Aunt Pidge’, which brings out a smile.

Once all the party activities and decorations are purchased, Pidge, Lance and their charges start to leave. However, before they exit, Pidge notices a vender selling “Killbot Phantasm 26: Revengifiance”. She and Lance rush to the vendor and demand to know how much it costs. Realizing they don’t have the money for it, Lance says he remembers then passing by a coin fountain back in the mall.

He and Pidge run to find it, as the roles are reversed and the kids now bemoan their childish caretakers, trying to get them to stop being so embarrassing.

                             ________________________________

Back at the Garrison, Allura, Romelle, and Coran have the task to get deserts. However, rather than going out to find some, they decided to try to re-create Altean recipes using Earth ingredients.

Very quickly they realize they are in over their heads, as the Earth ingredients that look like things they knew from Altea/the colony are completely different from what they expected. On top of that, they end up mixing up similar looking ingredients with each other and reading the measuring utensils wrong.

When they finish, the three Alteans stand in the midst of the Garrison’s ruined kitchen, it’s appearance looking more like a crime scene in need of a Hazmat crew. Romelle comments that recreating recipes is not as easy as Hunk makes it look.

The three glance at each other and seeing the state of disarray they are all in, break into fits of laughter. Allura and Coran’s laughter slows, but Romelle’s continues until she breaks down into sobs.

She apologizes, trying to regain her composure, but nothing she does stops her tears. Coran and Allura both pull her into an embrace. Romelle shares how she can’t stop thinking about Luca. How she can’t stop creating horrible scenarios her mind about what happened to her and the other colonists and how she feels responsible for it all; thinking that maybe if she had stayed, or at least warned the colony about Lotor, things would be different.

Allura tells her that if she stayed she would most likely be in the same predicament as Luca and the others. And that if this is Haggar’s doing, as they believe it to be, that there would have been no way to have stopped her. She assures Romelle that she did the right thing by seeking help and going to warn Voltron about Lotor. Thanks to her he no longer threatens the universe, or their people.

Allura then laments that they didn't immediately go and find the colony after his defeat, saying that she bears the blame for that, as she should have pushed to go. Romelle, argues against that, saying Allura didn't know that his would happen, and even if she did push, they couldn't have gone to the Colony due to the state the Lions were in.

Coran takes the opportunity to then point out that they both are right, neither of them are to blame. The only person who should be held accountable for this is the one who did it. He says whether it’s Honerva, or someone else who created the Hoktril in their universe and did this to Luca, they are going to do everything possible to find them and make sure that they will never hurt anyone else.

The girls agree, and the three hug before once again looking around the ruined kitchen, wondering how they are going to clean it. It’s at that point that Shiro steps in. Seeing the mess, he’s immediately on alert, asking if they were attacked.

The Alteans fess up to their goals, and he laughs, offering to show them where they can get some fruits to serve as dessert.

The three agree, and as they go to get cleaned, Shiro stops Allura and asks her for a favor.

                             ________________________________

Evening rolls around, and Lance and Hunk’s families set the party up in one of the Garrison’s large rooms that they were given permission to use.

Keith, Krolia, and Kolivan show up. Lance is both shocked and unnerved to see Kolivan dressed in casual wear. Krolia spooks him further by warning him that Kolivan’s in such a good mood he might even smile. Kolivan is unimpressed by the teasing and heads into the party, a chuckling Krolia following him.

As Keith goes to follow, Shiro pulls him off to the side, asking Keith to come with him and Romelle for a minute.

Krolia is called over to where Colleen, and Lance and Hunk’s mothers are sitting. The four proceed to talk and share tales of their children. Gushing over how proud they are of them. Lance, Matt, and Pidge are embarrassed, while Hunk finds it sweet. Allura agrees with him, saying they should be happy that their mothers show their love by sharing stories. Unfortunately for her, that’s when Coran steps up and starts talking about Allura’s youth, causing her to quickly regret her words.

                             ________________________________

As the night progresses, the families partake in different activities. Shiro, Lance’s brother, and Hunk’s dad get into arm wrestling competitions, with none of them being able to take his new arm down. When they team up and try to jump on it at once, it just ends with them breaking the table and dog piling on poor Shiro.

Keith and Romelle oversee the kids as they take rides on Kosmo, and play with Allura’s mice and Pidge’s space caterpillars.

Pidge and Lance’s sisters conspire together, sharing secrets and dirt they have on Lance, which makes him nervous. Hunk joins the girls, sharing things he has on his best friend, causing Lance to shout in outraged betrayal.

Watching all of this from her seat, Allura turns and looks where Shiro had lovingly set up a display of pictures he spent the day gathering of all the family members who are no longer with them.

There is a picture of his own parents just after he was born, then one of him with his grandfather, there’s a picture of Keith’s dad in uniform -borrowed from Krolia’s album-, a picture of Marco and Lance’s father from Marco’s graduation, one of Hunk’s aunt and uncle, as well as a sketch of Bandor and Romelle’s parents that he had Keith draw earlier with Romelle’s guidance. Finally in the midst of these pictures is Allura’s hologram, the image of her parents shining brightly.

Loving looking at the faces of those who have passed, Allura stands and grabs a glass. Gently tapping it, she gets everyone’s attention. She apologizes for the interruption, but felt there were things she needed to say.

Taking a breath she starts by sharing her experience, and the feelings she went through when first woke from her 10,000 years of slumber; how she had gone to sleep a daughter and a princess, and woke an orphan without a home.

She says she knows they have all been through the experience of losing loved ones, but as Keith once told the Paladins, ‘even when loved ones are physically gone, they are still alive within those they touched.’ She says they will always feel the missing presence of those they lost, but they will continue on, keeping them alive through themselves and their bonds with each other.

She tells them that she once said she believed the five Paladins were brought together to create Voltron, however, she now sees that it went beyond that. They were brought together because they were all meant to be together. Each one of them had pieces of themselves missing, and like Voltron itself, it was only when they came together that they were made whole.

She says that through them she’s found a family and home again. She now knows that no matter what happens going forward, they will always be a part of each other. She raises her glass to those there and toasts them as her new family.

The others join in her toast, then Keith raises a second toast to the one who holds them all together, the heart of Voltron: Allura.

Afterwards everyone comes together to take a family photo.

Notes:        

The picture is a mixture of traced screenshots, and my own non-traced drawing. Wanted to do more for this rewrite, but after making this (and a couple others I trashed). I realized it would take me too much time, and I didn't want to become exasperated and drop this re-write cause of the art.

.

I know I’m not the only one who took issues with Shiro’s statement of “Be with the ones you love.” only for the story to be about Lance and Allura getting ready for a date. So, I tried to fix that.

I wanted this story to absolutely cement, once and for all, that not only are these characters a team, but they are a family.

Some of this might be overly cheesy, like with the family photos and all, but I wanted to give them all some peace and happiness before I beat the crud out of them throughout the rest of this season rewrite.

.

Course I took out all references to the original Voltron. While it’s a nice idea, the only nod I thought worked was when Allura tried on her original counterpart’s outfit. All the others made no sense and I immediately started questioning it.

The Earth was under siege for three years, how did they get a cartoon studio up and running so quickly? Is that why is the animation quality so crummy in the future? Why would the animation studio change the gender of Pidge, and the color of Allura’s skin? Wouldn’t there be backlash? I thought this show was set in an alternate universe to the original series, are they pulling a Digimon Tamers where the old show is both an AU and a TV show?

Some are silly questions, but they are still questions.

So, because of this removal, the scene where Hunk and Lance are talking about the show is gone. Which means I have the immense pleasure of Thanos snapping Lance’s line, “Keith and Allura? No, it should be Lance and Allura!” out of existence.

I hate that line so freaking much.

To me, more than anything else in the show, that one line completely destroys any potential  relationship for Lance and Allura.

First it gives Lance’s character a disgusting feeling, as it implies that he feels he’s owed her. On top of that, it makes no sense from a character standpoint. Back in S6E2, he tells the mice,

“I don’t have anything to offer her. I’m just a boy from Cuba.”

Now, just a couple of months later, he has this entitled, ‘She should love me, not him!’ mindset? I’m sorry, where did this come from? Why has he taken a sudden 180° on this?

No, nope! This kind of implication is not going to happen here. Not to Lance, not to Allura. They deserve more than that.

.

Also, why was both Lance and Pidge’s homes in perfect condition after three years of global war? I mean, we saw the shape Plaht City was in, are you telling me that their homes were untouched in all of that? Or are they just getting special treatment because they are Paladins, so their homes were rebuilt first?

Likely it just comes down to the creators not caring thinking, and just doing whatever at this point. But that’s why I had the party set at the Garrison. . Yes, I know it's silly, but I am super happy to have changed the pun title to a different pun title, while still being the same pun.

Thank you for reading, have a nice day! NEXT

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Writing Excerpt For Today

(a sneak peek at the World's Worst Tea Party)

In the corner there was a boy - nearly a man, but not just yet. He was very short for a near-man, dark-haired, staring at them with odd angry dark eyes in a blank face. Luc caught a hint of a scar across one cheek, cutting through his eyebrow, another marking his lip, pulling it slightly to one side, a strange dark scar like the top spire of an odd tattoo sticking out of the low neck of his oddly colorless shirt. 

He could see silvery tracks of scars circling the boy's neck, clearly carefully and purposefully carved.

His wrists ached in sympathy.

"Hey-" He tried to say. "Can you help us?"

The boy did not so much as flinch, only continued to stare, arms crossed, leaning back against the wall. 

"Don't bother," The Veskan girl scoffed. "He's one of them, came with her. Some kind of servant, he's useless. He doesn't speak your language."

Luc caught the faintest flicker of the boy's eyes her direction, the way they narrowed a little in anger and his jaw tightened. 

Yes, he does, but he doesn’t want you to know it.

He squinted at the scar sticking out of his shirt, and felt himself go still, studying intently. It wasn’t a symbol he knew, but the style he recognized immediately. Bone magic. He’d seen some press-ganged sailors with scars like that. He’d seen slaves in foreign markets with similar ink.

The symbols might be different, world to world, but they were easy enough to recognize regardless. 

"Nyder du det du ser?" The boy snapped at him as he realized he was being stared at. He pulled the neck of the shirt up to cover the mark. "Ærgerligt, hvis du gør. Hvad er du? Du er ingenting. Kun kongen kan tvinge mig."

"You're under a compulsion spell," Luc said slowly. "That's what's on you, isn’t it?” He whistled, long and low, which made the stabbing pain in his head stab harder. “Aren’t you in a state. Do you serve the queen?”

The boy glared at him. “Kongen.”

“Kongen,” Luc said, puzzled. “Kongen… what-”

“King,” The Veskan piped up. “He’s saying king.”

“How do you know that?”

“In Veskan, you say king as kung. It’s not the same, but it’s close. Boy. Servant. Look at me, boy.” The boy’s eyes slid over to her, and his glare faded somewhat as the sneering contempt faded from hers. “Ah. Thank you. Do you serve the king of the other world?”

“I don’t serve,” the boy finally ground out in the Arnesian Royal tongue. “Han tvinger mig.”

“What did he say?” Luc asked. Emira sat to the side in silence, carefully breathing in very slow but shallow pants. Luc wanted so badly to get to her, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t even move his hands more than a half-inch above the arm of the chair.

“Oh, that was almost just the same as Veskan. He said… ‘he forces me’.” The girl shook her head a little. “I don’t understand.” 

“He’s a slave,” Luc said finally, wearily. “That’s what he means. Isn’t it, boy?”

The boy slowly nodded. He pointed to the place where the mark would lay under his shirt, jabbing at the spot with one finger. “Ja. Slav. Ah... sang varmere." His face turned red for no reason Luc could understand.

"Oh!" The Veskan girl exclaimed. "He's not a servant, he's a slave!" Then, as the knowledge sank in, she looked horrified. "... Oh. He's a bed slave. They did away with those centuries ago in Vesk."

"Three centuries, give or take," Emira murmured, forehead shining with sweat. "We gave up slavery, nearly all of us, after the doors closed. Makt did not. Our letters... Astrid always questioned the wisdom of that choice..."

"He's a Maktahn slave who speaks Arnesian Royal," Luc said out loud. "Isn't that interesting. I'd say you are far more than anyone gives you credit for, and I for one intend to turn that to my advantage. Where’d you learn it, boy?”

“None of your skide business!” The boy snapped out loud, and his voice was nearly ragged with anger. All three of the people chained to their chairs jumped - even Emira, although hers was hardly more than a slight jerk of her shoulders. 

“Fair enough,” Luc muttered. Did everyone in Makt have anger problems? Kell must fit right the fuck in. "Why aren't you speaking it with us now?"

Some of the anger drained from the boy's face and was replaced with fear. Not fear, no - terror. His eyes went to the door to the hallway and back. "Hun kommer måske tilbage og hører mig. Hun ville være så vred at de ikke vidste det."

Luc looked to the Veskan girl, who slowly shook her head. "I don't know all of it, he speaks so fast. But the first bit sounded like 'if she comes back'."

"The queen you serve," Luc said slowly. "She doesn't know you speak Arnesian Royal, does she?"

For the first time, the angry boy in the corner smiled.

"Well, then," Luc said out loud. "We know something she doesn't know. Good for us."

The Veskan girl blinked at the boy's smile, the way the scar pulled at it just a little to make it slightly rakish and one-sided. "Oh," She said softly, as though understanding the answer to a problem that had vexed her. "Oh."

[kcwcommentary]

VLD2x13 – “Blackout”

2x13 – “Blackout”

Starting where the last episode left off, Shiro recaps the situation and outlines the next step of the plan. Zarkon’s ship is without power for twenty minutes, and there are four targets they need to hit: the weapons system, engines, bridge, and shield generators. Voltron carves through the ship’s hull with its sword.

Haggar proposes using the komar (I had forgotten about that device) to draw the quintessence out of Voltron. Zarkon instead wants to face Voltron himself. Haggar tells him that she thinks his judgement is hindered due to his obsession with the Black Lion. He refuses to listen to her.

On the Castle Ship, Allura regains consciousness.

Zarkon prepares to use the armor that had been mentioned in a previous episode, which includes him locking in his bayard the same way the Paladins use theirs in the Lions. Haggar meanwhile acts on her own with the Druids to do a “ritual,” which of course is just more miscellaneous purple energy blasting. Voltron continues to destroy more of Zarkon’s ship. I love the shots where Voltron is so small we can’t really make it out, but we can see lines of explosions. So far, they’ve taken out the first two of their four targets. Haggar activates the komar and zaps Voltron. She screams, “It’s pure quintessence,” in an unimpressive cartoonish way – the voice acting for Haggar in that moment is okay, it’s just an unimpressive line for a moment that’s clearly supposed to be significant.

Coran realizes that if the ship’s power was shut down, then the Galra shouldn’t have had any weapons to have been able to blast Voltron. Allura realizes that it wasn’t a weapon, but magic, and Kolivar explains what the komar is.

Voltron floats in space, powerless. The Paladins are all unconscious, though they start regaining consciousness when Allura calls out to them. That’s when the Paladins see Zarkon in his armor emerge from his ship. His armor includes what is essentially a set of wings. Shiro has a brief psychic moment and knows that it’s Zarkon.

Allura orders the Castle Ship closer to Zarkon’s ship and the Castle’s weapons systems active. She calls on the Paladins to fight. Allura’s demonstrating commanding leadership in this moment of crisis. It’s really sad knowing that the show takes her being a leader away from her when it turns her into the Blue Paladin next season. The Castle Ship fires on Zarkon, pushing him physically back into the structure of his ship. His armor is able to reflect the Castle’s weapons and turn the beam back on them, which causes Allura to scream out in pain. The Paladins react strongly to having seen/heard that, and Shiro rallys the Paladins to fight.

Zarkon’s armor generates its own sword. Voltron regains power and forms its sword. And they clash. Haggar orders the komar to be used again. Voltron fires on Zarkon with Yellow’s shoulder cannon, but Zarkon uses its wings to block it.

Back on the Castle Ship, the systems seem to be offline. Coran regains consciousness and the artificial gravity is not functioning. He moves to Allura, who comes to, uninjured. Given the severity of her scream earlier, it feels cheap that she’s okay now. Slav has made his way to the bridge. Allura orders Coran and Slav to work to get the Castle operational, and she asks Kolivan to get her to the komar. Allura’s planning on attacking Haggar. Haggar is a foil character for Allura, so their conflict is a narratively natural one.

Allura, Kolivan, and Antok make their way to the komar, taking out one Druid when they arrive and depowering the komar. Allura and the Blades engage Haggar and the Druids. Voltron and Zarkon continue their space battle. It feels like the show is really giving time to the visual depiction between Voltron and Zarkon. Time for a conflict to breathe is something that I feel the show loses in later seasons, or maybe it’s just that the goals of characters underlying the conflict are so much clearer here. Or maybe not clear, but simple. Zarkon wants the Black Lion, and Haggar’s supporting him. There’s nothing more that we need to know to understand this conflict. Later seasons’ final conflicts with Lotor and Honerva, respectively, don’t feel fully explained, and that contributes to those battles being confusing. Even though this battle with Zarkon is dramatic, I still can mentally breathe. Again, I think it comes down to the clarity of why the battle’s being fought that’s underlying the conflict in this episode.

Shiro can feel that Zarkon is trying to psychically fight him for control of the Black Lion. Zarkon uses his armor’s weapon kind of like a segmented metal lasso and zaps Voltron, causing them to separate into their respective Lions.

Zarkon says, “You should have fled like your predecessors. Now the time of the Voltron Paladins is finished.” I take it that by “predecessors,” he’s referring to the group of Paladins to which he was a member? By “fled,” I guess he’s referring to Alfor’s having hidden the Lions throughout the universe? I could have used a fuller explanation to Zarkon’s taunt here.

Shiro’s unconscious, so Keith, the lieutenant, rallies the Paladins. I think this is something that the EPs of this show seemed to refuse to recognize in their having a problem with the idea of the show having more than one leader, and thus their desire to kill Shiro and position Keith as the team leader. Despite the EPs’ thoughts to the contrary, there most absolutely can be more than one leader. Maybe the EPs’ desire for only one leader, a position they wanted to assign to Keith, is why, not only Shiro gets brought down by the show, but also Allura. But having Shiro and Allura as the leaders of Team Voltron does not mean that the other characters couldn’t also have moments of leadership. There are different levels of a leadership and command structure. That’s why members of the military have ranks. And that’s what gives significance to Keith’s place in the story right now. We saw it at the end of season one, too, when Keith fought Zarkon to protect Shiro. Keith’s stepping up right now is, like then, him behaving as a lieutenant, taking command in the absence of the team commander.

When power is consolidated into a single person, you get an autocrat, you get Zarkon. We’ve seen him throughout these two seasons wield his authority in a way that everything that happens has to go through him. Our heroes are fighting against him, so their organizational structure should differ from his. And right now, in this series, it does. Zarkon is the dictatorial emperor, but Voltron is a team.

The Red Lion is positioned between Zarkon and the Black Lion in such a way that it’s reminiscent of the waiting crouch Red had in a particular shot that I totally loved during her battle against Zarkon at the end of season one.

Allura and the Blades continue their fight, taking out one of the Druids. Haggar and another Druid outflank Antok and bring him down.

Shiro comes to and sees the other Paladins fighting Zarkon. He looks to the bayard port on Black, which he’s never been able to use since he doesn’t have the black bayard. He pilots Black toward the conflict, there’s a sequence of flashes of some of Shiro’s and Black’s past moments, including Black driving Zarkon out of the psychic space upon bonding with Shiro in 2x07 “Space Mall” and Black standing on top of the other Lions way back in, I think, 1x04 “Some Assembly Required.” The split-screen of Shiro and Black’s eyes glowing, expressing their bond. And now, in this fight, Black grows large wings, flies by Zarkon, Shiro and Zarkon’s psychic forms pass each other in psychic space, and Shiro gains the black bayard.

Shiro says, “I’ve got Zarkon’s bayard,” but Keith corrects him, “You mean you’ve got your bayard.” I love this. Despite presenting himself as the confident leader, Shiro is not always confident in himself. Sendak got to some of that back in 1x11 “Crystal Venom,” in his saying Shiro couldn’t ever truly be a Paladin. But in bonding with Black as strongly as he has, and in being able to claim the black bayard, Shiro is proving that he is not just a Paladin, but the Black Paladin.

The team forms Voltron again.

Allura knocks down Haggar, knocking off Haggar’s hood in the process, revealing to Allura that Haggar is Altean. It seems so obvious to me now, but the first time I watched this episode, I was truly surprised. Haggar being Altean reinforces her as a foil character for Allura. Haggar does an evil villain scream and blasts Allura with purple lightning, but Allura bears the blast easily and starts glowing pink. Haggar remarks, “Impossible!” I don’t really see how she would think it’s impossible since she is a space witch and they’re dealing with magic, but whatever. She keeps blasting Allura, who maybe absorbs the energy or holds it temporarily at bay, until she glows so brightly that Haggar collapses, and Allura disperses the energy into the ship’s walls. Kolivan kills the remaining Druid. Haggar gets up and teleports away. Allura has destroyed the komar.

Coran and Slav get the Castle Ship operational, while Zarkon’s ship regains power. Voltron and Zarkon charge at and slam into each other, Voltron having stabbed Zarkon’s armor through with the Voltron sword. Zarkon grabs Voltron’s head and energy builds up, purple electricity inside the cockpit zapping Shiro, who again looks to the bayard port. Finally, Shiro slams his bayard into the port, causing Voltron’s sword to become enflamed. They destroy Zarkon’s armor, which explodes into a ball of purple light.

Voltron has separated into the respective Lions again. Coran swoops in with the Castle, having gotten Allura and Kolivan on board, and he calls for the Paladins. They make they way toward the Castle before they see that the Black Lion isn’t coming. Keith and Pidge grab Black and bring her with them. The Castle wormholes away.

On board, everyone, led by Keith, run to the Black Lion. Shiro is not aboard. Elsewhere, Haggar has retrieved Zarkon’s body. She orders some Galra to “summon Prince Lotor,” and the episode ends. I think this ending, these last two scenes, would have worked better if their order was flipped. I really don’t like ending on Haggar. I don’t need her to have the last word for the show to have a sense that the fight will continue next season. Having Haggar’s scene last takes away from the weight of the reveal that Shiro’s not in the Black Lion. Haggar’s an antagonist, so she’s not as important as our protagonists. Their experience of finding Shiro missing should have been given more importance than Haggar’s name-dropping Lotor. The protagonists in a story are what drive the story, and antagonists are there to serve as obstacles and mirrors for the protagonists. But the focus in a well-told story needs to ultimately come back to the perspective of the protagonists. The episode could have still name-dropped Lotor, but it should have happened before a final scene of our heroes discovering the loss of Shiro. That way, his loss is the big, final weight of the episode ending.

This episode really was about the fight of two characters: Allura and Shiro. That’s why the conflict was structured around them against their respective foils: Haggar and Zarkon. Space witch versus space witch. Black Paladin versus Black Paladin. The narrative had such a clean, clear structure in this conflict that it made for an excellent story. Allura’s personal story is complicated by finding out that she and Coran are not the only Alteans still alive in the universe. Even if (for now) that only means Haggar, the revelation that Haggar is Altean is a marker that there could be other survivors that the story will eventually reveal. Shiro’s story is his fully claiming the position of Black Paladin. He’s done the work to free the Black Lion from Zarkon’s influence. The Black Lion herself has expressed her siding with Shiro. Together, Shiro and Black built that bond. And Shiro has finally claimed the black bayard, another symbol of his being the Black Paladin.

It’s terrible that the EPs eventually undo all this great storytelling in their desire to kill/sideline Shiro in order to make Keith, who does nothing to earn the position, Black Paladin. I like Keith, and I think I’ve expressed that especially throughout the past several commentaries. But Keith did not do the work to bond with Black that Shiro did. Keith did not, through that bond, claim the black bayard. Shiro does all the narrative work, but then the show just hands the benefit of that work to Keith just because. With these first two seasons, the show has built something, and now, starting with season three, it all starts to fall apart.